[ brb, i gotta save jaypaw ]

[Slug]

The moment Stormclaw entered the medicine cat with a half-conscious Jaypaw, Sandpaw stopped his herb sorting, eyed Jaypaw's injured leg, and simply nodded his head toward one of the patient nests. "Place him there, Stormclaw. I will see to him." He droned, turning away from the two and scanning the herbs before him.

Jaypaw's leg was in a funny angle, no doubt the limb having been broken, and the wound on it was definitely a bite wound, though the size of the bite indicated that it had no doubt been either a badger, or some creature similar to one.

His eyes landed on a comfrey root. His mentor had told him this herb could mend broken bones, if he recalled correctly, but only if it was chewed into a poultice. However, Sandpaw wouldn't use that, yet. He needed to rid of the possibility that Jaypaw's wound could become infected.

Looking over his shoulder at the apprentice, Sandpaw grimaced to himself. Jaypaw needed to be tended to, not thought about!

Pawing a comfrey root and some (unfortunately somewhat dried) marigold leaves from the line of herbs, Sandpaw pushed them over to Jaypaw's nest and got to work.

And then he realized something: how did he stop the bleeding?

For once in his life, an emotion crossed the ginger tabby's features, his fear making his orange eyes widen. How could he have forgotten something so important?! It wasn't like him to forget! He never, ever forgot! Why now? Why, why, why?

Forcing his panic down with a gulp, Sandpaw racked his brain for information. What stopped the bleeding? What? It wouldn't matter if he stopped an infection, or if he helped mended Jaypaw's broken leg, because if Jaypaw bled too much, he would die from blood loss.

Staring at Jaypaw's oozing leg with his ears back, Sandpaw decided to do something he never did before: pray. Pray to whom? Not Starclan, they didn't exist. Why was he praying, anyway? It's not like anyone could help him. His mentor was off in the fields, trying to scavenge for any herbs left over in the snow. Of course, it would be futile, but--

'Cobwebs'.

Sandpaw jumped at the unexpected thought, then quickly replaying the word in his mind, Sandpaw scrambled to find some cobwebs in his den, rummaging all over the place for the sticky threads.

Bingo!

Without a second thought, Sandpaw pawed at the bunch of cobwebs, the substance clinging to his pad like a bad smell. He hopped over back to Jaypaw, his cobweb covered paw held carefully in the air as he licked up the marigold leaves and began chewing quickly.

He had already wasted enough time!

Spitting the pulp onto the cobweb covered paw, Sandpaw then bended down and snapped at the comfrey root, teeth catching the herb. Straightening, he tilted his head back slightly, chewing faster than before. 'No time, no time, no time...'

He spat the chewed up herb onto his held up paw, then reached over and carefully, and hopefully gently, rubbing the mess on his paw onto Jaypaw's leg, the poultices and cobwebs thankfully sticking the apprentice's bloody wound with ease.

With a heaving gasp, Sandpaw collapsed onto his rump, whiskers quivering slightly.

As he watched Jaypaw's stomach rise and fall with every breath, Sandpaw, once again his emotionless self, said dully for any listening MeadowClanners: "I pray to Starclan that your leg will mend in time, Jaypaw, and no infection will come for you."

[Crowzerplorodon]

You're not good enough, Sam!

You're pathetic, no twoleg would ever want you.

That fur! What a mess, it's so ugly.

Jaypaw had never experienced death, nor dreams this unpleasant. But at least he was alive if he was dreaming, right? Or was death some never ending dream, your worst memories played out for you like a twoleg film strip? He could still remember his old twolegs watching movies on their box. He was so young, though... How could he ever remember such things? Were they images his mind formulated, then? Strung together by vague thoughts of twolegs and their monstrosity? … Or were they real memories? Impossible, twolegs couldn't make light come of a box... Light came from the sun... The stars, the moon, even cats' eyes. Not a box...

The apprentice shifted uncomfortably, eyes clenched tightly. The dreams wouldn't stop, and that was his biggest problem right now. He couldn't deal with these dreams, the memories. His siblings, mocking him for looking different, for not being wanted by their twolegs. Oh his twolegs... Jaypaw could see their sharp, small eyes. The flashes of color mingled with hate and all sorts of other negative emotions. He knew from a young age they didn't want him, right? It had always been on his mind... He had always doubted.

