My Friend of Misery [Dawnpaw]

A few days had passed since Newtspring's warrior ceremony, and Beechface was half-laying, half-sitting upright in her nest. Her whole body hurt, and the pain was enough to keep her wide awake. Struck by lightning, could've died... Beechface's memories of the gathering were fuzzy, and she didn't remember what had happened after Bloodstrike had given that speech on Dawnhawk at all. She remembered that Dawnpaw had found her way back to them, then... The next semi-clear memory she had was waking up in her nest, but even that was made hazy by the agony her body was in. Her clanmates had said she'd been struck by lightning and fallen from the great oak she'd been perched in, all because Bearpaw had attacked Riverclan's pathetic excuse of a medicine cat apprentice, apparently.

And Bloodstrike had seen fit to give Bearpaw a warrior ceremony. She'd been rewarded for it. Days later and Beechface could still hardly move without crying in pain, her duties were going unattended, one half-trained apprentice clearly wasn't cutting it when caring for an entire clan... Muddythorn may as well have been on his own, for how much Beechface was able to train him right now. She didn't know where he even was at the moment, probably off somewhere, cracking under the pressure, just like Beechface had done. Skyclan wouldn't be able to function a proper medicine cat for long. All of this trouble had been caused by one cat's impulsiveness, Bearpaw... whatever her new name was, had been rewarded with the one thing Beechface had always wanted. It was foxing unfair. Beechface couldn't walk a tail-length without stumbling, her ears still rang enough to drown out most other conversation (though that had improved... somewhat, the same couldn't be said of how she was now missing an eye) and Bearpaw hadn't earned a scratch for the trouble she'd caused. Cloverpaw had deserved worse than what she'd been given, but so did Bearpaw, if everything said had been true.

Tears stung her eye, and Beechface couldn't tell if it was from the physical pain or the emotional and mental pain. It could've been one or all three, a guess at either option was as good as any. Not that it mattered.

The soft pawsteps of an apprentice entering the den went unnoticed, the medicine cat's dull gaze remaining fixed on her paws. If someone had come for healing, they were dung out of luck tonight. Beechface hardly had the strength to keep her head up, let alone make it out of her nest and attend to whatever problem had arisen this time.

((I'm sorry Dawnpaw you don't need to see Beechaunt like this))

Dawnpaw carefully, carefully inched her way into the medicine den. Muddythorn wasn’t in the den, but she wasn’t looking for Muddythorn. Not that she didn’t like Muddythorn, that wasn’t it at all. She wanted to see Beechaunt. Dawnpaw hadn’t really interacted with Beechaunt… at all, really. But she kinda could guess how Beechaunt must feel- Prima had mentioned that she hadn’t wanted to be a medicine cat in the first place. And then being struck by lightning- it was a miracle she survived. And Dawnpaw could, sort-of, understand, in a way. She felt out of place in SkyClan, to be honest. Everycat had been focused on Beechface after the Gathering (for good reason, of course) and Dawnpaw had been feeling sort of lost. Like she was adrift in a lake. Of course she knew that cats loved her, but… she was feeling kind of distant. Like a spider lost on a different web. It was familiar, in the basic ways, but there were little, different things.

“Beechaunt?” she murmured quietly. “It’s me, Dawnpaw. I just came to say thank you.” She padded over and sat down next to Beechaunt, making sure to be on her sighted side- Hawkuncle had taught her how to take advantage of a cat’s disabilities, and this was Dawnpaw’s way of taking advantage of it. She looked at her aunt with wide, blue eyes (a lot like Hawkuncle’s, she’d noticed, but also a lot like Prima’s.) ”So, thank you.” She smiled broadly. Did it cross her mind that Beechaunt might not know what she was talking about? No, of course, not, this is Dawnpaw. She did hope that Beechaunt was doing well… but also knew that she might not want to be asked that. Why? Dawnpaw had no idea, (she herself would welcome friendly concern) but she’d noticed that in other cats. And she didn’t want to make Beechaunt’s day worse.

