The Shining Sun (O-RC)

The newly named Chervilstorm stretched, yawned and left the nook. It had been her first proper sleep since receiving her name two nights ago and the fuzziness lingered just as stubbornly as the moss stuck to her long fur. She stopped in her tracks. Who put a wall there? She stood a whisker width from the wall. As the grogginess fell away she realized the wall had always been there; it was just her sleeping spot that had changed. She scuffed her paws against the rough coolness of the stone. A newly named warrior shouldn’t be getting lost less than a cat length from the den. There was nothing to do but blame it on sleep deprivation, flick a few more bits of moss from her fur and head to the main part of camp proper.

Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light creeping in from outside. Just from here it looked uncomfortably hot and painfully bright. For a moment she almost wished she was still an apprentice and could help her siblings soak moss or clean the nursery until ordered outside. She shook her head with a soft purr; warrior hood was well worth a few days of crushing heat. The silvery form of Hazelfoot was yawning and stretching. Chervilstorm made a beeline for her. A conversation with the medicine cat would seem important enough that no-one would order her outside, wouldn’t it?

“Hello, Hazelfoot.” She dipped her head and started grooming her shoulder. She hadn't had much to do with the medicine cat other than when injuries called for it so she was at a loss for what to say. “Have you been busy today?”

Hazelfoot glanced up at the sound of a voice and was greeted by the sight of one of the Clan's newest warriors. Excellent, an opportunity for conversation. That would hopefully keep her awake and active for at least as long as it lasted, although, with the way that she was feeling at the moment, there were no guarantees. After stretching out a kink in her neck, the silver tabby dipped her head in greeting while she desperately tried to recall what the cat before her had chosen as her warrior name. Starclan, she was so tired...

"Hello, Chervilstorm." That was it! She'd remembered! Names had never been Hazelfoot's strong suit, which was unfortunate to say the least. "Congratulations. Are you ready to embark upon a life of unending toil?" the medicine cat joked. She knew perfectly well that Chervilstorm would have been looking forward to becoming a warrior almost since she was born, and if she hadn't been ready then she wouldn't have been made a warrior. Personally, a warrior's life had never held a very strong appeal for her, so she had had patience, but her peers had been constantly impatient and on edge, waiting for the leader to grant them their warrior names.

"No, for once I haven't." Hazelfoot responded to the younger cat's query. "You all seem to be managing to keep yourselves in one piece lately. I feel rather useless." Oh, she complained bitterly when she had too much work to do, even if it was only in the privacy of her own head most of the time, but when she didn't have enough to do, then her mood was, if possible, even worse. What she really ought to do, she mused, was to find some method whereby she could spread out her workload more evenly. It would, of course, be somewhat difficult- if a cat came in bleeding severely, she couldn't tell him to come back when she had nothing to do. Besides, it would take all the interest out of life. "How about you?"

Chervilstorm. The new name still had an unfamiliar ring to it and made her cream pelt puff out a little with pride every time she heard it. What surprised her most was the lack of slipups with her name. It couldn’t be easy, she’d nearly stumbled over her siblings new names often enough, but it was as if the clan was collectively making the effort to welcome her as a warrior in each conversation. It made her feel part of something.

She looked up from her grooming, tongue half sticking out. Unending toil? Being a warrior. It was all she’d dreamed about from her mother’s belly until two days ago. How could anyone want anything else? Then again if anyone didn’t agree it would be Hazelfoot, the one cat who sidestepped that path. She drew her tongue back in. “I will be, as soon as the sun stops trying to boil me in my fur.” This was a sentiment she was sure they would agree on being long haired cats.

The fur along the back of Chervilstorm’s neck prickled. Was that a swipe at the way she’d gotten her pelt nearly torn off as a new apprentice? That was a long time ago, she reminded herself, it’s only a joke. She forced a purr of recognition Hazelfoot wasn’t that much older than she was so it was natural that her sense of humour wouldn’t have withered away to nothing. The question made her pause. She’d spent the last few moons training her very hardest and hunting until her legs were ready to give out. Without it she felt oddly empty. She looked carefully at Hazelfoot, too young to have been one of the warriors she’d ran to with her problems as a kit, too old to be one of the apprentices she’d trusted with her secrets as an apprentice. It was her siblings or Echostar she would normally confide in but those walls had to break down eventually. Who could she trust if not the medicine cat? “I haven’t been too busy. It’s different to what I imagined.” She began. “It’s like I poured every bit of energy I had into this and now… now I have it and it’s like I’m doing the exact same thing as before except now I’m only going through the motions.”

