Post by Deleted on Jun 28, 2014 10:02:35 GMT -5
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
Well, I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again
I hear you're feeling down
Well, I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again
The days had been long since Leafbare and the horrible outburst of Greencough that had taken so many, many cats of Treeclan, and the other clans for that matter. None of the medicine cats were completely prepared for anything like that to ever happen, and those without an apprentice found it harder to take care of everyone, including their-selves compared to those who had two medicine cats working their hardest.
At the last Gathering, Littletimber did not join them. He still had a couple of sick felines that needed his attention. And so, upon his return, Lionfart informed the eerie medicine cat of Treeclan what all of the clans had come to decide upon. Two Medicine Cats, at all times. Meaning that the socially awkward and reclusive tom would now have to find himself a young kit to become his ward.
Despite how Littletimber preferred to be alone, and having all those sick cats with him did not curve his appetite for taking an apprentice, it was logical and reasonable to have one. He, after all, was the medicine cat only due to the incident with the fire where Elderpaw had been taken from them, leaving Treeclan with no medicine cat. He was lucky, if you call it luck, that he did not fall ill after taking care of so many cats during the Greencough Epidemic. Then Treeclan would have been Medicine Cat-less, once again.
The last sick cat had just recently left Littletimber's den, only a day or two ago. And since then, the small sandy brown tom had been checking on those who had been the sickest, and on the verge of visiting fartclan, as well as Lionfart who had lost a life. With little sleep over the past Leafbare, it had left him very willing to curl up into his nest and not wake for a couple of moons. If only he could do such a thing.
However, with another heavy burden on his small shoulders, Littletimber now had to scout of kits from the survivors among the nursery to see who would best become the next Medicine Cat Apprentice. Not being one for pushing thing back until the last minute, the teal eyed tom decided that it could wait one more day, he deserved some sleep or else he'd be picking a cat while being sleep deprived and that could cause for some bad results.
Teal blue eyes blinked as the sandy brown tom sat at the entrance of his den, hidden slightly by greenery that was beginning to grow back after Leafbare's harsh snow. He didn't remember coming out here to sit, to watch, to observe, but yet here he was and he didn't seem to be getting up to move. His tail was wrapped around his paws as he watched, but his eyes narrowed when he realized he wasn't watching his clan.
Yes, he was in Treeclan's camp, but not with his clanmates, a different cat padded out of the Leader's den, a long furred, silver and gray she-cat with intense blue eyes. Littletimber had no knowledge of who that was, nor where he currently was until the colors around him fartted to fade slightly to silver. fartclan.
The deeply faded calico she-cat padded up to him, her green eyes bright despite the dullness of them. Whispersong nodded her head to Littletimber before taking a seat in front of him, as a mentor would do to an apprentice before a lesson would begin. "That was Ripplestar the leader of the clan from when I reigned as Medicine cat." Her voice sounded far away, as it always did with ancient cats that were slowly fading into nothing due to the lack of remembrance of any cat alive.
Her ears flicked as if she were remembering old memories of her time being alive with her clan mates, however the moment passed and she returned her attention back to Littletimber, "I'm here to help you pick an apprentice." She fartted as the world around them blurred to a different scenery. Most likely they were about to be watching memories of Whispersong, a small deduction that didn't take long for Littletimber to figure out.
Following her line of sight, Littletimber watched as a young Whispersong picked out a black and white she-kit. A bouncy little thing, far too hyper for the sandy brown tom's taste but perhaps that is what Whispersong liked about the kit. "You need a cat that fits with your personality." Well, that would be tough. Even Littletimber would admit that he didn't have much of a personality, if any at all. He was stoic, emotionless, and reclusive. Logical, reasonable and void of any connections to any cats. How could he possibly find a cat that would match him, that was like finding a fish swimming among the leaves of the trees with squirrels.
