Total Eclipse of the Heart [Closed]

OCC: *note* this takes place right after Sage's medicine cat ceremony

Sageleaf's paws seemed to hover over the earth as she rushed back to the camp. They barely touched the ground, merely brushed across it. Her thoughts were stuck on what she had seen with Starclan. The awkward banter with the pair was all but forgotten underneath the rest of all of it. Blood... staining their home. What could it mean? She couldn't help the strange nagging feeling that it had something to do with her kin. Once more she remembered Gorsefeather's words, 'Your brother, you shouldn't worry what he thinks of your role. That mousebrain should worry about where his loyalties lie. He fights so hard against the very blood that runs through his veins'. None of it made sense. Slatethroat was a loyal Windclan warrior through and through. Occasionally, he could be uncaring and bull-headed, but that did not make him evil. A chill ran down her spine. She needed to talk to him, right away. And then maybe to Ashstar as well.

The newly named medicine cat burst into the clearing. Her sides heaved and her head whipped around, as if searching for some unknown danger. Nothing was happening. Sageleaf stopped short, cocking her head in confusion. Nothing was happening her. The entire clearing was calm. Green eyes scanned the camp for the familiar pelt of her brother. Even if there was nothing happening, she still needed to speak to him. Finally spotting him, she tried to hold herself back from rushing over, but her pawsteps were certainly more urgent than normal. She nudged him with her nose in an attempt at a friendly greeting, and whispered, "Slatethroat, we need to talk there's something..."

The warrior flinched as if she had struck him and took a few steps back. He stood a bit taller than her and looked down with an evident disdain in his eyes. Of any cat, Sageleaf was the one he wanted to see least. A soft his escaped him, "I've got better things to do than stand around talking about leaves with a medicine cat." Per usual, he spat the title as an insult. The tom saw no reason for her 'special role'. Why should medicine cats be praised? All they do is sit there with their heads lost in the stars? He scoffed and went to turn away.

"Wait! You don't understand, there is something going on. Something with... I don't know. But we need to talk. About our parents. I'm not sure, but there's something wrong, I'm not sure." His blood ran cold at the sentence. There was something about the way she said it that caught the attention of his subconscious. A nagging feeling tugged at him, but he pushed it away. There was nothing to talk about. Their father was the retired deputy of Windclan, and their mother was dead. There was nothing more to the story than that. It was absurd to even insinuate it was otherwise, or that there was something wrong with them. Both were great cat. He turned back to her and snapped, "There is nothing to talk about. Go sort your herbs." With that, he whipped around to go find Dovespirit. Talking to his sister always made the pit of anger in his stomach grow, and bile rise in his throat. He needed to see his former apprentice.

Sageleaf was left staring after him with sad, green eyes, and the sinking feeling that maybe there was something terribly wrong with her brother. She slowly turned to pad off to Ashstar's den, trying to shake away the barrage of negative feelings in her stomach. The grey and white muscular warrior huffed off in the other direction. Once he caught sight of the younger warrior, a grin peeled up the sides of his maw. Dovespirit was a beautiful as ever. Best of all, she had become a phenomenal warrior. His heart seemed to leap at the sight of her, but he pushed away any of those feelings and meowed calmly, "Would you like to join me for a hunting patrol?"

Dovespirit shot her gaze back down to the ground as her heart began to pound, trying to pretend she hadn't just overheard their conversation. The pretty she-cat swallowed dryly, then turned, startled, toward Slatethroat at the sound of her name being called. The sound of him saying it made her shiver slightly, but she pushed it away. Leaf-fall was coming. That was obviously it. Wind…wind was very bad these days.

"O—oh," she choked out attractively. "I—er—yeah, ah, of course." She stood, shaking out her beautifully messy pelt. 

Dove's falling out with Talonstrike had been brutal. She hated not talking to him. It was eating into her, and maybe she thought an outing with her former mentor would help. He might listen, she told herself as she lifted her head and followed the tom out of the clearing of trampled clovers, his familiar wildgrass scent wafting into her nose. But she didn't particularly want to talk about it. The past few sunrises she'd been moping around camp, and something inside of her begged her to get back on her paws again.

Gathering her wits about her, watching the movement of her feet instead of the suspicious rustling of prey around them, she opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again: "Is there anything wrong?" She was careful not to say more. Crickets began their cry around them and cicadas, hiding in the long grasses, buzzed loudly, echoing in Dovespirit's ears.

There was a slight smirk as he noticed her stutter. His green eyes took in her beautiful, albeit messy, pelt. The warrior had missed spending so much time with the she-cat. She was the only cat whose presence he truly enjoyed. Without saying all that much, he flicked his tail towards the camp entrance. If nothing else, he longed to be far away from Sageleaf right now, far away from the reminders of his failing family. It all seemed like too much. Slatethroat never let himself think about it. His father's demotion had hit hard when he was young. Sage's role stripped her of the dreams they had shared as young kits. And now, the death of Hazefur. Of course there was something wrong with their parents, Sageleaf was a mousebrain if she thought otherwise. He shook away the thoughts with a physical shake of his pelt. All of the aggravation was pushed to the background now that he was with Dovespirit.

"Nothing at all, my dear." He meowed smoothly, flicking an ear at the question, "Just a medicine cat poking her nose in to places it does not belong." His tail ran down the fur on her spine as they walked out onto the open moors together. A gentle breeze carried along the warm greenleaf air. It seemed to soothe any frustration in his heart, or at least make him ignore it. Now, it was alright. Slatethroat just hoped she would not press further. After barely seeing her for so long, the warrior just wanted a good moment.