a storm in a teacup

A moment of peace, of silence, of tranquility was a rare gem these days, no thanks to the recent events that transpired. They’d have to personally thank both Pinefire and Emberclan for that one some day. But now, Salmonsplash wondered if it were a record that no cat needed them for something as was often the case. How Snakewhisper had done the job they could not begin to imagine, not being more than a couple of weeks into it. As a warrior, they were left to their own, expected to act enough of an adult to mind their responsibilities without having to be directed to do so and they did without complaint. As a medicine cat, it was as if it were the will of the world to have every cat poking and prodding them about every single little thing at all times of the day. Trivial things, things that they thought common sense but Stormclan aimed to prove them wrong. They did not regret having passed the rank up to Snakewhisper, only that they took their freedom for granted. Though not in the habit of wasting time doing so, they allowed themselves the moment to ponder idly the whereabouts of their former medicine cat. Still, they could not draw a reasonable explanation for their departure, if it were that. It was that or the alternative, which Salmonsplash had no issue in considering as well. They knew all of Stormclan still continued to gossip on the disappearance but they had little mind for such a useless concept. Gossip, who even had the patience for it? It took all their might not to openly snort or roll their eyes in exasperation when the apprentices, of whom are most notorious for it, discussed with their clanmates their bland imaginations. The cat was gone, that was enough of a fact. Breathing in the crisp damp air, Salmonsplash sat outside of their den with their tail curled neatly around their paws. They closed their eyes, relaxing at the ambience of their environment and allowing their guard to loosen. If the cream cat could be rich in anything, they’d take this unbothered silence in a heartbeat.

Shellnose limped over to the peaceful cream cat, hoping she wouldn’t disturb them too badly. Her high-white and tabby fur looked as though it was still damp, as though she had attempted to groom it after the rain but had not dried properly, and her emerald eyes were as wide as the day she first opened them. The small she-cat approached reluctantly, not daring to put any weight on her right hind paw. ”Um... Salmonsplash?” She asked, her voice a lot less confident than she originally hoped. The medicine cat was more intimidating than other StormClan cats, in her opinion. Their air of apathy was more frightening than their clanmates’ superiority complexes. ✿ But, at least she knew they were patient. At the very least they weren’t short-tempered like the cats she had been dealing with all morning. They wouldn’t snap at her for the smallest mistake, or even for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or worse yet blaming her for their own wrongdoings. That was a comforting thought. ”I stepped on a thorn while I was out on border patrol, and everyone there refused to help me get it out, and I can’t reach it from a good enough angle to get it out myself,” the tiny warrior explained, ”but it’s not that deep. I don’t think it’s bled at all, it’s just a little sore.” Though, it was apparent that she was applying a thick layer of honey to the story. A dark crimson color stained the white fur around her toes and a faint hiss of pain escaped through clenched teeth as a particularly painful throb echoed through her entire leg. The last thing she wanted was for any cat to see her writhe and whine in pain like a wounded kit and give them just another reason to think less of her. She was a strong, capable warrior, deserving of their respect.

Alas, that slim moment in which they had their thoughts to dwindle on passed just as soon as it came. Blinking open pink eyes synonymous to their namesake, they quickly glanced over the source of the small voice addressing them and it took only that glimpse to conclude that this was Shellnose, a cat who had the misfortune of an apprentice’s stature even as a warrior, a birth trait that was mercilessly preyed upon by the others. It was a shallow game and a waste of time, they thought, to make a cat responsible for what cannot be changed. This was the real world, who on earth had the schedule for that, the spotted tabby could not measure. But what kind of power figure were they to judge? Salmonsplash hardly fell victim to such short-sightedness – mostly because they never spoke enough to anyone to provide the ammo for it – but they were young and dumb and made plenty of mistakes themselves at a time that seemed long ago now. Shellnose was a harmless enough cat, enough so that Salmonsplash’s memory as a warrior recalled no qualms or quarrels with her. If the medic could fault her for anything, it would be her sense of duty to talk the ear off of any cat who would listen but they’d fault most of the clan for that regardless. ”It’s better that they didn’t, young one. You were right to come to me, even a wound as mild as this one can easily turn into a nasty infection.” Salmonsplash flicked their ear at registering her strained hiss and added on, ”And a thorn spares no cat from its sharp puncture.” Rising from their seated posture, they suppressed a chuckle. She was young and putting on a bravado, not to their surprise, likely an attempt to give no more reason for any clanmate to tease her beyond what she was already mocked for. But they admitted internally to feeling a slight admiration for her perserverance as they’d had plenty enough experiences with thorns and the pain truly was nothing close to pleasant, nor were the following days of raw discomfort. ”Come into my den and I’ll take a look at it.” Assuming if they could make it as far as the outside of their den, she wouldn’t topple over dead in a couple more pawsteps entering it. Caring enough to spare her an unforgiving audience, they beckoned her in with a sweep of their tail. At least in a private space Shellnose could save the energy of trying to repress the ache and the medicine cat could get a proper look at the wound.

