~{dirty faced angel gets washed| OPEN

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

~{Tinker}~
{.Dirty-faced Angel.}

Ah, the smooth rush and roar of the river. It's calming melody promised trout and water, if you could get past the thin layer of ice that covered the surface. Underneath, water flowed freely and with it came fish. With the river, you were promised two things-food and water. Without the river, cats would die.

A dark shape split the thin layer of ice from underneath, and a small multi-colored head broke free from the water's grasp and gasped before being sucked under again. It tumbled through the water; if it weren't squirming as it was, youwould think it to be nothing more than a clump of bark and leaves torn from the overhanging branhes of a tree. But it wasn't just a cump of leaves and bark, bor this clump had a name.

Tink. She didn't know what it meant, but it was a suiting name and she liked it. It wasn't too girly; like Angel or Princess or Aurora, but it wasn't a total tom name like Bark or Greif or Claw. If she weren't named Tink, she had always thought, she would like to be called Brook. But she hadn't let such thoughts exit her mind through her mouth.

Unfortunately, a nice name would get her nowhere if she was going to drown. Strangely, this was what she thought about as she tumbled through the water, and it was this thought that caused her head to pop above the surface once more and struggle over to where she thought the shore was. Grappling for a hold, Tinker found herself getting very cold and then very warm, ad then her head dipped back below the water...

And she coughed. Hard. She found herself laying on a sandy shore; with icicles hanging from right above her. She had landed on an edge of a small cliff, probably no more than one fox-length high. She coughed feebly and struggled to get up, but she found herself unable to move her limbs. She flelt so tired. If she were only to close her eyes for a little, she could wake up again and continue on her way. On her excape. If only...

if only...

What was that noise?

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

____________________________The Night can be harsh on the Paw .!

Apprentice of Thunderclan .!____________________________

The dark figure prowled along the shores of the river, emerald green eyes narrowed into it's summit. Nightpaw hadn't much tried fishing, and now, in the cold season, it probably wasn't the best time to try. He was more of a fighter, as most toms in Ashclan were. He hunted simple things, like mice, and left the complex stuff to the she cats. However today, he decided to be curious and give it a shot.

So far, Nightpaw was not liking the blisteringly cold liquid, fighting with it's own current in fury hisses and spitting. The ink black tom watched the flowering current, unmoving at the bank. Every muscles in his body still as stone. Until something moved below the surface. At first, Nightpaw thought it to be debris of some sort, and shrugged it off. But it moved. And again!

Had Nightpaw set his sights upon a plump fish? The dark tom examined it as it slithered by, and to his horror, this was not a fish. It was no a vole, or a mouse. It was a feline! A living, breathing cat!

The shape whizzed past as Nightpaw bit back a yowl of shock. He leaped to his paws, racing along the edge after it, a wet head broke the surface, but it was gone just like that. Heart racing, the onyx tom kept in pursuit, but the current was fast. He didn't dare leap into the water after it, not yet. He'd surely drown as well, he needed to be patient.

With growing horror, the feline disappeared. Nightpaw yowled after the she cat, his black paws beating the frozen earth. Sides heaving, there was a figure up ahead. With growing hope, the tom streaked to it's aid. He was in luck, the she cat lay unmoving, dangerously close to the waters edge.

Gulping, the black apprentice knelt down and gripped the she cat by the scruff. She was young, and small yet. Pulling her away from the rushing waters, Nightpaw collapsed beside her in a pant. Rasping a pink tongue over her pelt, in hopes to rise the fur, and warm her up. Nightpaw had seen mothers do this to the new born kits, gets the blood pumping and such. Fear knotting at his stomach, Nightpaw couldn't make out who it was, he couldn't be sure if she was still breathing in his panic.

A black pelt bristling of his own, Nightpaw paused his rasping of the tongue. "Are you alright?" He panted, nudging her gingerly with his nuzzle.

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

Tinkerkit felt nothing; blissful emptyness. Sounds came to her, but they were soft and distorted, and the only breathing she could hear was her own. In, out... in-out... in...out... Fading now, falling...

And then someone picking her up from the void, moving her to some other place. A warmer place. A tounge rasped her fur. More warm.

"Are you alright?"