Flexing a kink out of her back, Hazelfoot lowered her head and began to carefully groom a paw, probably putting in rather more energy than was strictly necessary. Starclan, she felt so old today! Every inch of her body seemed to ache and complain at the slightest movement. The cold stone that she was lying on probably wasn't helping matters. But why did she feel so awful? She hadn't been overexerting herself lately. Quite the reverse, in fact; she had scarcely left camp in moons and just lately, she had had very little to do with herself even inside the camp. The Clan seemed to have been singularly healthy and careful of late, and she felt like a second tail- useless. Nothing better to do with herself than lie in the sun. The path of a warrior had never really appealed to her, but today she almost envied Chervilstorm. She would be doing something useful today. Feeding the Clan or protecting it from invasion.

Hazelfoot was shaken out of her somewhat gloomy thoughts by the young warrior's next words; a sentiment which she could certainly identify with. "It's certainly far too hot." she agreed, "That's the problem with long fur. In the winter it gets wet and dirty and weighs you down; in the summer you just get extremely hot."

She felt Chervilstorm's scrutiny of her; it sent a slight tingle coursing down her spine. Her first instinct was to hiss, but instead she forced herself to keep calm. Hazelfoot had never felt comfortable being watched by other cats, it automatically put her on high alert. Always expecting criticism, that was the trouble. She was always braced against an attack which would never materialise. The medicine cat wondered what her companion was thinking about. Something serious, to judge from her face and body language. Perhaps it was the life ahead of her with the Clan. Her own future was something of a mystery to Hazelfoot. As a medicine cat, she had reached the top of her own particular tree. A warrior could always aspire to be a deputy and leader some day. But she had risen as high as she could go.

She lifted her head as the other cat spoke again. Well... that was not entirely unexpected. Grooming a paw she waited until Chervilstorm had finished, then lowered the paw. After a pause, she began: "Well, it's only to be expected. You've been aspiring to be a warrior almost since you were born. Now you've got there, and... well, you're not sure where to go now. It'll wear off."

Had Chervilstorm said something wrong? The medicine cat began to groom herself with an odd intensity, almost as if she was trying to take her mind off something. Chervilstorm paused her own grooming, peered over at Hazelfoot and shuffled her paws uncomfortably. Was she supposed to say something? Eager to break away from this odd grooming ritual she latched onto Hazelfoot’s reply, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll take a little extra weight if it means I get to keep warm. I really don’t know how short haired cats handle the cold.” She’d still been a kitten last time winter hit but the memory of shivering against her littermates while the stone walls fought to leech their warmth remained sharp. She couldn’t help but hope the extra weight and muscle she’d put on these past moons would help keep the chill at bay next time.

Chervilstorm found herself holding herself taunt, responding to some imperceptible change in the air. She scuffed her paws against the cool stone. The camp smelled the same as ever; the new tension must have come from some small shift in Hazelfoot. Chervilstorm started flattening down a patch of fur against her leg. This shift to her was something she associated with her mother. After moons bearing the blunt of her mother’s harsh words and never quite feeling good enough it wasn’t a pleasant association. When she looked up a moment later Hazelfoot seemed calm as ever. She took a deep breath. She was a warrior; she could handle a little tension in the air.

Aspiring to be a warrior almost since you were born. Much as it felt like she’d always had this burning desire, as Hazelfoot said, it must have begun in the early days at her mother’s belly, spurred by the desire to earn mother’s recognition. Ever since Echostar had granted her name taunts that she wasn't good enough to be a warrior rung empty. Even understanding it a little better the weightlessness was still unnerving. She couldn’t be the only new warrior who ever felt it. Feeling a little silly she spoke once more. “I guess I’m not the first cat to feel this way. You must get cats running to you with this sort of thing all the time. As you said, I'm sure it will pass.”

