private i'm indifferent to you // lungwortkit

[cottonsprig]

Others don't seem to like the child. And in all honesty... Cottonsprig understands.

She's a plucky little thing, only grown mere whiskers in the last moon where others in her developmental range have shot up like dandelions in Cottonsprig's absence. She eats normally with no necessity for milk anymore, and though her lungs struggle to expand and her nose seems to always be a little wet... she's still simply a child, capable of so much. But perhaps her capabilities is what doomed her to begin with.

Cottonsprig has hopes that WindClan will not hold this grudge against the child for moons to come. Should more lives be lost or health damaged, the blue smoke wishes to shoulder the strife all on her own. It'd be... far too easy to blame a kitten who has no other choice. Yet as she spends a few sparing moments alongside Lungwortkit, watching the other tuck into a fieldmouse, she cannot help having the shared thought - Why you? Why does Lungwortkit get to be relatively healthy and alive, whilst Quietcrow lives amongst the stars, and many others still fight for their lives? Why does a loner's child thrive when many others fail to?

She silently admonishes herself. A child. She'd be pathetic to continue resting this sort of pain on thin, spindly shoulders like that.

"Do you like mouse, Lungwortkit?" Cottonsprig fills the air, her forepaws tucked beneath her chest as she tries to rest and soak in the leaf-fall sun.

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

• ooc // @LUNGWORTKIT

• ❥ MEDICINAL KNOWLEDGE
  ♥♥♡ WOUNDS ; can confidently stop bleeding and mend lacerations. will often request that you keep your injury clean and wait it out first.
  ♥♥♡ INFECTION ; as a side effect of likely her own doing, very dutiful with technique and treatment shortly thereafter.
  ♥♡♡ ACHES & PAINS ; will defer to a dark tunnel and rest. if pain persists, maybe she will offer something.
  ♥♡♡ BROKEN BONES ; has never dealt with a broken bone. likely will ask that you never move. ever again.
  ♥♥♥ TRAVELING HERBS ; learned well from her previous mentor. will pile even too many remedies to tough the wilderness with.
  ♥♥♥ KITTING ; having kittens of her own and helped several others with their litters, she is very well versed with calming techniques and quelling pain.
  ♥♡♡ POISONS ; she knows what they are... but that isn't enough, isn't it?
  ♥♥♡ ILLNESS ; having worked through two yellowcough bouts, she is confident in her remedies. much else... she's operating on trial and error.
  ⸻ cottonsprig is a dutiful and excitable medicine cat. she enjoys company and loves conversation. she'd rather not have too many curious noses snooping around her den... but who is she to quell curiosity?

• 

  ⸻❥ cottonsprig is the primary medicine cat of windclan. a former princess to the moors, she harbors many guilts for her actions throughout her short life. she has no consistent partner, unwilling to commit and settle, and she is training celandinepaw in medicine.

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[LUNGWORTKIT]

Live. The single word has been her imperative for all of her short life. She does not have the towering aspirations of the other kits—to be the best moor-runner or tunneler, the next medicine cat or leader. Lungwortkit's greatest desire for all her short moons on earth has been merely to survive. Survive she has, although the trappings of her body still weigh her down, and yet still her desires do not expand, just as her body fails to. The fieldmouse before her is taken to with a voraciousness more appropriate on a starving cat, burying her face in it up to the split-hued bridge of her nose. It tastes like blood and warm meat and life, like that first mashed-up mole that gave her her name and her health.

" Huh? " Lungwortkit's speech has grown when her body has not. Her words are awkward in their cadence, strangely stilted and adult, a trace of a barely-remembered accent threading throughout. It is the voice of a kit who can find no love among her own peers or anyone else, a child who lives life on the fringes. Her head throbs when she lifts it from the decimated body of the mouse, the world tilting incrementally and then back, and she scoots sideways until her black-marked side is jostling Cottonsprig's. The contact seeps warmth into perpetually chilled bones.

" I like it. It tastes good, like outside. " Her small pink tongue swipes blood off her muzzle and her long birdy whiskers. Outside is precious to her; she has a renewed appreciation for the expanse of camp. It's a paradise compared to the oppressive herb-scented dim of the medicine den where she had spent her formative moons.

" Cottonsprig? " A two-toned eye fixes piercingly on the medicine cat. It does not tear up, but there is a wounded vulnerability in the child's face. " Did—Did I really get everyone sick? Did I ... " Did I really kill Quietcrow?

OOC : —

❀

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