[Phoenix]

“Slow down, Gorsetail. My shoulder’s still sore from that mangy old warrior.”

A blur of dark fur. Sharp claws tearing at tabby fur, leaving streaks of fire in their wake. Falling. Rolling. His skull splitting open and—

“…badly injured…”

He was pain. His head ached. His body ached. Bleary eyes caught sight of familiar dark gold fur standing beside a brown and white blur. His thoughts came slowly, muddled, as if they were wading through a thick mud or against a strong—

“…unconscious… several days…”

Yes, that sounded good. Sleep meant no pain. And his head really—

Silence.

He woke up with the remnants of a question dying on his tongue. Everything hurt. For a moment, he simply lay there with his eyes closed as all of the pain of – of what? – washed over him. All along his shoulders and sides fresh wounds stung, and his head, oh his head. Groggy, he opened his eyes, only now recognizing the tangy scent of fresh herbs for what they were. He was in the medicine cat’s den, which made sense because he was in pain.

His head hurt. His thoughts were slow. What had happened…? He thought for a moment, remembered animosity and a flash of fur and pain. A fight. He groaned. A fight was no good; he needed to tell—needed to tell—

When awareness came again, it was sudden. Green eyes opened in a heartbeat, instantly recognizing where he was and remembering what had put him here. No longer did he have to fight for coherent thoughts, much to his immense relief. The pain wasn’t as bad either, though hunger gnawed at his gut. How long had he been drifting in and out of consciousness? Surely only a pawful of days at most, but he could not find the answer in the small piles of herbs scattered around the empty den. It was unlike St—unlike Sto—unlike the medicine cat to leave a patient all alone, but perhaps he had only gone for a little while and would return soon.

No matter. He could fetch himself a piece of prey and wait for him to come back. Except, he realized as he climbed to his paws, the right half of his body did want to hold his weight. He let out a cry of alarm when he fell to the side as though he had tried to stand on twigs rather than his legs, striped limbs collapsing beneath him. What? Apart from some fresh wounds that were beginning to heal, they seemed uninjured and fully capable of supporting him. He tried again and managed to stand for a few shaky moments before falling once more. So why couldn’t they??

The sheer helplessness of it all had his heart racing, and adrenaline coursed through his veins – fight or flight, except in his current state, he could do neither. He peered out of the den and into the rest of camp. If something happened, he would be stuck, and since he was alone, no one would know he was stuck. Even in all of his—all of his—his many moons, there had never been a time once he had stepped foot out of the nursery when he had been unable to stand under his own power. The sound of approaching pawsteps had another wave of distress crashing over him. Dread began to coil in his stomach, a sinking feeling that sent shivers down his spine. The newcomer was a friend, surely, but he had never felt so powerless…

At the sight of the golden leader, he felt his concerns evaporate. Here was a friend, someone who would know what was happening and how to help. He opened his mouth and tried to greet his former mentor, but the smile on his face quickly faded. Where were his words? He knew what he wanted to say, so why… He could feel his heart starting to race again as he stared at the other tom, searching for something that kept slipping through his grasp like smoke. His name. He just needed to say the golden feline’s name. It felt like he was pushing with all of his might against a tree. But finally: ”…Star…”

That didn’t sound right.

His frown deepened. ”Uh… Star…” He stared. In his mind’s eye, he was pushing with all his might against that tree. Determinedly not panicking. ”…Lion… Star…”

Fawn

[Fawn]

Lionstar

The crown is getting heavy
But they've written my name in the stars

The voice of his deputy felt like rain after a three-day drought. Lionstar forced a ragged purr, giving the alarmed pounding in his chest time to subside. "Welcome back," the golden tom rumbled, tearing his eyes off of Gorsetail only long enough to guide his paws through Falconstorm's carefully organized den, picking a slow path to the wounded tabby's side.

'He may not wake up,' Lionstar had been told in the grave hours after the attack. 'The wound on his head worries me.'

Dried blood and herb-scents coated Lionstar's tongue. He felt it pressing against his palate, and fought the urge to seek fresh air. The closer he got to Gorsetail, the stronger it became. "You haven't eaten in days, try not to move, or else Falconstorm'll make you worse before you get better." Lionstar nudged over a wad of soaked moss, routinely brought to the healer's den for Gorsetail since his body had first been laid in that nest. The bedding had been changed many times. Too many times, in Lionstar's opinion.

So much blood...

"Drink this, it's fresh." To prevent Gorsetail from having to struggle any more than his weakened body demanded, Lionstar nudged the soaked moss right up near the tom's chin, hoping a little taste of the sparkling brook would put some clarity in his deputy's eyes. Golden eyes slowly closed, regal form seeming to minutely shudder as he let go of his feelings of dread, giving way for relief to come flooding in. "I... I am sorry, Gorsetail, that this has happened. You saved my son's life, and nearly gave up yours in the process."