Tinkerkit felt the soft licks and began to purr, still in her dreamy state. In mer mind, Nightpaw was her mother, and everything was warm and comfortable. If only mother would bring us some prey, tis would be just perfect... she thought, but reality came back to her with her senses.

The first thing she noticed was the cold, and she started shivering. The second thig she noticed was the scent; actually, it was many scents all combined into one, and it confused her. Where had she ended up? Tinker blinked, and looked up. It was a tom! She scooted back from the black shape in fear and her little voice cracked as she spoke from the cold.

"What you doin'? I didn't do nothin', honest! I don't gotta momma or a pop so don't blame me if I wazza doin' anythin."

[/b]She crouched under a tree root, shivering. When the tom didn't go away, she got more frightened.

"I didn't do nothin', I swear!" she squealed out towards the black shape, her little white teeth glinting in the harsh winter sunlight. The multi-colored she-cat's pale green eyes were wide with shock and confusion, and she wrapped her wet tail protectively around her form as if the thin little thing would protect her. What was the tom doing to her? Was she dead? Where was her momma?![/color][/blockquote]

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

____________________________The Night can be harsh on the Paw .!

Apprentice of Thunderclan .!____________________________

By now, Nightpaw was certain he'd never seen this little she cat before. The raging river had washed most of her scent, but there were traces left. The tom was baffled by the strange scents, but quickly pushed the thought aside, there were other matters to tend do.

The tabby she cat was small and skinny, she couldn't have been older than six moons, Nightpaw was sure of it. Despite this, the tom watched shivers runs along her spine as she came back to it. However Tink quickly recovered and near immediately, shrank away from the black apprentice. Nightpaw was baffled at first, but didn't blame the scared she-kit. "It's alright, I won't hurt you." Nightpaw soothed softly, though the kit didn't seem keen to listen as she shrank away, taking shelter under the roots of a tree.

Feeling rather sympathetic, Nightpaw pressed his stomach to the ground, curling his tail over his hind paws. The black tom didn't want to seem intimidating, and hoped to make himself look smaller. "You're cold and wet. Certainly you won't survive in leaf-bare like this. Can I take you to Shatteredheart? She's really nice, and she'll give you a warm nest to sleep in, and recover." Nightpaw did his best to reason with the she cat, he didn't want to sit here all day while she froze. And the code forbid him to leave a kit, even if it was just a she cat.

Kneading the ground anxiously with his black paws, Nightpaw put on a weak smile, letting a purr of his own rise in his chest. He wasn't going to pick her up and take her against her will, but he couldn't just let her stay out here. "I mean you no harm, promise." Nightpaw added softly. This was true, whether she knew it or not. Like most toms in Ashclan, he was raised to believe toms were slightly superior, and had power over she cats, but he wasn't about to lay a paw on her, this was not his nature.

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

Tinkerpaw coughed slightly beacuse of the cold, not taking her eyes off the newcomer.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you."

That's what they all say, she thought desparingly. Right before they rip your heart out! But the tom, instead of coming close and throwing her in the river again, sat down in a passive gesture. Tinker didn't understand. Even though she was only 1 1/2 moons, the tortie she-cat was raised to see toms as agressive, evil things. Even her father was half-mad.

"You're cold and wet. Certainly you won't survive in leaf-bare like this. Can I take you to Shatteredheart? She's really nice, and she'll give you a warm nest to sleep in, and recover."

Tinker thought about this. Shatteredheart? Warm nest? It was tempting, and Tinker felt some fear leave her eyes. Did this tom live with this she-cat? It must be his mother,

[/i] she reasoned, and placed a paw over her root uncertainly.

"I mean you no harm, promise."

She looked up at his with wide, pale green eyes and nodded. She tried to stand, but she was wobbly on her feet and... she hurt. She tripped over her paws as she left the safety of her root, and she didn't get up.

"I'm cold," she said, unsure of what to do. "If you pick me up, and take me to that warm nest and Shattered-whatever, I'll owe you a favor." She gave him a glare, though, after. "But this doesn't mean I'll trust you. I didn't do nothin' and if you make one wrong move I'll be on my way again." She nodded, then looked around to make sure no one was watching. [/color][/blockquote]

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

____________________________The Night can be harsh on the Paw .!

Apprentice of Thunderclan .!____________________________

The little she-kit seemed to be relaxing ever so slightly. Her eyes took on a less defensive mood, and her expression growing slightly more trusting at his offer. Nightpaw was pleased to see this, she wouldn't be troublesome when he tried to help.

