LYNXPELT - Head Medicine Cat of PineClan

[prowler.]

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theme song - will.i.am:the traveling song

Name | Lynx Lynxpelt

Gender | Tom

Age | 40 moons old

Rank | N/A Head Medicine Cat

Beliefs | Lynxpelt is a cat of many beliefs, though he tends to keep them more to himself than vocally debating them. It has always been his belief that StarClan has never existed, though unlike some of his clan-mates does not think it a wasted belief for those cats that do have that faith. He considers the majority of spiritual devotions as attempts to calm the masses and reassure themselves that the unknown is not unknown to them, that something really lies in the great beyond. Really, Lynxpelt believes that none of them know - nor can they ever truly know for certain. He is a cat that believes in mercy however, which makes his position so appropriate, not that he ever has that much chance to use this mercy for anything more than putting his patients out of their pain and misery. He believes in coincidence and luck, though he does not believe that luck can be influenced by anything without cheating. On the path of destiny, he believes that a cat does what they can, but ultimately their path is shaped before them - for example, he was born far away from where he now resides, but it was always here that he would come to, only the journey would change.

Clan | Rogue PineClan

Parents | His mother was Ash (NP, Rogue) and his father was Cougar (NP, Rogue)

Siblings | Only child.

Other Kin | None as far as he knows, though he may have nieces and nephews for all he's aware.

Mate | Previously Fate (NP), now None.
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Kits | (See history for further details) Lynxpelt has a litter of kits named Sky, Lion, Talon and Moss somewhere in the world, though he does not know their genders, nor if in fact they still live - or if they ever lived.

Apprentice/Mentor | Due to unusual circumstances of being there at the clan's time of formation, Lynxpelt was never mentored, joining the clan with a vast knowledge of herbs. He immediately made himself useful as a Medicine Cat and thus was instantaneously the right profession for him. He had an apprentice called Smallpaw (NP), who unfortunately died shortly into her training through poisoning herself. He now mentors Crowpaw.

Appearance | The first thing that comes to mind when you see Lynxpelt is "my, what a lynx-looking cat" and, well, there you have the origin of his namesake. With coarse, mid-length gray fur covering his body and black-tipped ears Lynxpelt does indeed have a similar likeness to a lynx in the structure of his pelt. His body though is quite different, his legs are not so hefty and thick, he does have a tail, albeit a short one and his face has a differently shaped face, with smaller, deeper-set eyes. Though an ashen-gray coats the majority of his pelt, Lynxpelt's underbelly is colored a lighter, almost cream-tone, the same tone is also visible from his throat to his high cheek bones, this fur somewhat softer and smoother than it's gray brethren. An unusual spotted pattern covers the outsides of Lynxpelt's front legs, but stops there.

One of the signature symbols of Lynxpelt that defines him as a bit different to most cats and more similar to his namesake is his ears - though not pointed or rounded as a lynxes are, the ears continue as a sleek gray right up until he tip, where they are tinged black. Surrounding this obsidian symbol is an odd golden-tinge to his previously gray fur, though only continuing down the ears for about 5cm before dissipating - possibly a trait of his fathers. On Lynxpelt's face early signs of aging - a few white and silver streaks to his cheeks and a particularly visible silver streak along his maw. Though all of Lynxpelt's lower jaw is that same cream-white color, the colors fit quite subtly together, almost naturally. That same sign of aging - the silver and white streaking - also continues to his tail.

Now Lynxpelt's tail is quite something else, as a normal tail it might have been grandiose, slender, quite thick but with short hair. What remains of what could have been a wondrous tail is an unflattering half-stump, where his tail has obviously been ripped at by some creature, the bottom scarred whilst fur has grown over the rest, that same unusual spotted pattern entering the gray at places. Moving away from his rather scarring feature, Lynxpelt's body structure is quite astounding. A large tomcat he is laced with lean, old muscle that seems as if the cat would not be the same without it. Just looking at Lynxpelt almost gives you the impression of an experienced warrior rather than a herbalist, war-torn, with scars lacing beneath his fur - some visible from where the fur refused to grow. Lynxpelt says little about these, they were his "tokens of the past and his survival", that is all.