A hollow stomach clenched tighter, and Lionstar felt the moons upon moons of leadership crashing down against his bones, trying to push him to the ground. He endured it, with gritted teeth and clenched fangs, a savage growl spilling from his maw. "I want to rip that NightClanner's pelt from her body, flay her for the pain she has caused. But..."

The anger, as quick as a solar flare, left him, leaving in it's wake a hollow chuckle. "But I know that is not something my deputy would approve of."

I've been building up all these kingdoms for so long
It's good to be king

99 Moons || TreeClan || 359 Words || @nix

[Phoenix]

Lionstar opened his mouth and words came out and Gorsetail found himself staring blankly for a moment. He forced himself to take a deep breath, ignoring the way his head had started to ache and his gut was starting to twist. Breathe. He recognized the sounds and their respective meanings, but they came so fast that stringing them together took – took longer than it should have. Closing his eyes, he took another breath and reminded himself that it had apparently been a couple days. His brain was still waking up, and besides, it was only a brief delay. And surely his difficulty finding words was just another symptom of having been unconscious for days. It was fine. It had to be.

Only when the golden tom nudged the wad of moss closer did the deputy realize just how thirsty he was. Ducking his head slightly, he lapped up some of the moisture and let out an appreciative sigh; there was nothing quite like the sensation of water cooling a dry throat, and he couldn’t help but feel the tension slowly fade from his muscles. ”Thanks,” He murmured, further pleased when the word came without struggle. See? He had nothing to worry about. Carefully he drank some more, only pausing to look up at the leader when he began to speak. The fur along his spine prickled, and he pretended it was more at the memory of the encounter with NightClan than the difficulty he had at understanding the leader’s words. Had he always spoken so fast? With a flick of his tail and a smile, he acknowledged and accepted the unnecessary apology, banishing Lionstar’s concerns. ”It’s ok.” Had their positions been switched, his friend and mentor would have done the same for him.

But that reminded him… What had happened after he had been injured? Was – Was – Was – He could picture the younger tom in his mind’s eye, saw him turning away from the patrol, remembered the hostile words that had started it all. His jaw clenched; what was his name? He knew – he knew he knew it. It just… Just… He could feel the tension returning to his body and forced himself to take another deep breath, trying to focus. Words. Find the words. ”…Star… son… walk… good…?” Even as he forced each word out, he knew they weren’t right. They didn’t sound right, didn’t feel right, and he tore his gaze away from the only other occupant of the den to stare at a nearby pile of herbs. He swallowed, and then another time, but the knot in this throat refused to disappear.

Lionstar was talking, saying something about pain and approval, but he was barely listening anymore. Why was talking such a challenge? Where had his words gone? He could not deny by this point that he had been awake long enough to have shaken any effects of having been unconscious for the past few days – the water had revived him. Perhaps if he tried again… He pictured the cat in question, had the words right there on the tip of his tongue and ”…Br—Br-- …Step…” He could feel his face crumpling as his composure began to collapse. Wide eyes stared around the den before inevitably finding the tom he had always turned to in times of need. His breathing started to speed up to match the thudding of his heart. ”…Words…” He whispered, unable to stop the note of panic from creeping into his voice. ”…Good…” He shook his head. No, not good. Not good at all. ”…Not… good…” What was happening to him? Green eyes silently pleaded with gold.

”Help.”

Fawn

[Fawn]

Lionstar

The crown is getting heavy
But they've written my name in the stars

Dread struck Lionstar's heart like a lightning bolt. He watched, helpless, as Gorsetail's features crumpled like a dry leaf underpaw, the deputy struggling to speak as if his mouth were full of mud and his thoughts had congealed. Short words, Gorsetail had no problem with. That simple thanks for the water had been enough to bolster Lionstar's belief that he would recover smoothly - but "Help" tore it down, butchering that hope at the roots.

"Fal-Falconstorm," Lionstar called, head turned to the entrance but his eyes stayed with Gorsetail as if afraid the young tabby would deteriorate the moment he looked away. "Falconstorm!" Only nature calling would have forced Falconstorm from Gorsetail's side, and though Lionstar knew the reason for their healer's brief absence, he inwardly cursed. Foxdung. We need him!

Waiting on pins and needles for the answering drumbeats of returning paws, Lionstar forced a smile, trying not to taste the fear scent rolling in waves off his former apprentice. It wouldn't be long before the whole Clan would catch whiff of it, and would need consoling. Lionstar's visitation would have to be cut short. "You'll be alright," he lied, forcing those words into the open as if that might make them more real, might ensure some kind of certanty. "Falconstorm will fix this."