"Beechaunt?" An ear twitched at the sound of the soft voice that would've been obscured by the ever-present, downright infuriating ringing had her niece been any farther away. Wide, innocent blue eyes gazed up at her, and Beechface's mouth flickered, a brief semblance of a smile crossing her face. She'd been worried for Dawnpaw, and had wanted to check the apprentice over for injuries and make sure she was okay before things had gone sideways at the gathering. A moon was far too long to have to spend any time around Dawnhawk, and seeing her niece back in the clan brought some small amount of relief.

Until Beechface remembered that it meant Dawnhawk was still out there, somewhere. He would watch and wait for another opportunity to strike at Skyclan, that was what he always did. It was an inevitable as the changing seasons. If he injured someone while Beechface was in her current state, hardly able to leave her own nest, much less do what she could to keep her clanmates alive - not much, she reflectedly bitterly - she'd never forgive Bearwhatever for putting her in this situation. Dawnhawk was of course unforgivable.

"Dawnpaw," Beechface mewed softly. Of everything that hurt, her face was among what hurt the most. She'd had... a dislocated jaw, apparently? Lichenblaze had said a Thunderclanner had done what he could, and Beechface guessed that he meant Dovefrost. She hadn't exactly been talkative in the days since returning to camp, so at least that injury was mostly taken care of now. Her jaw was sore, but everything was sore. And stiff. And Beechface was sure the fall had left some ugly bruising beneath her fur. It definitely felt like it.

"Thanks for what...?" Had she done something for Dawnpaw after she'd found her clan at the gathering? Beechface genuinely didn't remember, and she didn't think she'd interacted with her niece enough to earn any 'thank you''s.

"We were all worried about you when we came back to camp and you were gone. Where were you all that time? We searched and... nothing." The apprentice had been better than most about staying in Beechface's newly-narrowed line of sight. It meant she didn't have to turn or crane her neck to look for injuries marring her thick pelt, which Beechface appreciated. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Perhaps, given Beechface's current state, adding more stress onto her shoulders wasn't the best idea. That however, wouldn't stop her from trying. She needed to know what had happened, and needed to do what she could to protect her clan and prevent something like what had happened to Dawnpaw and the clan's elders from ever happening again.

Dawnpaw sat down, curling her tail around her paws as Beechaunt spoke. “If you hadn’t been there to help Prima, StarClan knows what might have happened when I was born. But, in a more general sense, like a drop of water to a rushing river, just for everything. I mean… I don’t think you get thanked enough… I couldn’t imagine having the weight of a Clan on your shoulders… and being responsible for patching us up when we get hurt, and looking out for StarClan signs. It’s everything a leader does and more.” No one really appreciated this. All a leader did was hang around, do warrior ceremonies, and make important decisions when he had to. (Not that Dawnpaw didn’t like Wolfstar. She did.)

Was she hurt? There was a flash of blood, the thick smell clogged up her throat, the light in her eyes flickered as the base of her neck throbbed suddenly, even though it had scarred over long ago, and the fur had covered it. Dawnpaw shook her head, wondering where that had come from. “I don’t think so. I got bit by a weasel, but Ha- Dawnhawk got it off of me before it really hurt me. We were at the Asylum’s old camp- it’s a ways off from here. Lots of rogues around- I wouldn’t like to go there by myself…” She sat for a moment, thinking. “Can I help? I know a little about herbs, but not as much as Muddy.” Hopefully she could help. A little voice deep inside still worried that Beechaunt’s injuries were her fault… but she quashed the little voice. She couldn’t have known.

Beechface could only stare at Dawnpaw in surprise at her words. Thanks for just... doing what needed to be done wasn't what she'd been expecting. Dawnpaw was, as she'd always understood, and airy, kindhearted cat. Very much like Primroselight in that regard. Open, forgiving... Not harsh, so at-odds with much of Skyclan.

