Hunt of a Different Kind (Open)

Dawn was a favorite of Lightningclaw’s. Not because of the rising sun or the abundance of prey or any such nonsense. No, she’d have gladly slept like the dead, always eager for one more scrap of rest and relaxation. But dawn was one of the few times where the camp was peaceful, where the forest was still emerging from its sleep. The quiet of sunrise, punctured by only the soft trill of birdsong, was one of the most peaceful experiences Lightningclaw had ever had.

She’d slipped out to go hunting at the same time the border patrols were heading out. Her early-rising meant she was often an early-sleeper, but she was also one of the few cats not to complain when assigned dawn. Because of that, the senior warriors were willing to let her dodge the later patrols.

She’d already cached a pair of shrews as the forest began to warm around her, alerting her to the oncoming morning. The tranquility of a new day dawned was rapidly slipping away, and she knew she’d soon have to return with her catch. She’d learned that the clan appreciated a fresh breakfast over the scattered remains of last night’s dinner.

But she really wanted a rabbit. Personal preference, and because if she was lucky she might share it with another. It tended toward a chewy leanness, compared to the fattier rodents – and it lacked the mealy taste that came from dirt-diggers. But she also knew the clan was still recovering and the most important cats deserved the best prey – and in the forests of ThunderClan, rabbit was rare.

Of course, her hunting was led awry. It had a tendency to be. Not that the interruption was a particularly bad one. She scented a distinctive cat, tasted bitter herbs and the sickly-sweet tinge of sickness, and something like a shudder passed through her, to be reminded of her lost apprentice.

But she couldn’t blame Wrenflame. She’d barely had time to grasp the fundamentals of a medicine cat before her mentor was taken from her. And she’d done well, given her lack of experience, faced with a sickness unlike any the clans had ever seen. Or, at least, unlike anything Lightningclaw had ever seen. Perhaps the elders had known it, but they had been amongst the first to die.

But, Lightningclaw thought with a flick of her tail, she was purposely stalling. There was only one reason the medicine cat would venture from the camp. And Lightningclaw knew it was her duty to help the young she-cat. There was no one else.

“Wrenflame,” she called as she pushed through the bushes that separated them, “do you need help?”

No reason to beat around the bush. Lightningclaw wasn’t in the mood to play coy, and it wasn’t like the medicine cat was the type to fool around. Together they’d finish her tasks that much quicker, and then Lightningclaw could return to her hunting.

Yes, this was the smartest choice. But it didn’t annoy Lightningclaw any less that her solitude had been disturbed or that she had a duty she could not ignore.

Something like a smirk curled Lightningclaw’s muzzle, to hear Wrenflame’s blunt words. But the expression lasted only a heartbeat before her face was smoothing into nonchalance again. Wrenflame’s statement was a compliment of a kind, but it was not enough to crack the black warrior’s façade for long. Instead, her eyes were flicking about the medicine cat even as she drew in a deeper breath, now near enough to separate scents.

The pungent sting of herbs that typically accompanied her was missing. So Lightningclaw had caught her before she even began. She briefly considered the prey she’d already cached. They were buried well enough under leaf-litter in a spot that she visited regularly. She’d have no problem tracking them back down later and digging them back up – and for cats that liked the added flavor of topsoil, it should only enrich the flavor.

Satisfied that she could assist the medicine cat and not lose her earlier efforts, Lightningclaw trotted after the younger she-cat as she suddenly turned and moved off. With only a pair of them, Lightningclaw stayed just off her flank, close enough that she could hear the other’s instructions and not appear rude, but far enough back that she would note surprise attacks from the back.

Borage and burnet – Lightningclaw turned the words over in her mind, trying to discern if she’d ever had need of either. “I think I remember what borage looks like,” she answered quietly. As Wrenflame had said, it was easily spotted and easily remembered – especially because it had been in great demand with the sickness that had ravaged the camp. She thought her own apprentice might even have been given some, at one point, possibly to break a fever?

It was hard to remember; the uses of herbs were best left to a medicine cat, but Lightningclaw was a planner through and through. She would gain knowledge where she could.

The burnet, on the other hand – she cocked her head to the side as she considered, still padding along behind the other. She remembered her visit to the Moonstone well enough, both because it had been the farthest she’d ever gone beyond the territory and because the herbs they’d been fed had been unbearably bitter. Just the thought of it was enough to twitch her nose, whiskers briefly flicking out in a grimace as she blanched at the memory.

Trying to connect those bitter, dried herbs to the fresh vegetation around her was a fool’s errand, however, and at last she shook her head with something like defeat.

