cool tinted grey eyes blinked open hesitantly, with the sun still shining bright it was quite the difference going from looking at the insides of his lids, all red with bursts of light shining through from the bright surroundings. sun reflecting off the small stream cutting shadowclan camp in half and the pale flat stone he had placed the poppies on. by now, the sun had made its way towards the top of the treeline surrounding the large massive cedar trees and was threatening to dip under to tint the sky reds and yellows before disappearing over the horizon to let the moon take over the silverpelt stretch over the pitch black night sky. stiff from having layn, unmoving, for so long, rookfire stumbled a bit upon standing before pawing at the poppies to determine if they were dry before pushing them off the warm rock and onto the leaf he had used to carry them earlier. following the careful folding of the large leaf to ensure no seeds may fall out and be lost or even worse, picked up by some nosy kit with a death wish, rookfire pushed through the lichen shrouded entrance of the medicine den. making most of the way over to the herb storage semi blind as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. once by the cracks in the wall and the leaf placed on the ground, he sat, perched on his hind legs and unfolded the package of dried poppies. one paw holding down the flower by the nub where its stem had previously sprouted from, the other ghosted over the black center of the plant, carefully dislodging the seeds before lifting up the individual flower to shake them out and onto the leaf. the repeated until all flowerheads were free of seeds and he had a amount of small dark seeds he couldnt even imagine counting. it was..a lot. that was all he could say.
@elio
Shrewstep limped into the medicine den behind Foggymask, very pointedly not looking at his challenger. Dethroner? He was certainly no longer an enforcer (mixed feelings, mixed feelings), but he wasn't sure whether Foggymask had been promoted in his stead. Perhaps they were just.....one enforcer lighter. Selfishly, he quite hoped this was the case. That rat of a cat shouldn't be an enforcer any more than he should, of that he was certain. Also he was spiteful and wounded and wanted Foggymask to have done battle with him in vain. Then he could (theoretically at least) claim the moral victory. Who was he kidding. Shrewstep was grasping at straws.
Seeing as Rookfire was occupied with the rat, Shrewstep headed in the direction of Mossfreckle. He didn't recall seeing the senior medicine cat at the challenge, but it didn't really matter whether they were there or not. Everyone knew what had been happening, regardless of attendance. 'ello. he muttered, dipping his head. Mossfreckle wasn't his dear friend Marigoldleap, but there was a degree of respect now enshrined in this position for Shrewstep. I've been a bit banged up as you can see, the biggest problem is my left hind leg. A pretty nasty gash there I think. My chest's also been a bit beaten up, and my ear took a good nip. That seems like it's stopped bleeding though. He turned to face the most grievously injured limb towards Mossfreckle, leaning down to lap at his chest as he did so. He could at least do the medicine cat the favor of cleaning the wound out a bit.
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All hail the Rat Queen's!!
Shrewstep has Silver Tongue and Mind Reader purrks
Pit has Just a Scratch and Beefed Up Tier 2
foggymask ignored his attempt at chatter, trying to lift the mood, well enough, he didnt care all that much anyway, happy to just do his job and send him off. he didnt like the guy anyway. padding over to the herb storage, steps no more than a quiet thump thump thump on the hard packed soil ground, rookfire selected his herbs of choice, moss to get rid of some of the blood, chervil to prevent infection, cobwebs to hold it in place and soak up excess blood.
the medicine cat apprentice stepped over the small stream seperating the front part of the medicine den from where their herbs were kept, placing the plants on the ground to go moisten the moss. cool water licked at his maw as he submerged the moss, pressing some of the excess water out and letting some drip out before taking it to foggymask, leaving behind a small trail of wet dots on the soil.
he began with the one at his brow, the one that had been the reason of a small stream of blood running down his face, tapping the moss to the wound to remove any dust and debris while easing the bleeding slightly. he wouldnt bother with any of the slowly drying crimson tinting the warriors grey coat a darker tone, that wasnt his responsibility.
he picked up the chervil, absentmindedly grinding the leaf into a paste while tending to the other wounds, washing blood from the cut above his nose, muzzle and back before sitting up on his hind legs in order to apply the chervil and cover it with cobwebs. "have ta' leave the lip as is, would'n stay put if i put anythin'. take care of th' wounds n come back if ye start feeling sick" he finished, sending the now treated warrior off with a flick of his tail.
Cinderpaw
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82/100
10 moons || she/her || ShadowClan Apprentice small black tabby with minimal white markings and 3 legs; amber eyes
Bad place, bad place, bad place, this is a bad place and nothing good happens here. Nothing good like her leg being taken, and Smokekit dying, and her momma and papa fighting in front of all of them, and... and other things, Cinderpaw's certain of it. She doesn't like this den. She might not have any experiences in here yet, but she'd had more than enough in the old den. Hopefully this time is different. The matter of actually getting Rookfire's attention, though... that's something else.
