Quick Words, Heavy Steps (open)

Squish. Squish.

 
   Sleet-thorn chuckled to himself, then sighed in contentment. To him, the greatest part of living in the marshland, was the ground. The soft soil of the marsh was always soft and cool, and massaged the body and soul of any who walked along it. Sleet-thorn, with his heavy gait, stepped with a slight spring as the squishy ground retaliated against the force he drove into it. He stopped, and gazed into the sky, and let his paws sink into the cool mud while he became enraptured in thought.
  Things were happening. There was no doubt about it. Things that would bring sweeping and absolute change. But that was on the grand scheme, the cycles that encapsulate the whole of existence, with the clans working, turning about like clockwork cogs, as if the sun and moon were pulling the legs of every being in the forest toward the finish line, all of them going, pushing on toward the inevitable fate. That was far away, however, a dot on the ever closer horizon. The daily rise and fall of the sun was outside of that realm, at least to Sleet-thorn. Today was lazy, and it almost seemed as if it would continue to be this way forever.
  As much as it was fun, Sleet-thorn tired of contemplating perspectives. A glance at the kill pile gave him an excuse to get some fresh air. A bit of solo hunting  would do the trick.
He started toward the edge of the camp, and nearly ran into another cat on his way.

"Oh, I’m sorry." he quickly said. "I must watch where I step."

He lingered for a bit. Perhaps he wouldn't have to go out alone.

Days like this were supposed to be peaceful, she could almost grasp the laziness the sun brought forth and the relaxed pace her clan moved around. Yes, days like this were meant to last forever in her mind. Thistlespot sighed and stared at her paws, she found herself doing that more and more often… ever since that particular Gathering gave her a lot of things to think about. She liked to think, to find solutions to problems not her own, it made her feel useful but right now she felt that thinking was slowly poisoning her mind. Every time her thoughts drifted back to the cryptic messages StarClan had given her every fiber of her being tinged with doubt and hundreds upon hundreds of questions drowned every laughter or sigh the ShadowClan camp uttered. Fire haunted her dreams and at times, when she could no longer tell if she was awake or asleep fire haunted her peaceful world as well.

She clicked her tongue and walked towards the entrance in a daze. Perhaps if she got away from everything, a demanding leader, worried warriors, tired elders, hopeful apprentices and cheerful kits an answer would finally come to mind. Thistlespot neared the entrance when she almost ran into another cat.

"Oh, I’m sorry." the medicine cat blinked trying to grasp what the tom’s words meant. "I must watch where I step."

She stood there, not really moving as if she had just awoken from a dream. “I-“ she blinked and forced herself to focus. “Of course, I’m sorry I was…” what was she doing? Ah, yes, she was thinking about troublesome things “… deep in thought.” She looked at the cat as if she was gazing at him for the first time in their entire encounter. Thistlespot remembered his name, a white tom that went by Sleet-thorn, nostalgia coursed through her body as she recalled his scent from her nursery days; he was only a moon older than her after all. She then noticed her frame was blocking the entrance and that the white tom probably wanted to go out. “How rude of me…” she muttered as she took a few steps back and allowed him to go out. “Going for a walk?” she asked in mild curiosity, more desperate to distract her mind from some invisible threat than to actually know what the tom’s plans for the evening were.

The she-cat that Sleet-thorn had nearly collided with had just so happened to be Thistlespot, the medicine cat of Shadowclan, and a figure from his kithood. Upon spying her visage, a couple things struck him about her presence.

The first, was the cat herself. For a moment, Sleet-thorn recollected those halcyon days in the nursery, bathed in peace and sunshine. Whenever he had felt the need to get some air and play with the other kits, it had always been at a time when Thistlespot was there as well. It seemed those days of laziness hadn't quite ended. Sleet-thorn hadn't quite considered just how alike the two were, as there wasn't interaction beyond the occasional need for healing. Both in appearance and methodology, they were similar. Both had stark colors painted into their fur, and both were large and walked with strong steps. And Sleet-thorn had great respect for her abilities as an intellect, as both were able thinkers, and had their moral compasses pointing to the same north. He wondered why there wasn't more conversation that didn't have to due with what ailed him.

