Heart of Wrath [Bloodstrike]

The nearly-full-moon rose high into the sky as most of the camp slept. The day prior had been long, yet Beechpaw remained unable to sleep. She hadn't said a word since the patrol that had gone to scout their camp had returned bloodied, with heads and tails drooping with fatigue and grief.

She'd done her best to ignore the shocked gasps and pitying looks of the mixed camp upon the return of only two of the five that had been sent to scout their camp. Smokefeather and Wrenspring were bloody, weary, and the news they'd brought back was far from pleasant. It had been the last thing anyone had wanted to hear, least of all Beechpaw. She'd said nothing on the long trek back to Skyclan's camp, had made an effort to avoid the looks of pity and offered sympathy thrown her way. She'd kept vigil with the other cats (after vanishing into the ruins of the medicine cat den to drop off what herbs she could bring from Riverclan's camp; Skyclan would need all the herbs they could get) and once Sagelight was buried, had done what she could for her injured clanmates before practically falling into her nest the next night.

Primroselight had tried to speak to her, but Beechpaw had turned away from her sister, unable to stand the sympathy offered. Primroselight meant well, of course, but Beechpaw hadn't wanted to hear it, hadn't wanted to look into that soft and innocent face or have a futile attempt at comfort. Smokefeather had sat with her for a while too, eventually giving up on an attempt at speech and leaving, presumably to find her own nest for the night. Her sister had pushed her into choosing what she wanted, and Beechpaw in the end hadn't had a choice as Sagelight brought her to the moonstone.

She'd struggled, but had reluctantly thrown herself into training. If Beechpaw wasn't enthusiastic about it, the least she could do was learn to heal her clanmates and communicate with Starclan. Wolfcall had been right, at least, that Beechpaw gave everything her all.

Except Beechpaw's all hadn't been enough this time. Sagelight was dead. Her mentor, the clan's medicine cat, slain by foxes. Foxes! The foolish, senile old tom. The patrol had had four strong warriors to protect their senile old medicine cat as they'd gone scouting. And they'd failed. Leaving the clan to rely on

A half-trained apprentice as their medicine cat. A half-trained apprentice who had never wanted the position in the first place.

Some selfish part of Beechpaw had still held out hope that one of the more recently-born kits would catch Sagelight's eye, that Starclan would send him a message telling him to choose another for his apprentice so that she could go back to training with Wolfcall. Or that everything had just been a bad dream, and she'd wake up in the warm apprentice den back in Skyclan's camp, her siblings stirring around her as they each left the den to start their training for the day.

Beechpaw's breath quickened and her stomach clenched miserably at the thought, her throat felt tight as she futilely buried her nose into her paws, curling up into a tighter ball in her nest. Her chest heaved as she fought to prevent any sound from escaping her, the sobs wracking her body hardly evident if one didn't look too closely. (That was a lie, the more rational part of her said disdainfully.) The den was mercifully empty, so nobody was around to witness it. Hopefully it would stay that way.

She'd resented Sagelight for so violently pulling the floor from beneath her paws in seven softly spoken words: 'Beechpaw, you're to be my next apprentice.' She'd thought he was playing a joke on her. Wolfcall had thought he was joking. Nobody in their right mind would have looked at the scruffy, bright-eyed apprentice and thought he was serious in his choice. 'Ripping the cobwebs off,' he'd called it. He'd given her the choice to think on it for the night, and then the dark forest broke loose, figuratively. The fire, as awful as it had been, had allowed Beechpaw extra time to at least pretend that things were someone okay. Pretend that Sagelight hadn't been waiting on a response from her. He'd been too busy to officially make her an apprentice--

--Until he wasn't, and had removed the choice from her entirely. Maybe it would've been kinder if she'd refused outright. But she had said the words at the moonstone when he'd taken her for the ceremony. Beechpaw hadn't been happy, but at least she'd have time to get used to things, to be trained properly. She hadn't particularly cared for Sagelight, and their relationship wasn't perfect by any means, but she had never wished him ill. She hadn't thought that her mentor would wind up dead, in the fox's jaws as if he were some sort of plaything. Maybe if she'd been there, she could have saved him. She'd been on the patrol when that behemoth of a dog had attacked Wolfcall, and she and her parents, and Dawnhawk had managed to keep the dog away from him long enough to actually kill the thing. The patrol that had scouted their camp today hadn't been that lucky.

