Herbalists' Cache pussy wagon

For days, she tries to find the soft hum of music she keeps hearing. No matter what direction she goes, it doesn’t get any louder—or any quieter—and eventually she gives up. She left the aspen forest entirely, moving north with some reluctance and the sound doesn’t change. Part of her wants to give up and accept the low sound but her feet keep moving anyway, unable to fight the urge to find it.

Not knowing exactly how she’d gotten to the aspen forest weeks ago at this point, she expects the territory above to trigger some memories but she can’t grasp them. Instead, she explores the territory anyway, hoping to jog her mind and find the right spot to open everything up. Had she simply ran until she blacked out, landing somewhere enough to hit her head? To see her mother in the aspen forest, though surely that had been a dream?

Hunger takes over after a while and she finds a single tree with fruit to bear, and large, round fruit dropped to the ground. It’s not meat, or anything with warmth her stomach craves, but in this moment she does not care. It is edible enough. Slowly, the girl lowers to the ground and puts one between her paws, licking at it gingerly to get a taste before she pierces the skin with her teeth, and a mix of sweet and sour pours out on her tongue in an oddly satisfying way.