Send Me a Sign
Jul 7, 2014 2:14:15 GMT -4
Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2014 2:14:15 GMT -4
[presto]
words
1223
muse
Can't stop me now!
music
You're Gonna Go Far Kid!
-The Offspring
notes
In this thread, a new apprentice will be announced!
tagged
Badgerstar
Peonypaw[/presto]
words
1223
muse
Can't stop me now!
music
You're Gonna Go Far Kid!
-The Offspring
notes
In this thread, a new apprentice will be announced!
tagged
Badgerstar
Peonypaw[/presto]
Brokenface ● Medicine Cat of ThunderClan
● prose | dialog ●
The sun shone down hotly over the roof of the long-abandoned twoleg nest. Song bird song filled the air, their twittering echoed through the forest. Undaunted by both the sun and the noise, a cat padded along through the undergrowth. His large paws fell soundly on twigs and furled bracken without bothering to quiet his steps. This wasn't a hunting patrol, and he wasn't an ordinary warrior. He was on a different mission, and just as important to the survival of his clan.
The medicine cat picked up his speed, disappearing for a short time under a bush. His thin tail lashed out from the shade while his paws set to work digging up small flowers. Ever so careful of their delicate stems, those large paws were surprisingly nimble as he gently tugged the plant from the ground. Watching the tiny, purple flowers, he pulled up the stem just enough to nip off what he felt was a good mouth full. Backing out from under the shade, he gathered up the shoots of heather and continued on toward the heart of the nest.
The sweet scent of wildflowers ticked his nose. He let it lead him to a patch of marigold and lavender. He let out a silent thank you to what ever twoleg used to claim this nest. It was the twoleg way of thinking, to gather all these useful plants in one place, that Brokenface was so thankful for. Otherwise, he'd have to walk along by the stream near WindClan for the marigold, and over by the lake for the lavender. The cat sat back for a moment, taking in the soft fragrance of the flowers with a faint smile on his flat face. Sweeping his copper gaze over the garden, he had a strange sort of pull. An emotion that can only be described as love. Love for the flowers, love for the quiet, and love for the healing herbs his clan so desperately needed to thrive. It was in that moment that the cat seemed to reaffirm his work.
Feeling refreshed, he pulled himself up and chewed through the thick stem of the lavender plant, taking only one shoot. They had enough of it back at camp so he didn't need a lot. But when he got to the marigold, he didn't hold back from nipping several shoots of the yellow flower-stem, leaves, and petals alike. All three were useful enough. A new scent, softer with an undertone of rose almost, caught his attention. After adding the lavender and marigold to the growing pile, he dug around the weeds until the purple leaves of the mallow plant turned up. Sniffing them for a moment, he hesitated. His stores of mallow were decently stocked, but with the recent downpour, some rain water had seeped into the crevice. The mallow he had in stock were best dry, otherwise the tender leaves rotted easily. He couldn't be sure the rain didn't do damage to his current supply.
Deciding it was for the best, he let the weeds cover and protect the mallow. He knew were it grew in a steady amount if he needed more. The tom gathered his herbs, or tried to anyway. Each time his flat muzzle got a hold of a stem, the bottom of the pile would drop back to the ground. Try as he might, he couldn't collect the whole of the herbs in one go. The medicine cat lashed his tail, glaring daggers at the pile.
A second trip out into the sun wasn't something he'd look forward to, but he didn't have much choice. Before he bent to collect what he could carry, he looked around. Maybe he'd be lucky and a passing patrol would come by so he could steal one of their cats to carry his herbs back for him. After a few heartbeats without another cat, he sighed. 'I need an apprentice. Make a young cat do all the lifting for a change.' He dug his claws into the ground, suddenly frustrated.
The old cat looked skyward, his face in a perpetual frown thanks to his flat nose. "Love for you to pick some cat out, you know? Not getting any younger down here." The squawk of a sparrow was the only reply he heard. 'Well, what are you good for then?'
There was a very real fear the tom kept hidden. What if he couldn't find a suitable cat before his time in the clan ended? He was reminded of Owlmask, the medicine cat before him. He'd turned every cat who showed even the slightest interest in becoming his apprentice. And look what happened to him; he died before he could pass on his knowledge. Brokenface, back then he had been known by a different name, had to travel to the other clans to learn from their medicine cat. How much of that could have been avoided if only StarClan had spoken up sooner.
And it wasn't like Brokenface hadn't tried to find an apprentice on his own. How many times had the tom stood by watching the kits play outside the nursery? None of the younger cats showed even the slightest interest in learning the craft. All the cats wanted was to hunt and fight. Single-minded kits make single-minded warriors. The old cat snorted, taking the lavender and half of the marigold firmly in his square jaws.
He strode around toward the front of the nest. A spot of white burned brightly in the sunlight. The cat paused, tilted his head, and padded toward it out of sheer curiosity. As he neared it, he realized it was just a flower. Almost disregarding it, his calculating mind made him glance twice at it. He lowered the small bundle to the dirt, placing it gently before stepping away from it and up to the flower. He sniffed at the large, white petals. Those petals, edged in pale pink, lay tightly curled in a ball. He wasn't sure, but it resembled a plant that his old twolegs had in their garden when he was only a kit. Peony, his father had called it. It was pretty, but he couldn't think of a medical use for it. Even so, the cat felt an unusual compulsion. Before he knew what he was doing, the ginger tom set his paw delicately over the flower. As soon as his pad touched the soft petals, it opened.
His fur rose, tail lashing as he backed away from it. What was a tight ball of petals was now a flower in full-bloom. It wasn't possible. Flowers don't do that. He furled his brow, staring down at the peony for far too long before he remembered Dawnfrost's litter. One of her kits was named Peony, and that kit was just about ready to become an apprentice, he reckoned. Excitement buzzed through his paws, and with the herbs forgotten, he picked the peony up by it's short stem and hurried back toward camp.
Pushing through the brambles, he rushed through the camp without saying anything to any cat. He hurried up the rock ledge, setting the flower down outside the lichen curtain, and called a greeting inside the leader's den. "Badgerstar, I need a word with you." He felt young again, pressing his front paws down hard on the warm rock.
