PAFP Medicine Cat's Den Silent wounds & loud voices // cicada

[Tickpaw]

TICK

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?

Tickpaw hadn't wanted to go to Cicadabuzz for the scratch on his face. He had hoped it would heal on its own, fade away so that his sister would stop looking so damn guilty. Besides, if he had gone right away, she would have gotten into even more trouble than she already was with the medicine cat. So he had kept quiet.

It had seemed like a solid plan, until it wasn't. The wound throbbed, irritated and sore, and no matter how much he tried to clean it, it refused to stop aching. Eventually, he had to admit defeat. He'd come up with a harmless lie, something simple, and made his way toward the medicine den.

Just as he neared the entrance, however, Pepperpaw appeared, blocking his path with a sly smile.

" Oh, Tickpaw, that wound looks awful. " she cooed, mock concern dripping from her voice. Then, with deliberate carelessness, she added: " Isn't that the one Flea gave you during that scuffle with Snake? Ouch. That must've hurt… Such a shame you didn't go to Cicadabuzz right away. "

She lifted a paw to her muzzle in feigned sympathy, completely ignoring the heated glare Tickpaw shot her.

He prayed to whatever would listen that Cicadabuzz had heard none of that. Without another word to Pepperpaw, he marched into the den, pushing past the irritation bubbling in his chest. He'd deal with her later. He'd grow stronger.

For now, he had to handle this.

" Cicadabuzz? " he called, hesitating just inside. His orange eyes flickered around, searching for the medicine cat. " I… I think I need some help with a wound. I don't think it's healing properly. "

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[cicadabuzz]

CICADABUZZ, 28 moons / shc + med. cat
a SH cinnamon tabby/chocolate tortie chimera w/ black eyes
parent to deathberrykit, hemlockkit, mistletoekit ; mentor to magpiepaw
a reserved, pragmatic healer driven by duty rather than sentiment

Cicadabuzz does not look up right away. Their paws move with deliberate precision as they sort through a curled, papery bundle of dried herbs, selecting one with a clipped flick of their claws. Only once Tickpaw settles down do they turn, expression unreadable, dark eyes cool as stone. Without a word, they gesture with their tail—sit. The moment the apprentice does, Cicadabuzz leans forward, inspecting the inflamed line that cuts across his face. The scratch is red and puffy, the skin hot to the touch. Infected. A soft click of the tongue is the only sound Cicadabuzz offers for a long beat.

"Pathetic," they say, voice flat as frost. "This could have been treated in a single morning. Half the herbs. No swelling. No risk of scarring." Their touch is gentle, but there's nothing gentle in the tone that follows. "You let it fester." A pause as they begin to clean the wound with moss damp with cool water, then press a poultice of burdock and horsetail to the scratch, the mixture earthy and bitter. Cicadabuzz's movements are practiced, smooth. Efficient. "You're not doing your sister any favors by hiding her mistakes." Their eyes flick up, locking with Tickpaw's for the briefest second. "Pain does not protect. It only delays consequences—and wastes my stores." They press the poultice in with just enough pressure to make him wince. Not a punishment—a lesson.

"You may think you're being noble," they murmur, voice as steady as ever. "But you are not the one who pays the price for your silence. I am. The Clan is. My herbs are for wounds of battle. Illness. Survival. Not for foolish apprentices playing martyr." Their tail flicks once behind them, an echo of restrained annoyance. "And Fleapaw," they add, more to the den itself than to Tickpaw, though the words are sharp enough to cut bark, "should know better by now than to use claws on a clanmate." There's no rise in their voice. No fury. Just that quiet, implacable calm—like water running beneath ice. They finish wrapping the wound in cobweb. Then they sit back, brushing remnants of leaf-dust from their paws.

"You'll come back tomorrow. I want to see how it's healing." A breath passes before Cicadabuzz turns away, already reaching for another bundle of herbs.