Lionstar's heart clenched and pulsed, cycling between so much agony and anger, it left him feeling breathless. He had to think of the Clan. As much as he wanted to stay here by Gorsetail's side until the words came easy and the fear ebbed from the tabby's eyes, he couldn't. Lionstar swallowed dryly, feeling too large for the space he was occupying, too useless to help someone who meant so much. "Drink more water, it'll help," Lionstar urged, mending the cracks in his voice with a smile.

He forced a ragged purr, but it felt hollow and inauthentic.

Lionstar numbly tried to reconcile the two halves of Gorsetail - the deputy as he had been two days ago, strong, whole and sound of mind, with the frightened cat before him, desperate for help and pleading with more than words. That sensation of dread expanded, bile swelling like a river to spill over the banks, gathering in the back of Lionstar's throat until it burned.

He can't... Gorsetail could not lead the Clan like this. Not now. Not for a while, if ever. Lionstar held his breath, struggling to come to grips with the pitiful reality spread before his eyes. StarClan, watch over him. Make them pay for what they've done.

I've been building up all these kingdoms for so long
It's good to be king

99 Moons || TreeClan || 422 Words || Phoenix Justice

OOC: Phoenix and I can keep posting until you're ready to jump in, Justice!

[Justice]

He'd only left his den for a moment, the need to relieve himself finally overwhelming his extreme worry for their deputy. And just as he was where he could take care of business he heard Lionstar bellowing for him. "Really, Lionstar? Can a medicine cat not make dirt in peace without someone needing him for something?" He grumbled, doing what he needed to as quickly as possible then heading back to his den at a fast trot. He wasn't running, no need to panic the clan.

The fluffy tom finally reentered his den, noticing immediately that Gorsetail had regained consciousness. Part of him was relieved, but another noted that he wasn't in the spot he'd left him. "You shouldn't move yet." He brushed past his leader, helping to get the other tom settled again where he wanted him. He leaned over and sniffed at various cobweb patches he'd made on the other to stop the bleeding, pleased that he wasn't scenting infection.

"Alright now, be still and take a few deep breaths. Calm down. You're going to be alright." He went and gathered some chamomile from his stores, laying it before the Deputy. "Eat that, it'll soothe you. Are you hurting too much?" If he was he had herbs to help with that. Blue eyes regarded Lionstar as well, wondering why he'd been called. If it was only because Gorsetail was awake, he was going to poop in Lionstar's nest and not tell him about it. Though, he'd warn Honeysong.

"Now, Lionstar, what have you done to upset my patient?" He could smell the fear scent all over his den and he was less than pleased with it.

Fawn
Phoenix

[Phoenix]

As if from a distance, he heard Lionstar calling for help, and he forced himself to breathe, to take another deep breath and then another. Focusing on the leader’s words, even if it was just a name repeated twice, gave him some time to try to slow the pounding of his heart. Falconstorm. With faint relief, he pictured the other tom in his mind’s eye, mentally repeating the name to himself with the hope that he wouldn’t lose it again – Falconstorm the medicine cat – but whatever respite he gained from finally remembering what he’d forgotten paled in comparison to the undercurrent of fear rushing through his veins. He should never have forgotten the other tom’s name in the first place.

No. Stop.

Breathe.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic because Lionstar’s smile was already faltering, his golden eyes too wide and too alarmed to be truly reassuring to someone who knew him as well – who could read him as well – as his former apprentice. If he panicked, then the smile might shatter like ice. And he couldn’t have that because then the fragile walls of denial that he had started to rebuild with the leader’s promise – “You’ll be alright” – would fall again. Green eyes stared at gold. He forced himself to breathe. “Falconstorm will fix this.” He knew in his heart of hearts that such an oath, even spoken with such conviction, was hollow; there was no way the leader could know that for sure. But the tabby tom sought the reassurance like a kitten searching for milk. He needed to believe. Long ago he had placed his faith in Lionstar, and never had he been led astray by the older feline who had returned again and again to support and comfort him. If Lionstar said he would be alright, then surely surely he would be alright.

Right?

Trying to swallow around the knot in his throat, he lapped up some more water to distract himself from his thoughts and avoid having to speak. Everything would be fine. It would all be fine. The words echoed in his mind time and time again, as if by repeating them enough times or with enough conviction he and Lionstar could will them to be true. Please. A silence had fallen, not the companionable quiet that often graced their conversations but rather one laced with tension and anticipation. They were waiting. Hoping.