Eager to change the subject she scrambled for any other thread of conversation. “So, this prey going missing along the stream border, have you...?” For a moment she was going to ask if the medicine cat had heard anything from Starclan but the rest of the question died on her lips. She was the last cat Hazelfoot would tell. Feeling more and more like a bumbling apprentice by the minute she tried to salvage the thread of her thoughts. “Have you ever heard about anything like this happening before?”

Hazelfoot chuckled and nodded at Chervilstorm's comment. "That is true." she remarked. "I couldn't get through winter with short fur; it would probably kill me! Although I'm not sure that this heat won't do the same, but more slowly..." She shifted position on the stone of the floor; it was growing warm beneath her body and she needed to be cold at this moment. It was far too hot for her, and so any vestiges of chilliness which she could draw from her surroundings here welcome. Perhaps she should go and lie in a pool somewhere... But no; likely, the water would have been warmed by the sun which it was exposed to all day, and so she would gain nothing from it. Also, her pelt would become heavy and waterlogged, and she would have to drag it around with her until it dried. Also, she couldn't be bothered.

Hazelfoot flexed her paws slightly, still fighting off sleep. The heat had a somewhat soporific effect, and she was always tired- even if she had nothing to do all day, she could guarantee that some cat would wake her up in the middle of the night and then insist on holding a very long conversation with her while she nodded in what she hoped were the appropriate places and yawned as quietly as possible, hoping that they would leave her in peace to finish sleeping, however unlikely that was.

"No, I don't, actually." Hazelfoot mewed, taking care to keep her tone neutral since this was one thing that worried her. Cat's didn't seem to come to her with their problems the same way that they had when her mentor had held the position. When she was an apprentice, she remembered several times that cats had come in to speak urgently with him during the night- when she had asked what had happened, she'd got the stock reply: 'It's personal'. So she'd gone back to sleep. But she personally had hardly been spoken to on personal issues at all, which was worrying. It was, after all, a part of her job. It was why she was here.

She glanced around as the next question was forthcoming. For a moment, she thought that Chervilstorm was going to ask about Starclan, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of the query was revealed. Because the fact was, she hadn't[/b] heard from Starclan, and that was worrying her a great deal. Surely there must be something that she could be told? The vanishing of prey was becoming a big problem, and she had a feeling that sooner or later, Echostar would be asking her questions that she couldn't answer. She needed to speak with Laurelheart soon, though she was putting it off. The truth was, she didn't want to admit defeat.

But that wasn't the question, and so she shifted her focus. "Prey goes missing all the time." she remarked non-committally. "Loners, rogues, badgers, foxes... But nothing on this scale. It's worrying, Chervilstorm. Very worrying." 

Chervilstorm nodded. “It all comes down to whether you prefer ending up as an ice block or boiling alive in your fur.” In the present, stifling heat being frozen solid was almost a soothing concept but the young warrior was sure that when winter came she would be singing a different tune; in much the same way she’d missed the warmth and closeness of her siblings when the heat first came rolling in. The battle with her moss strewn, tousled fur was finally complete she sat up straight for the first time since sitting down. Kestrelheart and Fluttershine would have been done almost the moment they left the den, and look tidier to boot. Perhaps freezing in winter wouldn’t be so bad if it meant next to no grooming and being better equipped for this heat.

You don’t? Her ears pricked forwards. Why didn’t they? Cats had been running to Dawnspiral* with their worries for as long as Chervilstorm could remember. She hadn’t been amongst them, up until recently determination to shoulder her troubles alone had always won out against her insecurities, but she’d watched as unharmed cats left the medicine cat den with lighter steps and what looked like lighter hearts. Then again, Dawnspiral had been older and always had a quiet sort of approachability. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that could be taught like the hunter’s crouch or fighting moves. Hazelfoot didn’t seem too concerned about it though, so Chervilstorm kept her quiet which seemed to only build upon the awkwardness. 