The other thing that registered in Sleet-thorn's mind was her demeanour, and while it wasn't especially out of the ordinary, it struck Sleet-thorn as a little off for a day like this. The way she moved about was odd, and her eyes were looking at something as if it were a fuzzy after image of a dream, and when she spoke, she mumbled and muttered her words. She looked confused, disoriented. He did, however, notice that she described her inattentiveness as a result of her deep thoughts. But what thoughts could possibly occupy the mind so much attention that it would block out the tangible world around oneself? It would make sense then, that he found her at the camp exit, perhaps looking for an escape.

After a quick search, he found the words that he wanted to address her with.

"In fact I am...tell me, Thistlespot, are you well?" He paused. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me? I was going hunting, but there really isn't much in the way of prey."

(So...I apologise for completely disappearing for a week..heh..)

Are you well?

Thistlespot wasn’t used to those kind of questions, she was the medicine cat and it was her duty to make sure every single cat in the clan and in the forest was well. Perhaps because of the role she played no one ever asked her if she was well save for Bluetail, her former mentor and now retired elder. But it was always different, the elder did worry about her but more like a medicine cat would. The spotted she-cat then realized that she had no real ‘friends’ within the clan, it was a cold and bitter blow but it made sense to her. Every single cat looked at her based on her position, all the cats she spoke with only came to her when they were ailed, and no one ever stepped inside the medicine cat den just to see her. Her whiskers twitched, she was perfectly fine with that, she cared deeply about the clan cats even if they never cast a second glance at her as soon as she had made their pains disappear.

As so she couldn’t really confine in anyone, the dreams and the cryptic messages were meant for her to interpret and pass on to the leader who would decide whether or not ShadowClan needed to know the words of their ancestors.

It felt nice however, being asked if she was well or not but she couldn’t really tell him. The nightmares, the messages, the feeling that something was staring at her just waiting to pounce… or the lack of the comforting presence of StarClan. It would be wrong, as the medicine cat she had to be strong in front of her clanmates, if she couldn’t solve her own problems then who would? “A walk?” She mewed and looked at the entrance thoughtfully, that was her plan all along; perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have company. “I suppose it sounds good,” Thistlespot walked to the marshland, the squishy feeling in her paws was comforting, water was the opposite of fire after all. She clicked her tongue and looked back at the white tom. “Are you sure I’m not a hindrance?” Her ears twitched as she listened intently to the marshes waiting for any sign of danger, her eyes were looking at Sleet-thorn but her mind was slowly drifting away to the land of thoughts.

She remembered then why she had not taken any walks recently, outside the safety of camp the threat that was looming over her and breathing on her neck just turned that much more stronger. At times she really cursed the feelings she had.


[OOC: It's fine, no need to apologize ]

I suppose it sounds good

Sleet-thorn smiled at her, a genuine smile, but there was also an element of diffusal about it. There was something in the air, hanging about like a invisible fog. Most likely, it was the combined desire to leave the camp and dispel some of the agitation caused by sitting and camp doing absolutely nothing. Luckily for him, the niceties and social charades were nearly over.

"Alright then, after you." He took a deep breath in, and then became aware that he hadn't really been breathing. He gulped in some more air, and took a path behind Thistlespot. As they walked, Sleet-thorn thought even more about the state of mind of the cat in front of her. It was a great enigma to him what could have her head spinning so. The thought of asking her crossed his mind, but he knew the history of clan structure, and knew his clanmates. If there was something that was of consequence, it was between the medicine cats and the leaders to figure out how to proceed. Sleet-thorn also knew of her tendencies to get feelings for the future, and he had observed them with mild interest, learning to trust them, and trust the cat that had them to make the right decisions about whatever concerning matter it was. Sleet-thorn deduced that this was a matter he was to keep his paws out of.

Are you sure I'm not a hindrance?

His reply was deliberate but quick nonetheless.
"Well, what's a hindrance? A burden? A thorn in my side to be cast out into the forest rivers or cut out from our territory? A tick is a hindrance. A disease, the thorny bushes around here.. " He gave a little chuckle. "No, you aren't. In fact, I might grow to enjoy your company."

