Fish Out Of Water [Cloverheart]

Birdsong had woken feeling nauseous and uncomfortable, and had spent most of the morning trying to sleep it off. It was probably just a bad piece of prey, thefish she'd shared with Turtlefur the night before disagreeing with her. Only morning had turned to afternoon, and the feeling hadn't quite gone away. Her stomach felt almost boated, even though the tabby hadn't eaten. Maybe she'd put on weight, being in a clan with better access to a stable territory to hunt in...

Birdsong glanced towards the medicine den, watching a small white she-cat move about. Her pelt was covered in scars, and Birdsong swallowed, recognizing where she'd seen her.

So that had been the apprentice Wolfstar attacked. And Beechface thought she deserved those scars? What was wrong with Skyclan?

A lot of things, was the obvious answer. And Birdsong wasn't sure she should even approach the medicine cat. Her experience with healers was limited to Beechface, and Beechface... Well, she was Beechface. Foul-tempered and volatile was putting it mildly. Would Cloverheart treat her the same way or worse, hate her for what her former clanmates had done? Would she hate her if she knew that Birdsong was actually Beechface's daughter? Her ears flattened at the thought, and the former Skyclanner took an uncertain step back, not at all sure that she wanted to visit the medicine cat after all.

The bloating and strange bouts of nausea would go away on their own, she was sure.

"I know you're watching me," Cloverheart's mild voice rose as she poked her head through the sedge guarding her den. She tried a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes and her words came out flat. "Every time I turn around, you're looking this way." Shaking stray bits of leaves from her paws, Cloverheart moved as if to step forward, then considered better. Hunching her shoulders slightly, she remained safely in the frame of her den.

"You're..." The outsider Turtlefur brought home. From SkyClan. The medicine cat's smile drew into a tight line as she finished the sentence, and she looked the newcomer over slowly. "Birdsong, was it? A good friend of Turtlefur's?" Keeping her expression neutral, her hackles flat, was a challenge. Something in her felt betrayed that Turtlefur could be so close to a cat from that stars-forsaken Clan; another part of her wondered if maybe they weren't all bad.

Still, distaste made her eyes narrow before she could school her expression.

But Turtlefur was her best friend, and if the outsider was important to him, she could at least be civil. And she was a medicine cat– one that was good at her work. Whether she wanted to help or not, she couldn't turn the poor thing away. Clearing her throat, Cloverheart forced out a purr: "Well, Birdsong? Was there something I could do for you, or are you just visiting?"

Heat flashed through Birdsong's fur, embarrassment making her ears slick back as the medicine cat called her out on lurking. "I- uhm..." Her paws shifted awkwardly. The medicine cat's stare wasn't the friendliest around, and somehow she seemed just as impatient as Beechface always had. Maybe it was a medicine cat thing, or maybe it was just her personality. Birdsong was too unfamiliar to tell which.

"Uh... Yeah." She muttered in answer to the question, awkwardness and unease forming a knot in her stomach. Turtlefur's friend... Right. Turtlefur was, she was pretty sure, the only reason she was in Riverclan at all. Well, him and Dewlight's kindness. And if the clan's medicine cat didn't want her here...

"I uh-" She began again, staring down at her paws, "haven't been feeling well the past few days." She admitted finally, "I've been nauseous and just..." She shrugged awkwardly, not sure how to continue, let alone articulate what she was feeling. And you scare the foxdung out of me, wouldn't exactly be helpful.

Cloverheart listened quietly to Birdsong's stammering, ears twitching as she stumbled over her words. She seemed so uncomfortable here, so withdrawn; the thought that not every SkyClan-born cat was as ferocious and heartless as the ones she'd known crossed her mind again, but instead of entertaining the thought she only backed further into her den. Even if she's meek, who knows what she really wants with us. Maybe she's just some scout, meant to make us feel sorry for her. Maybe she runs back to their forest every night to tell them what she knows.

A look at the cat waiting outside immediately dismissed that idea.

With a begrudging sigh, Cloverheart nosed through her herbs, picking out the ones she felt Birdsong would appreciate. Collecting them on a large leaf and lifting it gently, she returned to the mouth of her den, and even dared to venture fully outside to sit just in front of her.

"Nauseous? Do you know why?" She mewed as she set the leaf-wrap down, letting it gently unfurl. Before waiting for a response, she lifted a paw– and out of habit, her eyes flicked towards her scars, making her nose wrinkle all over again at the thought of who she was giving these herbs to –gesturing loosely to what she had set out.

"Well, I think you should start with these leaves here, the soft looking ones. Eat those; they're mallow leaves, they'll help the nausea. I have some juniper berries for you here, too, if you think you'll need them. I'm not sure just how bad you feel." A beat, then, "Right... I asked you why. Did you eat something? Do you think it's stress?" The sooner Birdsong answered, the sooner Cloverheart could give her whatever herbs would make her feel better, and the sooner she could retreat to a darkened corner of her den in peace.

The medicine cat backed into her den, leaving Birdsong to wonder if she should just back away and leave her be. She hadn't snapped at her... Yet. And maybe it was cowardly, but Birdsong would've liked to keep it that way.

The smaller she-cat returned a moment later, herbs clenched between her jaws. There went that idea...

