private CARRY ON // wolfsong

[cottonsprig]

[ sorry for how late this is! ]

Cotton breathes. It's a slow, intentional action, eyes flutter between one brightly lit star to the next, as if she's searching for a sign. She's yet to speak with them - StarClan - but she feels pressure to gain something of use out of them. But nothing. Not a twinkle, not a flash. She doesn't quite know why she must hold hope for their ancestors when they don't hold her in a similar regard - yet the selfish idea settles like a pit in her stomach. Her mother has ruined what relationship with StarClan she could have had. In due time, maybe, she can rebuild it. She was chosen by them, after all.

She abandons her efforts and turns back towards the barn - not too many steps inside and she finds Wolfsong, touching up his meager herb supply. She's learned that his daughter was nearly gutted in that fight, his other children narrowly missing the same fate. It's childish, of course, but she wonders if the tom blames her for it, or anything, at all.

"Hey," she hums, interjecting herself to his task. Her paws itch to tug dead leaves and break stems, to do his bidding, be his subject and apprentice once more. Doing it all on her own was... scary, to say the least. If allowed, either verbally or with a gentle motion, she would get to work. Otherwise, she idles nearby. Regardless she parts her jaws to speak of their time apart.

"I had to treat them," she says, ears twitching. Cotton tries to act nonchalant about it, but she cannot help feeling stressed and nervous, "Peonypaw, Harbingermoon... Even Granitepelt - he was the worst off. But Sootstar likes him, and he's my..." she pauses, and looks as if she's counting the digits on her paw, before shaking her head, "He's something, I guess. I didn't really understand, nor did I really -" Care. Her thought doesn't finish. "I did my best, and no one died of anything while I was there." That counts for something, right? "And Ebonylight. He had his kittens several nights ago. I remembered the chervil, but he seemed more keen on biting his mate's paw than any stick I could bring. The kittens - they were healthy, too, from what I could see..." she trails off, suddenly worrying of the little ones care. Surely those still in WindClan camp won't taint them so young... right?

She lets out a slow breath, and admits, "It wasn't easy, Wolfsong. I don't know how you do it alone," and suddenly, she fears about the day that she might have to again.

@WOLFSONG ​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── He blames Sootstar. He blames himself and he blames the cats who seek to maintain Sootstar's reign— but he does not blame her daughter for the fates befalling them. Wolfsong can admit that he was, for a time, very apprehensive as to whether they would see her face arriving at the barn, whether her mother's lack of trust in Wolfsong led to suspicions cast on his apprentice. Or, at his lowest, that she might have chosen Sootstar over the bond formed between them. It relieved him immensely when she did at last reveal herself, even if her newly acquisitioned name –unsanctioned by StarClan– was unexpected.

He hums a greeting in response, wordless for the time-being, and silently pushes a dirtied stem of catchweed toward her. Wolfsong intuits that she has something she needs to say, and he waits patiently for her to do so as he sets about cleaning the other herbs he dug from nearby the Horseplace. He does not have to wait long: she dips into explaining the duties she performed in his absence, the potential blood tie between her and Granitepelt (which certainly intrigues him).

Wolfsong pauses as her voice hesitates, and then confesses the heart of her intent. "For good or ill, we know what our clanmates do not. And to carry their expectations alone is not easy— I cannot tell you that I have never felt the weight, nor that I am always confident in my skills." It is not the most reassuring start, he knows, and he sets aside the herbs to face her with a solemn eye. "But you have learned what I cannot teach you: self-reliance. Perhaps you were apprehensive and uncertain, but you still applied what you knew. You acted. Indecision is a greater foe than apprehension."
​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 41 MOONS, HE/HIM, NPC X NPC. MATES WITH SUNSTRIDE (07/05/2023). BIOGRAPHY, PINTEREST, & PLAYLIST.

medicinal expertise med. part ii med. part iii med. part iv

• — ★★★☆☆ WOUNDS: You're (mostly) in safe paws. You'll know if he's less experienced if he asks for your permission to try a treatment. No wound can scare him away from knowledge.
  — ★★★☆☆ INFECTION: He can prevent most infections. If you feel feverish, let him know; he'll hum thoughtfully over herbs and sniff your wound before saying, "With your blessing..."
• — ★☆☆☆☆ ACHES & PAINS: If you complain to him of pain, he'll ask where. If it's a headache, you'll likely feel a bit better. For anything else, "Try this, if you'd like, and tell me how you feel."
  — ★☆☆☆☆ BROKEN BONES: At best. he can ask you to remain lying down in the den. He may try to distract you with conversation while he considers what herb to feed you.
• — ★★★★★ TRAVELING HERBS: Going somewhere? No worries; Wolfsong knows just what you need to stay hale and healthy during your journey. The rest is up to you.
  — ★★★☆☆ KITTING: Thanks to Starlingheart and his own pregnancy, he's better prepared for the arrival of kits, but any complications will need a little faith and a lot of luck.
• — ★☆☆☆☆ POISONS: It's best if you avoid eating anything unfamiliar to you— it's probably just as unfamiliar to Wolfsong. The best he can do is offer you yarrow and sit with you.
  — ★★☆☆☆ ILLNESS: If it's white or greencough, you'll likely recover. Otherwise, prepare for odd concoctions and the usual request that you consent to a little trial-and-error.

​

 

[cottonsprig]

Cottonfang isn't entirely sure what quiets the loudness in her mind the most - the normalcy that's come with this monotonous task, or maybe the fact that Wolfsong clearly doesn't detest her for her mistakes (and, in fact, still wants her around.) The devil is in the details somewhere, she's certain, but the grey she-cat doesn't bother to pick it apart just then. The conversation (if one can call it that; she's entirely aware of how she's talked at the golden tom more than anything,) is enough to keep her busy.

He speaks eloquently, so easily that she wonders if the tom has prepared lessons such as this for moons in advance. She listens intently, ears tilted his way while she preens the catchweed of a few stubborn, ugly leaves. When he gives, pause, she looks up, the look of focus in her eyes dissipating as he continues. "You acted. Indecision is a greater foe than apprehension." Her gaze flickers to the ground once more as she consumes the information shared. Wolfsong is not infallible, and the weight she struggled beneath before is one he bears daily. There is pride to be had, however only if she recognizes the strife she struggled through to gain it.

"It was a hard lesson to learn," she decides, setting aside the stem of catchweed. "Y'know... death - it's... permanent, yeah? Even for leaders. Sootstar, she'll be gone too. Her lives are not unlimited..." Cottonfang pauses, and she looks up at him again. Her eyes sting but she withholds her tears, fearful of being emotional. She wants to be strong - though Wolfsong has never chided her for being weak. "You and I - we will one day pass. I... Wolfsong, I hope that the day we must separate from one another isn't one of sorrow or pain. I've had enough of that for a lifetime, I think, and I'm sure you have too. I - I know neither of us can promise anything, but..." again, another pause, only for her to swallow the lump in her throat and trudge on.

"Regardless of who leaves first, can we promise that we'll be here for each other always? Even if the Stars choose to separate us? The life of a medicine cat... it's hard, and it's stressful, and I can't imagine doing it again without you. So, please... just promise me," even if you don't mean it. "I'll need your guidance, surely. And maybe you'll miss me mixing up your stores, time and time again." A bubble of laughter, though inhibited by the gravity of the conversation, leaves her maw.​