In a sense, it would be fair to say that Lynxpelt is good-looking, in a haggard, wild, fierce sort of way. Then again, he was probably more of a looker in his slightly younger days - not that he's actually entirely that old, he's of a good age, yes, but his signs of ageing are quite early. He doesn't really mind though, feeling it is his token of life to look older, as proof that he has trekked this world for longer than others. It makes him look sophisticated, if rugged, but also adds to the cold outer-Lynxpelt image, cut off, fairly unapproachable, serious and somewhat ominous. In Lynxpelt's worn arsenal are his long, sharp teeth, which curve neatly and are stained lightly with blood from many tastes of fresh-kill. Other than his intelligence, wit and wisdom his only other weapon are his claws, yellowed and worn from many moons of use, but all the same, impressive looking in their unbreakably solid appearance.

Lynxpelt's eyes are something quite uncanny, there is a wild light in those eyes, something untamable and free, despite his curt manner and lack of words. His eyes are shaped as perfect circles, the lining around them a thick black. In color, they could only be described as the lovechild of gold and amber, solid and unflinching. But beneath these eyes, there lies a mouth, and from this mouth - though not often - words will spill in the voice that belongs to Lynxpelt. Lynxpelt's voice is one that seems almost complex in it's multi-toned articulance. His words seem flowing and eloquent, no matter how simple the phrase, yet have a harsh grit to them, a rough lumbering side also, not dissimilar to the accents of those from the cold scandinavian lands. This of course is impossible, as Lynxpelt has never visited scandinavia, despite his interest in it from two-leg history. All the same, this is the voice he possesses, no matter how he came to acquire it.


Personality | Lynxpelt has always seemed a strange cat to the rest of the clan in the way of his personality. Solitary, he prefers to work alone, disliking youth in particular, though not fond of the prattling of elders either. He dislikes the waste of words, why waste time talking when you could be spending time doing. Lynxpelt rarely even reveals anything about himself, it took much to actually even get from Lynxpelt that he was a "traveler" from "far away". Not many people really know much about him even to this day - he doesn't seem to have any family or ties near, he's not particularly close to anyone and he doesn't apparently have much time for friends or kind words.

There does seem to be another side to Lynxpelt though, which is faint, but still thriving. The side of a warrior, it almost seems to some cat as if Lynxpelt was a herbalist given the wrong body and form - he was given the body and spirit of a warrior, but not the mind. Brave and bold with all his heart, Lynxpelt would willingly die for his clan and even would kill himself out of shame if he were to fail them with a great dishonour. He sometimes talks of traditions of "others" that are "not like us" who, upon failing in a battle, take sword to themselves and kill themselves with it, rather than bear such shame. Well, he's not that extreme himself, as he figures so long as he has remote worth, he will be there for his clan (unless their wish dictates otherwise), little though they really mean to him - honestly, what allegiance forces him there but his own trust and dependability. Nothing, really, but those alone are enough for cats that can see the character of a cat - Lynxpelt is not one to simply turn and run away from the endeavors he is involved in.

Dependable, Lynxpelt is a cat of multiple facets. In a sense, he is strong and reckless, acting before thinking in the heat of the moment, defending his clan with his soul. In the other sense, he is wily, darkly intelligent and ominous, eradicating any foes or strategical setback on smarts alone. Though the latter normally prevails in Lynxpelt, due to the specifications of his job, there is something that can't help you think of two warring forces within Lynxpelt. The warrior and the scholar, each vying to keep control of the physical body and the brain. As previously mentioned, he is not a talkative cat nor one of many words, but if he speaks - you should probably be listening, as he does not waste time repeating or saying unimportant things, in particular training situations, this can prove difficult.

