[Deleted]

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

Pinewhisker clung to the shadows of camp, green eyes staring blankly towards the entrance. The she-cat looked ragged, a decrepit ghost of the leader she once was. Her presence was faint, a leaf in the breeze. Over the past few moons of recovery, Pinewhisker’s shining, ginger fur had rapidly reduced itself to a gritty, rusted hue, and her pelt was borderline unkempt all the time. There were several days when everyone encouraged her to stretch her legs outside, though recently she just received pitied glances. Initially they made her angry, though at this point, she hardly noticed them anymore. She was always so tired nowadays. She felt as though a hundred moons went by since the battle, and when she looked around, she hardly recognized anyone. Everything seemed strange, as if she was watching life in slow motion.

She felt old, lost, ashamed. Some days she wished she hadn’t come back from the battle at all; that Lionstar had swiped all 9 lives at once. Pinewhisker hadn’t noticed it herself, though over the past couple moons of bleak recovery, flecks of grey hair began freckling her cheeks and face. She walked stiffly, still hurting from Lionstar’s doing, even though Shadowchaser had been clever enough to escort her to the river border in the heart of nightfall to swim. It did strengthen her body and breathing, though she felt more empty and lifeless than she ever had. She didn’t want to leave camp at all, except when everyone was tucked away sleeping. She didn’t want to talk with anyone; she didn’t want to walk with anyone. The only cat comforting to her had been Shadowchaser, but even he got on her nerves sometimes.

Tonight she forced herself a few paces out of camp to the Ambush Pond. It was dark, and the winds were still, though her breath still escaped her jaws in a furl of grey. She sat down on the shore and curled her tail around her paws. It was cold, but there was a comforting sense of solitude that was priceless to Pinewhisker after weeks of being in camp. There were no peering eyes, no spoken words. The only sound was the hooting of an owl and a soft, whispering breeze.

Starclan, what do I do now?

54 Moons - Senior Warrior - NightClan

PInewhiskeR

Tags: Fawn
Word Count: xxx
Notes: xxx

[Fawn]

curiosity is not a sin...

...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity

Shadowchaser

Pinewhisker's slow, painful recovery may have looked at a standstill to the rest of NightClan, but the two cats carrying the rank of medicine cat knew better. Shadowchaser could slowly identify the signs of Pinewhisker's recovering health, and though there was still a long way to go, he was beginning to suspect she was tired of hearing him say 'You're improving'.

He could only do his job to the best of his abilities, he couldn't force her to see what he saw, or believe what he believed. After that terrible fight at the branch trail, it surprised Shadowchaser none to know her faith was shaken. She was trapped in a leafbare of her own: her once glossy russet coat was muted, and her personality, once distinctive and confident, had receded into itself.

Shadowchaser's heart carried melancholia, every time he caught sight of her by herself. The day of the battle would flash before his eyes, as painful as sunlight on too-bright snow, and he would feel that tiny sensation of horror try to freeze his whole body from the inside out. But, Shadowchaser was learning to overcome those prickling doubts and failures.

He would do everything he could to restore as much vitality and movement to Pinewhisker as he could. Maybe he was naive, but he wasn't going to accept the state of things simply because the future seemed a little unclear. He'd keep trying. He would talk with the other medicine cats. He would talk with their ancestors, and put his faith in his resolve. Smokefur had chosen him for a reason; it wasn't just because he could sort herbs neatly and keep calm around a severely wounded Clanmate.

The lithesome tom wound his way through the gray and black forest, the normally dark, rich forest reduced to somber, faded colors. Pinewhisker sat at the ambush pond, her back to the Clan. His approach could have gone sightly, but Shadowchaser gave her the dignity of refusing his company, calling softly from a foxlength away. "Do you mind if I sit beside you?" Much had changed over the past few seasons, but Shadowchaser's manners were still very much the same.

medicine cat of nightclan

@jet | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix

[Deleted]

We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.