"Shatteredheart is our medicine cat." Nightpaw added softly, watching the she cat through green eyes. "She will help you to get warm again, before sickness comes on." The black tom informed calmly. Nightpaw couldn't be sure, for all he knew, Tink could be carrying sickness with her, but she didn't smell of it. But the apprentice didn't want the kit to grow frightened with the many numbers of felines that came with living in Ashclan.

The thought occurred that he may be punished for bringing a cat into camp, one that was not of Ashclan. They have to help. She's a kit. Nightpaw soothed himself, coming back to reality as the tabby she kit said he was able to pick her up and take her to the medicine cat.

Nodding, Nightpaw slowly rose to his paws, he didn't want to frighten her again. Gingerly padded forward, the black tom minded his movement, and kept a friendly expression and posture. "I'm Nightpaw, by the way. Apprentice of Ashclan." There was no telling if the strange she cat knew of Ashclan or not, but he wasn't about to explain it out in the cold. Tink would learn of it soon enough.

Tenderly bending down, he picked the she kit up by the scruff, feeling rather clumsy as he'd never had to hold a kit before, surprisingly. Turning toward camp, Nightpaw kept his eyes fixed ahead, ears keen to pick up any sound from the she cat.

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

"Shatteredheart is our medicine cat."

Tinker did not know at all what he meant by that, and did not reply. She had never heard of a medicine cat or medicine at all. She wondered if this meant mother cat. They both started similar, didn't they?

"She will help you to get warm again, before sickness comes on."

She nodded her head, still not understanding. She knew of the sicknesses of cats; if you got too cold, or too hot, or too hungry, or too thirsty, or too scared, or too wet, or too shaken, or too bitten, or had too many injuries you could get sick and die. She had seen it happen.

"I'm Nightpaw, by the way. Apprentice of Ashclan."

"Nightpaw? That's a funny name," she commented. "I had a friend named Night, once, ya know. He was the wierdest cat; I was almost glad when he was killed." She shrugged her shoulders and yawned, tired over her endeaver. Suddenly, she was picked up and she swung a little, reminding her of how cold she was. She felt the relaxing sensation that entered her every time the special nerve in her neck was pinced; it felt calming. If not for the cold and wind and wet, she would be perfectly happy swinging from this tom's maw. "I'm Tinker, Nightpaw. I'm... ummm... runaway of Kindlewound!" It was a good thing that she was so miserable; otherwise, she'd have never let a tom pick her up like this otherwise. She yawned again, and wondered how far away Shatterdpaw was.

She must have been dosing, for she was woken up by lots of scents; many cats were wondering what the limp shape in Nightpaw's mouth was doing. She opened her eyes wide with the shock of it; she had never seen so many cats! And they were all talking, all at once; there were so many voices!

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

|| ooc; ||

Would you like us to move this into a forum in camp? xD

[/blockquote]

[shatteredheart !]

( ooc x should shatteredheart appear here or are you moving the thread into the camp? ^^;; )

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

OOC: for now, let's just pretend we're in camp. We can ask Alex to move us, but for now, let's finish.

[shatteredheart !]

SHATTEREDHEART !
( PAPER HEARTS STRUCK BY DARTS ! )

