Herbalists' Cache Bury The Hatchet

Pushing his paws against a fallen log he attempted to roll it over, growing frustrated when his weak bones weren't enough to move the damn thing. Next he simply slammed the side of his body into it - which definitely hurt, but at least it budged a bit.

By now he was dirty, tired, and generally unkempt. He was growing frustrated. Phobos had never done well on his own, however it wasn't something he was willing to admit out loud. Eventually he would need to find some sort of solution though - he couldn't let himself go hungry, and if he had to hunt for himself that was likely what would happen.

Hunting had always been frustrating - he felt that it insulted his intelligence. That was why he liked plants: not only did they not move, but he always seemed to know more about them than other's he came into contact with. It was a pleasant boost to his fragile ego.