He tries to keep his mind and body active. Regardless of his lack of allegiance to Dusk he does his best to fulfill his duties. Jude wanders further than before, scouting out the locations of specific herbs, figuring out which are accessible. Mittens scurries along after him, ever the faithful companion despite her obvious indignation at being forced from bed.

He scours the remnants of decaying branches, the robbed life from autumn. Jude occasionally make mental notes when things are familiar and makes other notes to take time for research. “I hate this,” he gives out a soft sigh but keeps walking through the decaying brush to seek out other potential resources, trying to evade the very easy sensation of self pity that pangs at the back of his mind.