He looked up to see Thistlespot's eyes trained on him, but focused on something else. Her ears twitched.

"Hear something?"

Hear something?

Thistlespot was no tracker but even she could tell the marshes were peaceful today, probably falling for the charm of the sun’s lazy rays as well. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling off, she knew nothing was looming over her neck otherwise the tom would have told her but it was confusing, both for her and for her clanmates, even if most had grown used to her unexplainable instinct. She shook her head just the slightest bit, both to answer Sleet-thorn’s question and to try to shake the feeling away, naturally it just clung to her mind like a bothersome thorn, refusing to budge or to move until whatever wanted to pounce on her pounced. “It’s just a feeling,” she mewed, not really noticing that the words had sneakily slipped through her tongue or that her eyes had unconsciously drifted towards her paws.

She had learned to keep her feelings to herself, just sharing them with her former mentor and with the leader when necessary. The clan knew about it, naturally, but she didn’t really like to tell them since it always seemed to either alarm them or make them roll their eyes at her. Either way she ended up making them feel uneasy, the very thing she didn’t want her clan to feel, especially after the gathering.

Thistlespot clicked her tongue and looked back up at the tom, a small smile in her muzzle. “Shall we get going?” Now she was forcing herself to be calm and to focus on what was happening in this moment. The threat was still there, she couldn’t do a thing about it right now so she would worry about it when she went back to camp. But what exactly was she so afraid of? Yes, fire, it haunted her all day round. But what else did she fear? Not even she could tell for it was merely a feeling that something was there, waiting and prowling, patiently observing her clan with watchful and hungry eyes. Stop, just focus on Sleet-thorn, she sternly scolded herself. Maybe once she cleared her head, if it was possible to begin with, a solution would come to mind.

It's just a feeling.

"Okay then...just a feeling" he said.

At the mention of her feelings, he noticed her eyes slowly sunk down to look at her paws, and the words sort of spoke themselves. Sleet-thorn was familiar with this look, as he had seen it many times over the moons from all different sorts of cats. It was sort of a universal signal of distress, be it a kit that stole food from another, or a fellow warrior being driven into the depths of insanity. It was a little unsettling, seeing as how these signals were broadcast from his medicine cat, his healer. He had always had a sense of awe about the medicine cats, as they had a sort of special understanding of things, and to him, had a sense of invulnerability about them. Those who took care of others sometimes seemed like they were invincible.

Perhaps it's inevitable that everyone falls into such a state at sometime, regardless of their role, he thought.

Sleet-thorn knew her as one to keep to herself, but his loyalty to the clan encompassed a feeling that made him want to assist others when they fall a state like this. He hoped that the walk would be able to clear her head to some degree, and also hoped he would have an opportunity to help his clan mate later on.

He followed after her, as a response to her invitation to keep moving. For little while there was silence, as Sleet-thorn contemplated things like the breeze, the smells in the air, his walking companion, feeling the grass and soft mud and the mellow rays of the sun, and looking for signs of prey on the off chance there might be some about, but then another question arose, one he probably wouldn't need a council with the leader to ask.

"So, Thistlespot...have you always been clicking your tongue before you speak?"

Thistlespot was partly grateful for the silence that followed their steps. Her mind was not sharp enough right now to make interesting conversation but the lack of sounds and words other than those of the marshes just made her mind wander more and more. She tried to focus on small things, the mushiness in her paws, the breeze that caressed her fur and the lazy rays of the sun warming her fur. She really tried but it all felt off, her mind wouldn’t quiet down because for the first time since she was named a medicine cat she was stuck, she couldn’t do anything but wait. There was no clever solution to be found or a new remedy to discover and there was no frantic fight against sickness or injury, there was nothing but a feeling. Her sister once told her she didn’t know how she could deal with being a healer, ‘there is no enemy to claw or bite, the danger is invisible’ were her words but to Thistlespot it felt real and tangible in a very strange way.

