Nul kneaded the poultice with the very tips of his oversized paws. It was beginning to mush together nicely - which was good. Colds had been going around lately, so he'd made a batch of these poultices. He was pretty sure everybody was better now, actually, but two more wouldn't hurt - they worked dried as well, and trekking for the ingredients took time and he didn’t want to waste these leftovers. That would kind of suck. Now it looked more like a paste, he mused, scraping it into a hollowed gourd. Good. He had lots of hollowed gourds in here. The little cave inside the pride borders was where he stored all his healing supplies – straight sticks, scraps of cloth or broad leaves, herbs and plants or seeds that dried well – anything he needed, really. He’d chosen it for the big, flat stone in the middle, perfect for mixing up things. And you couldn’t see the entrance either, which was a bonus.
Leaving his little hideaway for now, Nul padded along the border of the pride, nodding his large head shyly to one of the guards. You’d think that’d be a job for him, considering his large size – until…you know, you remembered he was the definition of softie. He hummed very quietly to himself as he kept walking.
