The garden, medieval and walled, was lush and fruitful this year, and old friar Matthew couldn’t believe the harvest of herbs he was collecting. The drying room would be full and their winter stocks ample.
As he was collecting the catnip, a pair of ginger speckled and furry ears came into view. A cat’s face emerged from the catnip patch, Its pupils dilated and his gait unsteady.
‘Where are you going, brother?’ Friar Matthew asked. His concern partly for the abbey’s crops and partly for the stoned and disheveled feline who was clearly not meant to be in the private walled garden.
‘I’m looking for adventure,’ said the cat. ‘Plus, I’m trying to find my friend, but all I seem to find are snakes in the grass.’
As if to confirm his statement, a small green and blue adder popped its head up from the bracken and catnip.
‘What did you say? Did you mention me?’
‘No, mate. I’m just looking for my friend,. We were supposed to go on an adventure.’
The adder nodded, and seemed unconcerned when his head became unattached from his long, thin body.
‘Who is your friend, brother?’
‘Humph,’ a horse. You can’t miss him. Walks upright. Arms like a T-Rex. Wears a shirt and puffy pants.’
‘And what makes you think he’ll be here?’
‘The weed patch. He loves that horsetail.’
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