"I- Uhm." Beechface felt heat rising in her fur, the sensation for once not a result of the doubtless-hideous burns that now marred her frame. "Thank you." She mumbled. Her gaze dropped to her paws once more, avoiding the sight of the sleeping form across the den. How could anyone think she knew what she was doing, when she had failed to save clanmate after clanmate? How could anyone possibly praise her so-called skill at interpreting Starclan's revelations? They always came too late, or she misinterpreted them entirely. They had never warned of the Asylum, had never warned of Dawnhawk's treachery until it was too late. They'd warned her about Smokefeather's injury, and she hadn't been able to stop it from happening. They'd warned about Spiderquill being taken by twolegs and his own injury, and she hadn't been able to do a thing to prevent that, either.

Mossbloom's voice rang in her head, telling her of things that couldn't be changed, couldn't be helped. Her former mentor hadn't been wrong, Beechface realized, but it still troubled her. They could've left more warriors behind to defend against it, then maybe Dawnpaw wouldn't have been taken or less cats would've died.

The pretty golden she-cat spoke again, and Beechface's fur bristled. It seemed to do that easily these days, but in this case it wasn't from being struck by lightning.

"He took you to... Asylum's former camp. Why? We drove them out once already, are we going to have to face them again?" That wasn't reassuring, it wasn't reassuring at all. If there were more rogues about (and of course Dawnhawk wouldn't be the only one) Skyclan had no fully trained medicine cat to help take care of the clan. Not that Starclan would warn her if more rogues did show up, but the clan would need to be prepared in any case. And it wasn't like she could go out to gather what herbs would be needed. Muddythorn's training had progressed wel enough, but he was still young and new to being a medicine cat apprentice. Beechface closed her eyes, trying to piece together a mental list of what would need to be done if another group of rogues tried taking over the forest again. Could they not catch a break for more than two seconds? Her ears twitched back as she thought, and the anxious thoughts were enough to override her sense of pain for the moment.

Dawnpaw meanwhile, had continued to speak, and Beechface's eye cracked open, regarding the apprentice thoughtfully. "Who taught you about herbs? How much do you know?" Beechface had to admit she was curious, and if she'd agreed with one thing about the dreaded Asylum, Iniko's belief that all cats should know at least the basics was it.

Dawnpaw beamed at Beechaunt’s words. There. Hopefully now she’d be feeling better! A simple thank you could change a cat’s entire day, and no one seemed to notice that- she’d have to show them. The apprentice tapped her tail thoughtfully on the ground, listening to Beechaunt.

“The rogues there weren’t organized. The camp was pretty run down, and it was obvious there weren’t enough cats to take good care of it. It should make things easier, shouldn’t it? I mean, if you suspect rogues, you have a place to check instead of searching everywhere. I mean, I don’t think there were, you know, organized rogues. It’s like the difference between an eagle and geese.” Rather pleased with that comparison, she sat up a little straighter. Hopefully Beechaunt wouldn’t get worried- she had come here with the express purpose of making her day better. “Umm… the basics, like cobwebs, poppy seeds… yarrow… also the ones not to eat. I don’t know as much as you or Muddythorn. Hawkuncle also taught me other stuff, like bad snakes and not so bad snakes, and how to hunt in trees- he’s good at that, and… stuff. I didn’t like the tunnels or the water, though.” Her fur bristled at the memory of the dark tunnels, impossibly dark, tunnels that made her eyes start out of her head. Maybe… maybe she’d better… “Beechaunt, do you know why Prima and Muddy’s eyes aren’t good?” The real question was is that going to happen to me, but Dawnpaw was too scared to ask. That was something that had frightened her since she was a kit, but it wasn’t until the tunnels that she’d understood what it meant. And it was terrifying.