If a cat were ever to challenge Lynxpelt - though it has yet to happen, his ominous mystery normally discouraging others from trying anything remotely like it - they would find themselves matched with wit and a cunning creature, who can slip and slide out of your grip until before you realize it, you've lost the battle, be it of words or strength. When his intelligent side does surface however, Lynxpelt is quite a deep character, often thoughtful and contemplative, though never apparently arriving at a new discovery, assumption or form of enlightenment. Curt in his mannerisms Lynxpelt is not one to waste time. However, his advision and guidance - in particular for matters of travel or foreign herbs or mission - is inexplicably valuable. Wise beyond his years, Lynxpelt almost has a hauntedness around himself, though this is carefully shrouded behind his other, stronger traits.

Skills | Lynxpelt's skills range far and wide from his experience in the world. From many days of travel he has high endurance and therefore can go for several days without food and in cases water. His most important and impressive talent though is that of herbs, his naturally efficient memory means that he can know a plant just by glancing at it - and not just the local plants, either. With a huge database of herbs and their medicinal - and otherwise, less medicinal than offensive or fortifying types - properties, Lynxpelt is probably the cat the talk to about herbs if you're going on a journey out of the usual territory, provided he's feeling in a giving mood. Having lived in mountainous areas and desert-like plains, he is also a skillful climber, though he can get quite stifled beneath his thick fur, which he usually takes shedding herbs to thin his coat if he knows he is entering similar types of conditions.

Meticulous with his work and any task to hand that Lynxpelt is assigned, he will see things to be perfect and through to the end. A quiet cat, he is probably not the cat you want to go spilling your heart over to, as though he is sturdy and will not tell your secret - he's not exactly likely to show a high threshold of patience for your woes. His other failing point is that though his physical structure has him build for long sustaining of a regulated speed, Lynxpelt's sheer mass and structure make him not the best runner, that coupled with age means that if you're looking for a messenger... he'd probably not the cat you'd have first in mind. The thing that one would immediately see from looking at Lynxpelt - normally assuming he's a warrior because of such - is his muscle, though lean, he is a naturally strong cat, built to survive against the harshest natural enemies. This same strength lends him the ability to propel himself quickly and strongly through water, though he's not streamlined and does in fact hate water, not out of fear, but for it's clingy, oppressive, sucking properties.


History | Though nobody knows Lynxpelt's entire history except himself, it is indeed long and stretched out across many locations. See the map at the bottom of the page for a real (though not 100% correct) image of his journey, from A at the start, to B where he resides currently.

Lynxpelt was born in the wilderness of the harsh lands of Utah, his parents had only one kit - him, of course - and his name was fairly indisputable. Lynx. His unusual markings came from his father, who had similar ones but in a more sandy-golden shade instead of gray, his mother was a gray she-cat with thick, coarse fur. His father's name was Cougar whilst his mother's name was Ash. Unlike the typical tragic story of what happens to most rogue couples kits, his parents decided they would raise Lynx and raise him well. They were nomads of the desert, always seeking something better, never really finding much, but Cougar had lately had another one of his wild ideas about following the cacti. Reluctantly, Ash had agreed, and the pair of them had actually been progressing gradually to better, more fruitful terrains.

The couple never really had ever wanted to settle down and stay in one place, both couldn't really stand staying still let alone living somewhere permanently. No, they were born to explore and enjoy the fruits of the world. Lynx's kithood passed in a bit of a daze, they didn't stop the traveling after his birth, carrying him until the moment he could walk and see, where his mother set him down and slowed the pace. In no time, he was walking as confidently as they, only more tired quicker - a matter they decided would be resolved only in time. The terrain first became swampy as they progressed, then fieldy, then foresty, before dissipating out again to desert landscapes. As they traveled, Lynx acquired a habit that his parents did neither know of nor were they fond of. He would go out recognizing and exploring herbs, before even testing them himself.