Now Sagelight was gone, hardly two moons later. With living in twolegplace, then movnig to Riverclan territory, she'd done her best to throw herself into training. But Beechpaw was young, and her only real experience was in helping treat burns and a broken rib weeks after they were mostly healed. She'd been to a single medicine cat meeting, and because they'd arrived late, she didn't know the medicine cats of the other clans at all. Oh, Sagelight had been teaching her what he could, but it hadn't been enough. And now he was dead and she hadn't even been close to completing her training. Beechpaw knew the basics, but that was far from all that was needed.

How was she even supposed to finish her training, now? It wasn't like the normal apprentices where any other member of the clan could've picked up her training. Skyclan only had one medicine cat.

Beechpaw tasted bitterness rising in her throat at the thought.

Gritting her teeth, the large she-cat gingerly slipped from the medicine cat den that was now missing a cat. Paws turning silently towards the camp entrance, she slunk past the clanmate that was on guard duty for the night, hardly taking notice of who it was.

When she returned from the dirtplace, the guard said nothing, merely gave her a sympathetic look. Beechpaw pretended not to noticed, and slunk back to her nest, body trembling. Anger, she told herself. She didn't want pity, not from anyone. And she was angry at Sagelight for leaving, at least, she could tell herself that.

She lay awake, eyes closed tightly as if that would keep her thoughts at bay. Of course, the stars offered her no such respite, not tonight. Had they ever? Beechpaw was starting to doubt.

It wasn't long before she was slipping from her nest again, paws headed towards the dirtplace, stomach churning and breath uneven. The guard ignored her presence.

---

By the time dawn's first light broke over the horizon, it was obvious that Beechpaw hadn't slept. Dull eyes stared at the slowly-brightening entrance to the den in dismay for a brief moment, before Beechpaw turned her head away.

Pawsteps at the entrance of the den had the she-cat curling her lip, tufted and feathered ears pinning back. Could she not be left alone to grieve? Not that trying to sort out the knot of panic and grief in her chest was doing her much good, Beechpaw didn't need some cat pitying her over the entire situation and making things worse.

"What?" She snapped as the pawsteps drew closer still. Her tone was uncharacteristically brittle rather than it's normal harsh brusqueness, and Beechpaw didn't bother to lift her head to see who was bothering her this early. She wasn't sure she had the strength to. Eventually she would have to, of course, but how was she supposed to be the one her clanmates now relied on when she wasn't even fully trained?

Bloodstrike had noticed Beechpaw's inactivity as well as the few times he did see her. He had a suspicion that she was vomiting from emotional turmoil. He was no medicine cat, but he was no stranger to grief either. He had allowed her some time to herself, but after awhile, he felt it best to visit her. But what could he say? He knew his daughter didn't want pity, but he was worried about her. If she was anything like him, she'd hide her emotional storm until it finally ripped her apart. Call him a raging hypocrite, but he couldn't let her do that. Bloodstrike approached the medicine cat den, silently at first. He had the fox ear between his teeth. He was thankful for the colder temperatures of leaf-fall for once, as the flies had not swarmed it and it was still fairly preserved. For a few heartbeats, he stared at his daughter's silver form.

He needed to approach this situation carefully and maybe... not immediately stir her anger with the sight of the fox ear. As silently as he could, he set the ear down just out of line of sight from the den. Bloodstrike was not one to complain about injuries and if Beechpaw didn't need him right now, he would have probably let the fox bite heal on it's own and not bothered her. Bloodstrike shuffled his paws a little bit once he had finally decided on what to say.

"What?" She snapped at him. Bloodstrike winced. Oh how he knew that feeling all too well.

"Beechpaw? Do you mind if I come in? My shoulder is uh.... it's looking a little bit like it could turn into a maggot feast at any second. Will you look at it?" He shifted his weight off of his left foreleg a bit before she could look at him. It did hurt, but nothing he wouldn't have been able to put weight on, out of sheer stubbornness on his part.

Beechpaw didn't so much as twitch when her father asked to come in. Part of her wanted to snap at him to go away, though a small voice at the back of her head said it would be useless to do so... And he was her father. Probably the one in the family she was closest to aside from Primroselight. All he had to do was ask if she was okay, and Beechpaw would be sobbing into his chest fur like a kit. She hated it.

Bloodstrike continued to speak, and Beechpaw twitched an ear as her mind caught up with the words he was saying. Right... he'd been bloody when they'd come back to camp, too. Injured, just as the rest of the patrol had been. Reluctantly Beechpaw got to her feet. There was work to do, and her sitting around wallowing in her own grief and frustration wouldn't make that work go away no matter how much she wanted it to. Dull eyes turned toward her father, scanning the shoulder in question. It looked like he was trying not to put weight on it, but Bloodstrike was a stubborn mousebrain and she didn't trust him not to walk around camp as if nothing was wrong at all.