And then the dreams changed, flashed to show his father, and his uncle, the two ginger toms offering a way out of this mess. Sam had always thought that was weird. He looked nothing like the rogues, acted nothing like them, and they wanted him more than anyone else. It was only natural that he went along. He never would know the pain his mother felt when he left, or the pain his twolegs had when they woke up to see their last kitten gone. His illusions of dislike were just that – illusions.

The images moved faster now. His first hunt, his first fight. Red attacking a fox that threatened him, Icarus killing the beast before it slayed his brother. The trio traveling to MeadowClan. Staying in the clan, only to leave. Sam staying, realizing that this was his place. His apprentice ceremony, Mistystream, Spottedfoot, and all his clan mates. The images blended faster now, his memories flocking by like geese who migrated. And then they stopped, pausing perfectly on the scene that was too fresh, to raw. Bramblefang on the ground, bleeding, the badger above him, his frantic attempts to chase off the beast... Darkness.

Jaypaw shot up, wide awake, thanks to the pain up his leg. The apprentice hardly held in the groan that escaped his maw, collapsing his head back on the nest. Scents swirled around him all of a sudden, like his nose cleared after ages of it being clogged. Herbs... Plants, Medicine – the Medicine Cat den? He was safe? Okay? Someone had dragged him back here... Who? What did he miss? How long was he out? His brain muddled with the question, only to smooth out into one. “Bramblefang?” He coughed, his throat too dry.

ooc;
lameee. e.e

[Slug]

Sandpaw watched with worry gnawing at his heart as Jaypaw tossed and turned in his sleep, obviously battling some sort of nightmare. Or was this a sign of some form of fever? If it was, then Sandpaw could do nothing about that but try and comfort the young apprentice. Somehow. His mentor had yet to teach him about a lot of things, including how to stop a fever.

Gazing at the fitful body of the other MeadowClanner, Sandpaw edged closer, a stubborn look on his face. He had to do something! He couldn't watch any longer. It bothered the ginger tom greatly to just sit there while his clanmate was enduring one of the worst forms of torture there could be. Fevers and nightmares were nasty things, especially when put together, and were one of Sandpaw's worst enemies. He dreamed almost every night about watching his clanmates die. He dreamed that he could not help them, and that they were just too far away from him, or there was some obstacle stopping Sandpaw from healing them. It was like it was now: the apprentice before him was hurt, and he knew nothing about fevers, so he could not help him. Well, correctly, at least.

Because he would be damned if he was going to leave this cat in the paws of a non-existent dead cats!

"Jaypa-- MERROW!" Sandpaw cried when Jaypaw lifted his head abruptly, his eyes wide. After a few moments, the apprentice groaned and let his head fall back to his nest. Calming his hiccuping heart, Sandpaw's face went blank as the apprentice asked "Bramblefang?"

"...Is dead." Sandpaw answered, tone lacking emotion. He stared down at the apprentice's face, eyes dull. "Our leader has appointed a new deputy, and you, Jaypaw, will not preform any apprentice duties until your leg has fully healed. And when it is, I am not sure you will be able to become a warrior. Your leg is broken, and might heal in an angle that will prevent you from becoming a warrior. However, to hopefully stop this from happening, when your wound has closed, you will start exercising your leg so it mends properly. Until then, rest." With a flick of his tail, he turned away from the apprentice, hiding the guilty look on his face.

Way to be a downer, Sandpaw.

ooc: Omfg. Mine is worse. e.e /lacking muse

[Crowzerplorodon]

Dead?

Dead?

Dead?

… What the hell did that mean?! What did Sandpaw mean Bramblefang was dead? He just couldn't be! Jaypaw was alive, right? If they could save him, why couldn't they save Bramblefang? Why could they save the strong, larger, older, smarter, braver cat? Why leave the meager apprentice to live while StarClan carted off the soul of the one cat the clan needed almost as much as they needed Cedarstar? This wasn't right! It couldn't be right! … Right?

Jaypaw let out a choking sob. In that moment, he knew it was right. Well, not right, because death was never right, but true. Bramblefang was dead, his body was probably being buried or already under the earth. And the clan was probably grieving while he sobbed pathetically in this bed of moss, dust, and dried blood. Already a new deputy, Sandpaw had said. Cedarstar had gotten right to things, didn't he... Who was it that brought him back? Who was deputy now? How long had he been out? Was it raining out? Was StarClan crying along with MeadowClan and why the hell did he have so many questions! He couldn't ask any, his throat was too sore. It was sore and dry and he could feel blood in it from all his dry sobs and heaves. Finally, he cried, feeling the fur around his eyes mat with salty tears.