The pointed she-cat let out a soft huff and started attempting to knead the floor again, claws scraping harshly against the stone. The elders were worried. The older warriors carried tension with them constantly. She’d sensed Echostar growing more and more concerned over the last few moons of her apprenticeship. And here Hazelfoot was admitting it directly. It was enough to scare any brand new warrior and it was with great difficulty Chervilstorm kept from visibly shaking. A new scale of prey loss meant a new level of danger. She remembered enough of her last winter to know they couldn’t afford that level of danger as the seasons changed.

“I kind of hoped it was just the elders and senior warriors exaggerating to scare us. It wouldn’t be the first time they pulled something like that on brand new warriors. But...” She swallowed and when she next spoke her voice was stronger, almost an order. “Can’t you do something!? Beg starclan to intervene or… something?”

(*She was the last medicine cat but the whole thing is pretty convoluted. )

Hazelfoot inclined her head slightly. "Very true, very true." she agreed. Personally, she would much prefer some kind of happy medium; such a thing did exist. After all, there were many cats with fur which was neither excessively long nor excessively short. Oh, they complained of course; they were still too hot in the summer and still too cold in the winter, but they didn't suffer to the extremes that she and Chervilstorm did. Ending up as an ice block sounded like rather an attractive prospect right now- it would certainly cool her down. Although she couldn't imagine any ice lasting long in this heat, it would have melted within an hour. Possibly a somewhat worrying prospect if you happened to be that ice, she suspected.

The silver tabby dipped her head to avoid meeting the younger cat's gaze as she saw her ears move forwards. It was a point that she really didn't want to discuss, and she hoped that Chervilstorm got the message. If she had to discuss the matter at all, she would do so with her opposite number, Laurelheart, who would at least have some understanding of what she was talking about, she hoped. Personally, she suspected that it was... well, a personal issue. She wasn't a particularly likable or approachable cat, at least in her own opinion. Certainly, she had never really been approached,
and there must be some reason for that. With any luck, it would be something that she might be able to correct.

Hazelfoot's own ears pricked at the harsh sound of claws grating on stone. A tiny shiver ran right down the she-cat's spine. The sound provoked an adverse reaction within her for some reason beyond her comprehension. It always had, which was unfortunate given that the Clan lived in a cave, and there were plenty of claws around just waiting to attempt to dig into the hard surface of the rock that surrounded them from newleaf through to leafbare. Constantly present, never changing.

The cat noted her companion's change in tone, and flattened her ears ever so slightly. No cat spoke to her like that! She might not be much good as a counsellor, but she was a perfectly competent medicine cat, and as such, she was surely owed some degree of respect! But Hazelfoot was fully aware that she had placed herself in a false position here, and so she was careful not to show any hint of her feelings in her tone. "Starclan doesn't work in that way. Begging will get me nowhere. If there's something I need to know, then they will tell me. Otherwise, they will remain silent." And they had.

Hazelfoot dipper her head, almost as if ducking away from the topic and it was this slight show of discomfort that proved Chervilstorm had made the right decision in skirting around the topic. If she wanted to talk she would go to… whoever medicine cats ran to with their problems. It must be oddly lonely living without the support network of friends and siblings she’d trained alongside, and herformer mentor that Chervilstorm took for granted. She looked back at her paws. It was best to let the matter die.

When the medicine cat spoke her tone was level, devoid of any of the anger or concern Chervilstorm anticipated. Was this the same kind of show of calm a medicine cat put on for the loved ones of patients, those who could do nothing to help and couldn’t handle the truth? Fur prickled across her cheeks as her ears flattened down further. “We have to do something! We can’t just sit around and wait for the prey to be eaten out from under us.”

White paws stilled against the dusky stone. Had she really meant for the words to come out like that? A part of her had. The realization flushed hot across her cheeks. A part of her wanted to see Hazelfoot to break the façade of calm; to soothe her knotted belly by giving voice to the fears nestled there. She should apologize but she couldn’t quite force out the words. She was a warrior now, an adult; she should have a voice in the clan and an ear to its workings. She could handle more than vague statements and a lesson on the inner workings of Starclan. Lifting her eyes, she looked dead ahead at Hazelfoot, searching for the older she-cat’s eyes.