Pinewhisker wasn't expecting to hear a voice. Her fur ruffled in surprise, though Shadowchaser's polite meowing need no longer lure her attention from the swaying fronds by the water. Her gaze was already locked with his, those familiar golden eyes calming her nerves. She felt relief warm her to the core, knowing that it wasn't someone else, though the discontent in how she acted sparked irritation. I am just revolting. Pinewhisker thought bitterly. There was never a time in her life where she felt so disappointed in herself more than the last few weeks. Sure, it was hard to integrate back into clan life, though there is no excuse why her instincts had crashed down to a questionable level. Was there?

Over the past few moons, she went from warrior, to deputy, to leader, then back to warrior again with injuries that could deem her fit for activities no more strenuous than medicine cat duties. She had lived more roles in the past few months than most cats would ever live in their life, and in such a short period of time? Pinewhisker was anxious, always unsettled. Where did she belong? She still walked with a heavy limp, her hind right leg hardly allowing her to get from place to place inside camp, let alone Nightclan territory.

There are always cats active in Nightclan, day and night, though usually most of the night hunters finish a few hours before dawn. Plenty of time before patrols, Pinewhisker thought. Thus she already tried hunting, last night actually. Except, she couldn't locate any prey. By the time she got there, they had already retreated to their burrows. Heard her moving, no doubt. If she ever saw one of her clanmates, she would always use the excuse of taking a walk to exercise her leg. Though upon further investigation, any cat planning on hunting before the dawn patrol had a fox and a half trying to find prey after Pinewhisker blundered around for two hours before sunrise.

If she couldn't hunt and couldn't fight, where was her place in the clan? The elder's den? Pinewhisker huffed resentfully before replying to her patient friend, voice flat with defeat.

"Sure."

Maybe Shadowchaser had some suggestions. Surely her leg would heal, right? Or would she be stuck doing apprentice duties and gathering herbs until she grew enough grey hairs and aching joints to be considered an elder?

Pinewhisker grew very cold all of a sudden, dread creeping up on her like a storm, its blackened clouds pregnant with despair.

Surely her leg would heal?

54 Moons - Senior Warrior - NightClan

PInewhiskeR

Tags: Fawn
Word Count: xxx
Notes: Hey, I am just sort of making this up as I go...I figured her injuries must have been pretty bad for her to step down and Foxfern be named as Nightclan's new leader, so I added a broken leg in there. I guess right now, she's limping around heavily on it and it still hurts to move around. I honestly don't see her healing fully. Whether she heals enough to become a warrior again is uncertain?

[Fawn]

curiosity is not a sin...

...but we should exercise caution with our curiosity

Shadowchaser

He may as well have been talking to the leafbare wind. Her reply was flat with defeat, and the silence after was like a forest blanketed by snow. Motionless. Not a sound, anywhere. Shadowchaser took up position on the side of Pinewhisker's injured leg. He could see the uncomfortable jut of the broken limb still healing. "It would be better for your leg if you laid down," said the tom gently. "No unnecessary pressure." The tom's ears flicked back in brief acknowledgment of the unwanted doctoring; however, part of this role was to sometimes sacrifice feelings for the sake of one's health. She had once been in his leader, and in Shadowchaser's eyes, she still was. She still held the rank of 'star' even if no one but himself thought so.

It was hard to say goodbye to the leaders and deputies he had grown up with. It was as if in the blink of an eye, Shadowchaser found himself grown up - and the familiar faces had been replaced. Swapped out. Foxfern was Foxstar, and a new face, Briarthroat's, had risen to fill the gap Pinewhisker's deputy had left. Not all changes were unsettling for him, though.

Blackwolf, one of the Clan's oldest (and crankiest) elders had come out of retirement, bad leg and all. Blackwolf's injury wasn't a broken bone like Pinewhisker's; it was more a problem with the joints. That last injury had been the trigger, the catalyst for Blackwolf's many moons of fighting to finally start catching up. No cat could escape old age.

But it was too soon for Pinewhisker to be hobbling around like an elder.
"In newleaf, we can begin your swimming sessions again." Shadowchaser commented quietly, looking out over the cooled waters of the ambush pond as if the secret to her recovery hid somewhere in its depths. "The cold months are always the worst for injuries. Once we've cleared them, we'll start seeing more improvement." Shadowchaser always said 'we', in regards for Pinewhisker's recovery.

She wasn't alone in this struggle, no matter how it must seem.

medicine cat of nightclan

@jet | jk rowling | background image | table by phoenix