[Deleted]

Smokefur had made it known her position on mental health within Nightclan, and the metaphorical door to her den was always open to any of her clanmates that needed someone to speak to. It wasn't always an offer that was taken up, however those that knew the positive benefits tended to seek her out whenever necessary. Working away on her other duties Smokefur found herself tucked away inside the medicine cat's den sorting through the clan's store of healing herbs. There was still time to gather herbs for the long moons ahead, however to focus their efforts Smokefur wished to know exactly what they needed to stock up on. The Cobwebs weren't at risk of degradation and were easy enough to find in camp, however she poked a small pile of Chervil and was unsatisfied with the crunching noise emitted. "There is no way we're getting any juice out of these..." Smokefur mumbled to herself and she added chervil tot he mental checklist she was compiling.

Word Count: 166

Tags: Phoenix

Notes:

[Phoenix]

It was stupid, really. The situation that had landed him in the medicine cat’s den had been perfectly avoidable, and even as he limped into the familiar hollow, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was only there to save someone else the trouble of dragging him later. Herbs could heal a twisted paw as effectively as they could heal a shattered heart – that is, not at all – but the fall that had sprained his muscle had also exacerbated his healing wounds and the blood would inevitably alarm someone. A part of him had recognized that the old tree branch wouldn’t be able to support his weight, and yet, he had found that he could not muster up the energy necessary to really care. It was stupid.

He was just so tired all the time. Everything these days felt like an uphill battle, where he could never reach the top of the slope no matter how hard he climbed. Exhaustion had a way of sinking into his bones and turning his limbs to stone, such that when he found himself in an instance where he needed to alter his course and make any extra decisions, doing so with seemed impossible. It required too much effort, and today, it had resulted in an injury. Well, he wasn’t surprised. If only he could get a full night’s sleep, the warrior had reasoned with himself many times over. If only his slumber remained uninterrupted by the overpowering scent and the utter flood of brilliant crimson, then he would not be so tired and useless. He would not jolt awake in the middle of the night with the sudden urge to wash a hot red from his paws or to poke his sisters and mother and even the medicine cat apprentice awake, just to check that they were still whole and still breathing. Still there.

Physically, at least.

It had been a long time since the dark-furred tom had spoken to him. As numb shock gave way to a deep heartache, he had become increasingly aware of Shadowchaser’s absence; his friend’s lack of thereness cut a different wound through his already bleeding heart. He hadn’t realized how much time he spent with the other tom until he simply wasn’t there anymore. The warrior had seen him, of course, but their usual proximity to each other had been replaced with a cool distance. They hadn’t had a chance to talk since… Since… Something had changed, and well, maybe Shadowchaser had simply gotten tired of him like everyone else. That was fine; he understood and wouldn’t bother the other tom anymore, even though he had thought that maybe the medicine cat had actually started liking him. It was Shadowchaser’s choice, and if that choice made his heart hurt a little more, well, then it did.

Still, he could not help the dash of hope and the sharp sting of disappointment that he felt upon entering the medicine cat’s den only to see the now-typical absence of a dark-furred tom. The familiar silver she-cat, however, was there, nosing through her stores. “Um,” Newtstripe began quietly. As often as he had visited Shadowchaser here, he could count on one paw the number of times that he had found himself alone in Smokefur’s company. “I—My shoulder’s—um—it’s—it’s—bleeding again.”


@poptart