( hearts on clotheslines waiting to dry ! ) A swarm of cats milled about the camp, the clan filling with yowls, laughter, and vocal tones that inflicted havoc upon her sensitive ears, every sound like a blow to the head ( a needle in the heart ! ) Shatteredheart would always find her watching everyone go about their daily routines, just a silent observer, watching as she realized how distanced from society she was. She was a medicine cat, her name only mentioned by convenience, the sick only there to heal before returning. Whenever they left the den, they didn't look back, they only looked down the road at the faces welcoming back, never back at the paws that had saved their skins. Sad enough, there was no cure for such insolent behavior. Blueness and gloom clouded her thoughts, negativity an injection into her veins, taking over her mind as she drooped her head in the medicine cat den before looking at the sky, its cerulean face smiling, the only smile directed at her meek and enigmatic, elusive placid face in such a long time. If she was to express any facial frown or smile it would make her facial muscles ache. ( plasticity replacing elasticity ! ) Forlorn and plunging she gave the effort to give a small smile at the sky as clouds rushed to steal it away, her autumn eyes returning to the herbs arranged in various piles as she tried to think to when she collected them all, the splendor and adornment of the falling leaves with their auburn and russet decorations of autumn or the buds of new leaf like little naive children waking from their sleepy dreams. For nature embraced its little lonely child, a gentle mother nurturing her sick little healer. A certain flippancy had intruded upon her sad little song in her head, a spark pleasant behavior lasting for a few moments, enough to revive a small pilot light of hope in her hopeless outlook. For nature always acted like an anti depressant upon her gloomy, grim mind, its embrace forever warm and welcoming.


( starless nights & hopeless minds ! ) Activity at the mouth of the den spark her insatiable curiosity that was always riddling her mind. ( riddles ! the ambrosia of the mind ! ) Only whispers of sound waves from her gait were let up to the air, its medium. Shatteredheart's gossamer figure danced over towards the entrance to her humble dwelling, ebony figure like a silhouette on the brightest day. ( dressed for mourning ! ) A certain surprise jump her mind ( jumping the gun ! ) as one of the apprentices approached with a little package, a bundle of soaked fur, ochre eyes curiously peering for a moment. what ordeal of trauma must we try to heal here? she gently questioned with her magniloquent and gently gloomy vocals, eloquence a dark river off her lips. A patient's nest was always arrange, a guest bed, for sickness and ails would only lose small battles and never retreat. Already a number of herbs were burning her mind, their little whispers trying to intrude upon her concentration. The treatment would not be difficult, just minor shock or a little bit of frayed nerves along with chills. For the touches of shock mugwort and oatstraw would help calm little cat, a delicate little package. Shivering was apparent in the drowsy, sleepy she cat, vibrating like a battery operated toy. little cat, do you feel pain in your bones or in your head? your chills will cease if you rest upon this bed. Waiting for the little female's reply she quietly sorted through her herbs, nettle leaves, kava kava, juniper berries, delicate paws gently touches each one before the correct herbs came to her touch. While collecting the mugwort and oatstraw she also had a thought to snatch a dose of licorice root and rose hips. Dainty figure returning to the male apprentice and her petite patient, medications drawn and out, quite ready for its purpose. Awaiting a response the thin female, ebony fur covering a delicate frame with tight muscle against the bone, whispering its taut existence. Dramatically lined eyes curiously awaited an answer, their ochre depths with a slight mosaic of silver studying the strange pair, wondering what had quite ensued. ( stories left untold ! )


word count : seven hundred and ninety four.

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

____________________________The Night can be harsh on the Paw .!

Apprentice of Thunderclan .!____________________________

It didn't take long to reach the confines of camp, even so, Nightpaw inwardly wished it had. His head lowered, just low enough to keep the kit off the ground. Emerald green eyes narrowed uncertainly as he shouldered into camp. The black tom made haste for the medicine cat den right away, he didn't want to have to face the questioning of warriors when he brought in a kit, much less a female.

Shatteredheart met the pair at the mouth to her den almost instantly, as Nightpaw pressed inside. The small living area was filled with the perfume of herbs, almost feeling suffocating to a nose unused to such a scent. Nightpaw placed the bundle down before him, taking a few short steps back, almost retreating back to the mouth. Shatteredheart had her eyes fixed on Tinker, and spoke to the female, but Nightpaw decided to chime up so he wasn't useless. "This is Shatteredheart." The apprentice meowed softly down to the she-kit, his gaze flickering up to the medicine cat. Nightpaw would certainly not play mentor to the young cat, once she was out of his paws, that was it. Nightpaw wasn't about to waste more of his breath looking out for the scrap.

The tom shifted his paws anxiously, he felt out of place in the medicine cat den, especially one that was head ranked by a female. Shatteredheart must have been the highest ranking she cat in the clan, aside from toms, it was kind of strange to think of her like that. Nightpaw fought the urge to just turn around and leave now. "I, uh, found her by the river. She got washed up in it. I don't know where she's from, but she'll get illness in the wet, I couldn't just leave her." Nightpaw informed the medicine cat, though he felt as though he was rambling. Would she really care if he found her? One could assume she'd fallen in the river by her general wetness. And Shatteredheart knew very well he couldn't leave her.

