Apparent Exhaustion [c]

Turtlefur limped into camp, jaws empty and spirits low. He was hungry and shaken up and his limp was uneven. The warrior was trying to find the least painful way to walk with a fresh, bloodied dog bite from where that beast had clamped its jaws over his back. It leaked blood down his sides and flattened his long fur into streaky red clumps. He’d prefer to be wet from fishing, but fish was so hard to come by these days that he would dream of feasting on a fat, oily fish at night. Turtlefur plodded through camp with his head low. He could feel the prickling of eyes watching him, calculating his injuries, knowing the cause was a dog and wondering if he’d still be an effective warrior. Well, he wasn’t that effective. He couldn’t bring home food every day. The many meals he sacrificed, a sort of self-punishment for his failures, left him dull-eyed and unenthusiastic.

“Cloverheart?” He sighed into the medicine cat den and then slipped through the sedge and reeds, into the shady clearing. He liked Spiderquill… he guessed… but he found himself quite fond of Cloverheart. She was bold and straightforward and he almost didn’t mind ending a Gathering early for her. There she was, doing medicine cat things. He didn’t pretend to know how her job worked. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. Can you look at these bits marks? It was a dog. It got me while I was out hunting with Egretstorm and Robinpatch. I think they’re alright.”

Sorting through herbs had gotten dull and boring quickly. As much as she loved her position, Cloverheart wished it came with more– at least when she was still a younger apprentice, the territory was open for her to explore, hone her skills at pointing out herbs. Now, with the dogs and twolegs roaming the river, she found it was easier to stay in camp. She hated hassling the warriors for a guard, and she hated her fur standing on end the entire time she was outside. Sighing, she pushed a bit of coltsfoot aside.

As she was getting lost in thought, a familiar voice carried in from just outside the den. It was followed by the sound of uneven pawsteps, and the little cat turned with pricked ears and a grin that quickly fell. Blood streaked through her friend's fur, and his gaze was distant and listless.

"Turtlefur, hush," she scolded gently, hurrying to the tom's side to help ease him into a nest. Cloverheart paused to look over his wound, muttering a warning that it might sting before rasping her tongue over it, clearing away what blood she could. "Hush, you aren't interrupting. Just stay still, okay?" And with that she shuffled back to the piles of herbs she'd been organizing, looking them over through narrowed eyes.

Poppy seeds first, she figured. Collecting a few of the little black seeds against a shaky paw, she set them down near Turtlefur and gave them a brisk nod. "Start with those, okay? They should help a little while I–" Cloverheart moved back over to the herb stores, picking out some goldenrod, marigold... garlic and cobwebs, too. There was more she wished she had, but she could work with these. "How are you feeling, Turtlefur? Anything else I should know happened?" She hummed before taking the marigold and goldenrod between her teeth, chewing slowly and watching her friend with interested, worried eyes.

Even her scolding was welcome. With Cloverheart’s help he slipped into a downy nest and tensed his body to keep from flinching too hard from having his wound cleaned. “Okay,” her instructions were quick and she even cut herself off at one point, and he was beginning to feel guilty that she was so worried. Turtlefur obediently licked up and swallowed the seeds and turned his head to watch Cloverheart nose through her herbs.

Her last question drew a heavy sigh. Resting his head on his big paws, he meowed, “Well, I mean, we were hunting and… I dunno. We couldn’t find anything or even get our paws on a mouse when we did manage to find one. Too jumpy. All the prey’s scared straight of the dogs, and frankly, I think all of RiverClan is, too. Not without cause, of course,” He winced, remembering the crushing weight of the dog’s bite on his back. “I don’t like feeling like prey. It threw me, Cloverheart. Like I was lighter than a tadpole. I wish… I was better. Like, strong enough to scare dogs away. Fast enough to catch all the prey in the forest. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to starve.”

Cloverheart listened intently as her friend went on, nodding slowly as he spoke. Gingerly collecting the cobwebs againsy her paw, the medicine cat hopped closer, giving him a sympathetic look. Turtlefur seemed so hurt... her heart ached for him, but she was grateful he'd gotten himself started so she could use his rambling as a distraction to apply the poultice to the wound. Cloverheart gave the surrounding fur a few licks and hoped it didn't sting too bad... sighing, she pulled away, holding her cobweb-sticky paw gingerly over his back.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she started gingerly, as if she wasn't sure how to respond. She couldn't imagine him being just... tossed like that. Her back ached for him. "It was out of your control, though. It... it was a dog, Turtlefur. And–" Cloverheart hesitated, leaning forward to nose the cobwebs off her paw and prod them into place against his back before continuing, "You don't have to do this all on your own." Her voice was gentle, and she crouched closer to his head to gently press her cheek against his. "You aren't our only warrior. And we can't... we don't..." It felt like she knew the right things to say, just not how to say them. Her voice dropped again, and Cloverheart settled for a sigh, pressed against Turtlefur's side.

She let the silence hang between them before finding her words again. "We aren't asking you to protect the whole Clan, Turtlefur. No cat can do that on their own. You don't have to be better." And then Cloverheart pushed herself to her paws, meandering back to her herbs to hover by the garlic she picked out. "You're more than enough. You're doing the most you can. I– I'm sorry this happened, I really am, but... you're okay. This... I think we'll be okay."

He winced at her touch, feeling the sting of raw cuts sending shockwaves of pain down his spine, but he resisted the urge to pull away. Writhing around would only be a nuisance. When the pressure stopped, he glanced up at Cloverheart. The gentle contact between their cheeks drew a soft purr from Turtlefur’s aching chest. It was unexpected but definitely not unwelcome; her kindness was equally surprising. Not that the medicine cat apprentice was rude, but she could be snappy when frustrated.

“Thanks, Cloverheart.” He watched her pad away with a new energy in his limbs. He felt more reassured now. If she didn’t think he was a waste of resources, and if she thought things would be okay in the end, then he trusted her to help keep his head on straight. “You’re right. Sometimes I forget that RiverClan takes care of me, too. And you.” Turtlefur’s anxiety was quickly fading. Actually, everything was becoming duller. He was looking forward to sleeping in the soft nest and with poppy seeds running their course in his belly. “I’m still gonna be better, though. I just need the practice. I just need time…” Turtlefur mumbled, eyelids becoming too heavy to keep open.

Cloverheart had been busy pressing the garlic when Turtlefur's weary voice cropped up again, and she let out a little purr in response, tail waving slowly. "Of course we take care of you. Of course I take care of you," she assured without turning around. The garlic looked sufficiently smashed, and she scooped it up against a paw and hopped back over to your friend's side.

"Stop worrying so much. And don't bite me," she warned gently before pressing the garlic against his back. "It reeks, but it'll help. And really, don't worry." Settling down beside him, she wrapped her tail around her paws, soft green eyes watching him carefully. "You already work yourself to death, Turtlefur. Worry more about getting some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Cloverheart mewed softly, giving him a comforting nod. She was grateful that at least some of what she said had gotten through to him, but as the warrior rested his head, she couldn't help but worry. How long would it be before he was back in her den, pushing himself too far just to be 'better?'

Sighing, Cloverheart twisted to look over her shoulder, staring through the sedge. He would be awake by morning, and she would still be here, ignoring her own advice and worrying her own self sick.