Song of the White Wolf [Wolfstar]

It was sunhigh, and Beechface found herself with no more herbs to sort. She'd sorted the slowly-improving cache in the back of her den as much as it could be sorted before finally, reluctantly stepping outside the den. Bloodstrike was out cold in his nest, and if Beechface wasn't so sick of being in the den herself, she might've followed his example and curled up in her own nest while she had the chance.

Of course, the second she attempted to do so, Beechface was certain there would be something else requiring her immediate attention. Bloodstrike was sick, he was stubborn, and above all, cranky. She couldn't blame him, she'd despise being cooped up with little to do on a good day, and her father... hadn't been having a good day.

Beechface wasn't even sure if what she was doing would actually help. But something had to give. He needed more and more poppy seeds and they were having increasingly little effect, and keeping him on them wasn't going to be sustainable long-term. Had this been in the middle of leafbare, it wouldn't have been sustainable short-term, either.

At least Foxfire and Copperfox were no longer in her den to partake in the shared misery of it. But of course, Redfall had then managed to sprain his ankle badly enough to come to her about it. It would be a bit before he was moving around, but his addition to the medicine den didn't change much.

Dawnhawk's words still clung to her mind even moons later; she was a waste of a medicine cat, and Bloodstrike's condition proved it.

Beechface settled onto her haunches, dark gaze absently gazing across camp. If she wasn't so wrapped up in her own thoughts, maybe she would've noticed the slender gray tabby her gaze had settled on and turned away. Birdpaw, for her credit, was doing her best to ignore the medicine cat's stare as she picked at a quail, but Beechface hardly registered it.

Apprentices... Stars, she would hate to have to pick some poor kit to deal with the clan. She couldn't see any of the current apprentices being thrilled if she were to receive a sign about them as Sagelight had with her, either. Though now Beechface wasn't sure she could handle training another cat to her current workload. If she wasn't looking after the stubborn deputy, she was out searching for herbs, and if she wasn't doing either of those, it was all she could do to get a moment to herself, it seemed.

Wolfstar slid down from his den, the sunhigh blaze warming his brown-black pelt. His stomach growled hungrily, and he took a step towards the fresh-kill pile, but hesitated when his eyes landed on Beechface. His ears slicked back uncertainly, and his tail twitched, but he continued, padding to stand beside her, and following her gaze to Birdpaw. Wolfstar stared at the apprentice, too, wondering what the expression on the medicine cat's face implied. Was she angry at Birdpaw, too?

"Beechface," he said gently, and lowered his muzzle to the kill pile, picking through it until he found a plump mouse. He sat that one aside to bring to Blossomstep and then picked a smaller one for himself, settling down there with it between his paws but not yet eating.

Beechface jumped a bit at a voice calling her name, startled from her thoughts. Realizing she'd been staring at Birdpaw across the clearing, the medicine gave herself a shake before turning towards Wolfstar, ears twitching back slightly in embarrassment. How long had he been standing there?

"Grandfather." Beechface sighed, "Did you need something?" Please don't be anything serious, please don't be anything serious, was a chorus in the back of her mind as she stared at Wolfstar.

The bite in Beechface's tone, though it was minute, had become typical to Wolfstar. Instantly, he was overcome with regret and despair... he missed the times when he and Beechface had gotten along, when she saw him as a mentor and a friend instead of a chore.  He tried not to show it, though, instead politely averting his gaze and stared down at the mouse that his mouth was now too dry to bite into. Blossomstep had forgiven him, and for the briefest moments, he'd felt like things were right with the world again.

His granddaughter sent him crashing back into reality.

"No... I don't need anything, sorry to bother you," he said quietly with a flick of his tail. He lifted his gaze to survey her for a second, and then picked up the mice at the same time and turned to leave.

"Grandpa wait-" Beechface's ears twitched back in disappointment as he turned away from her. It seemed like a lifetime ago when they'd actually gotten along with each other and she wished that they could go back to that. Beechface had looked up to him once and it was painful to realize just how far things had crumbled between them.

"I'm sorry." A frustrated paw scraped through the earth, the medicine cat suddenly having very little idea of what to possibly say or how this divide could possibly be bridged.