Nightpaw felt into silence, shuffling his paws to look down at them through green eyes. "Can I leave now?" The black feline asked rather sheepishly, giving into the urge to get from the herb filled den.

[~{Tinkerkit}~]

Tinkerpaw raised her head drowsily. As Nightpaw spoke, she saw the form to be Shatterdheart. She was set down in front of the she-cat, but she scurried back to the warmpth of Nightpaw in fear.

"Little cat, do you feel pain in your bones or in your head? Your chills will cease if you rest upon this bed."

She she-cat spoke very melodic, and it creeped Tinker out. And yet, if this really was Nightpaw's mother, she couldn't be too bad, could she? Tinkerpaw took a wary step forward, wobbled, then dashed into a moss-lined den. It was warm, and Tinker found herself purring like a vibrator, the warmpth overlapping the shivers that were sent down her spine. She wondered if the she-cat's words were meant to be answered; they all blended and mixed and flowed so smoothly, softly, and yet... gloomily? She decided to answer.

"Well," she started, yawning and curling up as small as she could go in the warm nest for comfort, "I was thrown in the river 'cause, well, I wasn't doing anything bad, or anything! I was just lookin' for some scraps or somethin' cause I'm a no-good runaway and I can't manage to catch stuff for myself. Not that I'm weak or anything. But... he threw me into the water, and I got all bumped up and stuff, but I'm really cold so I can't feel mucha anythin' right now!"

"Can I leave now?"

Tinker's head swiveled to her rescuer, who looked very uncomfortable just standing there. "Do you have lotsa important stuff you gotta do, Nightypaw of an Ashcan?" she mewed in her high, kit-like voice. She couldn't see why he had to go in such a hurry; was he important, she wondered.

[shatteredheart !]

SHATTEREDHEART !
( PAPER HEARTS STRUCK BY DARTS ! )

( criminal farewells & protests of the innocent ! ) Analytical eyes swept across their silhouettes, ochre probes and satellites peering into their throats, ( hand over the hearts ! ), in a metaphorical sense as she peered at their hearts. Our hearts, they were foggy and questionable, for it was a rare occasion to find one without an ink splatter of evil or vile negativity. For we were all Jekyll & Hydes, putting on a face kept in the jar at night while we would reveal ourselves in front of the mirror ( oh ! if the walls had eyes ! ). Our masks would dissolve, ( away from the permanent masquerade ! ). She had not just begun to question the oddities and lies of life, for it seems we tended to live in lies, slowly drowning ( asphyxiating ! ) within the pool, the trap, of lies that slowly burned away our throats and filled our lungs. Wicked, we were, wickedness the disease and incurable epidemic. ( i, uh, found her by the river. she got washed up in it. i don't know where she's from, but she'll get illness in the wet, i couldn't just leave her. ) The apprentice was mumbling, a drawl and burble of words like water rolling across smooth, reflecting pebbles, a little treasure box underneath the river. Her eyes, like brights on a racing automobile, shot at his figure with lightning speed. A small nod possessed her head in a delicate motion, ( dancing figurine batteries not included ! ) Of course, the poor darling was shivering her petite paws off. Quite the act of altruism, she gloomily and eloquently released from the bird cage of a mouth, placidly looking towards the little bundle that had turned on like a motor. A small, hidden away smile tugging with strong fingers at her onyx lips as she let them gently curl them into a forbidden grin before smacking herself and the smile off her obsidian face. The little bundle, for she was nameless with a blank label across her face in her files of knowledge, released a small, pint-sized voice. ( well, i was thrown in the river `cause, well, i wasn`t doing anything bad, or anything! i was just lookin` for some scraps or somethin` cause I'm a no-good runaway and i can`t manage to catch stuff for myself. not that i`m weak or anything. but . . . he threw me into the water, and i got all bumped up and stuff, but i`m really cold so I can't feel mucha anythin` right now! ) Jagged, broken, slang speak filtrated her guarded ears, the abbreviated speech creating a wincing nature among her eloquent mind with a vocabulary that extended from horizon to horizon. ( ships sailing off with paper sails and cardboard boats ! ) Here are a couple herbs that will aid your shivering and shaking, little one, she gently spoke, a certain benevolence sweeping her vocals as she softly spoke. Nudging forth some herbs she had prepared that bore the name mugwort, oatstraw, licorice root, and rose hips. These two little dears, she nudged forth the mugwort and oatstraw. will help cure any trauma or fright from your epic plunge, although I doubt you ever feel fear. Fear, it was the plague of her brain, wrecking the trains of her emotions, throwing them off the tracks. They were the rebels, all forms of fear for they wore many disguises and bearings. While the remaining herbs, licorice root and rose hips, will cure the chills that are playing songs on your ribcage. In waiting for the receiving of herbs a timid, embarrassed mumbled drawled its simple syllables upon her ears. ( can i leave yet ? ) How strange were those words, bitterness of a certain selfish rhythm beating its steps upon his tongue. Could the world not be saved by the clutches of the iron, vice-like fingers that pried our mouths open and moved our tongues, frivolously fluttering out the horrid words. Shatteredheart gave him a long side glance, harvest moon eyes dramatically framed by an obsidian depth of darkness around her eyes from her dark eye rims and lashes. Frames for her frigid, placid ( shutters closed ! ) eyes. It is quite curious how the world only cares about itself, eyes turned inward down our throats into our ugly hearts, she sighed, velvet ribbons of words flowing from her tongue. I suppose that if having a female superior sparks the flames of discomfort in your heart you can run away. No one was blind to the tension between females and males, a chaotic battle in selfishness and idiocy that made her intelligent mind want to burn away on paper airplanes. ( fly away on cardboard boats ! )