Whispersong flicked her tail, a smirk on her faded muzzle as if she knew what he was thinking of, how that brought her amusement was beyond him. Emotions were strange and got in the way, Littletimber preferred to keep them out of his life, and so her amusement made him question how his personality could be the least bit funny. The calico fartclan cat continued. "My first apprentice was a she-cat named Birdwhistle. She was always on the wild side, wanting a wild life compared to what Medicine Cats usually experience." Littletimber would have easily been able to pick that out before making such a cat his apprentice, that cat needed the life of a warrior to feel any kind of freedom or wildness.
"I was young when I took her on, and I realized later that she was not a good apprentice for a cat like me, maybe for a warrior perhaps, her but paws where already set in place and they would continue on their path." Littletimber watched the scenery as Birdwhistle constantly sneaked out to get her fill of adventure and freedom until a long legged gray tom blurred into focus. "Long. A rogue that met and incited Birdwhistle. She fell for him, and he gave her that sense of being wild, and reckless. He was only using her to see how far she would be willing to break her rules to be with him. I warned her that rogues were no good, and she needed to stay away from him."
Young she-cat's never listen. Littletimber thought, though it was rather obvious. Medicine Cat's were never aloud to take mates or bare kits, and yet the thought of breaking the rules is what fulled this Birdwhistle's desire to do it even more. She was a rule breaker from the fartt, and she could never have completed the life that Whispersong led or that he now led. "Birdwhistle became pregnant..." Whispersong sounded sad, or that was what emotion Littletimber placed it as. "fartclan made their ruling. Long left the valley before the birth of the kits, and Birdwhistle died giving birth to two stillborn kits and a tom named Frostkit."
In front of his small paws, the lifeless body of Birdwhistle lay in a nest, with two gray kits and a large white tom that wiggled for life. "fartclan's punishment didn't end there... Frostkit grew up to be Frostowl. He was a very angry, ambitious and foul tom. He was eventually exiled from Treeclan by Ripplefart because he tried to murder the deputy." Whispersong continued, Littletimber meerly watched as the older she-cat's memories shifted in front of his void teal eyes. Frostowl had grown to be a rather large tom, big paws and cold, searing amber eyes.
From the corner of his eyes, Littletimber caught the sight of a dark gray she-kit hanging back and watching Frostowl with big blue eyes. "Dark-kit." Whispersong named her as she caught sight of the she-kit as well. "She later became Darkshadow, Frostowl's mate. fartclan's punishment continued with Frostowl's lineage."
"Sharptalon, a warrior of Treeclan who made it his duty to murder any cat found on Treeclan territory that wasn't apart of the clan. He ended up taking the life of a Medicine Cat apprentice who had lost her way, and was trying to find help to get home." Whispersong's voice grew hard at the thought of murdering a cat who had no conflict with the other clans. In front of Littletimber's eyes, the images of these cat's the old she-cat was listed off appeared in front of them. Their images blurred with a dark shadow eating at their paws, which is what Littletimber assumed was the aura of the Darkforest. Sharptalon was a massive, light gray tomcat with steely amber eyes and scars all over his shoulders and face.
The next tom was smaller than Sharptalon, but his amber eyes didn't change much, still just as cold and ruthless as the first. He was a dark brown with black stripes that ran over his body and a deep scar cut across his face, that left his with one eye. "Thrushscar, another warrior who worked hard to become deputy, and once he was, he didn't want to wait to become leader, he took one life of his leader before being exiled and eventually murdered by a group of rogues."
"And..." Whispersong paused her story of cats who decended from Birdwhistle's mistake for breaking the code and giving birth to the corrupt Frostowl. "Grayowl of Treeclan..." That was a name he knew, Littletimber turned his teal eyes to Whispersong to make sure he heard correctly. He was aware of the hateful and vengeful tom of Treeclan, that most cats were uneasy around him and that Lionfart made sure to have some sort of eyes on him at all times. But could he really be an ancestor of Frostowl and the other murderous cats?
