RiverClan March Medicine Cat Meeting 2022

Cloverheart's figure sat pale and thin at the mouth of her den, staring out into camp through dull eyes. The ghastly figures of cats that walked the forest before them stalked between their rushes, eyes glittering with malice and a keen sense of bloodlust. They lurked at every turn, ringing every edge of camp; and their beastly counterparts, towering in size and power, made any attempt at retaliation all the less feasible.

StarClan, especially, had been forbidden from them. Whether or not the ancestors were truly dead, attempting to convene with them was sure to earn claws to the throat. Slowly, the medicine cat raised her head skyward. I should be at Highstones right now.

She shuddered, retreating into the confines of her den– and was met with the lingering form of her apprentice. It wasn't just her missing out on their ritual; it would have been Ebonyhaze's first proper meeting. Cloverheart wilted as her gaze eventually found focus on the tom.

"We should just try and sleep," she mewed eventually, no preface to the words. "Maybe StarClan will reach us in our dreams. We can't go anywhere, anyway." She shrugged, carrying herself languidly to her den. Settling down was a slow process for her, but she found her comfort eventually, flicking a tail in the direction of her companion. "I'm sorry, for all this. It's all I know to do."

Ebonyhaze had kept mostly to the medicine den since the dark forest cats moved in. It was the only place that felt normal anymore, as anywhere else felt as though there were thousands of eyes on his back at all times. Perhaps it was paranoia, perhaps it was not, but it wasn't a welcomed feeling regardless.

So he occupied himself with work, menial tasks chasing away some of the anxiety that took root, only to flood back when he saw the looming figures of dark forest cats.

His ears flicked toward the sound of his mentor's voice, turning his head to face her. Oh right, today they would have gone to Highstones if things were normal. He remembered being so excited for it, but now it sent a little dread to fester in his stomach. He wanted to search for where the stars went, but at the same time, he feared their continued silence if he did try to reach out.

It was worth a try though, and the lanky tom nodded towards the she-cat. "I'm sure they'll answer, I think they would know what to do about this..." Feigned optimism brought his lips into a small smile, lifting from his sitting position to walk towards their nests. Maybe Starclan was not missing, but simply hiding where the dark forest couldn't see them, ready to whisper answers to those who sought it... He liked that idea, however, whether it was true or not was yet to be seen.

Sleep wasn't going to be easy to find for him, nor for his mentor as she spoke an apology. "Don't be, I would be so much worse off if I was alone and didn't have you with me. All we can do is our bests, right?" He offered as much comfort through his words as he could. They would need a lot of hope to get through this.

Cloverheart offered her own nod in return, forcing what she could muster for a smile. "I appreciate it. I'm glad we're doing this together, even if this isn't... ideal at all. Hopefully StarClan can still reach us in our dreams." Doubt tinged her mew, but she just lowered her head to rest her chin atop her paws with a soft sigh. "I hope you sleep well, even if we don't see anything." Then she closed her eyes, forcing her body into stillness. It was fitful, but sleep came for her swiftly, exhaustion pulling her down into darkness.

When she awoke again, she saw nothing. She wasn't in an empty space– her paws stood on soft, solid earth, and she flexed her claws to sink into the grass. She couldn't see a thing, though– it was like something had covered her eyes, stealing her vision entirely. Cats pressed against her sides, and pawsteps echoed around her; heavy and uneven. Either there was more than one cat with her, or whoever was here had a bad gait. Or... both? She'd been trying so hard to place them for so long. They were right here, in front of her, just like every night. All she had to do was ask them.

"Who's there?" Cloverheart called out, voice stern. There was no answer except the echo of her own voice. Something wagged against her side– a tail, cut short, happily beating her flank. Turtlefur? No– She turned, looking to sink herself into whomever was there, but no sooner than she leaned in did the apparition disappear. She spat a curse and spun around, plopping onto her haunches with a grimace. It was the same nightmare as always; soon, there would be a rush and a torrent of blood, and her heart would be wrenched with terror. If she was lucky, Jaystar's namesake bird would fly out of the red spill, crying overhead with malice.

But there was no jay, and there was no wave of blood to wash her away. It was just silence, closing in tight around her as the ghosts that haunted the back of her mind circled around her. She couldn't make any sense of it. Screwing her eyes shut, she resigned herself to shouldering through the rest of this silent, torturous dream as brief passes of touch brushed against her fur.