The young she-cat nodded along with Salmonsplash as they praised the precaution taken by the warriors she had been patrolling with. Shellnose swallowed the bitter thought that not one of them cared enough to escort her back, or even offer their support. They just suggested that she return to camp, then carried on as if she was never there in the first place. Perhaps her view of the events was skewed by the pain occasionally blurring the edged of her vision, but that couldn’t have altered her recollection of the situation too much, right? And, for some reason, when the medicine cat addressed her as young one, it didn't sting like it did when other cats used similar terms. ”It is a good thing I came back,” she agreed, her tone unreadable. Her wide, glossy eyed stared at them as they spoke once more to invite her in. The fun-sized warrior followed, still careful not to put weight on her injured paw. ✿ The medicine den was an enigma to Shellnose. It smelled deeply earthy, of plants and flowers and roots that all blended together into one powerful scent. She could only recall being inside a few times before— the occasional runny nose, a bellyache here, a wrenched paw there, that one time her brother got a nasty rat bite and had to spend a few nights and she came to visit him— and none of the memories were particularly pleasant. She always came in feeling bad, lapped up a few bitter herbs, then left feeling better. Snakewhisper and Salmonsplash are both good medicine cats. Well, the prior was a good medicine cat. It made the high-white cinnamon tabby sad to think about it. ✿ When they had reached more open area of the den, Shellnose sat on one of the nests, lifting her injured hind leg so the spotted tabby could get a better look. The silence was getting to her. It made her fur itch. ”Do you ever miss Snakewhisper?” she asked casually, but her voice was laced with melancholy. Hopefully it wasn’t inappropriate to ask about something like that. She hadn’t really noticed Salmonsplash mourn a whole lot after their mentor had gone missing, but they couldn’t just never miss someone that important, right? After something like that happens, a cats whole life changes, especially for a medicine cat. It couldn’t have been easy for them to deal with that pain on their own. Her emerald gaze softened with sympathy.

Brownhawk was on her way to the medicine cat den to give Salmonsplash some food. She knew the medicine cat was busy, so she would make her visit quick. She had a plump bird in her jaws. Salmonsplash works hard so he deserved something good from the fresh kill pile. Once she reached the den, she walked in. There was Salmonsplash and Shellnose in the medicine cat den. She dropped the bird in front of her paws before speaking. "Hello Salmonsplash. I hope I am not intruding. I brought prey here in case you were hungry." She turned her attention to Shellnose. "Hello Shellnose. How are you doing? Are you alright?" She hoped Shellnose wasn't sick.

