Private Medicine Cat's Den AND I WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN // serpentberry

[rowanpaw]

☆ The wind is barely moving, making the air in the camp feel stale and humid. There must be a storm brewing, Rowanpaw thinks, blinking up at the sky. It's partly obscured by clouds, all of them looking heavy. Rowanpaw too feels heavy. Her heart is weighed down, lying somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Ever since she stumbled into Serpentberry coming back from the border, seeing her mother covered in blood that was not her own… and then, the tension between her and Cicadabuzz at the half moon meeting… something was going on.

Something was wrong with her mother, something– something was making her act like this, making her say these things… when she'd attacked Stilldream, Rowanpaw had defended her. She'd believed in her. But now Serpentberry was denying Stilldream treatment, and for what? Taking a few herbs, trying to help their leader when they'd been unable to? She did not like Stilldream either, but… if she fell sick… Rowanpaw would still treat her. There were other ways to punish her for what she did. Feeling apprehensive, but resolute, she turns and goes back into the medicine cat's den. With the gift Coffeestar had given her, she would get to the bottom of this– she will help her mother. She will save her. Isn't that what daughters are for?

"Mother…" she says softly, settling close to her in the low light of the den. "I have a question. I… I'm worried about you…" her ears flick. The words sit in the back of her throat, but making them come out is harder than she'd thought. "What really happened that day, when you came back from the border covered in blood…?"

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

She has a moment. A quiet moment, where the chatter of camp has dimmed into nothing but an inconsequential buzz in her ear. Rare is it that the medicine cat can enjoy just being - not a mother nor sister nor friend, not a mentor nor medicine cat nor murderer... Just Serpentberry. Maybe even Serpent, again. This Clan business stole everything from her, she finds, and in this near silence, she feels she can grasp all she lost once more.

And yet... "Mother..." chimes all that she's gained. An elder daughter, well over four seasons old yet still held tight to her haunch. Her tranquility is happily disturbed in favor of entertaining Rowanpaw, the molly's often warm and inviting smile downturned into something different. "I'm worried about you," she says, and Serpentberry allows a glimmer of disbelief in her gaze. Her tail taps the ground lightly as the other continues, clearly facing difficulty in parting her maw.

When Rowanpaw finally speaks again, that chill finds Serpentberry's spine once more.

"Do you believe that I've not told you the truth, Rowanpaw?" Incredulous, not quite - she speaks factually, statements rather than inquiries. She knows not of Coffeestar's gift to the young molly, knows even less how it may unravel her. "I've said all I needed to," Serpentberry murmurs as if she's been wounded, a paw drawing in the loose underfoot beneath them. Blown in sand, tufts of stubborn weeds, netting of a nest. They seem far more interesting now compared to facing her daughter.

After a beat, she waves a paw, "I settled a score. That's all." Serpentberry doesn't see her own folly - not immediately, anyways. Rowanpaw had been there when she nearly shorn Stilldream's hide from muscle over Juniperstar's death. Her daughter has seen a fraction of what she's capable of. Serpentberry has lost her touch in hiding it. Her moment of peace drastically shifts into a spark of chaos as she nearly bites, "Whatever happened doesn't matter anyways. No one died." There. The piece of the puzzle for Rowanpaw to latch to. Serpentberry isn't sure what happened, but she is sure she watched Cicadabuzz pass - bug's eyes were dim and vacant. It confuses her how it's still walking, but that's besides the point.

 

[rowanpaw]

☆ No one died.

It's not fear that rattles Rowan's next breath, but something close to it– something more primal. Her ribs seem to tighten around her lungs, each breath labored and almost painful. She stares at her mother wide eyed. When Coffeestar had given her the gift, she had not told her how she would know. Perhaps Coffeestar didn't know either, only that she would. She is not entirely sure yet of the extent of Starclan's powers. But it's like… like a thorn in her heart, or an ivy vine tightening around it, just for a moment. Painful, then gone. It leaves her with a terrible feeling, that thing close to fear, the thing that grips her with iron claws– her mother is lying to her.

