Lessa's treehouse, it was perfect, all the places to put herbs and how she was so sorted. Why was the tom here, the past shaman had left over a week ago but he was still sitting in her treehouse with awe. Most everything was gone by now, only a few scraps of leftover herbs and unwanted furniture, but other than that someone could barely tell that this used to be somebody's treehouse. He remembered looking at it when everything was there, especially Lessa. It was great and hopefully his mind would remember it, a draft of his soon to be treehouse hopefully. There was a faint smell of Lessa still lingering in the abandoned place, the last reminder of who she was. Although that wasn't why he would come and check in on the place everyday. He was afraid. He barely knew her, only for a week and he was afraid he would forget about the shaman. She was an unofficial mentor of his and ravelights deeply looked up to her. Forgetting her, not an option. He couldn't, and the fact that yesterday, talking to Littlestar about her notes, he and to forget about her for the greater good. It pained him deeply, but for now, when the leader wasn't around hopefully he could spend some more time in this place. The last of the herbs Lessa left, he quickly grabbed hesitant about if she would want him to. Although he shook the feeling off, knowing Lessa would probably not notice.
It was hard, leaving the empty place but he did, knowing this could fairly be the last time. Stay, let this treehouse stay. Whatever happens don't let me forget about her, the lady who opened my mind to everything. His paws felt so light at the moment. Why did he have to float, why did his emotions cause this? He tried to stay to the ground but it was simply too hard. He had to float, before he dazed off and finally got back to the ground and grabbed a few herbs from his treehouse and quickly got down to the ground. Maybe he could use this to his advantage? Get his mind off the past shaman and onto something else. With bloodclan and shadow clan raids, he suspected others would be wounded. Somehow he felt like this was his job? Even thought he wasn't officially a shaman. He didn't know if he wanted to be a shaman. He could easily mess up with his unprofessional place and bare to no experience. He needed to practice. "Does anybody have some recent wounds that you think need attending to? I can help, probably." he said, looking around to anybody who would trust him enough to come over.