She's unlocked her words, sort of, but she still hates speaking, it makes her throat hurt and reminds her of why she'd unlocked them, so she'd rather rely on her signing. Getting her mentor's attention, though, um... there's a rock on the ground that maybe she can toss? But, would that jostle her not-there-leg too much? She's already shaking a little from the effort of holding herself together. Maybe she can try talking...
"Roo-" she tries, voice coming out small and scratchy and hoarse enough that she has to clear her throat. "Rook...fi..re," Well... better than nothing, but she probably won't be saying anything else after that.
Rowankit meekly limps toward the medicine den. Ew, her paw was internally fluffy. The bee's sting had let a tiny black dot from where the stinger went in, and there was an angry, pained red around the area as she walks on three legs. The bee, however, was still between her jaws as she approached. Aaand arrived! Entering part of the den, Rowankit peeks in. Aha! There! Rookfire, from the hunting training. The Heartbreaker dropped her catch on the earth and raised her head to look at the Medicine Cat Apprentice. "Hello, Rookfire." She mewed politely, tail-tip giving one twitch. "You taught me.. well. How to hunt. But my prey fought back." She explained, a hint of pride in her voice. Of course, she hadn't meant to catch the bee, frankly she just wanted revenge after her bout of terror, but still. She did catch it! So what else mattered?
↳-Header by Mango-༉‧₊˚✧
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Goldfish Is one of Riverclan’s Lionhearts!
She is Open to Apprentice Training and Plot ideas! My Characters' Opinions do Not reflect my Own!
____________________ Toyhouse
alec is in the corner. bean is poking me with a stick.
Cinderpaw
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82/100
10 moons || she/her || ShadowClan Apprentice small black tabby with minimal white markings and 3 legs; amber eyes
Bad place, bad place, bad place, this is a bad place and nothing good happens here. Nothing good like her leg being taken, and Smokekit dying, and her momma and papa fighting in front of all of them, and... and other things, Cinderpaw's certain of it. She doesn't like this den. She might not have any experiences in here yet, but she'd had more than enough in the old den. Hopefully this time is different. The matter of actually getting Rookfire's attention, though... that's something else.
She's unlocked her words, sort of, but she still hates speaking, it makes her throat hurt and reminds her of why she'd unlocked them, so she'd rather rely on her signing. Getting her mentor's attention, though, um... there's a rock on the ground that maybe she can toss? But, would that jostle her not-there-leg too much? She's already shaking a little from the effort of holding herself together. Maybe she can try talking...
"Roo-" she tries, voice coming out small and scratchy and hoarse enough that she has to clear her throat. "Rook...fi..re," Well... better than nothing, but she probably won't be saying anything else after that.
rookfire sat perched on his hind legs, in front of the herb storage and was critically eyeing the cobwebs residing in the crack in the stone wall, trying to figure out if an attempt at separating the larger cobweb to add more to a smaller one could theoretically work, when cinderpaw entering the med den, lichen shroud moving like a whisper in the wind and giving off a quiet rustling, caught his attention. had he been focussed deeply on something, resting or asleep, he wouldnt have heard, so the curtain hiding the medicine dens inside from prying eyes was sadly no where close to a reliable warning system..or just, reliable at informing the medics when a cat appeared for treatment.
when the former enforcer turned to face his favourite of his three apprentices (dont tell the other two though) she looked to be in pain, quietly rasping his name with a twinge of desperation, or maybe that was him projecting his concern onto the smaller cat.
he hadnt ever seen cinderpaw in or even near the medicine den ever, so this couldnt simply be a visit to the den in search of his or mossfreckles company (especially not with the memories he expected the apprentice to connect with this place, her mothers death front and center) which only left an injury or emergency as a reason for her visit. with mossfreckle out of the den at the moment, he was back onto all fours in a blink, white tipped paws padding over to where the apprentice stood in silence apart from the quiet tapping of his paws on the hard packed soil.
cool grey eyes, softened with concern, scanned the apprentices body in search of injuries, causing whisker brows to draw together at a lack there of. "whats wrong cinderpaw?" the medic finally addressed in what he hoped to be a comforting tone of voice.
Cinderpaw
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83/100
10 moons || she/her || ShadowClan Apprentice small black tabby with minimal white markings and 3 legs; amber eyes
How does one articulate what's wrong when nothing should be wrong? Cinderpaw has no clue how she's supposed to explain that she feels like her leg is still attached and it's being crushed again.
Without words, because even just saying her mentor's name made her throat hurt, Cinderpaw glances to her stump and again to Rookfire, amber eyes clouded in confusion of her own.
"Don't know," she signs, shaking her head, "leg hurts... not there but it hurts."
Re: ShadowClan Medicine Cat's Den
