Road Not Taken [Open]

A white form sat still in the snow just outside of the medicine den. Green eyes locked on his paws, flash backs of the battle at Sunning Ricks flashing in his mind. Echos of Oath breaker faintly say in the back of his head.

It all seemed like the right choice then.. Defending his leader.. While he didn't attack any of the cats did he still break his oath? Was it wrong to not want a cat he respected to not get even more hurt than he already did? And for it all fail and his leader lose a life anyway..?

Claws dug into the snow, a soft crunch heard underneath. He failed as a Medicine cat.. didn't he? He jumped in the fight when he should have healed.. but he couldn't just ignore what his instincts told him to do.. but was that following his medicine cat instincts or his warrior ones?

His biggest question that weighed heavily on his mind was, did the other hate him for what he did?

Wounds still ached, scratches and tears leaving patchwork scars and peeling away fur to show reddened glimmers of the healing injuries. Those scars were nothing compared to those scored in places no herbal poultice could reach.

Minkstar stirred, his eyes glimmering open and ear moving slightly. Dovefrost was still outside, still in the same spot he'd taken up a few minutes ago. He quietly moved away from Bat's side, a part of him still wishing to hide away from her - to hide his shame away from everything and everyone - not that she'd had any of that. They were in this together to the end, and she would not let him find a badger hole to hide away in and sulk.

The corner of his mouth quirked slightly, briefly, his pawsteps finding their way the medicine cat's side. Aching in protest, his haunches folded underneath him grudgingly to mimic the sitting pose, silence taking the place of conversation as he let his gaze pan over the new covering of snow on the ravine's floor. There were a lot of things that could be bothering his friend. A nice variety. Yet he had the feeling it was one of the more personal ones.

Claw slashes weren't the only things the RiverClanners had inflicted on them.

And with that thought came a cascade of memories, filled with burning eyes and glinting teeth spitting insults and outrage. They thought he didn't care for their problems. Well fine, let them think he was a heartless monster. If anything, the problem was that he cared too much. Blame Mottledspark for telling me to stop smothering myself. Bitterness curdled deep in his stomach, and he found himself wondering if any of the other leaders would have hesitated, would have fought so badly; held back so much. He'd thought he hadn't been holding back, he'd thought he'd thrown himself into it with no hesitation. What a lie that was. All it took was a few well-aimed words, and he sacrificed his own Clan for another.

For a good cause. Supposedly. They'd obviously thought him so malevolently stubborn that they had to drive the point home by killing... killing Wolfblaze. Why? Had it really been his fault? If he'd just.... He couldn't finish that thought, couldn't go there. Or were they all in on it? Had they decided while his back was turned that ThunderClan should pay for their haughty assumption that they deserved to survive Leaf-bare by taking - or sharing, as he'd been considering before everything blew up in his face - Sunningrocks?

As he looked at the white blanketing the world, he couldn't help but wonder tiredly if they would fare much better than RiverClan at all, better Greenleaf or not - fewer kits or not. Perhaps he'd have more luck begging Bloodstar to give them back the Fallen Oak. His pride had already been beaten enough - crawling on his belly to appease the tiger-sized leader couldn't do much more damage.

A sigh misted out into the cold air, frosted white and drifting up to Silverpelt. "Mousetail for your thoughts?" He asked quietly, finally breaking his silence.