Naturally, his mother had given him all the warnings that a mother gives to her child "these are deathberries and deadly" and even other, unheard of forest plants "this is wartroot, if you eat it, it will kill you". At a young age, Lynx had a mastered concept of death and life, often seeing creatures perish out on the plains from exhaustion or dehydration, or even to the creatures of the wilderness. His passion grew for herbs and his parents finally discovered when Ash stumbled and grazed her knee, only for the barely-older-than-a-kit Lynx to dash to her side with poppy seeds. At first, he was encouraged and praised for his newfound interest, little did he know, this approval would quickly fade to frustration and impatience. Often as they moved across the land, he would stop to pick rare herbs rather than keep trekking, herbs that they couldn't even carry except in their mouths.

Of course, his parents taught him life skills too, his father handled the dangerous things and survival things - don't eat these, these creatures are dangerous, if you see, this is how you hunt x animal. The whole story. His mother however settled the more inquisitive side of Lynx, she told him of the world, stories, of the starry sky and taught him emotion - what love meant, mercy, fun. Lynx adored these emotions and took pleasure in them frequently. The trio rarely met anyone out on the path, not feline, anyway, occasionally a beetle would scurry by and his dad would either pounce upon or shake his head with a frown, which Lynx learned would mean "poisonous".

He was a skilled, adventurous young cat, just past apprentice age, when the three of them stumbled quite accidentally upon another of their kind. This was the first cat outside of his family that Lynx had ever seen and it fascinated him. She looked like road kill, passed out on the side of the road, starving, terribly thin from such, her pelt covered in the desert's dust and obviously not far from death. And to him, she was beautiful - did all other cats look like this? His parents would much rather have simply walked on, never looking back, but Lynx pleaded with them, convinced them to stay in the area for just a night, rest while the heat of the day was ebbed away. Reluctantly, they complied, and Lynx got his chance. He returned to the other feline with a token of friendship, a rattlesnake he caught quickly and with ease as it cooled off in the shade.

When he approached her he saw she was barely conscious even now and as he offered her the snake, she could barely lift her head in thanks, though she ate all of it ravenously. Clearly she wasn't full, but she thanked him all the same, some strength evidently replenished. The pair of them talked throughout the night, forging a newfound friendship between themselves. It turned out the she-cat's name was Fate, she had become separated from her family who had lived in a forest not far from here. She had no idea where she had come from and her memories were fuzzy, but Lynx immediately knew some thing would not allow himself to just leave her here to die.

So the next day, he faced off against his parents, saying that they either let Fate travel with them or he'd leave their troupe. They argued fiercely, that she would slow them down if not stop them altogether, make hunting harder and cause unnecessary drama. Finally, they gave their verdict was a refusal, at which point Lynx simply announced that he was thus leaving home, he could take care of himself. His parents were shocked and aggrieved, but knew they could not always hold on to their son, especially if their ways were not his ways. When Lynx returned to Fate to tell her the news, she was elated and as was he, the reason was quite obvious - they had both so simply fallen in love with one another, the hero and the damsel.

Lynx nursed his newfound friend to health in their current location, until she was well recovered and fit enough to travel, and gradually they began his old life, travelling from one place to the other, only this time, he had someone who he knew nothing really about - it was exciting. The pair of them travelled for many days before they came to a stunning place - it had forested areas, small pools and streams, hot but bearable temperature and a two-leg settlement nearby. They decided for now they would call this place home, the place's name was Glenwood Springs.

Of course, it wasn't long into their friendship that both admitted their feelings for one another and truly became mates. In many ways they thought similarly, neither really knowing what was out there, but fascinated by the thought and talk of it. She was patient with him too, letting him store herbs at their home and trying to pay attention as best she could as he would enthusiastically explain what each did and what they looked like. She was never much of a herbalism cat herself, her own family training her to be a warrior, deceptively un-warriorlike though she looked. The pair had been with each other for several moons when Lynx came back to the den and Fate announced she was pregnant. The pair were both ecstatic, though Fate had to suppress her disappointed sigh when the first thing Lynx thought to do was to give her strengthening herbs "for the benefit of the unborns".