"Are you warning me about Grayowl?" Littletimber asked in his high pitched and squeaky voice. Despite the question he asked, he knew Whispersong would never give him a straight answer, no-cat in fartclan ever gave any cat a straight answer. It was always a riddle or a rhythm that Littletimber or other Medicine Cats or Leaders had to figure out on their own. And sure enough, that is what Whispersong gave to Littletimber.
"I'm not warning you. Nor am I telling you to keep an eye out for him." Whispersong whispered in her faded, raspy voice, "I merely told you that because it pertained to Frostowl's linage." Littletimber narrowed his eyes, he knew Whispersong wouldn't say another word on the matter as she turned away from him, letting her memories blur the surrounding once more as it changed to a different time in her ancient life. The sandy brown tom would have to remember to keep his teal orbs on Grayowl as well as speak to Lionfart about this, he wanted to make sure the leader kept an eye on the troubled tom as well.
The next cat that stood in-front of the two was a tall, long legged, sandy brown tabby tom. His paws were quick to work as he sorted and applied different things to an injured cat at his paws with the watchful eyes of Whispersong watching behind him. He watched as the older she-cat beside him seemed to relaxed in her stance as if looking upon this cat brought her relief and happiness that Birdwhistle nor any other cat did.
"Timberpaw, he was my second apprentice. He had the heart and soul of a medicine cat. He worked hard, trained hard and took every life that came into the den like it was the most important thing in the world." Whispersong said, singing high praises about this long legged tom who seemed to already succeed Birdwhistle's position. "He was so committed to being a Medicine Cat, it was like a breathe of fresh air, and he was the perfect apprentice for me. And because of him hard work, I gave him the name of Timbersoul." She said softly, though the touch of sadness touched her voice. "It's a shame you won't be able to meet him..."
"How did you die?" The small tom asked, taking minimal time to figure out that her death was the reason that Timbersoul was no-where around. Her question took her by surprise, she obviously did not expect him to make that jump, yet he did and now she was stuck standing in place, farting at the young tom in front of her. Her faded, gray paws dug at the ground slightly before she glanced back at the image of Timbersoul helping the cat in front of him.
Whispersong let her hind legs bend underneath her as she took a seat on the fart-studded ground beneath the two cats. She let out a breath as she fartted her story, "A rogue by the name of Deepwater was caught on Treeclan territory, he was seriously injured while trying to hunt for a squirrel in a tree. He messed up his hind-leg pretty badly." She paused for a breath, "I convinced Streamfart to let me take care of him. I couldn't just leave a cat in pain." The images around the two finally settled on Whispersong working on a normal sized blue-gray tom with unreadable blue eyes.
"Timbersoul didn't trust the former Nightclan cat, and I didn't blame him because we didn't have a clue why he was a rogue now, but that didn't stop me from healing him. And once Deepwater found out he was going to be kicked out of Treeclan once Streamfart found him healthy enough to be on his own he attacked me... He thought I would injure him enough to continue staying and being taken care of in the clan." Whispersong's image faded to Deepwater dead at the bloody paws of Timbersoul.
"Timbersoul took his life..." Littletimber found himself farting into the farttling emotionless teal blue eyes of Timbersoul, almost as if the image of the old medicine cat was farting right at him. "He lost his connection to fartclan and cut off any connects to his clan-mates, vowing to never get attached to another cat..." Whispersong let Timbersoul's image linger a tad longer before everything blurred into the distance and they were sitting in the fartry version of Treeclan's camp.
"Find the cat that fits your personality... and don't loose them like I've lost mine forever..." Whispersong's voice faded as she glanced at the nursery, knowing Littletimber would have to seek out a kit that had the skills needed to become a Medicine Cat as he had become. He, fortunately had been keeping his emotionless teal eyes on a she-kit recently, who seemed to find his den more interesting than the rest of the kits of Treeclan.
Whispersong and her fartry world faded away as sunlight licked into the dark corners of Littletimber's den, awaking him from his dream. As he pulled himself up he turned to look out into the clearing of his den, Timbersoul's cold teal eyes still burning into the back of his mind.