Beechface forced herself to focus on Dawnpaw's words as she spoke. If there were more rogues about, she needed to know. Skyclan needed to know. They would never be caught unaware again, not if she could help it, and that there were rogues at all there was cause for concern. Dawnpaw said that their camp had been run-down, and that the rogues weren't organized, but Beechface didn't think that would last forever. Especially not if her rat-bastard of a littermate was hanging around there. Dawnhawk had many faults, but he was smart and cunning. He knew how to talk, knew how to get people to listen to him.

"Where was the camp located? It can't have been within the clan territories, of course but... Twolegplace? Or past highstones, maybe?" She'd mentioned tunnels and the moor, highstones was just beyond Windclan territory, while twolegplace sprawled along Skyclan's own border. Beechface despised traveling to either location, but she had visited twolegplace enough to look for herbs in the abandoned sections as well as occupied twoleg gardens. The rogues that frequented twolegplace were a hard, vicious lot... But they could never organized in the way that the Asylum had. And if they wanted to get to any other clan territory from there, they had to go through Skyclan's territory to do it. Skyclan took care of its' borders, and their patrols were not oblivious to rogues that happened to stray where they shouldn't. That left the more logical option as being beyond highstones, where there were no clan borders to stumble across.

If there were rogues holed up past highstones, that made her desire to even go to the moonstone weaken further. The journey took a full day one way, and if something happened to her, or to the clan, there was no way to know. Why Starclan couldn't just speak to them in their nests, rather than force the medicine cats to put themselves and others at risk every half-moon was beyond Beechface's comprehension. She knew that she wasn't the only one to have reservations about making such long trips so frequently; Dovefrost's mentor had died while he'd been away at the moonstone. And then there had been what happened when Skyclan had marched on Windclan. Always, her thoughts circled back to that, an almost obsessive sense of guilt tugging Beechface in that direction constantly.

"More cats should know the basics, at least." She murmured in response to Dawnpaw's answer, "Dawnhawk picked up on a few things when I took him on a herb hunt once..." It had been filled with tension, but it had been one of the very few interactions between the littermates that had been truly civil. As kits, as apprentices, they hada always fought, and that had never improved. Dawnhawk knew how to step on her last nerve like no other, and Beechface was self-aware enough to admit that she was difficult to get along with on a good day. And whenever Dawnhawk was around, it was very rarely a good day. She didn't know if things might have ever turned out different, and in the end it didn't really matter. What was done was done, and Dawnhawk had made his decisions clear; Skyclan was the enemy, and she would never forgive him for what he'd done.

"We don't know why," Beechface sighed, "Some cats lose their vision when they get old, but Primroselight's wasn't good from the start and it deteriorated even faster when we were apprentices. Muddythorn's hasn't become as bad, but it's still not the best, either. Mom and dad have never had vision problems, and neither do your aunts or uncles." Beechface had privately thought it cruel, for Primroselight to be made to suffer when she had always been the kindest out of all of them. But making the innocent and guiltless suffer seemed to be Starclan's enjoyment.

"You haven't noticed problems with your vision, have you? Things far away being blurry, or trouble seeing in the shade? No headaches?" Not that there would be much to do if she was experiencing problems, but at least they'd be able to help the apprentice cope and work around them. Primroselight was a perfectly capable warrior, as had those deputies that Bloodstrike and Smokefeather had spoken to. It had been long enough, and Beechface had never been truly invested in what had gone on, so she'd forgotten their names. Ravenclaw had been named after one of them as a kit, if she remembered correctly.

Dawnpaw kneaded the ground gently. She’d come here to make Beechaunt’s day better, and now she was making it worse. She’d better answer her questions quickly and get back to a subject. “It was pretty far- my paws ached. We had to go through WindClan territory. I didn’t meet any WindClan cats, though,” she sighed in disappointment. She’d wanted to meet cats from another Clan, but that would have to wait until the next Gathering.

“Headaches, sometimes, but no trouble seeing. I’m good at seeing.” Her… whatdoyoucallit, depth perception, was excellent. She had no trouble in the trees, able to weave through them like a warrior. Speaking of which… “Let’s play a game!” she mewed brightly. “What do you think my warrior name will be? I would like to be named after you, but Dawnface doesn’t really sound good. I mean, right? Maybe it will be… Dawntail. Dawnsky. Ooh! Dawnst- oh, wait, no that does not work. What do you think, Beechaunt?” Beechaunt would have a good idea. She was sure of it.

