Scars of vengeance

(a continuation of this topic)

Weary and broken, Brighteye made her way back to Shadowclan camp. She could barely walk, and her once bright white pelt was smeared with blood on her side. However, her vision was clearer now that she had wiped some of the blood off her face with her paw. Still, she thought that she'd probably some sort of help from Cinderpaw. The clan's medicine cat apprentice had always seemed hard to approach, but hopefully she was skilled enough to help her with her wounds. 

"Uhm, Is there anyone in there?" she called quietly as she neared the entrance of the den. "I, uh, got attacked by a rouge." No need to mention it was a kit, a voice in her head spitefully. Deciding to not properly go into the den, she chose instead to sit awkwardly outside, awaiting medical attention.

"You WHAT?" Cinderpaw shouted, eyeing Brighteye's face from inside her den. This was perhaps the largest amount of blood the new medicine cat had laid eyes on since returning to ShadowClan's camp. The most important thing the massive she-cat had to worry about was gathering enough herbs for Leafbare and taking thorns from stubborn kit's paws. Even those tasks proved difficult, with Cinderpaw's massive frame, she'd crushed more leaves and roots with her clumsy paws than she would've liked to admit, having to clear a significant space in her den to even sit down.

The two boulders that made up the confines of Cinderpaw's living quarters had been the habitat of her frustration for the past moon. Wolffang often made an appearance in the she-cat's dreams, dryly rambling about cobwebs this, and yarrow that. Did she think the medicine cat was frog brained? Of course cobwebs were used for bleeding. Cinderpaw had begun to think she didn't even need a mentor to teach her the ups and downs of herbs and techniques, having mastered taking stray nettles from kit's pelts and gathering the perfect amount of moss for soaking up water. But when Brighteye came to stand outside of her rocky enclosure, face bleeding, Cinderpaw's supposed knowledge was cast into the wind. How in StarClan was she to handle this cat's wound, let alone her audacity?

"Don't just stand there, you absolute rock-head! Sit down before you scatter my herbs! You mean to tell me you were attacked by a rogue and didn't go to Flintstar first?" Cinderpaw angrily grasped a ball of moss in her jaws and splashed it into the small pool in the back of the cave. "We'll tell him later, it's fine. Sit still, will you? We've gotta stop the bleeding first, and then my father can rip you a new one!" Cinderpaw pressed her moss bundle onto Brighteye's head with less gentleness than a badger with mange. This was going to be an interesting day.

Brighteye flinched at the huge she-cats harsh words, but stayed at the entrance of her den nevertheless. She was intimidated, definitely, but not so much scared. No matter how much Cinderpaw shouted at her, she would never dislike her. There was something about her that was just a bit different. She had, however, not told the whole truth to the medicine cat apprentice. She hadn't been attacked by a rouge - the white warrior had made the first move. But she was still bleeding a lot.

Hoping that Cinderpaw would still be willing to treat her without any extra information, Brighteye took a few steps into the den, only to be shouted at by the smoke she-cat once again. "Sorry" she mumbled under her breath. After checking behind her first, she cautiously slipped back onto her haunches and perched on the ground. She wanted to reply to what Cinderpaw was saying to her, but her plans of explaining herself were quickly cut off by the she-cat pressing her head with moss. Gentleness was definitely not something she was aiming for, and Brighteye had to clench her teeth to prevent herself yelping at the pain. Should she have gone to Flintstar first? But Twig had told her that she was alone in her explorations, had no plans of invasion.

But why was she trusting Twig's words over her own common sense and Cinderpaw's scolding? The rouge had absolutely no honour or structure in her life: she had admitted it herself. Trying to stay as still as possible, she tried to explain herself to the apprentice using as little words as possible. "I saw them trespassing and attacked them first, and then they beat me. She wasn't planning an invasion though." She knew it would be a bad idea to mention the part where she was talking to her. There was no way that she would take that nicely.

