Destin huffs as he pushes past the bramble bushes outside his tent. "How could Fabine let the camp get so bad?" He asks quietly, shaking his head as he brushes a few branches away from his legs. He puts his hands on his hips and frowns, surveying the camp. "Okay. Herbs first, then take care of these bushes!" He smiles faintly and grabs his pouch and dagger before shifting and lightly trotting out of camp. He weaves through the trees, heading towards the river.