the mother we share &. Medicine Cat Meeting

[Dandelionwish]

Dandelionwish debated staying with his clan, not coming here to be among cats he only knew in passing who saw him only as the shadow of others and not who he was. The Moonstone’s pale blue lumination offers him no solace this time, he wishes he could take the time to visit StarClan now and scream into the sparkling expanse until someone tells him what to do. But every second he is not with his clan and keeping track of their sickness he is wasting time, losing lives, he’s only here for one purpose and so he’d arrived as quickly as he could; there was no eager waiting near the border for the others to walk with them to the high stones, no chatter or merriment to uplift the mood. The sepia point did not have the energy to even pretend anything was fine and dull-eyed and head low he settled down to wait patiently for the others to arrive.

He was exhausted, broken down and it was only out of sheer desperation he dragged himself to the Moonstone for the meeting; he had no faith he would find aid with any of his fellow medicine cats-there was no companionship to be found with them, he had been marked from the beginning as a dog of the moors and not to be trusted, unstable as his mentor and deadly as his leader. His own identity and sense of self was drowned by the failings of other cats; the burden of the father falls to the son. But he had to try.
The ones who might offer a paw to help were too inexperienced nor did the herbs he needed grow on their territory. He would ask, but he expected nothing. There was only one cat he knew had access to the lifesaving catmint that would free WindClan from their mortal coil and he didn’t know what answer he would face upon requesting it. It would be so easy to take the route of cruelty, to demand payment less he oust the lovestruck fools before their clans and lay them to the mercy of their leaders and while he did not know Blazestar he did not think any punishment he gave would even compare to the absolute brutality that Sootstar would bestow upon Mallowlark. He has nightmares of cats with missing eyes, sockets bleeding and mouths open in silent screams and he can not condemn a cat to such a fate. Dandelionwish is desperate, but he is not so low as to drag another down with him.

His eyes glanced upward, the moon overhead sending reflective shards of blue light rippling across the walls of the inner highstones and he felt very much like he was underwater in that moment; engulfed in a heaviness and unable to breath, the world a bisque cobalt blue filter that denied all other light.

​

 

[Starlingheart]

How was she expected to go all the way to the moonstone by herself? No older paws to guide her across the moors. She is afraid, but she knows she must go. The other medicine cats have something more valuable than anything else, knowledge. What use were the herbs that adorned the shelves of the medicine cats den if she did not know how to use them? What use was she? So despite her trepidations, she departs on shaky, reluctant, paws.

It is nerve-wracking, being so alone and when she makes it onto the moors it is even worse. She is alone and exposed. The nervous she cat looks over her shoulder, and above her to the starry sky, almost constantly. 'Star Clan protect me, please' she sends a silent prayer to the heavens and speeds up. By the time she makes it to the high stones she is exhausted, and dreading the way home but she smiles when she sees a familiar face.

Dandelionwish was a cat who could understand her plight, he too had been abandoned by his mentor while he was still too young to take upon such a mantle. He too had been forced to grow up too soon, to bear too much weight upon his shoulders. At least Honeytwist had no choice but to leave her clan. Bonejaw had had a choice and she had chosen to abandon her.

Her smile falters when she draws closer though when she sees the expression that weighs his features down. Something heavy must be on the sepia toms mind to make him look the way he did. She nods her head in his direction "Evening. H-hooowww how was how was y-y-your jo-jo-journey heeere?" she asks quietly, secretly envious that he had a shorter trip than the rest of them.
​

 

[GLOOMPAW]

Gloompaw did not mind the company of the other medics. Though they were not full insights into the other clans, she saw nothing but RiverClan for the rest of her time. She struggled to remember their names, and would sometimes get their homeclan mixed up in thinking of them, but their mannerisms stuck with her. Following after Beesong, she restlessly fidgeted her paws as they waited.

The moonstone seemed to ebb and flow under the light, swimming in her vision. Like her first visit, she was awestruck, fur prickling with the energy of it. Hesitancy rose in her chest, her excitement faltering, those same cruel thoughts of unworthy echoing through her mind. But she had been once before, she must tame these worries.