Salmonsplash didn’t expect to work in quiet as they would have preferred, but they gave in to hoping for it anyways - in vain. For whatever reason others seemed to think it necessary to fill the air with pleasantries or short-sighted questions, assuming the silence to be awkward or unwanted when really the tabby couldn’t ask for more than that. It was proving to be heavier of a request each day just to receive that over anything else but they would relent and humor the she-cat’s arbitrary question. Did they miss Snakewhisper? Of course, they did, but it wasn’t something they dwelled on often. Today being the exception. That cat was one of their closest allies and about the only one they could stand to go out of their way to make conversation with but that was then and this was now. The question was harmless enough and Salmonsplash figured it an attempt to act politely by way of exchanging “friendly” dialog. It caught Salmonsplash completely off-guard the way they flinched at the she-cat’s pitiful expression – pity for them. As if they needed it. As if they had wanted it. It was so painfully apparent in her gaze, no attempt at even hiding it. They had grown to resent that look as if they were some loss kit. It was, in their opinion, well past the time of feeling grieved over the entire thing and it was no more progressive to drag it on than it was a moon ago, or the moon before that. They were sure of this, so why cringe? Embarrassment was not a feeling they experienced on many occasions, always so sure of themselves and never one to wear their heart on their sleeve. Yet to have reacted so… emotionally. It was all turning into a thing of curiosity for the ever-learning Stormclan cat, to feel so pedestrian. The hanging question of their current standing with Snakewhisper remained in the air. ” I did, I do.” That would be more of an answer than any other cat would get out of them. Focused on their work at hand, they continued without waiting for a response. ” I’m going to lick the surrounding area of the wound, to make pliable the flesh around it. Once I’ve done that, I’ll pull the thorn out. As soon as I do, Shellnose, you’ll need to lick away the bleeding until it stops – it won’t take long for it to do so.” Assuming the warrior to be capable of this, they went to work on her exposed paw pads with a tender touch. As they liked to do to prevent hyper-focusing on the impending hurt, they swiftly worked the pesky thorn out once the flesh was lenient enough to do so, without forewarning. If she knew it was coming, she’d only give more attention to the area. Pink eyes looked expectedly at the little molly as they pulled back for her to take over the work until their ear flicked at the unexpected approach of another cat. Just barely giving away some of their attention from Shellnose, they eyed the new visitor. This was Brownhawk, of which they knew little of. Acquaintances, at best. They appeared to be well enough, no visible limp, expression cheerful. She wasn’t here for their services but rather to be of service to them, by the look of the bird that dangled from their maw. The work of a medicine cat was a job that took more time than it gave and performing even basic acts of living were a challenge in and of itself – they would accept the generosity of their clanmates any day. Not moving away from their patient and hardly sparing more than a side glance, they dipped their head graciously. ” You’re never intruding if you bring prey like that with you.” They returned to observing Shellnose, keeping an attentive eye on their lesion while remaining aware of Brownhawk’s lingering presence. At least, once the smaller she-cat was done tending to her own wound, they could occupy each other and leave the worn medicine cat to their thoughts.

This post rolled 6 in Intelligence

Her wide eyes narrowed at the way Salmonsplash flinched when they saw her expression. Shellnose always wondered how cats could live their lives with their thoughts and emotions bottled so tightly that they couldn’t stand to have others feel for them— wouldn’t it be easier to allow themselves to experience those emotions, and then let them go? Either way, she did not want the medicine cat to feel uncomfortable, so she looked away as not to expose them to her undisguised concern. Once Salmonsplash had moved past it, they started to lick her injured paw, simultaneously desensitizing the area and cleaning the dried blood off of it. ✿ When the new arrival entered the den, dread flooded through the tiny cat’s body. Why couldn’t she have had some privacy to deal with the pain? “I’m fine, Brownhaw, just a tho-,” she began. But, her terse meow was cut off by a hiss of pain when Salmonsplash unexpectedly pulled the thorn out. The sharp burning sensation flowed from her back paw seemingly through her whole body, making her high-white tabby fur stand on end and her eyes shut tight for a brief moment. After it was out, though, the sharp pain only lasted a brief moment until it was replaced with a potent throbbing ache. She replaced the medicine cat’s tongue with her own and that seemed to dull the stinging a little, but... there was a surprising amount of blood. They had said it would only bleed a little, so why was it now dripping down her leg? There seemed to be more coming out than she could control. ✿ She frantically tried to subdue the liquid herself while Salmonsplash thanked Brownhawk for the prey, but the pain grew overwhelming and the sight of her white fur threaded with dripping blood made her feel a little faint. ”Uhh, Salmonsplash?” she mewed, her voice faltering as she got their attention, ”is it supposed to be bleeding this much?” Her vision swam and she backed off, leaving the injury to continue bleeding. To think, a warrior squeamish at the sight of her own blood. Just another reason for her clanmates to not see her as an equal. Others would relish in the feeling- as if losing blood is just validation that they were making sacrifices for their clan, and were strong enough to handle the consequences. But she wasn’t.

