Faint Sorrow [Copperfox]

A weary paw sifted through a pile of herbs, gingerly separating a few wilted leaves from their still-healthy counterparts. She'd need to go out and find more herbs soon, her stocks were getting lower than she'd like. The Asylum cats that had decided to 'help' patch the medicine cat up had used more herbs than she would've liked. Beechface had the grim thought that it might've been deliberate. She would've never used so much on just herself, regardless of the injury or the extent.

Her jaw had clenched, and Beechface struggled to unclench it. Dawnhawk's claws had done a fine job at splitting her chin and lower lip open, as well as her stomach. She didn't remember receiving the scars that ran from the top of her head to the base of her tail, though she assumed it was Dawnhawk's handiwork as well. Smokefeather had looked more out of it than she had felt after waking up, and hadn't been forthcoming with anything that might've transpired while she was unconscious beyond what they'd both told the clan.

A few weeks had passed since, and Beechface was still healing. That meant sitting idle far more than she wanted to. The clan didn't know that she wasn't just recovering from injuries, and she intended to keep it that way. There was no milk-scent to be found on her, the parsley had taken care of that. Even without raising her own kits however, she was still exhausted. Exhausted and worried. And... Regretful, though the word wasn't quite accurate or strong enough. Ravenclaw hadn't deserved this, neither did the kits. She'd let one kit die in front of her without being able to stop it, and she'd had the audacity to bring more kits into the clan not even a quarter-moon later. Dawnhawk had proven the lengths he'd go to to keep the clan in line with Asylum's twisted ways. She could only hope that no more kits would be caught in the crossfire, let alone more of her clanmates.

Smokefeather hardly ate, hardly slept, hardly spoke. Blossomstep and the other queens in the nursery were keeping an eye on her, and Beechface had no idea what to do. No idea of how to even begin helping her mother when most attempts went ignored. Her mother might as well have become a shell. She took care of Mountainkit, but hardly seemed to do the same for herself. Most attempts to speak with her were met with a blank expression and silence. If Beechface had moved just a bit quicker...

Lost in her thoughts, the medicine cat's paw stilled over the herbs, a quiet sigh escaping her. She hardly heard the soft pawsteps at the entrance of the den, not looking up from the herbs she'd stopped sorting through some time ago.

Copperfox had recovered perfectly well from his fight with Shira... an unwanted attack that he handled so poorly that he was ashamed to call himself a warrior. Unfortunately, another Asylum cat had thrown him a pawful of claws towards one of his ears. Whether or not they meant to scratch him, scratch him they did. They muttered something about him being a coward before stalking off. The way they hurried to get away made Copperfox think they hadn't meant to actually slice his ear, but even deeper wounds were in his heart now. Was it so wrong that he hated fighting? Would others seek him out to do him harm simply because of his beliefs? He wondered if he was even the son of the fierce Bloodstrike. His father had a reputation for seeking out battle and not running from literally anything that would leave less brave cats fleeing and leaving clouds of dirt behind. Beechface was a fighter even... and she wasn't even supposed to be... Dawnhawk didn't seem to hasten towards battle but he certainly never shied away from it. "I'm a dud..." He muttered quietly to himself. He happened to be passing by the medicine den when he looked in, spotting Beechface.

"Hey sis... can I come in?" His ear was leaking red, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. "A badger and I surprised eachother... he nicked me once before running off." He lied, but sat down and patiently waited for Beechface to come look at it. It probably merely needed to be cleaned to avoid infection, but he wanted to be away from the Asylum cats and around family, even if for just a bit.

Beechface jumped at the voice behind her, twisting awkwardly to look over at Copperfox. The sudden movement sent needles of pain every which way, and the medicine cat let out a soft hiss at the unwelcome sensation.

"Hey Copperfox... Are you okay?" Her brother looked rather downcast, and Beechface realized that that was becoming an alarmingly common sight in the clan, but even more so with her family. It wasn't something she liked to see.

Tired as she was, her gaze still easily picked up her brother's bloodied ear, and the medicine cat turned back to her herbs. Plucking a small bit of marigold and oak, she carefully chewed them into a poultice and tried not to think about how low those particular stocks were getting. Still, couldn't risk that cut getting infected, though the scratches looked suspiciously like what a cat's claws would make.

Beechface, for once, didn't have the energy to mention it. If he wanted to save face and say it was a predator instead of those filthy rogues (and who else would it be, no skyclanner would dream of harming a clanmate), she'd let him. Just the once.

"Here," Beechface sighed, carefully reaching up to press the poultice against the wound. She turned then, snagging a smaller strand of cobwebs to hold the poultice in place and stop the bleeding. That done, Beechface lightly touched her tail to her brother's shoulder.

"What's on your mind, Copperfox?" She asked finally.