She turns to look at Starlingheart speaking to Dandelionwish, her quiet question barely intelligible to Gloompaw's ears. They are both closer to her age than the others, the cats who will meet with her here for moons to come. Their burdens are heavier, the health of their clans hoisted upon their young shoulders. When she's near them, she can see that perpetual burnout gaze in their eyes, the same one that flickered and flashed behind the other medicine cats' like a candle. It looks too out of place on them. Irritation bubbles in her. She wants to wrestle that look out, squish it beneath her paws.

Tactically shuffling closer, she departs from her mentor's shadow, slowly progressing towards the two as if a nervous stray.​

 

[BERRYHEART]

His mother weighed heavy on his mind, even when now she was in a stable state. A yawn split Berryheart's maw as he prepared to join the ranks of his fellow medics, and for a moment he paused to observe the sky. It smiled down upon him, even now. He had faith that the words spouted by his mother's attacker were patently untrue. They would never direct a cat to attack another- such actions had been his predecessor's downfall. Terrible, how so many lacked control. How they could so easily be persuaded to kill.

Olivine eyes, awry, befell the entrance. Light pulsed from it, beckoning heartbeat. He allowed it to will his limping form forward, joining the rest of the medicine cats. Pebbles now stood fully-ranked, as he and Odd-eyes had been set so early upon the full extent of their paths. He was at least glad to see that Bear-tail still accompanied Stormy- she had not been left to brave the squall yet. Nodding to greet them all, he stayed slightly upon the outskirts, dulled eyes brightened slightly-blue by the light. Maw ajar with crookedness, he kept his tongue behind his fangs for now, seeing little point in offering any words. He had his questions- one, in particular- but he had offered his greeting and for now such a thing should suffice.

Besides, he found his best studies were often performed in silence.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Tonight, he's here with a purpose. More clear than not. Not-so speculation, but a whim, a wish; strings of words wrapped tight around his heart, gleaming in mother's moonlight. She whispers his orders, and to her he replies, I know. He wouldn't dare forget, not when so much was riding on it, on him.

Were it not for that, he nearly thinks he wouldn't show his face at all. (Nearly, that is key. Truly, who would turn down such an experience? The chance to lay eyes upon Mother's shining heart despite the laws of the wrech and the wicked. Devoted, is he ever, and he always will be. Eveb uf the rest of them were to forsake their duties like Shadowclan once had, still, here, he would always be. Smiling face, his eyes high to the heavens, lovesick smile. With every word and every breath, the living image of a peon).

Oh, Shadowclan. Now that he saw it, was one of them not missing? Gone was the ghastly shadow with a bone throat and her spine displayed for ripping, what remained was only the punier of the two, her words cursed and eyes even further so. She's the only one to make an attempt at conversation. The rest of them are sorry-looking, sorryier than the little one's face always seemed to be. The attempt itself is boring, so he feels no remorse in quickly squashing it. His tail flicks against her leg (attention he needed, for he couldn't care to remember her name, at this moment). "Did something happen to your auntie?" he questions with a narrowed gaze. The other two... he does not care to acknowledge. Not now, anyways. "Decided to forsake the stars afterall?" Unreliable, that one, from the start. And distantly he hopes, he hopes, she has at last met her punishment, struck down by the very stars she'd turned her back on. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

"Is it only you now?" he asks, and perhaps on another night it would have more feeling. A question so-sweetened, when it really shouldn't be. (The truth was, among this sorry lot, he is now much difference. His eyes sting and his heart aches heavy. Tired. So tired, isn't he?) No, instead it's a tired question, matter-of-fact; and trly, he did want to know. "One, then two, now three, abandoned." Now, wasn't that something. His gaze drags to the little Riverclanner, and then, to her mentor. "I hope your plans are lain out differently." The suggestion ends there, because really, he likes Honeybee.

And there's strange satisfaction there. That in all the other's conquests to find a mind to shape and a life to hold, they've all so woefully failed, leaving behind mere echoes of their previous influence. He almost wants one of his own to prove he could do it better.

Hm...

He puffs a breath, bellowed frost clear in the glow of her soul. He feels so warm near Her, he'd hardly even felt the bite of leaf-bare. Though slowly, it settles over him. His breath slows the longer his eyes linger. There's the flicking of his ears, awash with moonlight, angled at the core. He wonders if he can hear Morningpaw's whispers.​

 

[Dandelionwish]

Dandelionwish's suspicions were confirmed as Starlingheart made her way into the Moonstone alone, looking all the world like he had his first time meeting the others without Honeytwist at his side; any other time his heart would have gone out to her and he would have offered some degree of comfort but he was too exhausted to muster up much tonight. Would he console her with false words like 'it gets better' when he knew deep in his heart it only got worse?
It would be nothing but a struggle going forward, but at least Pitchstar for all his madness fully supported her; family right. His own siblings did what they could but even they could not lessen the burden on his back that Sootstar only added to each day.
The sepia point offered a strained, almost pained, smile to the ShadowClanner as she settled down and spoke and he only shook his head lightly to the question. The way his nerves were winding up inside him made it almost hard to focus but he did, watching the mink RiverClanner join them not too long after in utter silence and then finally Berryheart silent as ever; he wished he was in a better mood, a better headspace, because he worried for those left behind and wanted to know how their clans faired. But his tunnel visioning was locked in; the world remained dark as his gaze fixated on the hightstone den mouth.
Beesong was not here yet but his apprentice had already arrived, he supposed that she had eagerly run ahead. The WindClan tom's eyes lit up briefly when Dawnglare arrived-the only cat he'd been actually waiting to see tonight to begin with. His desperation gnawed at him so fiercely that he did not quite catch the red wine colored SkyClanner's remarks as he sauntered in, the light jabs at Bonejaw that he did not know were deserved or underserving. From what he'd garned at the gathering, she fled to what safety she seemed to think she needed; but Starlingheart had been abandoned in the process.
Dandelionwish rose to stand then, paws lightly kneading the ground anxiously as the velvet tom took his sweet time maneuvering in to take a seat; pausing to pick every grape from the vine and taste it as if it would be a crime to not otherwise have a comment about everything. Annoyance would have pricked his fur at this, any other night he'd have said something but now he only wanted to man to sit so he could speak at least and when he did the air rushed out of him in a sigh so heavy he felt he might burst.
"Howdy, all of ye-pardon me forwardness but I ain't stay'n long. WindClan's got so many sick cats I can't so much as sleep without worry another'll just drop on the spot." He could hear Sootstar screaming in his head to not reveal their weakness, but she was not here to stop him and he was desperate, "Dawnglare, heard ye got catmint in yer territory?" The two-leg place, of course-they were the only other clan who had such things nearby.
"Reckon ye can spare some?"
'Only people he likes.' Mallowlark had warned him, grinning ear to ear, and Dandelionwish asked knowing he was far from someone Dawnglare liked.

​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Dandelion, poor soul, heaves a breath that's been held for about a hundred moons by the sound of it. The kneading of his paws spells deadly impatience. A kind he barely held the right to have, in the presence of Lady beloved. Taking more than he deserves, greedy, the youth always were. Too self-centered, focused on the next bite of flesh, the next inkling of the future, parting their jaws for the sky, and never just being. It's a certain privilege that soars across mountains and bounds through the clouds. They believe their own brilliance could cut down the sun, but that certainly isn't so.

A muddied face is met with a gaze of cooled silver. Sliver of something warning. The click of claws against stone spells something similar. He's indebted, indeed. And was he not already so kind for indulging in this sort of chatter? The kindness to ask and to wait as if he didn't already know. Sweet fulfillment lies oh so close, and oh, he'd hate to be distracted by anything not worth his while. Her Fairness smiles upon his soul for an act of great patience, patience! The streak has not yet to end! But... moor-scent and a face that wasn't his. Always, always upsetting. Clicking, still. Still clicking.

Of course, it's a joy, a delight, to hear him so defeated. The same little spirit who had once pranced along, chirping to mottled fur and crooked jay. Him, and him alone. Whispy, ignorant tone. Oh, how it sang, and oh, how it is smothered. Low, so low, he admits to the plague sweeping through their moors. Dawnglare's lip quirks, barely-stifled satisfaction. Up to interpretation, perhaps. Happiness, that their numbers were dwindling, or rather, cotton-headed delight int eh knowledge that he'd prevented once such instance. The only one worth paying any attention to. And he's happy, of course he's happy. Always happy to prevent what others could not.

And the clicking stops. Ears swivel forward. Shifting of his tail as his head is hollowed and the words are filtered. He heard, well, that implies many things. Many, oh, certainly something. And with brows pitched high, he wonders, had he–?

He stifles the rising outburst by mashing his lips, and he gazes at the tom all the same. Well, not quite. Cool now, rather than the slow-set burn. Half-smile, half-not, he regards him carefully. Nothing good came of lying. A certain someone always told him so. But still, he doesn't skip, doesn't jump to say a thing. If that was all the soul had to say, it was nothing.

But, oh, it isn't. His lip pinches between teeth. "Heh?" Something sweltering. Boiling laughter. His shoulders shake with the weight of it all. "HAHAH-! Yuh-you?" Gnawing, scratching at his skull. He would rip him from the inside out. Oh, so badly, he wants to. An offering, apology for his outburst. What's to say about any echo of sound when you're altar was soaked in something sweetly pitiful? "You– you're–" he could hardly breath, he might scratch his own eyes out–!

"I-I get it. Ohh, I get it. I get you. You think my morals to be as twisted as your own kind's, isn't that right? You–" Twists and turns. Mindless rapping against the ground– "Oh no. I understa-nd ♪ You think me a fool, b-but I promise you, it isn't so. You cry in your lack of little nuh-nightmares. The maggots you-you're feeding– writhing inside your sorry skin, are they?"

Oh, and Blaise, how upset would he be? Wouldnt' Dawnglare be the worst type of fool to look for the stars and return with a severed head? Wouldn't he be the worst type of traitor? Liar. A heretic. Surely, the lord would strike the both of them down. And to be bound to his corpse– there would be no worse fate.

The world is spinning, and so he slows and he swallows. The bile drains from his throat, the crease of his brow... It lessens. Oh, it's painful. Throbbing ache. It burns, and Her light is oh-so inviting...

His time is better spent elsewhere, he decides. And again, a giggle. Suddenly light on a face that's glaring. Cheeks against his eyes, because he can't help but crack a smile. Not when Windclan is so very doomed. He sighs, long and deep. At last, hiccupped. "S-send your little questions to someone el-se." Where there others, even? Who's to say, but oh, he hopes it isn't so.

A sharpened glance is spared to the other's present, as if they were next in line to request some of his precious joy.​

[ TLDR; No ]​

 

[Dandelionwish]

His uncertain smile did not fade, but it gradually left his eyes. The pleasantries dripped down from them and settled into the pit of his stomach to form a solid rock that seemed to weigh him down; the fact he remained standing was a surprise even to himself. He had expected no less really, it was hard to be disappointed when he’d already known the answer hadn’t he?
Asking was a just gesture at this point. To who? To him perhaps. He could say he tried. Dawnglare dissolved into some maddening mantra, taking his words as a threat and even so it comes to the same answer in the end. Dandelionwish frowns, but does not say anything immediately. The tom smiles, smirks even, glares at him and his dismissive reply is all he needs to hear.

He could not even condemn the other for the decision, what had WindClan done to garner any aid of sympathy from its neighbors? Perhaps if enough of his clanmates died it would finally force the repentance they deserved, lay themselves before SkyClan at last and the blood spilled from Haze would finally disperse. Or perhaps they would all just die crushed under iron claws by a queen who gave nothing and asked everything.

“Fair.” He said simply, giving nothing back to the widening smile, the arduous delight. Dawnglare enjoyed telling him no, but he was not going to give him anything else; he had nothing really anyways. Did Dawnglare want a fight? Dandelionwish would win it, but he also wasn’t interested in a contest of whims when he had dying cats to tend to. Did he want a reaction? He’d get nothing. Even if there was any fire in him left to be feisty he couldn’t find it in himself to cast blame anywhere else but inwards. He was beginning to understand why Honeytwist had snapped, but he was not so fragile nor did his mind bend and break so easily. It was just a tired acceptance.

“Beggin’ yer pardon then-ah’ll be returnin’ home to deal with this outbreak. Take care.” His head tips, a polite bow that goes a little too low as if he aimed to slam his head down into the stone; it would certainly spare him the coming misery but he was anything if not prepared to martyr himself for a purpose. It was sad he did not linger even long enough to see Starlingheart and Berryheart offer the own remarks, but they couldn’t help him and he was not waiting for Beesong either-if SkyClan told him no then RiverClan whose lead warrior they had just maimed would assuredly tell him to go where the stars did not reach in response.

As he slipped forward to exit he made a pointed adjustment in his steps so he could pass by the SkyClan medicine cat, not close enough to give him any reason for concern but near enough that when he ducked his head in a hushed tone it was audible only to the sunset tom and no other.
“Your leader won’t kill you for your dalliances but mine is not so merciful. Kindly be more careful in the future.” At the very least, the warning he’d heeded to Mallowlark would be repeated here, the last thing he wanted was the black-footed tom to suffer because this fool made a show of it.
With a flick of his tail and head raised back up he was creeping through the den opening and vanishing into the night.

​

 

[BEESONG]

beesong is not too far behind his apprentice, the half-moon in the ink-spill sky bleeding ethereal light into the small cavern they've assembled in. a quick head count of who is all there; dandelionwish, dawnglare (who beesong is quick to the side of), berryheart, and... starlingpaw, so incredibly small next to the grandeur of the moonstone, and so alone. if he recalls correctly, pitchstar had declared her name is starlingheart now. burdened by a full-fledged name too soon and abandoned by her mentor, who fled to riverclan with claims that she'd left shadowclan in talented paws. looking at how vulnerable the little she-cat appears, hardly older than gloompaw herself, beesong can't see the truth behind bonejaw's words.

the medicine cat of the rivers does not like shadowclan, but they spare a look of restrained pity to starlingheart. does bonejaw sleep well at night, knowing she left her home's well-being in the paws of a child?

dawnglare inquires about the whereabouts of bonejaw, and beesong stiffens as they take their typical place beside the towering sepia. they want to revel in the bitterness, they want to spit out the venom that crawls up their throat. honeytwist, cinderfrost, now bonejaw. all forsaking their star-given duties, acting as if they're the only ones who've suffered. beesong left everything behind; their home, their family, not by blood but by loyalty, they said goodbye to. for starclan, for rain, who'd told them that riverclan needed them. they'd crossed the river, for rain. and they've stayed, nestled between the reeds and willow trees, for the sick and injured who depends on them. the longing in their heart is inconsequential, they know.

still, the sacrifices he's made are spit upon by those who do as they please, anyway. but he swallows down that poison, nearly choking on the vitriolic taste. it would do no good to bring personal feelings into the heart of mothermouth.

dawnglare turns to him, a questioning stare that scorches beesong's skin. i hope your plans are lain out differently, he says, full of hidden meaning. and beesong understands. the smaller tom returns that stare, unblinking. "i serve riverclan until the day that i die," he says, and that part of him which longs to leave for the pine trees hates that the words are true. "that is starclan's will." i'm not like them, he thinks, the faces of those who've deserted their clans and apprentices flashing behind his eyes.

dandelionwish interrupts, then. the windclan healer speaks of an outbreak on the moors, and beesong unconsciously takes a step back. (they already have clanmates of their own falling ill left and right, they don't want to risk the potential of carrying back whatever sickness plagues windclan back to the river with them.) those dual-toned eyes fall onto dawnglare, and beesong's own follows, as dandelionwish asks for skyclan to share their precious catmint. and, oh, it must be as bad as dandelionwish says if windclan is seeking out skyclan's help.