At the last Gathering, Littletimber did not join them. He still had a couple of sick felines that needed his attention. And so, upon his return, Lionfart informed the eerie medicine cat of Treeclan what all of the clans had come to decide upon. Two Medicine Cats, at all times. Meaning that the socially awkward and reclusive tom would now have to find himself a young kit to become his ward.
Despite how Littletimber preferred to be alone, and having all those sick cats with him did not curve his appetite for taking an apprentice, it was logical and reasonable to have one. He, after all, was the medicine cat only due to the incident with the fire where Elderpaw had been taken from them, leaving Treeclan with no medicine cat. He was lucky, if you call it luck, that he did not fall ill after taking care of so many cats during the Greencough Epidemic. Then Treeclan would have been Medicine Cat-less, once again.
The last sick cat had just recently left Littletimber's den, only a day or two ago. And since then, the small sandy brown tom had been checking on those who had been the sickest, and on the verge of visiting fartclan, as well as Lionfart who had lost a life. With little sleep over the past Leafbare, it had left him very willing to curl up into his nest and not wake for a couple of moons. If only he could do such a thing.
However, with another heavy burden on his small shoulders, Littletimber now had to scout of kits from the survivors among the nursery to see who would best become the next Medicine Cat Apprentice. Not being one for pushing thing back until the last minute, the teal eyed tom decided that it could wait one more day, he deserved some sleep or else he'd be picking a cat while being sleep deprived and that could cause for some bad results.
Teal blue eyes blinked as the sandy brown tom sat at the entrance of his den, hidden slightly by greenery that was beginning to grow back after Leafbare's harsh snow. He didn't remember coming out here to sit, to watch, to observe, but yet here he was and he didn't seem to be getting up to move. His tail was wrapped around his paws as he watched, but his eyes narrowed when he realized he wasn't watching his clan.
Yes, he was in Treeclan's camp, but not with his clanmates, a different cat padded out of the Leader's den, a long furred, silver and gray she-cat with intense blue eyes. Littletimber had no knowledge of who that was, nor where he currently was until the colors around him fartted to fade slightly to silver. fartclan.
The deeply faded calico she-cat padded up to him, her green eyes bright despite the dullness of them. Whispersong nodded her head to Littletimber before taking a seat in front of him, as a mentor would do to an apprentice before a lesson would begin. "That was Ripplestar the leader of the clan from when I reigned as Medicine cat." Her voice sounded far away, as it always did with ancient cats that were slowly fading into nothing due to the lack of remembrance of any cat alive.
Her ears flicked as if she were remembering old memories of her time being alive with her clan mates, however the moment passed and she returned her attention back to Littletimber, "I'm here to help you pick an apprentice." She fartted as the world around them blurred to a different scenery. Most likely they were about to be watching memories of Whispersong, a small deduction that didn't take long for Littletimber to figure out.
Following her line of sight, Littletimber watched as a young Whispersong picked out a black and white she-kit. A bouncy little thing, far too hyper for the sandy brown tom's taste but perhaps that is what Whispersong liked about the kit. "You need a cat that fits with your personality." Well, that would be tough. Even Littletimber would admit that he didn't have much of a personality, if any at all. He was stoic, emotionless, and reclusive. Logical, reasonable and void of any connections to any cats. How could he possibly find a cat that would match him, that was like finding a fish swimming among the leaves of the trees with squirrels.
Whispersong flicked her tail, a smirk on her faded muzzle as if she knew what he was thinking of, how that brought her amusement was beyond him. Emotions were strange and got in the way, Littletimber preferred to keep them out of his life, and so her amusement made him question how his personality could be the least bit funny. The calico fartclan cat continued. "My first apprentice was a she-cat named Birdwhistle. She was always on the wild side, wanting a wild life compared to what Medicine Cats usually experience." Littletimber would have easily been able to pick that out before making such a cat his apprentice, that cat needed the life of a warrior to feel any kind of freedom or wildness.
