[sleepyyjax]

Newtbelly
he/him | Agatha Kitty, Shadow Fiend | 17 moons

header: @/daragca

This was the first time he'd seen Mossfreckle in action - the medicine cat was fast - skilled, as he cleaned Owlthroat's stained coat. He was relived to see his former mentor wasn't too injured. Though he didn't limp the way Newtbelly did, his wounds were clearly more severe. Owlthroat was a seasoned fighter, no stranger to injury - one could clearly see it written across his face: quite literally. He'd never thought to ask the tom about that. However, Owlthroat wasn't the kind of cat you give those kinds of questions to, that's what he thought, at least. It was embarrassing to admit, but Newtbelly wasn't entirely sure how to manage pain. In the past, he'd only caught small scuffs from spars and training. How can such a battle hungry cat go so long with not one injury? It was a mystery to even himself. Well, proving his worth alongside Owlthroat should be enough to have him placed on the battlefield, then many a new scar would come his way. Hopefully, nowhere near as painful as the fox's bite. As Owlthroat gave the explanation, he nodded along, "thanks to Owlthroat, we won't be seeing more of those things anytime soon." Maybe it was a secret hope that the presence of one didn't mean the presence of more. But mostly it was a compliment to the tom. Sure, he'd taught him everything he knew, but seeing him in action? No wonder he was named Owlthroat. Newtbelly found himself almost envious - he liked his own name, but it was purely cosmetic. A yellowy creature with a white belly. Hopefully, in the coming moons, it would be recognised in relation to his style of battle. One with the shadows: rarely spotted. Before jumping out at his opponent. The whole clan would recognise that. In what may be delusions of grandeur, he'd passed enough time for Owlthroat to be patched up.

Damp moss... After seeing them clean Owlthroat up, he knew what was coming. Still, he definitely wasn't used to it. The way Mossfreckle was with their duties... He wanted to be that way. Diligent, dedicated, confident. Some kind of paste was blotted on his wounds - he had no idea what it was. Were herbs worth getting to know? Silentpaw never asked him about it, so he didn't really think so. Best leave that stuff to the Medicine Cats. Don't eat any of them, no matter how nice they look! That's all he knew, and all he'd pass down to his apprentices.

Well, unless the med tells you to, obviously... The poppy seeds were welcomed, finally something to ease the pain. If he said he didn't want to try and ride the pain out to look all cool and stoic, he'd be lying - but he wasn't one to flit past a medicine cat's orders.
Though he was welcome to stay, he didn't really feel like it - even if it might be beneficial. The Medicine den was... Unfamiliar. Though nice, the thick scent of herbs wasn't something he was used to - and he had to admit, he wasn't a great conversationalist with newer cats (or any cats), he feared embarrassing himself in front of the healer. Maybe if Owlthroat was staying he would've, but he found it hard enough to talk to his peers, never mind the medicine cat.

"It should be fine, but thank you." he smiled.
He fought well?
Stifling the urge to grin like a kit, he gave Owlthorat a casual head dip, "thanks old man!" The nickname came out of his mouth before he could stop it. What a way to prove himself! Sure, Owlthroat did the hardest of the work, but maybe the fight would've gone differently if Newtbelly hadn't whittled away at the brute's strength - or, at least distracted it. Before leaving, he chimed out, "Thanks again Mossfreckle!" His voice far from its usual flat tones, certainly caused by the small bit of praise he'd obtained.
The tom limped his way out, though not nearly as staggered as when he came in.

@elio
@Daragca