"Why didn't you get this looked at earlier?" Beechpaw rounded on her father with a snarl, voice suddenly far less brittle than it had been when she'd first snapped at him. Not waiting for an answer, Beechpaw stalked towards the herb store in the back of the den, growling curses at her mousebrained father under her breath.

Goldenrod, oak leaves... Wild garlic would be good to help prevent any infections. It would sting, but as far as Beechpaw was concerned Bloodstrike didn't need anything for pain. He was stubborn enough to ignore his wounds for this long, so clearly she didn't need to waste poppy seeds or other herbs on him.

Bloodstrike could tell that she was hurting. She dealt with hurt in a similar way that he did... by being angry. He sighed silently to himself. Now he needed to come to terms with some of his own terrible ways of dealing with grief in order to help her with her own. He hated doing it, but he would for her sake. Her words stung him a little, and he nearly straightened up right then and there. If she had been Sagelight, he would have walked right out. But this was not about him and his pride, not this time. This was about helping Beechpaw in the only way he knew how.

"I don't know," He admitted, answering her question. "I thought others should be seen first I guess." He paused a moment and tried to figure out what else he needed to do. Honestly... Bloodstrike had come in here with only half a plan and that half of a plan was outside the den at the moment. He'd never had to comfort someone before, he realized. He was severely lacking in the diplomatic ways of consolement....

"You seem bothered... I think I can guess why." Another pause as he collected his thoughts again. "Your wounds are important too, love." And he left it at that. He braced himself for whatever might come next. If she was anything like him... it was about to get fairly loud in here before she finally just let her emotions flow from her eyes. But then at least her healing process could begin.

"I'm bothered by idiot toms who would rather play martyr than get their wounds looked at. Don't just stand there, sit." Beechpaw growled, stalking over to where pieces of dried moss were kept. There was a tiny pool of water at the very back of the den, a surprise she had found earlier. It was enough to soak the moss in, and was better than nothing, at least. It was probably just from the heavy rains, but at least the medicine den and the tiny pool seemed to have been spared from the ash covering the rest of camp. The elderberry bush that had half-concealed the entrance to the den hadn't been so fortunate, but the stone had protected most of the contents. All the herbs that had been left behind to wither and die in the heat had been cleared out, Smokefeather's inability to stay still, Beechpaw guessed. She hadn't been paying much attention to her mother earlier.

Turning back to her father, Beechpaw pressed the strips of soaked moss to his shoulder. The soaked moss would get rid of the excess blood that had dried around the wound, but would only go so far to clean the wound on its' own.

"Stay put." She ordered, turning to the herbs she'd pulled aside earlier, pausing slightly to consider them. A touch of marigold wouldn't hurt, either. If the mousebrain was stubborn enough to let the wound sit untreated for the past two days (at least, though Beechpaw hadn't quite been keeping track), it was best to knock out any infection before it could start. Her father was... not likely to enjoy the stench, or having the herbs on his shoulder at all, but he'd have to just deal with it. Chewing the herbs into a poultice, she gingerly spat them onto a beech leaf. All the while her tail tip twitched back and forth, a sign that Beechpaw was well past the point of irritation.

She could smother her feelings with anger at her mousebrained father and focusing on the task in front of her, but it wasn't going to last. A sigh escaped her, sounding far too ragged in the silence as Beechpaw gingerly removed the strips of moss and then carefully began to spread the poultice in its place. She attempted to be gentle, at least, more so than her words had been. Poultice spread, the large she-cat retreated once more for some cobwebs.

"My mentor is dead. That more than 'bothers' me." Foxdung, Beechpaw hadn't meant to say it out loud. But she had, and now she couldn't seem to stop. "It should've been a simple scouting patrol and he died." Because of you, went unsaid. The rational part of Beechpaw's mind told her to stop, that blaming Bloodstrike wouldn't fix anything. But he'd been there. Surely he could've stopped him, right?

"How am I even supposed to finish my training? I never wanted this in the first place! He could've chosen any other cat! Skyclan's relying on a half-trained cat at best. Why wouldn't I be bothered?" And just like that, tears fell once more. Beechpaw had never been shy about her disdain for the position, but now it was well and truly permanent. Beechpaw felt trapped, and there was no way out of her current predicament.

Bloodstrike took the tone his daughter threw at him in stride, but only because he knew the pain underneath all of that anger. He obediently sat and said nothing on the matter of being a martyr. He watched her rummage through her herbs and smush stuff with her paws. He allowed her to work as he stared blankly ahead, his mind in overdrive on what else to say and how to help her.

