fixer upper [c]

"Sorry." Stoatclaw apologized to his patrol mate as the tom was brought to the medicine den, one paw lifted high to his chest. It had happened in a flash and ended their hunting trip just as quick, but the tom had slipped and slit his paw pads on one of the sharpest rocks he had ever seen. The pain that still pulsed along the bleeding cut made Stoatclaw hesitant to leave the support of his clanmate, but he couldn't continue holding the tom back from a fruitful hunt. Shooting the tabby an appreciative look Stoatclaw hobbled the rest of the way into the den, eyes scanning for the one medicine cat that he knew... Somewhat. Smokepetal was nowhere to be seen however, leaving only one of the apprentices who stood in the back of the den fiddling with the placement of herbs and other things. Briefly the tom thought about backing out of the den before he was noticed and waiting for the older medicine cat to come back, but that thought was quickly disregarded.

Stoatclaw cleared his throat gently to get the molly's attention. "I... hurt myself while on patrol. Could you take a look at it for me? Please." The warrior didn't move further into the den, partially because he expected the apprentice to tell him to return later when more capable paws were present.