That same gesture was to be Lynx's first priority for her entire pregnancy, making sure that the mother and kits stayed as healthy as possible. He also went into detail of explaining exactly how pregnancy would feel and what would happen - having learned from Ash many moons ago - and generally how she should deal with it. Soon, it became tiresome, but Lynx picked up on this and often tried to make varied conversation, which was typically dull and only half-attempted. When she was far along enough he told her the number of kits she was to have - Four. She was thrilled at this and immediately insisted that they come up with some possible names, Lynx was only too happy to comply, though for the most part he was quite happy to go along with her ideas; moss, sky and talon were all her ideas, whilst Lynx insisted that one be named after a big cat, like himself, and his father before him. Fate quickly went through some with him and they decided that "Lion" would be a fitting name.

Not long into her pregnancy, however, the pair were attacked by a mountain lion, the irony not escaping either of them. Desperate to defend his unborn kits and Fate, Lynx yelled at her to run and attacked the much larger, more powerful feline. The other cat had slashed his tail practically in half before Lynx could truly do any damage or get the upper hand. In his agony, he submitted, agreeing to death when he heard a yowl that distracted the cat's attention. At first Lynx feared it was Fate - foolishly coming to his defence - he stumbled up with a snarl, fearing for her life, when he saw that his savior was not that at all. Two-legs had not been far from the spring when they'd heard the screeching of the fight and had come to see what was going on. They immediately just assumed him a Lynx, but their compassion had nonetheless led them to save his life. As he stared at them, he found he feared them also, if they had scared off the Mountain Lion, they were surely powerful. He fled, shortly finding Fate, away in hiding. He cared for his own injury with ease, though having to fully remove half of his tail in the process, he was shortly on the mend.

Only days after the incident, Lynx casually mentioned how he'd be delighted training the kits in his herbs. This was taken like a blow by Fate, she laughed at first, thinking he was joking, until she just asked him seriously? It was not long after this that Lynx would know for definite how adamant she was that their kits become warriors, not cats that fooled with herbs. Lynx insisted that it was an honourable life, and Fate asked what - so that they never could survive on their own, nor find a patient lover? Lynx was hurt by this - he said he could survive on his own, and he'd found Fate, and what did she mean patient? The arguments increased in hostility, Fate threatening Lynx with leaving, when he was dumbfounded at the idea - no cat so close to birthing would be so reckless as to travel, at the risk of killing their unborn kits!

The night before Fate left him, they quietly discussed a rumored clan of cats - ForestClan, she called them. Lynx didn't entirely understand the concept, but they were not a nomad clan, they stayed in one place and worshiped gods that didn't exist. She tried to suggest that they go there and he refused, saying that he would never have beliefs forced upon him, nor abandon his line's history for travel. She tried to insist he'd already done his duty to his line, didn't he have a duty to do for his kits? But Lynx refused, saying a huffed "good night" and going away. When he woke, Fate was gone, her tracks looking hurried, he knew that she was quick, even pregnant, he wouldn't be able to capture her. Scenting the air, he realized she had not head to the more likely place for these clans she spoke of, but the opposite direction - had she not realized?

Lynx felt regret on the next many lonely nights he felt - wondering if his kits were being born, if any were stillborn, if she'd name them the same. Regret at how he still loved Fate. The grief he felt was insatiable in the same place, where they had spent so many nights. Stiffening his feelings into a harsh, cold fact, he left Glenwood Springs, traveling west, to more dense forests. He knew, really, that he had been too pushy with Fate, sure, they had different ideas about what to do - maybe they should've let the kits choose themselves - neither profession wasn't a dishonourable one, after all. As he traveling, the fact that he would never see his kits or Fate again hit him hard, painfully and he spent many nights having nightmares about what fate might meet them out in the forest, fate that he could've averted by simply being more nice and calm about the whole situation.

