Flowers (Open)

(( Flowers ))

Grovekit thrust his legs out, his paws desperately reaching to find purchase but finding nothing. His lungs ached, and the only sounds were of water. He craned his head in every direction, but couldn’t see any sign of light, any indication of which direction the surface was. He wanted to cry out for help, but knew that it was futile, that no one above the surface would hear him. His body felt frail and heavy, but still, he churned his paws in the water as it pushed him about. He had lost track of how long he had been swimming, whether it was minutes or hours he had been on the brink of drowning.

Grovekit gasped as he shot up in his nest, coughing—but no water escaped his lungs, and after a moment, he realized that he was quite dry. His body no longer felt heavy, and his lungs expanded easily to allow air with no sign of strain. He let out a long breath and flicked his ear uneasily—the dream had felt so real, he was quite disconcerted to find himself in a warm, dry nest. He licked his chest, then stood up and stretched his tiny paws as far as they would go. Restless, he crept from the den into the camp.
He looked up—the sky was dotted with stars, but they were fading from view as the sun peaked over the horizon. The moors beyond camp were pale yellow, with wisps of fog that were quickly dissipating in the sun. Grovekit yawned, beginning to feel more settled after the frightening dream. A few early-blooming heather flowers waved in the wind near the edge of camp. He purred, flicking his tail once before dropping into his best impression of a hunters crouch.
He crept up to the flowers, getting within a tail-length before pouncing. His small legs only carried him so far, but still, he clasped his stationary prey between his paws and pinned the long flower to the ground triumphantly. As he lashed his tail in triumph, a single, large raindrop plopped onto the ground beside him, followed by another. His tail drooped instantly sad he looked towards the sky—rain clouds were rolling in, though they had yet to cover the sun. Grovepaw released the heather disappointedly—he hated the rain.

Clouds. He had a sense of deja vu, a deep dread, though his brain injury did not allow him to remember the horrific events that took place just moons ago. He knew, however, what had happened, and he knew everything that happened after. 

He was a different kind of apprentice when the flood struck. Now, as a medicine cat apprentice, he wondered if he could find peace in the rain now. It didn't help to see a few of the more superstitious members of his clan get worked up and tense at the sight of fat, wet raindrops. They had all smelled the heaviness in the air when they slept under the open sky just the night prior. Aspenpaw checked on his supply of juniper berries. He had no doubt at least one of his clan mates would need a little soothing. 

His plan that day had been to practice his coordination. Every day he felt a little stronger, a little more in control. He had found a few stones and boulders in the moorland to walk across, to test his trembling legs. Brain damage or no brain damage, he had to be able to make it up Highstones by himself. However, when he peeked through the gorse opening of the medicine den, he saw a kit nearby. He squinted at the tiny thing and identified him as Grovekit. He rolled his eyes playfully. Where was his mother to keep him out of the rain?

"If you catch a little whitecough out there," he called out teasingly to the kitten, "You better not complain when the herbs I stuff in your mouth taste like crowfood! Why don't you come inside, scrap?"

Grovekit turned towards the medicine cat den as a voice spoke from it. It was Aspenpaw, the medicine cat apprentice; Grovekit didn’t know him well, as being only a few moons old meant that he had never received battle wounds, and being born in the transition between Newleaf and Greenleaf meant he hadn’t lived through whitecough and greencough season.
He padded towards the other cat, wrinkling his nose at the idea of a mouth full of leaves and seeds. As a younger kit, he got a mouthful of grass and dirt in a tussle with another kit over an imaginary piece of prey, and it was not a taste he was eager to repeat. “Maybe if you stuffed them in a mouse, it would be worth it.” He commented, feeling slightly cheered in the shelter of the den. He paused. “Why don’t you do that?” He asked curiously.

Aspenpaw shuddered as the rain began falling. The whole thing gave him the heebie-jeebies. He laughed wholeheartedly at Grovekit's question until he realized that he actually didn't have a great answer. Gee, why didn't anybody think of that before?

"Well," he started, having no idea where the sentence was going after, "You have to have an empty stomach to visit StarClan, so we take herbs for journeys to the moonstone. So there's that. I don't know if I'd be able to find a mouse for somebody to eat if one needed herbs in the middle of a battlefield, either. Sick cats can't keep much down, either. So... convenience, I guess? Sure would make my job easier." He put his paw on the kit's head and ruffled his calico fur. Little cats, full of energy and kitten fluff, were the only thing that made near-confinement to camp bearable. Sometimes he wondered what his own kits would look like if they were destined to ever exist. The thought of being with a mate made his stomach churn a little bit. He'd settle for an apprentice. "Smart kit. You'll be a good battle strategist, yeah? Maybe deputy." He gave Grovekit a wink.

Grovekit purred in delight at the comment about being deputy—of course, like every kit, he dreamed of being clan leader. He bickered with other kits over who got to play clan leader in their games, and feigned leading his clan into battles against rival clans. Even playing the leader of the opposing clan was fun! “You think?” He asked enthusiastically, jumping to his paws, “If I was deputy, then I could be leader one day!” He puffed out his chest—Grovestar sounded like quite a nice title to bear.
He dropped into a crouch, backing away from Aspenpaw, readying himself to pounce. “You better watch out Aspenstar,” he mewed in the most threatening tone he could manage, “Shadowclan better stay away from our borders, or I’ll order an attack!” Making true on the threat, Grovekit jumped forward to tack Aspenpaw.