Post by LιθΠΗΣαRτεD on Sept 6, 2017 23:34:45 GMT
The crunching and cracking of leaves told Tawnyheart that someone was approaching her medicine den at a rapid, frantic pace, and she whipped around quickly, her herbs clamped in her jaws as she stared wide-eyed at the visitor. Rookstep was bounding into the den, a grim, serious look plastered on his face, and Tawnyheart knew that it wasn't an emergency, at least not to her. No, Rookstep was concerned about something else, something beyond his control, and he always turned to Tawnyheart to try to find it, as if she knew the answer to everything.
No, she shouldn't think like that. Her job was to help him, and help him she must. So she turned fully to greet him, dropping her herbs and watching him catch his breath for a moment, amusement in her eyes. Close in age, they'd shared the apprentice's den when they were young, and then the warriors' den. They'd trained together. She knew how comical the tom could be in his clock-like behavior.
"What is it, Rookstep?" she asked after a while of waiting.
"I..." Rookstep began but frowned, as if trying to find a way to word whatever was on his mind. "I... it's about Duskwing."
Tawnyheart leaned forward at this. So it wasn't about some petty thing that he was fretting over. It was truly about his son. Was Duskwing hurt in any way? "What about Duskwing?" she prompted.
"I think he's sick," Rookstep burst out, eyes wide. Tawnyheart tilted her head.
"In what way?"
Rookstep looked lost at this. "I'm not sure. I just... he's been acting weird lately. Like, he asked me the other day about sexuality. He asked if... if some tomes were attracted to toms, and if some she-cats were attracted to she-cats!"
"Okay...?" Now Tawnyheart was confused. So the young one was having an identity crisis. She couldn't see anything wrong with it. Unless...
"I just don't think it's natural," Rookstep continued, "and so I'm asking you for help. You know, for like, a cure. I want my son to be well, to be healthy."
"He's perfectly healthy, Rookstep," Tawnyheart said, annoyance now festering in her chest. Rookstep was, once again, attempting to micromanage his children. He always seemed to try to control everyone in his life, even Tawnyheart, until she stepped into the role of medicine cat, snapped at him once, and he'd hastily backed off. But that didn't stop him from unleashing his tyrannic behaviors onto others.
"But--" Rookstep spluttered.
"There's no cure for this anyway," Tawnyheart replied dismissively, feeling more and more sorry for poor Duskwing, who probably was feeling isolated. I should talk to him soon, when Rookstep's out of camp. He'd appreciate some support. "It's nothing unnatural. Some cats are just born this way."
No, she shouldn't think like that. Her job was to help him, and help him she must. So she turned fully to greet him, dropping her herbs and watching him catch his breath for a moment, amusement in her eyes. Close in age, they'd shared the apprentice's den when they were young, and then the warriors' den. They'd trained together. She knew how comical the tom could be in his clock-like behavior.
"What is it, Rookstep?" she asked after a while of waiting.
"I..." Rookstep began but frowned, as if trying to find a way to word whatever was on his mind. "I... it's about Duskwing."
Tawnyheart leaned forward at this. So it wasn't about some petty thing that he was fretting over. It was truly about his son. Was Duskwing hurt in any way? "What about Duskwing?" she prompted.
"I think he's sick," Rookstep burst out, eyes wide. Tawnyheart tilted her head.
"In what way?"
Rookstep looked lost at this. "I'm not sure. I just... he's been acting weird lately. Like, he asked me the other day about sexuality. He asked if... if some tomes were attracted to toms, and if some she-cats were attracted to she-cats!"
"Okay...?" Now Tawnyheart was confused. So the young one was having an identity crisis. She couldn't see anything wrong with it. Unless...
"I just don't think it's natural," Rookstep continued, "and so I'm asking you for help. You know, for like, a cure. I want my son to be well, to be healthy."
"He's perfectly healthy, Rookstep," Tawnyheart said, annoyance now festering in her chest. Rookstep was, once again, attempting to micromanage his children. He always seemed to try to control everyone in his life, even Tawnyheart, until she stepped into the role of medicine cat, snapped at him once, and he'd hastily backed off. But that didn't stop him from unleashing his tyrannic behaviors onto others.
"But--" Rookstep spluttered.
"There's no cure for this anyway," Tawnyheart replied dismissively, feeling more and more sorry for poor Duskwing, who probably was feeling isolated. I should talk to him soon, when Rookstep's out of camp. He'd appreciate some support. "It's nothing unnatural. Some cats are just born this way."