Finally he began to notice signs of other feline life - a scent marker here, paw prints there, a blood stain from fresh kill over there. He would've left, but he also noted unique herbs here that he had not found elsewhere, and grudgingly decided he would stay, not because of the clan, but because of the herbs, he told himself. Secretly, he hoped that he would spot Fate here, among the clan, happily, safely with their kits. Still, he spent many moons in the area with no luck. By now stress and weariness had begun to show it's toll on Lynx - the slight hint of silver here, the levelness of his voice. All the same, as he searched for herbs and Fate, he often saw other clan cats, and decidedly listened in. Normally these were older cats teaching younger cats that they called their "apprentices". He learned about StarClan from these chats, how they fought and about the ranks of the clan.

Still, he found the idea that they had belief and insisted on belief in these "cats among the stars" almost laughable in it's lack of truthfulness. On occasion he talked to other rogues in the lush forest, coming to understand more about the clan and their custom simply by asking. It was on one of these conversations, not too long ago, that he also heard of a split of the clan - what was their name, PineClan? - that had become a separate clan, not believing in this false StarClan, and valuing herbalism cats enough to say they would have as many as they liked, for they were valuable. Interested and fascinated by the concept, Lynx approached the clan, who were fascinated by him also, though he was distant and said little about himself, he had an obviously phenomenal extent of knowledge of herbs.

When he joined the first thing they did was rename him, but he was fiercely adamant that if they removed the part "Lynx" from his name, he would leave. He didn't say this though, but thankfully they saw the relevance of this name and simply added a suffix to this name -pelt. The new Lynxpelt was then assigned his rank, which he accepted with an unspoken joy - Medicine Cat. He learned that cats here were naturally nosy, and unlike him, did not enjoy solitary behavior, which he found irking, for he often liked time alone but he would always have it questioned. Still somewhat bitter for what he had lost he turned the cold shoulder to most of the clan, with the exception of the ranks that were higher than his own - out of respect only, of course. His knowledge of clan customs became broad and knowledgeable, and often he was consulted with issues of import for his natural talent for wisdom.

Quite unwillingly, he was assigned an apprentice, the kit of another Medicine Cat, he frowned at this, but said nothing. The kit was named Smallpaw, a quiet she-cat, small and willing to please in any way possible. Grudgingly, Lynxpelt accepted he could've had worse, though she would have to learn the same patience for life that he himself had. Usually, he had her mostly watch him, saying little except to send her on errands. One day, he was called to the clearing, the voice panicked and desperate. He saw Smallpaw's mother standing over the kit, yowling horribly - moving over with an un-Lynxpelt-like swiftness, he quickly noted what had happened. Smallpaw had inadvertently eaten Deathberries, when trying to collect herbs to please him. He quickly administered yarrow, where Smallpaw threw up, but it was already too late, the deathberries had done their work.

Her last words to him were "you did all you could, thank you, Lynxpelt." Lynxpelt felt devastated, though he didn't show it - Smallpaw had been one cat he'd felt could truly benefit extremely well from his reservoir of knowledge. He didn't show this softness though, instead just becoming more reserved, but it was obvious to all cats that for some while, he would not be taking another apprentice.

Four moons have passed since that incident, and Lynxpelt remains as he is today - a diligent and curt medicine cat, if strict, to his clan. Though his faith in StarClan is nonexistent, he finds himself unhindered to this very day in his clan, where they do not value him for his beliefs, but his skill and knowledge moreover. Despite himself, he cannot help feeling happy where he is, with a sense of loyalty, though he misses four things in his life - the first, the traveling life he was so accustomed to, the second, his parents who he abandoned for a broken road, the third, his poor apprentice and the fourth - his family who he drove away.

