Medicine Cat's Den YOU'RE IN MY FAVOR // rowanpaw

[serpentberry]

Serpentberry cannot hear beyond the wailing of her heart. It bleeds because it's been struck with the inevitability of change - the infallible reminder that those around her will grow and shift and move beyond a need for her. That her companionship and guidance will be obsolete - that she will be obsolete. Oh, that is a terrifying thought. Even with kits nipping at her heels she trembles at the poor idea. Even as Juniperstar promises safety and security to the kits promised to warriors - she stares down Rowanpaw, a molly shackled to her nest for injuries that any other cat would've walked off with...

"You..." Her tone drips like venom off of her tongue. She looks at Rowanpaw as if her daughter isn't anything but prey to be eaten or a predator to be struck at. She turns the other into nothing - but, yet, everything. "You will not leave my side," Serpentberry continues, her jaw set as she stalks ever forward, ever closer to her meal. "The world is too dangerous for you, my little bird. You have made that clear to me..." her brother has stains of his sins, her true heritage long gone. She is what is left - she, Serpentberry, her mother, her protector, her...

"I will mentor you," she says, and though her voice softens a modicum, it still remains tense. She slips into the bedding alongside her daughter, pressing a kiss to the youth's temple. "I will teach you everything I know. You will know every leaf and petal of this forest, every healing salve and every devastating treatment." I can't trust anyone else with you, Ro. Juniperstar is tangled with kits, Thunderflash is brutish and half-minded. Gracebloom, Honeysucklecry, Brightpetal, Maplefrost - all young and stupid. None of them could protect her darling daughter, her sweetness personified. She will sharpen and hone the blade in the youth and make something of her yet. Something that will shine and sparkle in the daylight and slither beneath the shadows. Her daughter... a medicine cat's apprentice. It's well deserved.

(Thoughts fly through her mind; what of her younger three? Who would she trust them to, in the moons they must have a mentor? Could she squander them away too, steal them for herself and teach them the life of secrecy and herbs? Her teeth clatter together in an uncertain, predatorial smile.)

"My little Rowanpaw," she purrs, pressing her cheek to the others. Her heart still doesn't settle, but she looks at peace with her territorial decision. "My little... medicine cat..."

 

[rowanpaw]

☼ Rowanpaw is curled up in her nest, ever the dutiful daughter. Whatever little she'd gleaned from spending so much time with Serpentberry, she didn't know enough to question her mother's judgment. If Serpentberry told her to stay put in her nest, she would, she would be good.

She pricks her ears to hear Juniperstar's words, but she stays where she is, waiting for Serpentberry to return. Juniperstar speaks of a scuffle, more violence– the death of Molepaw… There's something about mentors. Warriors pairing up with apprentices. Names are listed, assigned, and she waits for her own to be brought up, but it doesn't come. Then Serpentberry returns.

There is something in her eyes. Rowanpaw isn't sure what it is. Then her mother speaks; you will not leave my side, the world is too dangerous for you, my little bird… You have made that clear to me… I will mentor you.

Rowanpaw's eyes must light up, she thinks, as she basks in the attention of her mother– if there are red flags, if there is venom in the older she-cat's words, they are lost on her. All she hears is that her mother wants her. Wants her around, wants her safe, wants her alive. The mother she had lost 5 moons ago wanted nothing from Rowanpaw but for her to follow in her littermates footsteps and die with them, to bury her in a shallow grave next to herself. But Rowanpaw had lived. And now her mother; the mother who had chosen her, again and again, was slipping into her nest and pressing her warm body against her own. She will teach her everything she knows.

My little Rowanpaw… My little medicine cat…

It replays in her head, my, my, my– yours, she wants to say. I'm your daughter. But the concept is still too foreign to her, the words stuck in the back of her throat, not wanting to come out. What if she says it, and it's taken away?

"I'd like that," Rowanpaw meows, unable to hide the shake in her voice. "I don't… I don't want to fight. I don't want to see anymore violence, I want… I want to help, to be like you. To heal and treat, to save…" she looks down at her paw, which had betrayed her in the fight against the badger, which was still aching dully despite what she had told Serpentberry earlier. "Let me help you, mother… Let me learn from you."

creator, you destroy me

you know my hunger well.

• ooc: -
• 

  
  

  rowanpaw, 9 moons, thunderclan apprentice
  russet furred she-cat, lawful neutral
  healing and soft powerplay allowed

 

[serpentberry]

Her beloved daughter accepts her attention greedily, as if she is dripping the golden ichor of life into the other's awaiting maw. Serpentberry trills belovedly, her thundering heart remaining at its quickened yet steady pace. Her eyes float to the walls of her den, as if spirits will congratulate her on her selfishness. The stars in her periphery glitter and glow too faintly for her to make sense of them, but it is enough. Thornstar does not fall from the heavens to denounce her choice. Perhaps he is also gleeful, glad that one of his brood has been accepted, somehow, into such a lustrous path.

"You sweet little song," Serpentberry murmurs, and though something about her is still fierce and feral, she relaxes with her daughter's acceptance. Rowanpaw's trembling fear of the wilds and its dangers are swiftly disregarded aside from what they obviously gift the medicine cat. Security that the russet furred apprentice will not escape her so quickly - while her friends run and play warrior in the woods, she will stay put. She will learn dock from holly and marigold from poppy, and be absolutely happy about it. Lest they both be damned with the fact that this is a poorly made decision on either of their paws.

"Of course," she relents, as if she's withholding anything more than her true, selfish intentions. "Perhaps one day, you will replace me in this... dingy little den. And cats will look to you for help and guidance... but it's a long way from that, Ro. Until then, you'll be stuck to my hip like sap, and I will give you everything." A slow draw over the other's forehead, her lips quirked in a gentle smile, "I promise."