It was hard to tell how the herbs in his bag mixed together, especially now that he had a huge chunk of root in there, but Mo continued sniffing the mixture as he pursued the rest of his plants. Did he just have too many? Was that the problem? Maybe he should stop.. oh, there! St. John's wort.

The St. John's wort was a tall, stalky plant with yellow flowers, and Mo only required a few of the leaves and flowers for his bag. It was almost like he hadn't taken anything at all. See? He certainly wasn't hurting any of the plants. Mo moved further down the long tables full of potted plants, looking for his last two. The wort had that nice cut grass scent, which tingled in his nose as he mixed the ingredients together in the bag.

Ah, wheat grass. A much harder plant to harvest without damaging or killing it. Mo ran his hand along the tips of the blades of grass, making a rushing wind through the teeny tiny prairie. Maybe if he cut off the tops of a few... but he had a feeling that would kill them. Instead, Mo harvested a small patch, carefully pulling them out of the dirt and depositing the entire length of grass in his bag. Still loads left to grow.

Last was his hawthorn, which Mo struggled to find. Maybe he didn't need it? Maybe the professor wasn't in need of heart mending, although Mo knew for sure that he was. Maybe... and then he spotted the distinctive red berries of the hawthorn. Mo crawled under one trestle and around another to grab a small handful. Yum? Maybe they were sweet and delicious like blueberries, only red and hard as little rocks. One could always dream. Mo headed back to his seat.