- Aug 9, 2022
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Without so much as a goodnight or dismissal, he watched his cinnamon coated mentor trudge ahead of him straight for the medicine cat den the moment they arrived back to camp. It was late enough not many, if any at all, cats were present for their return and Honeytwist had taken advantage of that to withdraw away as quickly and quietly as she could. His mismatched eyes narrowed at her retreating form, blinking back residual tears from the ordeal before finally drying once more and he felt agonizingly empty as a result of it. His ears were still ringing, he wished tonight had never happened; that he had continued being blissfully unware of the trauma and trials that StarClan so deemed necessary for their medicine cats to walk. Dandelionpaw did not go to join his mentor in the den, sitting down hard on the cold ground and tilting his head back to look directly up. The stars were always there, always present and dazzling and beautiful and the world beneath them was filthy and disgusting and unworthy to bask in their glow; he could understand how a cat could hate them. How a cat could hate anything.
Dandelionpaw felt his throat tighten, he wanted to find his father and burrow into his side like a kitten again; sleep between his brother and sister once more at the barn and listen to the chickens clucking quietly outside. But that kind of whimsical dreaming would get him nowhere. The cold reality of it was that none of these medicine cats had been even remotely prepared or capable for the roles given. None of the leaders had been either. The harsh truth was they were all simple cats thrown into a whirlwind and left to be tossed around mercilessly with only the most minimal guidance. StarClan would only offer aid in cryptic whispers, would never speak to them with anything worth knowing. The ShadowClan leader had been torn apart on the Thunderpath, killed nine consecutive times and yet the night sky remained just as pointed and bright. That Briarstar, a leader who did not insist on blood being spilled for honor, would die; meanwhile WindClan bathed in its own sins. Eye for an eye, eye for an eye, eye for an eye. He would rather the entire world be blind.
The RiverClan medicine cat had stood there. The SkyClan medicine cat had stood there. Hopeless, lost, he found he could only pity them; were they so beaten down they could not even offer any resistance? So afraid they could not even raise a paw in defense of themselves or their fellows. Bonejaw didn't want to be a healer, but why, why would StarClan force a cat who didn't want it into this role? Couldn't they pick another? Unchain her? Free her? He had watched Honeytwist and Cinderfrost try to kill the sleek dark she-cat for even daring to not suffer as they have; for wanting to quit rather than continue struggling under the weight. Cruel. Heartless. His mentor also wanted an eye for an eye, wanted pain as payment for her pain.
The sepia point did not move where he sat, meadow green and golden field eyes cast upward, but he did begin to laugh.