[shadow=black,left]Martin[/shadow]
[color=lightgray]DARKCLAN ~ MEDIC ~ [acronym=Martin; 13 moons; heterosexual; male; DarkClan; medic; single]INFORMATION[/acronym] ~ [acronym=none]POWERS[/acronym] ~ [acronym=medium; attack in#ff321e]INTERACTION[/acronym] ~ [acronym=mild social anxiety]OTHER[/acronym]
[justify][size=8][color=#a8a8a8]Unsurprisingly, there wasn't anything in his designated medical place. Tasting the air, he turned back. He had confirmed, there was no need for him quite yet. Therefore, he could eat something. He didn't have to be swift, but he would be swift nonetheless. The worst possible thing that could happen was he would have a bad day from eating too fast.
His knowledge of medicine could be called a curse in some ways. Fortunately, he knew how to keep his ever-ongoing thoughts of things that happen when certain other things are done away. All he had to do was be in a stressful situation. Like the one, and only, time he'd engaged in battle.
A mouse. It would do more than adequately. He grabbed it with his jaws and looked around for a spot with few, or no, cats.
[align=center][color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm