pafp you'll never make the place | pafp/intro, stuck in a thorn bush

[juncoclaw]

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Somewhere out in the moorland under a clouded sky, a silver figure was stalking after a rodent - a field mouse, by the looks of it, but a particularly plump one. Juncopaw's tongue swept over her jaw as she imagined the sink of her teeth into a warm, juicy mouse. With her body low to the ground and her muscles tense for a leap, she followed the mouse for several minutes, the latter entirely unaware of her presence. That is.. until the wind abruptly changed.

The mouse picked up the cat's scent quickly, and just as it did, it was darting away. With a hiss, Juncopaw bounded after it, though as field mice often were, this thing was speedy and maneuvered much better than herself. After only a few moments of chasing, just as she was within leaping range, the mouse darted underneath a bush, into its burrow under its thin branches. Consequently, sending Juncopaw barreling into the bush. Taking this opportunity, she reached her paw into the burrow, grasping at the dirt and roots with her claws - at some point, she swore she felt the scrape of thin mouse fur against her paw. But to no avail - the burrow was too deep. Juncopaw wiggled against the branches, gradually worming her way closer to the center of the bush - at this point, her front paws were touching the ground, but her haunches were sticking out of the bush high enough that her back toes barely scraped the grass below.

Once again, she reached into the burrow, eventually able to grab the mouse and fish it out. "Got you!" she hissed with a wry smile. The mouse, with its shrill squeaks, squirmed in her paws - but she held a firm grasp. With her free paw, she pushed her toes into the dirt, attempting to lift herself up and out of the bush - but as she pushed, a brief tug into a sharp sting pricked at her fur all along her sides, back and belly. It is now that she realized the height of her mistake.

This was no ordinary bush. It was a thorn bush.

No, she thought with round eyes. No, no, no! Frantically, she pushed at the ground, enduring the sting of the thorns at her sides. In her panic, she had dropped the mouse, regarding it with a scowl as it darted out of the bush, out of sight. After several moments of this, Juncopaw fell limp, defeated - letting her weight sink into the bush once more as her haunches and tail stuck out in clear view, bushed up with prickled fur as the frustrated she-cat pouted. This can't be happening.

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"Speech"​

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praise be the heavens. praise me, i'm the lord.
please wait for @cottonpaw​

 

[cottonsprig]

Going out for a hunt has become more and more commonplace for the she-cat. Cottonpaw does her best to be mindful of her self imposed restraints, thus tagging along with patrols that are not often meant for herb tracking. While she does, indeed, keep her eyes open for bushels of this and sprigs of that - sometimes, she will admit, it's far easier to just simply be again.

She had watched Juncopaw dart off after a little prey thing. She hadn't anticipated the other to need help - it was only a mouse, after all - and she kept her maw open to taste for prey of her own. It wasn't until she heard something of a crash (could it be called that?) that she turned her attention back to the silver tabby down the way -

"Oh..." Cottonpaw breathes out, spying mostly just the dangling rump of Juncopaw, lost in the throws of a thorn bush. She tries not to laugh at the comedic nature of the situation, briskly trotting forward. She would help, surely. If she could, that is... Cottonpaw isn't sure there's any better way out of this mess other than... going further into it.

"Juncopaw! I'm right here," she calls to the other, "I'm sure the rest of the patrol will be about soon, too - um... can you push yourself further in?" she tries. Cottonpaw's ear twitches as she lifts a paw to bat Juncopaw's dangling tail, "Or do you want me to try pulling from this end?" Either way, it'll hurt. That's for certain.​

 

[juncoclaw]

It is when a soft voice sounds out behind her that Juncopaw grows tense, even holding her breath - as if, if she held still enough, she could simply disappear. A low growl came from the striped she-cat as her tail flicked irritably, frustrated beyond words at the circumstances she's found herself in. Being painfully stuck in a bush was one thing, but being seen by another? At least it was Cottonpaw, known for her soft nature, and not somebody like Snakehiss who would jump on the opportunity to chastise the young apprentice for her blatant carelessness. Though, she thought bitterly, regarding Cottonpaw. I wouldn't be surprised if that airhead was on her tail anyway.

On one paw, she wants to ward away the medicine cat with hisses and grumbles. The way she calls out to her, reassuringly - does she think of Juncopaw as a helpless kitten? She wants to tell her to go away, that she doesn't need anyone's help - but the mention of the rest of the patrol sends her into a panic. They cannot see her like this. "Further in? Are you insane? I'll get more stuck!" Juncopaw demands with a frantic fervor. She wiggles as she speaks, stretching her back paws out in any attempt to dig her claws into the dirt behind her, but again to no avail. Seeming to not consider Cottonpaw's choices or whether she may be right (rather, not really listening to her at all), Juncopaw lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine - pull! Just.. get me out of here, before they see me." There hangs an unsaid 'please' at the end of her sentence, and for quite possibly the first time publicly, her voice is laced with desperation and defeat, and once again the apprentice goes limp, all except for her angrily flicking tail.​

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"Speech"​

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praise be the heavens. praise me, i'm the lord.​

 

[WOLFSONG]

──ᨒ↟↟ᨒ↟ᨒ↟↟ᨒ── "Easy, Juncopaw," Wolfsong says from behind his apprentice as he approaches on quiet paws. Though she no longer struggles against the thorn bush, her agitation and restlessness remain clear, and Wolfsong would prefer she does not worsen any injuries by struggling or falling into a panic. He circles the bush, studying the angle of her unfortunate position and the curve of the thorns themselves. "Such plants are unkind to struggling. I recommend going forward instead of asking Cottonpaw to pull you." He returns to his place beside said apprentice.

He rests a paw on one of the slightly damaged limbs of the bush, testing its give. "Returning may dislodge some of the thorns damaged by your entrance— and into your pelt. Pulling them free from you may be worse than a hastened escape." But if it is the young feline's will to be yanked backwards, Wolfsong will not continue to counsel her otherwise. ​

WOLFSONG of WINDCLAN FORMER ROGUE TURNED MEDICINE CAT. 38 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, 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.

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[juncoclaw]

-ˋˏ ༻☽༺ ˎˊ- Deep breath, Juncopaw. They're only trying to help. But that's the thing: she can tell herself that all she wanted, but she couldn't fathom why they wanted to help. Did they want something out of her? Did they think her helpless? Although she's been trying to relax as instructed, the thoughts of such made her tense once more - the frustration was radiating from the way her tail twitched, the way her muscles stiffened. She couldn't believe she was so careless to get stuck here in the first place.

She didn't really trust Wolfsong's opinion any more than she trusted Cottonpaw's. She didn't know either of them, and their positions as medicine cats only weirded her out. But, her own opinion was outnumbered, and it was becoming obviously even to herself that struggling would not get her anywhere - similarly, there was no way to push herself out without all four paws on the ground.

So, begrudgingly, she began to wiggle in a different way, pulling at the ground with her forepaws and kicking at the bush's branches with her back. The progress was slow, but it was gradually working, and the further she got into the bush, the quicker it went. Just next to the burrow that she reached into was the stem of the bush, which harbored an opening large enough for a cat of two: that's what she was aiming for.

Finally, her back paws had disappeared into the bush, and she slid onto the ground. She circled around the stem once, remaining crouched as she stared through the leaves of the bush, where light trickled in - from there, she could see the scraps of silver fur that hung from each winding thorny vine. Mouse-dung, she swore inwardly. To turn her head and observe herself would cause her ears to nick on the thorns above her, so instead she continued forward. Juncopaw lowered her body to the ground and began to navigate her way out of the bush, ducking under and stepping over the branches that winded between each bundle of leaves.

Alas, she was out. But she wasn't happy - far from it. Bewildered, even, that she had been through such a traumatic experience. It was now that she finally spun around to look at the bush - where she was once leveraged over the branches, strands and tufts of grey dotted the wilting leaves, like stars against a groggy night sky. Mouse-dung.

Her own pelt was no better - the signs of struggle made itself apparent by the torn spots in her disheveled pelt, and the thorns that had lodged themselves in her fur. As she tried to crane her head to pick an itchy thorn out of her fur, she was jolted by the abrupt pain of all the cuts she had endured in the process. Defeated, Juncopaw crouched once more, trembling low to the ground as she stared helplessly at the two medicine cats. "Please don't tell anyone," was all she could muster in her embarrassment.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I AM THE ANGEL ⋅❁⋅ SENT DOWN FROM ABOVE ──┐‎

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  JUNCOPAW ✩ she/her, moor-runner apprentice of windclan, seven moons.
  ⭃ an antagonistic silver tabby she-cat with green eyes.
  ⭃ mate to no one. daughter to former gin rogues. apprentice of mocking-grin.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
  

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[cottonsprig]

She winces when Juncopaw demands her to start pulling. Cottonpaw opens her mouth, wanting to advise against it - it really didn't seem like the best idea. However the other apprentice's tone is stern, and the grey-furred she-cat is quickly learning when to hold her tongue. She stands to brace herself against the ground, however before she has the chance to grip Juncopaw's tail in her jaws, her mentor arrives.

She withholds an audible sigh of relief, remaining on her paws but leaning away from the silver-and-black tail lashing in front of her. Wolfsong paces around the bush, likely gauging the best way to go about it, before advising Juncopaw to, again, move forward rather than back. Cottonpaw feels like there's a moral lesson in that somewhere, but she hasn't the time to figure it out. The other begins to shimmy forward and Cottonpaw provides a quick, "You got this!" to her fellow apprentice.

It takes several long moments, a shaking and shivering bush, and many more stifled giggles as she looks at the tufts of silver fur caught on the brambles. Eventually Juncopaw rejoins them, fur a mess due to the thorns inhabiting it. Cottonpaw finally finds some guilt for laughing in the first place, as clearly the other isn't exactly comfortable. She offers her mentor a wary glance, unsure of the first steps, before stepping forward - "If we can get you cleaned up, then hopefully we won't have to tell anyone," though Wolfsong may say something to her mentor, if she doesn't do so herself. And she just... won't tell Snakehiss. Nowadays her gossip pool isn't as grand.

"Should we - um," uncertainty fuels her steps as she steps in beside Juncopaw, offering herself as a companion for the walk home, "Put something together for infection, Wolfsong? They're just thorn scrapes, but there are a lot of them," she hopes the suggestion is enough to show that she's trying. Regardless, her attention returns to Juncopaw, "I'll help you tug all these out when we get to camp, I promise."​