"Stay put." She spoke, snapping him back to what was going on in front of him. At that, he felt a brief flash of irritation. Stars she was bossy... I'm already sitting! What do you think I'm going to do? Start leaping around the den and climb the walls like a psychotic spider???? I AM STAYING PUT!! He thought inside his head, but refused to say anything out loud. He took a breath and calmed himself down. He reminded himself again that this was not about him, this was about his daughter. Another inhale and he felt his stomach lurch. Great. Starclan. Child... what are you making???? The herbs she was using had a nasty scent that smacked his olfactory senses into submission.

Then she approached him with it and slapped it onto his shoulder. It took every ounce of his self control to not recoil away from it, though he couldn't help the slight shudder. He was remembering why he rarely came to the medicine den. Then she started to speak again and he focused on that, trying his best to ignore the rancid stench that now clung like a maggot to his shoulder.

Before she had even finished speaking, he felt a sharp pain in the pit of his gut. She didn't have to say it out loud. Bloodstrike realized that she blamed him. He could understand why she would think that, even if it was truly unfair. He kept his mouth firmly closed and allowed her to keep talking anyway. Then the tears rolled.

"I'm sorry, Beechpaw." He said to her softly. Maybe she wouldn't want to be touched, but he would at least try. He tried to move in close to her and rest his chin on the back of her head. If she resisted, he'd leave her be, but he would at least try even if he got rejected.

"I agree that this is completely unfair. It's unfair that you are in this situation. It's unfair to the entire clan that the fire even happened. Sagelight didn't deserve what happened to him, he was a great medicine cat. We never really saw eye to eye, but I'd never stand by and just let something happen to him. Neither would Wrenspring, your mother or Redfall. But it did. Sometimes things happen that are out of our control, as you have experienced for yourself even before this." He paused for a moment and sighed, still searching for words. "I am sorry that I failed to protect Sagelight. I hope you can forgive me, with time. As for your training, I don't know. I might be able to work something out with Thunderclan. Spottedstar did do one useful thing for me before he left, but I will have to discuss it with Wolfcall first. I will do my best to help you receive the rest of your training. You know I will." He paused again for a moment. His tail tip wiggled a little as he thought about what else to say. He wasn't the best with soothing, and probably even worse with apologizing... but it was the best that he could do.

"I love you. If you believe nothing else of what I say, please at least believe that because it is the truth. I hate to see you hurt. I want to make things right and I will." He finished firmly. He hoped it would be enough, but if it wasn't, then maybe Beechpaw needed more time to recover before words would affect her at all. At least, that's what Bloodstrike hoped.

Beechpaw tensed slightly as Bloodstrike's chin brushed the top of her head, but remained still. Part of her wanted to move away, and maybe she would have if he hadn't immediately started talking again. Through her tears, she only half-heard him. She heard the pain in his voice, and gave the barest of flinches at the mention of Wrenspring and her mother, the words feeling like a physical blow. Her father was right, Beechpaw knew, he was being reasonable, but that didn't quell the irrational bundle of mixed emotions twisting in her gut. Frustration, the feeling of being trapped... Anger. Was it even aimed at those who had been on the patrol, or elsewhere? Beechpaw couldn't quite tell anymore. Why was she the one left without a choice?

Her vision blurred, and Beechpaw blinked, trying to clear it. Failing. The tears kept on, and she didn't know how to stop them. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered Spottedstar's name being brought up, but Beechpaw hardly heard her father's words. Something about Thunderclan, but the apprentice was too wrapped up in her own emotional turmoil to truly pay attention to what was said.

"I don't know if I can do this, dad." The hard lump that had formed in her throat made speaking difficult, and her words lacked clarity between her quiet sobs as Beechpaw turned her head into Bloodstrike's chest, unable to look up at him.

"I know you're intimidated, but I believe that you can do this. I really do. Sagelight believed you could too." Bloodstrike pressed his chin into her more and pressed her closer to his chest. "I will help you." What a horrible mess this had all been. He hated seeing any of his children frightened or hurting. It killed him. Killed him. In his head he thought about what he may have been able to do differently in that battle, but he already knew deep down, just as he had in the fire, that he had done what he could. Did it make him feel any better? Not really, but he gave it his all and sometimes it just wasn't enough. Unfortunately for Beechpaw, she might have to learn this lesson one day. She would fail to save someone and she would have to forgive herself and move on. When that day came, Bloodstrike would be there for her too. For now, he was fine with just letting her cry and say whatever she needed to say.