_{I T ' S _ E V E N _ O N _ T H E _ M A P .}

Role Play Example | As I stepped around the dusted plains, I decided I would have a little exploration - my parents would never know after all, they were resting in the shade, hindered by age, while I was still full of energy. I raced - or at least, raced at my specified speed - across the orange abyss before me. As I slowed, panting a little thanks to the thickness of my fur and the heat around me, I saw something on the floor in the heat. What was it? Some furry rodent dying in the heat? It had furred edges, sure enough, but from here it was too distorted to really tell much else about it. With a burst of energy renewed by his sudden interest he dashed across to the figure, slowing as he neared. One of the first things he was surprised to see, was that she wasn't some rodent - she was a she, a female cat, like him, but with the female part.

Fascinated, he stared at her, taking in the details of her physique - she had been some sort of creamy-white in color, but now the dust of the desert gave her a Orange-brown tinge through her fur. Intrigued, he cleared his throat and spoke, 'who are you?' he waited for a moment, but received no reply - she just sat there. He looked at her again quickly, carefully noting her emaciated sides, and frowned. She obviously wasn't from here, she hadn't been able to hunt and thus had been starving out here, dehydrating also. On a whim he went out for two things - food for her and strengthening herbs. He got the first without too much difficulty, tracking down and killing a rattlesnake with the ease of a hunter that had played such a game all too often.

The next, he searched for as he returned, successfully finding a small patch of mint, but that was all - he decided it would do, to strengthen her blood and refresh her. Taking both his findings back to her, he found her in the same state. The first thing he did was feed the leaves into her mouth, commanding her to chew firmly. She complied, and chewed the leaves, letting the juices slither into her mouth. He told her it was safe to swallow the herbs if she pleased, and she complied almost immediately, hunger obviously festering inside her so badly. The rattlesnake he tendered first, claws slicing away the poisonous or inedible sections, then making them into smaller, easier chunks to eat. He fed these to her with ridiculous slowness, her obviously barely strong enough to even command her jaw.

When she had finished the meal, she was obviously somewhat improved, her eyes opened now, half-lent upward, to stare at her savior. She was pretty he realized, with a delight, were all other cats like this? No, she's special something told him, and he smiled at her. 'Now will you tell me who you are?' For a moment she was silent, trying to find the words, obviously uncertain how to reply. Finally, she came to one conclusion, "Fate." He did not know if this was irony or a title, but decided to assume it really was her name. 'Well, it's nice to meet you Fate, you're in pretty bad shape, so I'll try to help you however I can. I'll be back in a moment, okay? I'm just going to see if I can get you some more help.' With an encouraging smile, he turned and departed.

His immediate thought of who to go to was almost instinctive - his parents. He rushed back to where they were, not faltering even as he felt weary from the rush. Dashing to where they rested peacefully in the shade, he cleared his throat and coughed to wake them up. Wearily, they glanced up at him, where he launched into a full explanation of what he'd found. The pair did not reply for a moment, before Cougar spoke with a bored voice, "what concern is this of ours? You are merciful to feed her, son, but she is nothing to us and it is not within our duty to care for every cat on the planet. We'll be leaving in just a moment, but she cannot come with us." Lynx was shocked by their lack of compassion, even if they had not seen her, a starving cat was dying out here - they couldn't just leave her! He tried to argue his point, but they deflected his argument.

For a moment afterward, he was silent, ignoring his natural instinct toward his parents to just give up - Fate needed him. Without a second thought, he spoke again, quietly, this time, 'then I'll leave.' He glared at Ash as she gave a light laugh and said "don't be silly Lynxie, you're our boy." 'I mean it.' he snapped, ''Goodbye...' with that, he turned and left, racing back to Fate. Together they would survive, he could not have simply left her there, never, even if she had been a mean, cruel cat. Something inside him told him that Fate was his fate, he could not simply abandon it, he was compelled to help her. He realized suddenly that that had been the whole point, it wasn't because it was her, he would have done it for any cat - his destiny was to help cats with his knowledge. Firmly, he promised himself that he would do this, forever.