word count : eight hundred seventy one

[ηiɢhτ .paw]

____________________________The Night can be harsh on the Paw .!

Apprentice of Thunderclan .!____________________________

The medicine cat nudged each herb toward the kit, and with each herb, noting their effect to the young she cat. Nightpaw found it mildly interesting, though the urge to 'flee' nagged at his skull, drowning out all curiosities that could linker in his mind like the melodic song bird whispering in his ears. It was the thought that Russetpaw would be the she cat's successor that gave slight ease to the ink black tom. Nightpaw pondered if such an antsy feeling would linger when the she cat was no longer in the medicine cat den. Don't get me wrong, Nightpaw would never wish such a time to come quickly, Shatteredheart may have been a she cat, but she was still a medicine cat, and part of the clan. Though the apprentice couldn't help but wonder.

It was Tinker who chimed up first. She seemed curious as to why Nightpaw insisted on making a leave. Did Nightpaw have important things to do? Well that depended. Not so important as to lead the clan, or play the role of deputy. But Nightpaw would one day be a noble warrior, and it was his duty to train hard to become back. Certainly he had important things to do, right? However, before the tom could sort out a reply, it was Shatteredheart who spoke in an eerily calm voice. Nightpaw's ears instantly grew hot.

Superior? Hah, no she-cat would ever out-rank a tom. The words were almost suffocating, slicing across Nightpaw's tongue in an attempt to be heard, however he chose wisely not to voice such a sour opinion. Was it really an opinion, however? Oh how vile and wicked Nightpaw could be. As much as he hated it, it was the way the tom was raised. Ingrained into his skull, that she cats would never mount into anything. They were nothing but possessions, living and breathing only to reproduce. And here Shatteredheart was, forbidden to mate, yet always having a paw in the upper ranks. Nightpaw hated the thoughts that came to his head, he liked to believe so much that she cats were just like he, but he knew such a thing was not possible. Every cat in Ashclan was raised to believe males were superior, and at the thought of else wise, the screech of dismay and instinct told him to keep to tradition.

"I-I didn't mean it... like that." The black tom finally meowed awkwardly, suddenly feeling rather cornered. The fur along his spine rose slightly, and he knew he'd better take this time to make his leave. Green orbs flickered to Tinker, and a weak smile painted upon onyx lips. "Yeah... I've got things to do alright. Welcome to Ashclan, by the way." Nightpaw meowed quietly, flashing a sidelong glance at Shatteredheart before lowering his skull and slithering from the confines of the medicine cat den.

Nightpaw exits.