Temper In Check

The sun was nearing its peak. Golden rays bathed the land in a comfortable warmth, unlike the searing heat of green-leaf. Leaf-fall was underway. The leaves of the Great Oaks were tinged red and golden, yellow and orange, and a deep, mahogany brown. They cast long shadows, despite the high sun. A cool breeze ruffled the fur of cats out upon the moor, sending a chill down the spines of the short-furred.

Hentooth was out, again. Chasing the breeze. Playfully, kit-like, she made her way towards Fourtrees. The young medicine cat sought oak leaves, scarce in WindClan unless the breeze tossed them her way. It had to be a strong breeze to crest the hollow. The freezing winds of leaf-bare were known to her only in stories. For now, she was experiencing the blusters of leaf-fall in person.

The scent of old wood, freshly fallen leaves, and SkyClan wafted towards her from Fourtrees… the scents of leaf-fall.

Wait.

SkyClan?

She burst into a run, pushing herself to the limits as she pounded towards Fourtrees, heart racing. She’d kept herself in good condition… it was showing in her powerful stride. The wind was in her favor… unless the SkyClan patrol had learned to listen to the ground she’d be able to catch them by surprise…

Skidding to a halt at the edge of the hollow, she caught sight of a solitary grey pelt. Oh. After SkyClan’s raid on their camp… she didn’t trust them as far as they could find their way in a tunnel- that is to say, not at all. Their medicine cat was no exception. Her heart slowly returned to normal, she lashed her tail in annoyance. Argh. SkyClan. Still… it was hardly likely the other she-cat hadn’t noticed her skid to a halt at the edge of the clearing. A true WindClan cat never turned tail.

So, with a sigh, she trotted down the gentle slope, pointedly looking about as though searching for herbs. A sprig of poppy grew not far from her paws, and she harvested it gently, wondering at its resilience. She didn’t want to break the silence… but it was getting awkward.

Beechface had made the trek out to fourtrees in search of herbs that didn't grow well on Skyclan's rocky soil, and while on the way she'd managed to collect a few herbs along Thunderclan's border, as well. She would have rather not strayed from Skyclan's territory at all, but she had to do what was necessary.

Only, it seemed, she wasn't alone today. The silver tabby let out a soft huff at the scent of Windclan and the sound of paws hurrying her way, lifting her head to glare in the direction of the much-loathed moors.

The tortoiseshell and white figure that came into view was familiar from meetings at the moonstone, and Beechface frowned as her fellow medicine cat padded down the slopes. Why couldn't it have been Dovefrost? Or Mossbloom? Thunderclanners were easy to get along with and she liked them. She didn't like Windclan... Or Riverclan... And she only knew the Shadowclan medicine cat apprentice by face from across a clearing.

Hentooth had busied herself by looking for herbs and seemingly attempting to pretend Beechface wasn't there. The Skyclan medicine cat attempted to do the same, the stifling silence stretching uncomfortably between them and making her fur prickle with unease.

"Hentooth." She greeted, stiff, awkward... And she left it at that. She was sure the Windclanner would want to talk with her about as much as Beechface wanted to, which was to say not at all.

The fur on her back prickled until the calico resembled a porcupine… her back was turned towards the grey tabby, but she couldn’t help herself from looking over her shoulder every few seconds. Beechface was a medicine cat, true, but she was the medicine cat who had slaughtered Lilacstar before Hentooth’s eyes… from across a clearing, true, but that night was still imprinted on her brain, and she couldn’t relax around them. Around any SkyClan cat.

“That is my name,” she muttered, unable to keep the scathing comment inside her chest. Can’t believe she had the brains to remember, she thought to herself, curling her lip. “Erm… I would ask how SkyClan is doing, but… obv-“ The young medicine cat cut herself off, seething. What, did she not have the self control to be within a tree-length of a SkyClan cat? Pull yourself together, hare-brain.

“Muddythorn’s your apprentice, right? He seems a decent cat.” Whyyyy was she talkin- she knew why. Self-control and all that. And there was, perhaps, a bit of her that was thinking about trouncing Beechface’s tail. Hentooth was young, strong, spunky. Beechface’s movements were stiff, and her eye gone. It would be an easy fight… but totally unfair.

Beechface's eyes narrowed slightly at Hentooth's response, then she sighed. It wasn't worth it. She was Windclan, they weren't meant to get along and be all buddy-buddy. While they were here though, she'd at least try to be civil. She'd had enough stress and aggravation recently, and truly wasn't keen on adding to it.

"Skyclan is... Skyclan. And Windclan?" Not that she expected a response, but that was about the extent of the polite small-talk she could take. The question about Muddythorn caught her off guard, and Beechface... Smiled. It was a tired smile, but it was there.