Then again she only brought me along to be her personal mule, a voice in Lightningclaw’s head grumbled, as Wrenflame spied the familiar flowers that signaled borage. She stripped the leaves with efficiency, leaving Lightningclaw to follow more slowly, nose flaring briefly to test for scents before she approached the younger she-cat’s side.

Before she could begin to bundle the leaves into her mouth, however, she noticed Wrenflame was at last looking more her age, younger and more vulnerable now that the other herb was not immediately apparent.

Her turn, then. “If it’s a bitter herb, perhaps we should check near the ShadowClan border? Sounds perfect for their kind.” She dropped her head, gently nudging the leaves into a neater stack before wrapping her jaws carefully around them, taking particular care not to crush the edges with her teeth. It was more easily managed than it should have been thanks to her moons spent running mouse bile to the elder’s den, but Wrenflame didn’t need to know that.

At last, the leaf pile safely clutched between her teeth, she tilted her head at the medicine cat in a silent question. It was time to go, but Wrenflame was in charge of this expedition, and she was the ultimate decider.

With her mouth crammed full of borage leaves, Lightningclaw was unable to keep up a conversation with her companion. Not that Wrenflame seemed to mind the silence. She spoke as if she was used to chattering to empty sky, and for the first time the warrior wondered how she had come out of the sickness.

Not without scars, that much was obvious. No mentor, no deputy, no leader – and so young, of course. That was true for all of their surviving youngsters, Lightningclaw reflected. None of them had been allowed to experience the trials and tribulations of apprenticeship. Instead, adulthood and responsibility had been thrust upon them with all the finality of a falling tree. They were powerless to do anything but accept the magnitude of an incomplete kithood and an unfinished apprenticeship.

Still, time with the medicine cat quickly proved just how young she was. They had barely moved past the memory of her sudden stumble, a lapse into kittish clumsiness, and she was already baring her teeth against an unseen enemy as she lashed out at the unkindness of the world.

Unable to properly speak around the leaves trapped between her jaws, Lightningclaw could only grunt in response – but the sound, for all that it lacked context, was decidedly unimpressed with the medicine cat’s tantrum. They’d come out here on a job, and though Lightningclaw felt a rough sort of sympathy for the younger cat, she was unwilling to play the reassuring elder.

Yes, she might have done differently. And her different actions might have saved her apprentice’s life. But she also recognized that to stay bogged down in the past was its own sort of death, a slow-crawling advance of dark thoughts and darker actions. You had to step past the hardships and continue onward. Otherwise, what sort of warrior were you?

Of course, had Wrenflame heard her thoughts, the she-cat might have correctly pointed out that she was a medicine cat, not a warrior.

Not that it made any difference, really. In the end, they were all bound for StarClan, and they all served for the good of their clan. As Lightningclaw fought with fangs and claws, so Wrenflame fought with herbs and knowledge. Their foes were of entirely different sorts, but their purposes were identical.

So, when Wrenflame stepped upon the burnet, bruising and battering part of the herb’s fragile body, Lightningclaw could not resist rolling her eyes. Her patience, though tempered previously by the task at hand, had quickly given way beneath the medicine cat’s continued mood. She wasn’t quite sulking, but her actions were kittish enough that Lightningclaw might have cuffed her about the head and knocked some of the dark out of her, had they been apprentice and mentor.

As it was, Lightningclaw took great care in depositing her burden of borage upon the ground. She nosed it, even as Wrenflame raved and ranted, checking to ensure it had not suffered for the journey. Yes, it was a bit wet, a bit crumpled, but these were flaws easily smoothed out and inevitable in transportation.

At last, satisfied her cargo had come to no true harm, Lightningclaw lifted her head up, fixing the medicine cat with the full brunt of her owlish gaze. “Stop acting like a kit,” she said, not a trace of venom in her voice. If anything, that made the words all the more harsh – that she could act so unperturbed in the medicine cat’s obvious distress.

Daintily, as if she were stalking a mouse, Lightningclaw padded over to inspect the plant Wrenflame had abandoned. Critically, as if she were assessing a hunting technique, she said, “My paws are unused to such delicate work. I’d shred the leaves too easily, I think.”

She flicked her eyes back toward Wrenflame. “Take a few deep breaths then try again. Go slow if you have to; we aren’t in any hurry.”

So saying, she stepped away from the plant, moving back to the leaves she had abandoned. She took up a post beside them, sat calmly with her tail wrapped neatly over her paws. She faced away from the plant, eyes focused outward as she kept watch for danger. So close to the ShadowClan border, the acrid stench of the nearby Thunderpath drifted near, accompanied by the dull sounds of the grumbling monsters.

She intentionally kept her gaze off Wrenflame, acted as if she didn’t even see the cat, because she knew something of shame and perfectionism. It was difficult to work when another watched.