In a flurry of fur, St—Falconstorm returned and immediately made his way to the tabby tom’s side with instructions to not move. Silently, the deputy nodded before holding still as the medicine cat examined his head. He could do that. He could not move for moons if it meant—but no, he would be alright. The healer would fix him. A pile of herbs landed before his nose with a brief order to eat, and he sniffed at the green stems for a moment before obliging. Eyebrows knitted together at the taste, and he shared a look with his mentor; if one thing hadn’t changed, it was his general dislike of eating plants. Even as he chased the herbs with what little water was left in the moss, he shook his head at the medicine cat. He hurt, but the pain was bearable – nothing in comparison to—to—whatever was happening to him.

The tan and white tom’s attention turned to the golden tom, and though it took him another moment, the deputy realized the general gist of the question from the faint accusatory tone. Waving his tail, the tabby opened his mouth, intending to clear the air. ”Not… Star…” Frustration jolted through him. ”…Words…” What was it? He had just said it before, and there the words went, disappearing into thin air. ”Foxdung!” Well, at least he still had that one.

Fawn Justice

Gorsetail

deputy of treeclan

[Fawn]

Lionstar

The crown is getting heavy
But they've written my name in the stars

Falconstorm appeared in a whirl of thick fur and his custom irritability. Despite this, Lionstar was grateful to see him, and the small patch of spiked fur on the back of the Clan leader's neck was already beginning to resettle. Jaws parted to explain, Lionstar let the words die in his throat, listening intently as Gorsetail struggled to say even a sentence.

"He's been like this since he woke up," Lionstar's stomach tightened against his ribs, a hollow ache put there that had nothing to do with hunger. "It's as if the words won't come, like they're blocked. Is it his tongue?" It was a question asked in vain; it was obvious that the injury to Gorsetail's head had caused this... this nightmare for the young deputy, but Lionstar nearly pleaded with StarClan that this wasn't the case.

That there was still a chance recovery could be swift and full. That Gorsetail would shudder at the memory of it, but be able to speak - clearly, in that thoughtful eloquence he'd always believed Gorsetail to possess - of having lived through it. The future that was staring down the tabby warrior like a creeping fox was a bad dream inflicted upon everyone who loved him.

Lionstar's claws peeked from their sheathes, pricking the ground as the heavy scent of chewed herbs swirled across his nose and into his mouth. With a harsh breath, he forced his claws back in, wishing for all the world that he could act as rashly and as violently as he ached to - without wretched consequences being inflicted upon the Clan. There was no chance Foxstar had sanctioned that NightClan warrior's behavior, but would the ailing leader actually discipline Darkstorm?

No, of course not.

NightClan operated with a rogue's mentality, and no doubt NightClan would twist and butcher the situation until it looked as if Gorsetail had deserved what was done to him. That it was his own damned fault for protecting Brackenstride. It was enough to make Lionstar want to vomit, and he visibly turned his head away. When he did so, however, he caught the sound of pawsteps retreating just outside Falconstorm's den, and a flash of short golden fur as it moved out of Lionstar's peripheral vision.

Foxdung, Lionstar growled. How long had Brackenstride been standing there?

That was one more cat he needed to speak to, and console. But Lionstar didn't have the words, not right now. All he had was an ache in his chest like a broken bone, deep and painful with every breath. It contracted the fire in his claws and the fury in his eyes, but what was grief if not a confusing mix of emotions? A storm to be weathered.

He would bring that storm to NightClan.

In due time.

I've been building up all these kingdoms for so long
It's good to be king

99 Moons || TreeClan || 460 Words || Phoenix Justice

[Justice]

"Calm. Down." He told them both firmly, circling around Gorsetail and sniffing at his injuries several times to assure himself there wasn't any infection in his blood. "He's been unconscious for some time, it isn't uncommon to have some trouble upon first waking from a long time being out like that. Gorsetail, don't panic yet. Be calm. It is temporary. As you've been awake on a regular schedule you should start to see improvement. Keep trying to speak, take your time and if it seems too difficult stop and try again later. Getting frustrated will only make it worse, make it harder."

He flipped his tail and smacked Lionstar with the fluffy plume. "You aren't helping by getting worked up. What he needs right now is calm and time. It will come back. Now, deep breath, both of you. Hold it and let it out slow, calm down. The more worked up you get the more upset you become, and the worse things will be."

Falconstorm stepped away, choosing to plop himself down next to the Deputy and tuck his paws under his form so that he could help the other. "Focus on calming yourself. You are safe, at home, and Brakenstride made it home because of you. You've done your duty, warrior, now its time to rest. Concentrate on healing, on regaining your strength. Don't worry, I have you, and I promise you this too will pass. Just trust me."

Fawn
Phoenix