She eyed the mallow leaves, listening as Cloverheart talked and cringing inwardly at the medicine cat's tone. She... reminded her of Beechface. A little.

"Like I said, I've been nauseous. And my stomach is... I don't know, bloated a little? I thought it could've been a bad piece of fresh-kill, but if that was the case Turtlefur would be sick too, and he's not." She responded, one paw absently scuffing across the earth. "I don't think it's stress, it's not like I'm in a clan of warmongers and liars." Birdsong stopped herself, shaking her head with a huff. She didn't need to unload her problems onto the medicine cat, Cloverheart probably had enough on her paws as it was without Birdsong adding trivial things to it.

Birdsong's huffing earned a laugh from the medicine cat, though it was a wry, short sound. "A Clan of warmongers and liars? That's interesting." Cloverheart eyed the gray cat curiously, before letting out another thin laugh. "Is that why you left? Are you the only SkyClan cat with a brain between your ears instead of just feathers and mud?" There was an almost leering tone to the words, but Cloverheart had extended a branch nonetheless. If Birdsong took it, she wouldn't have to try and take off the rest of Turtlefur's tail for bringing her home to RiverClan.

"You have to actually eat the leaves, not just look at them," she reminded smoothly, giving her herbs another once-over. "Nauseous and bloated, for no reason? And how long have you been meeting with that handsome RiverClan tom? Do you think you might want to come back to me in a moon or so?" An amused snort followed her prodding, though something in her bristled. She was only teasing, but... well, if she wasn't wrong, that'd be a conversation for another time. Hopefully.

"Well yeah, I watched our medicine cat kill a leader just because she could. And she only decided to tell me I was her daughter when my father was on his deathnest." She muttered, the sourness in her tone uncharacteristic. "I wanted no part of any of it." She learned forward to lap up the herbs, grimacing slightly at the taste. Cats weren't meant to eat leaves, but if it would help... Might as well.

And then promptly started choking as Cloverheart continued to speak. "I- We-" She sputtered. After a moment she managed to catch her breath, and glared at the medicine cat. She... Had been spending time with Turtlefur...

"Foxdung." She muttered eventually, wide-eyed stare settling on Cloverheart, "You... I think... Foxdung!" She all but squeaked out. Birdsong began to pace, tail twitching back and forth as her mind raced.

She was going to be a mother. To Turtlefur's kits.

How in the void was she supposed to handle kits? She had no experience with them! Maybe she could've asked her own mother... But Beechface and Ravenclaw were the last cats that should be asked for advice on raising kits. Beechface hadn't tried at all, and Ravenclaw had gone along with the lie. Not exactly the role models Birdsong wanted, as much as Ravenclaw had done her best...

No, she needed to be better than them. She would never put her kits through what she had gone through.

Birdsong gave her plenty to comment on– her distaste towards SkyClan, which was almost enough to put her on Cloverheart's good side; her reaction to the idea of kits, the way she leaped to her paws to march back and forth. But the medicine cat's ears were pinned flat to her head, any trace of a smile gone.

"You're Beechface's daughter?" Her eyes narrowed sharply, before she added, "Beechface has kits?!" Cloverheart shook her head, heaving a sigh. What should she be more surprised by? That Beechface's daughter– and soon, her grandkits –were going to be marching around RiverClan? or that Beechface had had kits at all? That Turtlefur, stars bless him, had brought one of them home? And now her grandkits were going to be raised in RiverClan, like they belonged there.

Cloverheart's expression turned sour, and she focused her attention firmly on her paws. She couldn't justify being angry towards unborn kits; they didn't choose any of this. But what if they were just like their grandmother– what if they were just like the rest of SkyClan? And now RiverClan would be saddled with them, if they grew up to be relentless warmongers. Really, Birdsong didn't choose this either. At least they'll be fighting for us, I guess. Not against us. Nose wrinkling, Cloverheart turned her gaze back to Birdsong, fighting to keep her tail from lashing against her side.

"Of course you're going to have kits," she said plainly, as if it was silly the molly hadn't already realized it. "You aren't too far along yet though, are you? You have time to prepare for them. Come back to me in a few sunrises if you notice anything new, or you feel any worse." She was using her professional voice, smooth and unaffected. As much as she wanted to rant and rail, she was still a medicine cat; and, well, Birdsong had chosen to leave SkyClan behind... Cloverheart's chest tightened. She wasn't sure if she wanted to stay angry with the she-cat simply for her birth Clan, or bow her head and accept that she was apart of RiverClan now. With a firmly set jaw, Cloverheart muttered, "You made a good choice, leaving SkyClan. I can respect that. Maybe– hopefully –you'll be a better mother than I assume yours was."

"My aunt let me believe I was hers." Everything in Birdsong's tone said she would've preferred that were actually true. She'd thought she could trust Ravenclaw, had thought she could trust Beechface, as loathsome as she was. Even her own father had let her believe that lie.

"And who, exactly, should I be asking for advice? I don't know the first thing about being a mother." Birdsong scoffed. Left unsaid was that clearly her own mother didn't. And Beechface... Beechface was nothing to her. Certainly not 'mother.' Birdsong continued to pace, tail twitching back and forth as anxiety rolled in her stomach. "I won't do what they did to me. I won't let my kits believe their lives are based on a lie." She huffed out eventually. She needed to do better than that. But... How?