---

I sorted through my herbs with quiet efficiency, my thoughts drab and of no import. For once, Smallpaw was away - sure, she was a nice kid, quietly enthusiastic, with unspoken, big dreams. But it was that unsaid happiness that bubbled within her that made him hate her sometimes, the way she was all too willing to pass through this world without any idea of the pain in it. He wasn't like that, he saw cats day in day out that were hurt from some of the cruelties of the world and had seen more than his fair share of death and agony. It was the world he had been committed to though, since the day he ever helped Fate. Saving lives. It was rewarding, in a way, but cats that he saved wanted to reward him was the hard part. To simply tell them "no, that's fine" did not cut it with most, they insisted on trying to please him, which made his usually cool temper flare - didn't they see that he just wanted to be left alone?

So when a yowl sounded from out side, calling my name, I hesitated, wanting to pay it no need but sensing the urgency in it. With a sigh though, I stopped what I was doing - I was still not far from my prime, and already I felt too old for this crap. Padding silently outside I saw a group of cats gathered around something, one of them yowling - wait, was that Sorrelfur? Smallpaw's mother? My pace increased now, cutting through the separated cats with a serious look on my face. As I looked down, I saw what I had dreaded - it was Smallpaw, her normally small physique now convulsing slightly, fear in her stricken eyes. Immediately, the professional side of my took over - and I was grateful, if it had not, I would have simply broken down. I checked the inside of her mouth with a skilled eye, seeing exactly what I dreaded - a deathberry still remained there, speared on her tooth.

Without a word, I sat up and rushed back through the crowd, who scattered before me. Some thought I was simply abandoning the situation in my own grief, calling my name back to me in surprise "Lynxpelt!" I snarled a little, I would never abandon a patient, how dare the clan think otherwise. I ducked into my den and moments later returned with Yarrow. I moved efficiently through the crowd again and put the yarrow within Smallpaw's mouth,'Chew.' I commanded, she did so, chewing the mixture until her physique rippled again and she threw up, several deathberries were there, but it was obvious that her state had not improved much - she still convulsed and I hung my head. I was too late, I'd spent too much time in my den, relieved that she had gone to come and help save her life. I was the most ungrateful mentor in the world.

Biting my lip, I looked up, hardening my eyes as I looked to Sorrelfur, my voice was grating as I spoke, but emotionless. 'She only has moments left, if you have anything you wish to say, say it now.' I saw the look of agony that crossed Sorrelfur's face, and knew that it reflected my own silently felt one. I was about to turn to leave, feeling as if my apprentice would never want me there at her last moment, when it was my fault she'd died - that I hadn't saved her from entering that terrible, scary unknown. As I turned though, I heard her cough and say my name, 'Lynxpelt...' I turned immediately and crouched to her, 'I'm here, Smallpaw.'

[/color] My voice choked a little as I said the words, so I cleared my throat uneasily, noting that cats not related had made their distance from the conversation. There was no shame in this grief.

Her next words were weak, but her little heart was within them, so he knew she meant them. "You did all you could, thank you, Lynxpelt, whatever is out there, I will not forget you." He cleared his throat again, trying to find words of comfort, to soothe her or help her find the strength to not be afraid of the darkness he knew she must so terribly fear. He found none which he could say and felt something in his heart snap a little further. He closed his mouth, unable to say any words. He saw Smallpaw's eyes trail over to her mother and got the idea, he nodded silently, the edges of his mouth turned down as he stood and backed away. When he was near the other cats, he turned, his face unreadable as he padded over to his den. Once he was in his den, he crouched onto all fours, feeling his heart pool as if it had been ripped apart. But he knew from experience that there was no cure for a broken heart.[/size]

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