But why? And to what end? And who died, and at whose paws? She squeezes her eyes shut, gathering her thoughts, wishing for the first time in a very long while that her brother was there. Maybe he'd know what to do. She certainly doesn't. She's too young for this, she thinks, echoing her brother's words– a conversation they'd had after the rat attack, when Rowan looked at his wounds. You're too young for this, he'd said. To dedicate your life to darkness and sour herbs. You belong in the forest, Ro. You should be running around, making friends, not here, with her. There's a whole world out there.

She'd dismissed him at the time, but now, her world begins to unravel, her world that had started with Serpentberry and ended at the entrance to their den, it's all falling away underneath her. There is nothing on the other side of this. This is all she has. She takes another deep, rib rattling breath.

"I am your daughter," she says, softly still. She opens her eyes again and looks over at her mother, showing all her sadness and confusion on her face, the way you can only do with your mother. "Do you really think I wouldn't know when you're lying?"

She grits her teeth for a moment, looking away. Her heart is hammering in her chest, so loud that she thinks her mother must hear it reverberating off the rocky walls of their den. She won't tell her about the gift, not now, not… not like this. It was supposed to be something good, a gift from the stars, but now she was being forced to use it on her own mother. She feels sick.

"Was it Cicadabuzz?" She whispers, brow knitted. The pieces slowly start to fall into place in her head. Cicada, Magpiepaw, the stolen herbs– the attack on Stilldream– "is bug the one who died, mother? Was it their blood on your fur?" A brief pause, another deep breath. "If I had known, I would still have helped you clean it off."

A slight shiver passes through her, a cold feeling left behind by truth leaving. Serpent is still her mother, no matter what she might have done. Rowanpaw could still fix things, she… she could still save her. As a good medicine cat would.

☆ ROWANPAW. 14 moons
mentored by serpentberry,
adopted daughter of serpentberry and thornstar
peaceful powerplay allowed
ooc -

 

[serpentberry serpentberry]

The shortness of her own words would be her undoing, she finds. While she speaks clipped, while her tone errs on the edge of snake's venom, her daughter returns her with gentleness and sincerity. Rowanpaw could never raise a set of claws to her, could never flash her fangs or sharpen her voice. No - she's trained her daughter to be obedient even when disrespectful. Rowanpaw, in some way, fears her. Or in the least fears what life is without her. This is nothing but a few steps away from what they once had. A few steps that Serpentberry won't need to eagerly reclaim, as Rowanpaw will just as easily close the gap.

The other says, "Do you really think I wouldn't know when you're lying?" And Serpentberry, for a moment, almost replies, "I wish you didn't." It would make everything all the more easier.

But this too, shall pass; the difficulty will cease and they will be mother and daughter, teacher and student - god and disciple once again.

"Was it Cicadabuzz?" She flicks her gaze away. Rowanpaw presses on, and Serpentberry makes a show of shame, guilt, yet none of it is true. There is no doubt in a higher being that Rowanpaw can see that her remorse is falsified. "It wasn't your mess to clean up, little Ro," the older molly comments at long last. She looks as if she's weighing the benefits of telling the truth, when the fact of the matter is that she is gauging how much of it she can still get away with. "It was Cicadabuzz's blood, yes. But I cannot fathom them dying. You saw them just as clearly as I did, did you not? They still walk amongst us..." She cannot hide the click of her teeth as she says it. She'd rather them drown in their own blood twice over. She'll commit to it herself if she must.

"It is not your business anyhow, Rowanpaw," she hums. Her tone is not angry nor sharp, simply flowing into that motherly tone she always harnesses. "Your duty is to gather from the best parts of me. Leave behind my mistakes; learn from them if you must, but don't feel you have to replicate them in any way. They're not yours to witness at the end of the day."