They had to go through Windclan territory... So the ruins of the former Asylum camp were beyond highstones, then. And Windclan, being the fools they were, probably didn't even care that rogues were so close to their territory. So long as they didn't become Skyclan's problem, Beechface didn't really care, but the clan would be ready next time there was ever something like that. They had to be. Losing so many cats recently in the way that they had... Dawnhawk was one cat, but it sure didn't feel that way.

"Good," she mewed, feeling relief at the answer given, "If you're not having any trouble yet, I don't think you will." At least, Beechface hoped not. Dawnpaw, she thought, had seen enough hardship recently, and Primroselight would be devastated if another one of her kits had vision problems. It didn't make Prim any less of a warrior, but Beechface understood her worry. No mother wanted their child to suffer as they had. And Beechface for one, was sick of watching the innocent and kindhearted suffer. If anyone were to start losing their vision, Starclan could at least let it be from old age, not some mystery from birth or from injury.

Some moments Beechface could almost pretend that she'd only closed an eye temporarily... But she'd noticed that her sense of depth was strange, suspiciously not-there. Being laid-up in her nest meant it wasn't so noticeable mostly, and Beechface tried hard not to think about it. Doing so made her chest feel tight and her already erratic heartbeat hammered painfully against her ribcage. The medicine cat gave a shake of her head, the pain of the movement clearing the thoughts from her mind. In moments like these she almost welcomed it. The pain was better than being dumped in the freezing river would've been to shock her out of her thoughts.

A voice whispered in the back of her head that she really ought to take a few poppy seeds, but thus far Beechface stubbornly refused. She had started to keep some in her den again only recently, and only then because of the extent of the injuries that the clan elders had suffered. After what had happened to Bloodstrike, she used them as sparingly as she could, and she wouldn't dare use them on herself. She collected only a minimal amount when searching the forest for herbs, and only when absolutely necessary. It was safer that way.

Dawnpaw was talking again, and Beechface blinked up at her, pain-addled mind trying to make sense of her words. Warrior names...? It figured she would be eager to become a warrior. Beechface had been, too. Her whiskers twitched, a flicker of a smile crossing her face at Dawnpaw's ideas.

"Dawnflight, maybe... Or Dawnlight, you're a lot like Prim, you know." Dawnpaw had the same desire to cheer others up, the same sense of optimism that her mother had. Skyclan wasn't exactly a cheerful clan as of late, and they certainly needed more of that.

“Oooh! Dawnlight. Dawnlight. Dawnlight. You have great ideas! It makes sense, too! I mean, no offense, but Blood does not strike and Lichen does not blaze and Beeches do not have faces- no offense, of course, but I would not like to meet a beech tree with a face. I would probably run.” Dawnpaw almost mentioned her idea, but she was trying to cheer Beechaunt up now, not burden her, or remind her of stuff. Although, if Beechaunt was well… would Beechaunt be well anytime soon? She didn’t think so- to be honest, she’d always thought being struck by lightning meant hey, yeah, you’re ded now, bye. Dawnpaw pulled her thoughts away from that and focused on something else.

“What’s your favorite bird? I like doves- they’re plump, good to eat. I’ve heard crows are hard to catch but don’t taste good. Ooh, and I also like quail, just because. I like them.” Dawnpaw wondered if Beechaunt even liked birds. Hopefully. It would be kinda sad-like if she didn’t- and maybe, once Dawnpaw knew her favorite bird, then she could bring her one! “Do you know Smokema or Prima’s? It’s a surprise!” Dawnpaw beamed, pleased with herself. It was a surprise she had just thought of. She would bring Smokema and Prima their favorite prey! Surely they’d appreciate knowing somecat cared enough to seek out a specific kind of prey. “Do they like fish?” She suddenly queried. She knew they’d spent some time in RiverClan, and if they liked fish, that was something they couldn’t get very often, and therefore would really appreciate!