What felt hopeless was the fight against feelings because there was no fight to begin with. ‘A blessing’ Bluetail would say, ‘a curse’ young Thistlespot muttered. She had learned to accept it, to deal with it, but it didn’t make it any easier. Feelings were the few things that managed to shake her foundations so much but she usually dealt with them fast. She had a feeling someone was sick? She just had to watch her clanmates and fish the one who had obvious discomfort. She had a feeling some danger was on their way? She would tell the warriors to be extra careful and to look for any signs of trouble. But this was different, this was big and it probably involved the whole forest. The feeling was overwhelming. A constant threat looming on top of her, like a rainy cloud that refused to go away. Nightmares and visions were not helping much.

So, Thistlespot...have you always been clicking your tongue before you speak?

Sleet-thorn’s voice brought her back to reality; it felt odd, a mew grounding her paws so fast. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to. She looked at him her eyes still just the slightest bit distracted. Out of habit she clicked her tongue like she usually did, she felt like the motion and the sound somehow made her thoughts clearer, as if a switch was being pressed to activate the speech function. Thinking and talking were two different things, she could think about anything and everything, but she could only speak words she previously selected and trimmed, her speech had to be planned. “Yes, since I was kit… I don’t really choose to do it,” she chuckled just a little it was weak but genuine “I simply do it”. Talking was good, it eased her, when was the last time she talked about anything not medicine or omen related? “We all have little quirks like that…” she trailed off and tilted her head, her eyes were more focused now. “You were always observant,” her voice was more relaxed not so strained by nervousness, she never really talked to the tom much after they both left the nursery but she could faintly remember the observant brown eyes of a white kit.



[OOC: Sorry for disappearing like that also sorry if this feels like me rambling, I just had to get it out of my system, it seems like not writing for a week equals longer than usual reply ]

Sleet-Thorn’s question seemed to move in slow motion through the air, hindered even more by the lethargic aura emanating from the sun, and the awkwardness and tension that had been present ever since they had run into each other. A sickly warm feeling traveled up his spine and bounced around in his head. It was the sort of feeling that happens when a kit makes the obviously wrong decision in some bad situation, and is about to face the consequences. The silence that proceeded wasn’t exactly the most favorable situation for Sleet-Thorn, but there was at least something going on. If there was one thing he knew about helping his fellow cats, it was that silence can be better than words. They were both off in their own little worlds, but they were off in their own little worlds, together. The question broke that flow, and time became unbearably slow as he waited for her reply to his question. He gave a quick look at Thistlespot and found that her mysterious thoughts were occupying her again. Seizing the opportunity, he hung his low and berated himself, and at the same time explored a lot of possibilities as to what to do next.

What is wrong with you? “Why do you click your tongue” Starclan above, you may as well have asked “How does it feel to never be able to love,” or “How come you never talk to anyone?”

His eyes darted this way and that, looking, calculating. His mental chastisement was over, and he decided simply to accept and deal with the consequences as they came. As soon as the question seemed to hit, he looked up and locked eyes with her. He started thinking about her, and he decided that Thistlespot was one of the most intriguing figures he had ever encountered. As much as they were similar, there were differences, some miniscule, and some that were light years apart.

Sleet-Thorn caught her mouth about to open, and when she spoke, all the tension seemed to melt away. Her voice was more relaxed, and she even gave a chuckle. Perhaps, talking was the right thing to do.

“We all have little quirks like that…you were always observant.”

That threw a wrench into Sleet-Thorn’s thoughts. While it was true, he never thought that anyone would notice it. In reality, he never gave it any thought at all. To Sleet-Thorn, it was just second nature, a product of his mental conditioning.

“Well…yeah, I suppose I am. I don’t really think about it either, I just seem to notice things. Things just sort of fall into place in my head. And I agree with you about the quirks. I think they make us interesting.”

He smiled. “I think they make us worth observing.”