"He wants the position more than I do... He's a better fit for healing others than I ever could be." She shrugged. It was the honest truth. "I'm counting the days until someone let's me retire, honestly... I never wanted to be a medicine cat." The words slipped out on their own, and Beechface mentally kicked herself for it. The Windclanner didn't need to know anything about her beyond that she was Skyclan, and didn't care to be messed with.

“WindClan is WindClan,” Hentooth responded with a flick of her tail. Beechface didn’t need to know they’d lost two good warriors… or that Ashfall, a cornerstone of the Clan (at least, in Hentooth’s eyes) was faring poorly… or that they had very few kits… or that one of the Clan’s most experienced warriors was newly recovered from greencough… or that WindClan’s medicine cat was a hare-brain… ah, you hare-brain.

“You never wanted to be a medicine cat?” The young medicine cat echoed involuntarily, her voice deepening a bit to match Beechface’s tones. She spun around, eyes wide. “Who the foxing stars was jackrabbit-bottomed enough to force someone to be a medicine cat? They ain’t got thistledown for brains, they’ve got nothing. I am glad I ain’t a SkyClan cat. That sounds terrible. Your leader just forced you to be a medicine cat? When you didn’t want to?!?” Aghast, she stared at Beechface, maw slightly agape. “As long as I live we ain’t never doin’ that in WindClan…” Why deprive your Clan of a warrior? Beechface would’ve made quite the warrior, that much was obvious. SkyClan was fuzz-brained.

Hentooth's sudden anger at the idea of being forced into the role of medicine cat had an unrestrained laugh escaping Beechface. She froze, one paw raised in the air, a flicker of surprise crossing her features that she was unable to hide. What... What was wrong with her?

"Sagelight... Mousebrain that he was... Though I suppose he truly was desperate to go along with some supposed sign from starclan and choose me. The apprentice he had before me disappeared, or something? It was before I was born, I'm not sure." And quite frankly, she didn't care. It had caused Sagelight... or starclan, whatever, to be desperate enough to pick her. And what a mistake it had been. She had to believe that Muddythorn would do better. "Even my mentor thought he was joking at the time. I refused. He let me 'think it over' and then..." Beechface shook her head. The fire had taken so much from Skyclan, and it had taken away the choice she'd wanted to make. "A starclan cat... One of your former medicine cats actually, slapped me after I laid at the moonstone during my apprentice ceremony. Aspenface, Aspen... something? Rude old tom." She grumbled.

"Yes... That's why it took me so long to find an apprentice. I refuse to do that to anyone else. Muddythorn was a warrior, and he hated it. He volunteered and I'd never been so happy in my life." A humorless laugh escaped her. That happiness hadn't lasted, and now she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

“That is- that’s- I-“ Hentooth spluttered, eyes wide. With sudden rage, she clawed angrily at the ground, tail lashing. SkyClan was worse than she’d thought. Liars, murderers, traitors, truce-breakers, oath-breakers, she couldn’t- she just- “Argh! Wolfstar- I just- the stars-forsaken fleabag! Dungface! Jackrabbit-bottomed foxing dungface! Who does he think he is? You can’t-  SkyClan- it’s- if I was born there, I know I’d murder to get out.”

She slashed angrily at the ground again, eyes flashing, fur bristling. SkyClan. She’d always hated them. Now… now she felt like gouging their eyes out. Wolfstar in particular, then Bloodstrike. Kill them. Slowly. Painfully… “That jackrabbit-bottomed son of a rotten vixen! Then get! Muddythorn’s earned his full name I- I’ve always hated SkyClan as a whole, but if it’s the head that’s rotten, not the body…” She was jumping ahead, as always, changing her mind in a second. She had to wait, see what Beechface said, find one or two cats to pin her anger onto, then… killing sprang to mind, but it was against the Warrior Code… her anger was boiling over. SkyClan. An oppressive regime… but this laid upon the word of one cat. Maybe Beechface was lying. She had to be sure.

Beechface stared at the Windclan medicine cat, temporarily stunned into silence by her tirade. Her fur bristled on instinct, and she forced it to lay flat with effort.

"Careful, Windclanner." She growled lowly, "If you want to cast stones, Lilacstar harbored someone who killed a kit in front of me and her mother. At least everything Wolfstar does is with purpose for the better of our clan." She had to at least defend her grandfather, her mentor, from Hentooth's tirade. She owed him that much respect at least. Though... Bloodstrike, well, she wasn't far off. "You aren't wrong about our featherbrained deputy, I'll grant you. He's infuriating on a good day."