"I was young when I took her on, and I realized later that she was not a good apprentice for a cat like me, maybe for a warrior perhaps, her but paws where already set in place and they would continue on their path." Littletimber watched the scenery as Birdwhistle constantly sneaked out to get her fill of adventure and freedom until a long legged gray tom blurred into focus. "Long. A rogue that met and incited Birdwhistle. She fell for him, and he gave her that sense of being wild, and reckless. He was only using her to see how far she would be willing to break her rules to be with him. I warned her that rogues were no good, and she needed to stay away from him."
Young she-cat's never listen. Littletimber thought, though it was rather obvious. Medicine Cat's were never aloud to take mates or bare kits, and yet the thought of breaking the rules is what fulled this Birdwhistle's desire to do it even more. She was a rule breaker from the fartt, and she could never have completed the life that Whispersong led or that he now led. "Birdwhistle became pregnant..." Whispersong sounded sad, or that was what emotion Littletimber placed it as. "fartclan made their ruling. Long left the valley before the birth of the kits, and Birdwhistle died giving birth to two stillborn kits and a tom named Frostkit."
In front of his small paws, the lifeless body of Birdwhistle lay in a nest, with two gray kits and a large white tom that wiggled for life. "fartclan's punishment didn't end there... Frostkit grew up to be Frostowl. He was a very angry, ambitious and foul tom. He was eventually exiled from Treeclan by Ripplefart because he tried to murder the deputy." Whispersong continued, Littletimber meerly watched as the older she-cat's memories shifted in front of his void teal eyes. Frostowl had grown to be a rather large tom, big paws and cold, searing amber eyes.
From the corner of his eyes, Littletimber caught the sight of a dark gray she-kit hanging back and watching Frostowl with big blue eyes. "Dark-kit." Whispersong named her as she caught sight of the she-kit as well. "She later became Darkshadow, Frostowl's mate. fartclan's punishment continued with Frostowl's lineage."
"Sharptalon, a warrior of Treeclan who made it his duty to murder any cat found on Treeclan territory that wasn't apart of the clan. He ended up taking the life of a Medicine Cat apprentice who had lost her way, and was trying to find help to get home." Whispersong's voice grew hard at the thought of murdering a cat who had no conflict with the other clans. In front of Littletimber's eyes, the images of these cat's the old she-cat was listed off appeared in front of them. Their images blurred with a dark shadow eating at their paws, which is what Littletimber assumed was the aura of the Darkforest. Sharptalon was a massive, light gray tomcat with steely amber eyes and scars all over his shoulders and face.
The next tom was smaller than Sharptalon, but his amber eyes didn't change much, still just as cold and ruthless as the first. He was a dark brown with black stripes that ran over his body and a deep scar cut across his face, that left his with one eye. "Thrushscar, another warrior who worked hard to become deputy, and once he was, he didn't want to wait to become leader, he took one life of his leader before being exiled and eventually murdered by a group of rogues."
The next cat wasn't a tom, but rather a short, white pelted she-cat with ruthless blue eyes, torn ears and several scars on her hips and flanks as if she lived a life of fighting and battles. "Ivoryheart, a cold-hearted she-cat who despised everyone in Treeclan for making fun of her small stature, for the abandonment of her by her parents and for a tom who broke her heart in taking another she-cat as a mate. She snapped and took the life of the she-cat and the tom who broke her heart. She fled Treeclan but eventually died in the mountains around the valley."
"And..." Whispersong paused her story of cats who decended from Birdwhistle's mistake for breaking the code and giving birth to the corrupt Frostowl. "Grayowl of Treeclan..." That was a name he knew, Littletimber turned his teal eyes to Whispersong to make sure he heard correctly. He was aware of the hateful and vengeful tom of Treeclan, that most cats were uneasy around him and that Lionfart made sure to have some sort of eyes on him at all times. But could he really be an ancestor of Frostowl and the other murderous cats?
