That…was the last time Tilda ever tried to feed two groups of baby mooncalves without separating them into their own pens. Her vivarium pens still needed to be upgraded though, and she thought that perhaps she’d done it enough times to prevent the absolute stampede that ended up happening. Of course, no one could hardly blame the baby mooncalves. After all it wasn’t as if she’d just fed them hours previously and planned to do it again in the next few hours.

At least, she thought as she made her way down the street to the Greengrass residence, the two sets of parents had control over themselves when it was feeding time. Because the adolescents certainly did not. It was fortuitous that she was going to Noble’s to pick up a potion for one of her patients; she was nursing a massive headache (and probably a bruise on her forehead) from being head butted by two adolescent mooncalves who weren’t quite aware of their own strength yet.

After going through the back gate, Tilda knocked and waited for Noble’s answer. When it came (was it just her or did he sound frustrated?) she poked her head around the door first to give him a weary smile before she stepped all the way through. “Hullo Noble,” She greeted mildly; cautiously, before setting her healer’s bag on the workbench with a sigh, making one of her stray curls flutter out of her face before falling right back to where it had originally been. She brushed it out of the way. “Sorry, I know I don’t have an appointment.”