[Rose]

Lostspark
She/Her | Purrks Overlook

[ @Fawnheart<3 - Mossfreckle / @Beanz - Swanpaw | -1 Comfery, -2 Poppy Seeds, -1 Marigold, -4 Cobwebs, -1 Stick ]

When Hickorysplinter never showed up, Lostspark could not resist the frown that tugged over her face. “No matter,” She said finally, shaking her head in displeasure. “Swanpaw needs healing.” Turning back to the apprentice in question at his hysterics, Lostspark glanced briefly at her own apprentice, expression grim. “Hold him down, no need for him to injure himself further.” She told them, and then turned, swiftly gathering the herbs she needed.

Exhaling heavily, Lostspark walked back over. “Well, kid. All I can say is; brace yourself.” She didn’t know if she was talking to Swanpaw, Mossfreckle, or both. This was something new to Lostspark, and skies, she did hope it worked. Going off of intuition was not very… stress-relieving. Lostspark set the comfrey leaves aside and then slipped two poppy seeds past the youth’s lips. “Eat those,” was all she said as she began cleaning out the other less-serious wounds, applying marigold paste to them, and then binding them with cobwebs.

A couple moments later she turned back to Swanpaw when she suspected the poppy seeds’ numbing effect had kicked in, and then, hesitating only a moment, she angled her paw to the apprentice’s crooked jaw and quickly aligned the mandible back (hopefully) into place with a brutal snap. Finally, finally, when that was out of the way… Lostspark turned to the youngster’s broken front left paw. “Again, brace yourself.” It was the only warning she gave before reaching out and straightening the bone, quickly strapping a stick (and numerous cobwebs to the leg) to keep it righted and in place.

“You, Swanpaw, are on bedrest. You are not leaving this den until I say so.” Her voice was stern, unforgiving, and righteously pissed off. So many herbs had been used. Lostspark was nearly out of comfrey now. “I intend on hearing what in the name of all the skies caused this.” Her tail lashed behind her, an agitated, furious tick.

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[ @Undertaker - Dawnstar / @Rani - Bleedingkit ]

Huh. It wasn’t every day Dawnstar visited Lostspark’s den. Considering the fact that Lostspark usually very often darkened (both literally and metaphorically speaking) her mother’s doorstep, Dawnstar’s visits were seemingly rare, and in Lostspark’s case, the first since she’d been named Medicine Cat. But the scarred, overly large dark brown tabby only held Lostspark’s attention for a few moments, because her glassy amber gaze immediately dragged to the much more colorful, much more smaller cat that dangled from Dawnstar’s maw.

Watching as her mother dropped the kit almost gently into an empty nest, Lostspark fought down the amused twitch of her lips. She remembered being that tiny - and ten times more terrified of Dawnstar when she’d been that size. Stubborn and too proud to cower, sure, but terrified internally all the same. Lostspark didn’t know who had changed over the moons - whether it was herself that’d grown up and realized Dawnstar was nothing to fear so long as one didn’t stray from ShadowClan, or if it was Dawnstar herself who’d softened, if only in Lostspark’s eyes. The rest of the Clan seemed duly terrified of the leader, but maybe it was just the idea of ShadowClan’s Shadow Queen that scared them.

Maybe they’d both changed. Or maybe not. Who knew?

“He’s a beauty.” She commented after a moment, tilting her head to the side when her mother had finished speaking. “Though I suppose don’t tell him that as he grows, I’d really rather not have a heartbreaker on my paws on top of the seventeen kits already under my name.”

The Medicine Cat carefully picked her way over to the bengal kit as he wobbled his way out of the nest Dawnstar had placed him in (oh well, Lostspark much preferred putting him in her nest anyway, not a random hypothetical patient’s), leaning down in an attempt to nudge him. She eyed him slightly warily at his exclamation. “Well, then… Bleedingkit,” Yep. The name was a little… strange, but who was Lostspark to complain? It was her who’d named Sleepykit because her daughter had looked sleepy – and then Rainkit and Rainykit because she’d been half-hallucinating. She felt like grimacing at the mention of her eyes appearance as fire, a reminder of what she’d lost - of what she’d thrown away, but refrained. Instead, Lostspark ducked her head, aiming to begin grooming the kit, in hopes to get rid of the dried blood. “Welcome home.” The grey feline glanced up at her mother. “And thank you, for giving him a better life.”