Beechface couldn't help a quiet laugh at Dawnpaw's criticisms, "After the fire, nobody was happy about Lichenblaze's name. Or Ashstorm's, or Vulturecry's. Or Blazingkit's, for that matter. Wolfstar and Bloodstrike are terrible at names." Smokefeather hadn't let Bloodstrike forget about naming his kits Ash- and Vulture- after the fire. As horrible as they were, the terrible naming had seemed to become a tradition in Skyclan that could always be counted on to bring some laughs, in hindsight. Dawnpaw wouldn't be the first to question the lack of sense... Though Primroselight had continued the tradition of horrible naming with Dawnpaw, and had somehow managed to outdo everyone else in the process. Dawnpaw, at least, was nothing like her namesake, and Beechface could only hope that that wouldn't change. She liked her niece, as bubbly and talkative as she was.

"Mom hated staying in Riverclan, I think she'd rather starve than eat fish again. Can't say I blame her, they're so... ugh. I still haven't forgotten the taste." It had been a long time since she'd had reason to eat one, thankfully. Squirrels and birds were so much better. "She likes quail, Prim and I like squirrel. Starlings, too." She mused. "I think they'd appreciate that." She added. Prim would, Beechface knew, and she was fairly sure that mom would too. Smokefeather had been trying to have a relationship with one grandchild, it had only taken her moons to start coming out of her shell again.

Squirrel, quail, starlings. Dawnpaw stored the information away in her mind, saving it for later. She could catch squirrel easily, and quail, although she hadn’t encountered a starling yet. She thought they were black. “Starlings are the black birds, right? Or brown?”

Dawnpaw flicked her tail idly, mind casting about for another topic. “Do you like feathers? I’ve heard you can put them in your nest, but all the feathers I have found are black, grey, or brown. What birds have pretty feathers.” Beechaunt would know, she was sure.

"Black, with bits of gold on the edges of their feathers." They were noisy pests, but they were good food, as far as Beechface was concerned. Even so, she had to admit that the birds were pretty-

And of course, that would be the next question Dawnpaw asked. How she had the energy for such was beyond Beechface at the moment, but she rather liked Dawnpaw. And... Not being cooped up with just her thoughts for company was nice, she had to admit. "Starling feathers are iridescent as well, they... sparkle, almost." With their gold-lined feathers, they really were striking, as obnoxious as the pests could be.

“Oh, wow! Those sound awesome!” Shooting stars streaking across the night sky, striking colors shining in their iridescent glory for all to see. She had seen a starling, then. Very pretty birds, but rather vain. “You can have the bird, then, and I can take the feathers,” she mewed, almost as though she was about to produce a starling from her fur. “Sometimes I wish I could fly, but then I remember I can run through the trees, and that’s nearly as good! Is it true that hares are dangerous prey?”

A quick change of subject, yes, but common with a cat whose mind was as quick to leap from topic to topic as a bird was to fly. She had heard that hares were dangerous prey, and Hawkuncle had caught one when he was her age. Maybe she could try that. ”Do they even taste good?”

Another change of subject, almost dizzying with how quick it occurred. At least, Beechface thought, if she was going to get a headache, it would only blend in with the rest of the pain. She shifted carefully, though even the slight movements of trying to adjust to a position slightly less uncomfortable still brought fresh agony to the medicine cat. Her eye watered, but Beechface continued, until her uninjured cheek rested against her foreleg.

"I don't know, I've never tasted one, and it's rare to see them on our fresh-kill pile. They're big, and I'd assume that being kicked by one would hurt if you weren't fast enough to get out of the way." Dawnhawk had said something to that effect she thought... But it had been a very long time since then. She didn't even think she'd been named a medicine cat apprentice when he'd caught that hare.