Cinderpaw's muzzle became moist as she soaked more moss into Brighteye's wounds, the plant absorbing the majority of the blood. The warrior whimpered her apology to the medicine cat as she turned around back to her herb storage to grab more supplies. Brighteye looked rather overwhelmed, so Cinderpaw bit her tongue and quit speaking. The back of the cave was darker and colder, a draft of wind whistling from somewhere between the boulders. Several strands of cobwebs floated from their perch where Cinderpaw had hanged them earlier in the week. She reached up to grasp a wad in her maw, returning to Brighteye with a softer disposition. No words were spoken as Cinderpaw placed the cobwebs on each scratch and cut. There was a little more gentleness spared this time, as one couldn't very well mend a wound with the fury of a lion.

Brighteye began to explain what happened and Cinderpaw narrowed her eyes, claws flexing as she pressed more cobwebs into Brighteye's wounds. The medicine cat would have ripped that loner in two if it ever decided to cross her path, but she instead was stuck inside camp. The bleeding had begun to slow as the webs were wrapped over every cut and laceration. "What did this loner look like? We should relay this to Flintstar so that he can send out a patrol." Cinderpaw's tone softened as she stared into Brighteye's gaze, still angry and yet trying her best to empathize. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

Grateful that Cinderpaw had softened her tone and paw, Brighteye managed to relax a bit. Her bleeding slowed, and she began to feel a little less dizzy. Although, all she wanted to do was just lay down in her nest and get some well-needed rest. But she knew Cinderpaw wouldn't let that happen before she had explained every detail about this rouge. "Brown tabby, lots of scars." Taking a deep breath, Brighteye prepared herself for the medicine cat's annoyance when she discovered that this rouge was so young.

"And they were probably about six or seven moons." And there it was. The pale warrior had lost to a kit. Twice. Barely anyone had known about it last time - she had just let the wounds heal themselves. But this time (if Cinderpaw had it her way), the whole clan would probably know. She shook her head as the huge she-cat asked about any further wounds. Trying to resist the urge to ask for a nap, Brighteye awaited Cinderpaw's reaction. She certainly seemed like her size alone would make her a formidable fighter, probably one who could've beaten Twig with little effort.

Ears swiveled to Brighteye's direction as she turned, Cinderpaw grabbed an old, spare moss nest from deeper in the den, yanking it out and giving it a good shake. She began to lay the scraps next to her own nest, before Brighteye's confession stopped her in her tracks. "Six or seven moons..." She echoed, hazel eyes drifting off to the dusty floor in disbelief. Cinderpaw wrinkled her nose, unsure of whether to laugh or cry at the warrior's frog-brained, rock-headed scrap with a kit. The medicine cat emitted a sound that was a combination of both, a kind of snarl-like chuckle, something horrible and dastardly. "Herhahhaheeerrggggg! A kit!? Brighteye, a kit?! Well, bloody stars above, that explains why you didn't go to Flintstar! Any warrior with two working paws and fur on their back would be able to tussle with that - but you..." She gazed at the warrior, bloodied and defeated. A softness crept into Cinderpaw's eyes as she dropped the anger, hanging her head between her shoulders. "Lie down, numskull." She gestured to the dusty nest, now placed haphazardly next to hers. "I'll tell Flintstar what happened, alright? Spare you some embarrassment, maybe. If anyone but my father asks... we'll say you uhh... fought a full-grown rogue, alright? Now sleep before I change my mind." ShadowClan would be the death of her.

"Ok, thank you." Brighteye said at Cinderpaw's offer, overjoyed at the idea of not having to explain herself twice, even if she didn't really show it. How would Flintstar react though? Maybe he would deem her a bad warrior, put her back on apprentice duties. He was a fair leader, bit what if he suddenly had a change of heart? Head spinning, she tried to think straight. Realising that the huge she-cat had pulled a nest together for her, she collapsed into it. Her actual injuries weren't that bad, but combined with the stress and embarrassment that came with loosing a battle to a kit, she felt exhausted. Before she knew it, her eyelids closed, sending her off into a deep sleep. Dreams flicked in and out of her mind, some bad, some good, mostly nightmares of the worst things possible happening: Flintstar punishing her, someone announcing it to the entire clan, her grandfather's eyes appearing everywhere, disgust and disapproval showing clearly in their icy depths.