beesong isn't surprised when dawnglare bursts into laughter, a tirade of how foolish dandelionwish is to even consider asking spilling from the lips of the skyclan healer. windclan has never treated skyclan with a whisker's worth of respect; their empress looks down on blazestar, figuratively speaking, as if he is less valuable than the dirt she walks on. and after weaselclaw had gotten away from attempting to slaughter smokethroat over a rabbit that'd crossed the border with nothing more than a slap on the paw... beesong could not fault dawnglare for this reaction, either. sootstar has caused nothing but problems as she reigns over the moors.

he's quiet. this is not a matter that he is involved in, there is nothing that he could do, and even if he had catmint himself... could he risk parting with any of it in the dead of winter, with his den steadily filling with the sick? riverclan must come first. they are his priority.

even so, beesong gives dandelionwish a look that says, i understand. they could not help, but they understand.

dandelionwish parts ways with the rest of the healers, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel with a curt goodbye. beesong watches, remaining silent as ever with anxiety gnawing at him from the inside; he wonders what sootstar's reaction would be to skyclan's denial- had she even known dandelionwish would ask? the blue-furred empress does not seem like the type to plead for help... she's far too proud, too stuck up her own ass.​

 

[Starlingheart]

Starlingheart is about to mutter a polite greeting to Gloompaw as she creeps closer but is quickly interrupted by the entrance of Sky Clans medicine cat. Immediately he skips the pleasantries and is asking if something has happened to her ‘auntie’. Starlinghearts smile immediately slips from her features, her ears pin against the back of her head and she glances away. ‘Is it only you now?’ She wants to say it isn’t so but she only nods in confirmation. Did he not hear about Bonejaws treachery at the last gathering? Her green eyes lay upon him but she is saved having to give an explanation by Dandelionwish, who speaks quickly.

His clan, sick, dying and he is laying himself bare, begging the only cat who could help him for any form of mercy. She knows what she would do in Dawnglare’s position. She blinks in response to his harsh words, surprise widening her eyes and stunning her into silence as she watches the scene unfold before her. She would offer if she knew how, if she could. But Shadow Clan was suffering too and she only knew how to treat wounds, not cure coughs.

She ducks her head to avoid eye contact with Dawnglare as he sweeps his gaze towards her. How cruel could someone be to claim they walk a path of healing but deny it to someone in need? She wants to scream about the unfairness as she walks Dandelionwish stalk out of the den. Wants to scream at Dawnglare to help him to help his clan but she is afraid. Afraid of the strange tom and his strange ways and she finds herself taking a step closer to Gloompaw.

Her eyes find Berryheart and Beesong, gauging their reactions and to her surprise Beesong turns and tells Dawnglare to watch out for Wind Clan. So he agrees then that this was the correct move? To let cats suffer and die? She makes a mental note, if she is in need of anything try thunder and wind clan first perhaps.
​

 

[BERRYHEART]

Berryheart almost, almost let his mind wander off to more pleasant things. Not that the conversation ensuing was awful, but it was not perfect either. No, it was... lingering laughter, expectations set, even upon the little one. And as Bear-tail gave their vow, his stupor met with an obstacle- and back to attention did forest eyes settle. "I am not my predecessor." he offered simply. That was all the Executioner was to him, now. Not a mentor. Not even the woman he had known since kithood. No, now she was someone who had succumbed to madness. Had failed to control herself, even when calamity had fled their lands. She had been foolish in a way he could never be. He would never be.

Help refused... and he supposed he should not be surprised. Odd-eyes had the misfortune of hailing from a Clan not well-liked by the clans of the forest and river; only the shadows seemed to be their friends, and he was not much fond of Spikes after he too had thrown himself so readily into s fit of violence. No one could control themselves, could they? With refusal he was half expecting the brawl he had heard brought up in those arguments, but was met merely with a sight of an early departure. If able to catch Odd-eyes' gaze he would offer a nod of farewell. A show of good faith. With these cats, he had no quarrel.

"Does nothing else aid coughs?" he asked after a few moments of silence, the question having been brewing in his throat for the buildup. Question articulated as perfectly as he could manage- for never did words leave his maw if he was not certain of them- he waited expectantly for tutoring, or for nothing at all. So long as they did not hold knowledge from him maliciously, his ire would not be earned- and even then, it would hardly be worth it.​

[ PENNED BY PIN ]​