"Are you warning me about Grayowl?" Littletimber asked in his high pitched and squeaky voice. Despite the question he asked, he knew Whispersong would never give him a straight answer, no-cat in fartclan ever gave any cat a straight answer. It was always a riddle or a rhythm that Littletimber or other Medicine Cats or Leaders had to figure out on their own. And sure enough, that is what Whispersong gave to Littletimber.
"I'm not warning you. Nor am I telling you to keep an eye out for him." Whispersong whispered in her faded, raspy voice, "I merely told you that because it pertained to Frostowl's linage." Littletimber narrowed his eyes, he knew Whispersong wouldn't say another word on the matter as she turned away from him, letting her memories blur the surrounding once more as it changed to a different time in her ancient life. The sandy brown tom would have to remember to keep his teal orbs on Grayowl as well as speak to Lionfart about this, he wanted to make sure the leader kept an eye on the troubled tom as well.
The next cat that stood in-front of the two was a tall, long legged, sandy brown tabby tom. His paws were quick to work as he sorted and applied different things to an injured cat at his paws with the watchful eyes of Whispersong watching behind him. He watched as the older she-cat beside him seemed to relaxed in her stance as if looking upon this cat brought her relief and happiness that Birdwhistle nor any other cat did.
"Timberpaw, he was my second apprentice. He had the heart and soul of a medicine cat. He worked hard, trained hard and took every life that came into the den like it was the most important thing in the world." Whispersong said, singing high praises about this long legged tom who seemed to already succeed Birdwhistle's position. "He was so committed to being a Medicine Cat, it was like a breathe of fresh air, and he was the perfect apprentice for me. And because of him hard work, I gave him the name of Timbersoul." She said softly, though the touch of sadness touched her voice. "It's a shame you won't be able to meet him..."
"How did you die?" The small tom asked, taking minimal time to figure out that her death was the reason that Timbersoul was no-where around. Her question took her by surprise, she obviously did not expect him to make that jump, yet he did and now she was stuck standing in place, farting at the young tom in front of her. Her faded, gray paws dug at the ground slightly before she glanced back at the image of Timbersoul helping the cat in front of him.
Whispersong let her hind legs bend underneath her as she took a seat on the fart-studded ground beneath the two cats. She let out a breath as she fartted her story, "A rogue by the name of Deepwater was caught on Treeclan territory, he was seriously injured while trying to hunt for a squirrel in a tree. He messed up his hind-leg pretty badly." She paused for a breath, "I convinced Streamfart to let me take care of him. I couldn't just leave a cat in pain." The images around the two finally settled on Whispersong working on a normal sized blue-gray tom with unreadable blue eyes.
"Timbersoul didn't trust the former Nightclan cat, and I didn't blame him because we didn't have a clue why he was a rogue now, but that didn't stop me from healing him. And once Deepwater found out he was going to be kicked out of Treeclan once Streamfart found him healthy enough to be on his own he attacked me... He thought I would injure him enough to continue staying and being taken care of in the clan." Whispersong's image faded to Deepwater dead at the bloody paws of Timbersoul.
"Timbersoul took his life..." Littletimber found himself farting into the farttling emotionless teal blue eyes of Timbersoul, almost as if the image of the old medicine cat was farting right at him. "He lost his connection to fartclan and cut off any connects to his clan-mates, vowing to never get attached to another cat..." Whispersong let Timbersoul's image linger a tad longer before everything blurred into the distance and they were sitting in the fartry version of Treeclan's camp.
"Find the cat that fits your personality... and don't loose them like I've lost mine forever..." Whispersong's voice faded as she glanced at the nursery, knowing Littletimber would have to seek out a kit that had the skills needed to become a Medicine Cat as he had become. He, fortunately had been keeping his emotionless teal eyes on a she-kit recently, who seemed to find his den more interesting than the rest of the kits of Treeclan.
Whispersong and her fartry world faded away as sunlight licked into the dark corners of Littletimber's den, awaking him from his dream. As he pulled himself up he turned to look out into the clearing of his den, Timbersoul's cold teal eyes still burning into the back of his mind.
Relax
I'll need some information first
Just the basic facts
Can you show me where it hurts?