“W-who's deputy now?” He croaked out, forcing himself to calm down and stop shaking so much. “And... A-any chance I c-could still be a w-warrior?” It'd be heartbreaking if he couldn't, because now all he wanted to do was avenge Bramblefang. If he couldn't be a warrior, there was no way he could do that. Judging by Sandpaw's tone, though, the change was extremely unlikely. Then again, Sandpaw always sounded like that. It must've been hard... Sounding like you didn't care all the time. Sandpaw cared, Jaypaw knew he did, that was why he was a medicine cat apprentice. You didn't do that if you didn't care.

“Sorry for starling you,” he whispered as an afterthought.

[/blockquote]

[Slug]

The shocked silence from Jaypaw was like the quiet before the storm, but Sandpaw prepared himself for that storm. He prepared, and prepared, and prepared--

That one, choking sob broke through Sandpaw's wall of ice, and the ginger feline shuddered, shoulders shaking for a moment while his ears pressed themselves against his head, trying to block out the sobbing. He had to keep control of himself, because at least one of them had to be calm-- had to keep their head while the other grieved. "I'm sorry," The tom murmured, looking over his shoulder at Jaypaw. "But it is what it is."

Sandpaw had not been close to Bramblefang-- he had not been close to anyone at all, but he felt that this death caused more sorrows than a massacre, and he could do nothing but watch as his clanmate went through that sorrow-- the pain and heartache of losing someone close. He understood this feeling all too well, and knew that it was a lonely road to take back to recovery. Yes, you had others to help you when you fell, but it was only your own determination that helped you when you were lost on the road.

But it still hurt him to watch.

W-who's the deputy now? Jaypaw finally croaked, and Sandpaw took a deep breath, composing himself. And... A-any chance I c-could still be a w-warrior?

"Rabbitstep is our deputy." He answered, then paused for a moment, gazing at Jaypaw with empty eyes. "You have every chance you need, Jaypaw, just as long as you rest and allow yourself to recover." Sandpaw padded over to the apprentice, and sat down next to his nest. "It will take time and patience, but goods things come to those who wait." He quoted, voice toneless.

From there, the two of them sat in silence, lost to their thoughts until Jaypaw finally spoke.

Sorry for starling you,

Sandpaw stared down at the apprentice, orange eyes dull. "Apologies are only for when you have done something wrong, Jaypaw. You have done nothing wrong."

[Crowzerplorodon]

Jaypaw stared back at Sandpaw's dull, orange eyes, countering their lifelessness with a spark of determination. He didn't break contact, wondering – only for a moment – if Sandpaw was really as empty as he was coming off. Surely not. No one with a connection to StarClan could be empty inside. Opening his maw, the apprentice attempted to form the words to make a question, but nothing came out. In reality, he didn't want to know if Sandpaw was as empty as he was pretending to be. But in his mind, Jaypaw played it off as a sign. StarClan didn't want him to know. Their representation on Earth would forever be a mystery.

Oh but if he could only know.

“Rabbitstep is a good warrior,” he agreed politely, still staring intently at the medicine cat. Rabbitstep really was a good warrior. Not as good as Bramblefang to Jaypaw, but good enough to keep MeadowClan going. And he had just been given kits from a lovely mate. The tom must be feeling on top of the world right now. Unlike Jaypaw who, currently, felt like someone had plucked him from between their paws and threw him in the mud. The only bonus was that Sandpaw had said he could still be a warrior. Patience and rest, Jaypaw could do that. He'd do that as long as he'd have to if it meant proving himself as a warrior. Even if it took moons more, Jaypaw would keep going until he received his warrior name and avenged Bramblefang.

“But I have,” he muttered, finally turning his head to break contact with the medicine cat. “So much...” Recounting the battle, Jaypaw could find so many times when he had done the wrong thing. All and all it led up to Bramblefang's death, Jaypaw knew that much. He wouldn't say it, he knew what would happen. Others would try to convince him he was wrong and that it wasn't his fault when it was. 'Tough cookies' Tigertail would say. Foxflower would mention how Bramblefang wouldn't want him to feel that way. Sandpaw would probably call him illogical – though he couldn't really speak for the medicine cat.

Speaking of which, Jaypaw still had several questions for the light colored cat. “When will I be able to walk around? No... warrior things. Just walking? Has anyone come in yet? The unspoken Mistystream was made obvious with the way Jaypaw looked around as he spoke. “Was the badger killed? Who found us? Do the other clans know? How long have I been out?”

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