The strong warrior noticed the medicine cat pull the thorn out of Shellnose's paw. She could smell the blood first before she saw it. She flinched, feeling hurt that Shellnose had to go through that. But pain is what came with the life of a warrior, and it was what made them stronger in the end. Boy, did medicine cats make a warrior's wounds easier to deal with. They had a hard, and yet important job. Brownhawk carried the plump bird in the den and set it off to the side for Salmonsplash to eat later. She turned her attention to Shellnose. "Don't worry Shellnose. You're a strong Stormclan warrior. A thorn isn't that bad despite the pain. You'll be good as new soon." Brownhawk looked at Salmonsplash after she sent encouraging words to her clanmate. "Enjoy the bird Salmonsplash. I made sure to bring the biggest one so it should taste juicy. I'll see you in camp soon." With that said Brownhawk left leaving the medicine cat to finish her work. Salmonsplash deserved it after all.

-Exit Brownhawk

Salmonsplash whipped full attention back to their patient, noting their white fur stained with more blood than the medicine cat would have liked to see. Either the thorn was deeper than it had looked externally or they had pulled it out at an unfortunate angle – no time to give too much thought into it. This one seemed to have a distaste for the sight of blood, her body slowly coming to a collapse before the tabby, in a flash, came to support the fall with their shoulder. There was no need for them to be adding a concusion and bruising on top of a bleeding wound, their paws would be full enough tending to what was clearly worse than they had calculated for. Their brow furrowed; they weren’t a fan of tipping their ratio of successes in favor of failures when they had grown so use to accuracy. Continuing to bear the feathery weight of the little warrior, they spoke with a gentle but matter-of-fact tone, ”Shellnose,” Salmonsplash started, ”I’m going to lay you on the ground and fetch some cobwebs to cease the bleeding. You’ve nothing to worry about,” Before continuing, they simultaneously crouched and inclined their body as to provide a gradual slope to the ground of the den for her to lie on. Once she was out of harm’s way of falling, the salmon-eyed tabby made haste in gathering the sticky white webs before hurrying back to the faint cat, wasting no time in working it between the toes of her paws where the thorn had been. ”Acquiring an injury in the paw can sometimes turn into a nasty business, they contain many blood vessels and there is a great deal more blood flow from using them so constantly, more than any other part of the body. It makes them prone to heavier bleeding when hurt.” Once the webbing began its work in slowing the bleeding, they continued to apply pressure to the gauze-like material while assessing Shellnose’s state of consciousness. She was still present, thankfully, if only a bit dizzy which they concurred an effect from the sight of blood rather than the actual loss of it. ”Blood can, on occasion, make a wound look worse than it actually is and the white of your fur may be contributing to that. You haven’t lost anywhere near enough to present concern to me.” With paws still firmly in place and feeling confident on its status, Salmonsplash allowed their eyes to scan her expression. ”Nonetheless, you should stay here for the night so that I can re-assess it in the morning and make sure no further bleeding occurs. How do you feel right now?”

Shellnose grimaced at Brownhawk’s statement, thankful the milk-chocolate molly left soon after she arrived. Her words stung the small she-cat. Is that how every warrior thought? That bleeding was a sign of strength and sacrifice? She knew it was repetitive, but why in StarClan’s name did everyone have to treat her like she was clueless? A thorn isn’t that bad, despite the pain, she had said. Like the bleeding warrior wasn’t the one experiencing it. Plus, Salmonsplash had explained the exact concept to her no long before, as it was their job to do. The tiny cinnamon tabby didn’t need elucidation from every passing cat. It was patronizing. ✿ She got over her frustration quickly as another wave of pain hit her, sharp as the thorn that had pierced her. Comparatively speaking it wasn’t that bad, but in combination with her vertigo made her vision blur at the edges. Shellnose focused on the medicine cat’s clear and concise words. They were a soothing sedative that as the tabby explained what they were doing, she fixated less on the pain. ”Okay...” She mewed, closing her eyes and allowing them to do their job without any fuss. Laying down felt nice. The coolness of the medicine den floor kept her grounded in reality. Her eyes fluttered closed out of relief. The rest of their words flowed in through one ear and drifted out through the other, not entirely registering in her subconscious as they were spoken. ✿ For the first time in what felt like moons, the tiny she-cat felt her guard fall and she relaxed, the throbbing pain in her paw still present, but no longer overbearing. ”Honestly, I feel like I haven’t allowed myself a chance to unwind in ages,” she explained softly, her eyes opening once more to Salmonsplash. She realized that perhaps the medicine cat wasn’t so scary after all. The words they used would sound patronizing from any cat but them; for some reason, around them, she didn’t feel the need to prove herself. Since she wasn’t able to see the blood now crusting in her fur, and the bleeding had ceased its violence, the dizziness dissipated.