(No problem! I suppose it’s my turn to apologize. I had to see my brother off , the lucky dude is going to Europe. I didn’t have any place to get on the computer, and the hotel had no WiFi)

The smile on Thistlespot’s muzzle was genuine, the cloud of invisible threats still hovered over her but she felt she was no longer alone. Sleet-thorn could not feel the danger, not the way she did, but he was still there, talking to her and making feel comfortable while not really realizing it. Or perhaps he knew and he was doing this on purpose, whatever reasons he had the medicine cat felt grateful. Her steps were no longer careful, as if she were stepping through her den after spilling delicate and precious herbs around, it still had that quiet care that always accompanied her but it was not a nervous tip-toe just her normal stride. Thistlespot listened carefully to his words, he was observant and perceptive, she felt he could make sense of even the most senseless of situations and therefore he should be considered reliable.

They were both observant in their way, the medicine cat could spot discomfort or a sign of sickness miles away and quickly find a cure or best course of action, the warrior noticed everything and could, in her eyes, take in any kind of scenario and quickly act upon it. She worked in closed spaces and he worked in the open, they were so similar and yet so different.

“I think they make us worth observing.”

Thistlespot nodded, pleased with his comment and completely agreeing with the notion. Cats were interesting beings, they all had their own story, personality, quirks, dreams, beliefs… they were all unique, completely different from each other but they were also so alike even if they could not see it or if the similarities were so unlikely they went unnoticed. That’s why Clans were a symbol of union; they found strength in their differences and bonds in their similarities, she felt that that strength and those bonds were about to be tested soon. Way too soon for her liking.

“I always found it intriguing, how cats could be so different and yet the same,” Thistlespot thought of her clanmates, she knew each one of them, how they talked, how they moved, how careless or careful they were, every single cat in the clan was special and important to her. From the joyful kit to the complaining elder, to the cats who acted out to those who acted in, the quiet and the noisy, the friendly and the shy, they were all her family. “I don’t think you know or notice,” she mused quietly, a kind smile on her muzzle “but every single one of you is special, I care for all of you, not because I’m a medicine cat or because it’s my duty, I simply do”. She remembered her days as a warrior apprentice, how she refused to attack her denmates even when they assured her it was perfectly safe. She didn’t like it, the idea of harming them was horrible, why would she harm anyone when they were so precious?


[OOC: Lucky! I always wanted to visit Europe! I'm glad you're back! ]

Ahh…relief.

Sleet-thorn was glad to finally have broken some ground with his walking partner. Things seemed to be moving and flowing, like a river. He felt as if he was free to pick and choose his words to have the greatest effect, like normal, instead of picking them out to dance around a social minefield. Thistlespot was relaxed, and as a result, so was he. Sleet-thorn instinctively put some of his weight forward, then a step. Then another. As their discourse began to flow, so did their motion. Sleet-thorn nodded along in agreement as they talked, focusing solely on her.

I always find it intriguing how cats could be so different and yet the same

Sleet-thorn agreed fully. Like himself and his healer, there were many among them that shared critical differences and parallel similarities.

“You know, I agree with that. It’s very interesting, and the same could almost be said for the clans themselves, as if each one had a personality of their own, clashing and complimenting the others. Its what makes me enjoy life here. There is so much to learn about others but at the same time, it’s nice to have some common ground.” He was taken back to his days of apprenticeship. Now that he thought about it, he could recall Thistlespot refusing to fight him, or any of his clan mates, while he himself relished in it. Whenever Sleet-thorn got the chance, he would spar with the other apprentices. In their movements, he observed a lot about his friends. Some had power, and some were quick, and some were weaker but could last, something special in each and every one. Every hit had something to say about their character, and it would come to light both in battle and out. Well...we took different paths for the same reason. That’s what gets me…how interesting is that.

Every single one of you is special, I care for all of you, not because I’m a medicine cat or because it’s my duty, I simply do.

When she said this, it brought another memory forward. Once, during a hunting patrol that Sleet-thorn was leading, a stray dog was found in their territory. It attacked, and Sleet-thorn was hurt. Under her care, he experienced firsthand, Thistlespot’s care for her clan mates. He felt like there wasn’t just some cat patching him up, it felt more like a warm and caring tenderness of someone trying to preserve a unique part of the world.

“Well…I can’t look out of your eyes, but I can definitely tell you that we notice. Whenever you heal our ailments and plug up our holes, it’s a lot more than just a treatment. We ought to show it more often, but we appreciate everything you’ve done.”