but when i get up close there is a maggot on the rose || catfish sting

  • Slow moving waters, too silt-stirred to see the bottom, reflect the wonder of Silverpelt with perfect clarity. It should be a contradiction that something so filthy can look so beautiful on the surface and yet the marsh exists like this everywhere, uncaring to the thoughts of Betonyfrost. She sits at the edge of the waters, ears pricked and leaning just enough to see her dark eyes peering back at her from those murky waters.

    Betonyfrost has always been patient.

    A flash of movement, silver as the moon, and the whole of Betonyfrost that had been tensed suddenly releases-- a coiled snake striking. Her face plunges into the water and, when she pulls back, fur caught in wet spikes, she holds a writhing fish in her teeth. It is juvenile, no more than half a tail-length, and Betonyfrost is so proud of herself. She's never caught a fish before! It's hard to grip and, for fear of the fish bouncing back into the water, Betonyfrost turns away from the water's clay bank and settles with the fish by a nearby clump of towering ragweed.

    Then, pain.

    It come on so suddenly that Betonyfrost collapses, mouth still agape. The fish flails uselessly besides her, and Betonyfrost doesn't care, she doesn't care. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. A radiating pain, stronger than anything Betonyfrost has ever felt before. Somewhere on her cheek-- she keeps pawing at the area but then the whole of her head hurts all the way down her neck. She doesn't try to speak or make a noise, but somehow she keeps saying ah, ah, like her body wants to yell but doesn't know how.

    Yet the wound on Betonyfrost's cheek is shallow enough that the bleed has already slowed from sluggish to a stop. It shouldn't hurt this much; why does it hurt this much?
  • Code:
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags
She had been out on a solitary training mission, a run around the territory to strengthen her legs and to hone her memory of the lands belonging to ShadowClan. Brawlinglion was in the home stretch as she readied herself to return to camp when she overheard sounds of suffering. The she-cat skidded to a halt, her paws struggling for purchase on the loose, muddy soil. With ears pricked high, the calico surveyed her surroundings and listened carefully until she could pinpoint the source.

Hurrying over to a patch of ragweed, she finally came across Betonyfrost. "What are you whimpering about?" She growled with a level of scrutiny as she tried to figure out what exactly had the other in such a condition. Flickers of concern rippled through her and she pulled her jaw taut. "What's wrong? What happened?" Brawlinglion is honestly confused, but she spies the writhing fish and she aims to strike it dead with a slash of her claws. So, had the tiny blighter caused her clanmate all this suffering? How?
why was everyone in shadowclan so grumpy all the time? even chilledgaze, who naturally was rather just standoffish and aloof, didn't get that. it didn't take that much effort to be a little sympathetic. when it came to other clans, they could use all that bitterness to bite heads off, but inwardly? shadowclan needed to learn to be nicer to each other. and that's just what chilledgaze had intended to do. it was very unlikely, however, that they would be nice to brawlinglion any time soon. she was much too pompous for her own good, and anyone with an ego that big... let's just say that chilledgaze knew their insecurities were a lot bigger.

"hey. betonyfrost. take a deep breath. let me see."

they try to look over at the small wound which had stopped bleeding. it doesn't even need medicine cat attention. so why was it still hurting her? poor girl.

"can you just... tell me whats wrong? im not a medicine cat, so i can't help much, but... maybe if you talk to me it will distract from the pain."

Tendriltail is bewildered by the scene. There was Betonyfrost, muttering "ahs" as she paws at her cheek. The murky-coated she-cat spots just the slightest blood trickling down her tufts, then she spots the wound for a split seconds. It was a tiny, shallow thing, and she was making this much of a fuss about it? Tendriltail believes its overdramatic.

"Oh Betonyfrost... never took ye to be a crybaby. That wound there 'ardly anythin' to be fussing about."
It's said light-heartedly with a hearty chuckle, she aims to pat a heavy paw on the young warrior's shoulder. "Kittens scratch hurt more t'an that."

  • It should startle her when Brawlinglion arrives. She should feel nervous and jittery; her spine should straighten like an apprentice caught in mischief. Instead Betonyfrost can only stare at Brawlinglion as she does what Betonyfrost couldn’t and put that poor fish out of its misery. Would it be too much for Betonyfrost to ask Brawlinglion to do the same for her?

    I don’t—” Betonyfrost starts, but is cut off by a gasp, “I don’t know!

    It’s so deeply embarrassing for Chilledgaze to see Betonyfrost in this state. She looks away from them, eyes shut tight— but Betonyfrost has never been able to look away for long. She just wishes that their words, that their kindness could work as balm to the pain as easily as it works as a balm to her heart. At first Betonyfrost shakes her head to their request; it isn’t possible to speak right now. Not from this.

    But oh, how could she tell them no?

    Something happened,” Betonyfrost says, “Like— like a wasp sting,” Like a wasp sting, but so much worse. She would rather be stung by ten wasps than have to live with this.

    Tendriltail’s words are cutting, but unsurprising. It’s such a small cut— Betonyfrost needs to get over it. A thorn prick. A kitten scratch. Betonyfrost grits her teeth and attempts to pull herself up from her hunched position, but her legs tremble and the whole of her protests. She isn’t strong enough to manage something so small. How could she call herself a warrior?

    But then she thinks to herself, like a wasp sting, and something comes together in her mind. She paws at her cheek with a renewed fervor, and there—

    Her claws catch something and it pulls loose, then falls without fanfare at her feet. Whisker-thin with the same vicious point of a snake tooth and sides that are holly leaf-serrated all the way down. The pain abates almost immediately from unbearable to manageable upon its removal, and Betonyfrost backs away from it immediately, ears folded and tail twitching. The cut resumes a trickle-bleed, but Betonyfrost doesn’t care.

    What is it?” Betonyfrost asks. Its small enough that she can almost not make out it’s bone white gleam in the dark. Betonyfrost would rather never touch it or it’s like again.​
  • Code:
shadowclan warrior | blue mackerel tabby | tags

Well... she most certainly wasn't expecting that. The woman did a bit of a double take when Betonyfrost pulled a thin object from her wound... she's seen cats pull quills out from porcupine encouters before, but a fish? Is that what that was? A quill?

Perhaps this injury had hurt more than a kittens scratch.

"Yowch! Musda fel' good pulling 'hat one out, ay? Maybe was wrong, more than a kittens scratch!" She sniffs at the unusual object that was once embed in the young cats wound, puzzled with what it was herself. "Got not a clue. Quill? Tat came from yer catfish?"