Self-medication and other bad ideas (open)

[::mothpaw::]

The medicine cat den was mercifully blocked from the wind that had been battering Mothpaw all day. Despite being from WindClan, she was sick of the stuff, especially since a badly-timed strong gust had messed up one of her landings.

She had done something to her left forepaw on that landing--Mothpaw wasn't sure what, exactly, but for the better part of an hour she had been trying to conceal a limp in order to get on with training. Still, it hurt, and she couldn't deal with that if she wanted to practice more.

Which was why the young she-cat was sneaking into the den.

Few cats were around camp, and there were none in the medicine cat den, not even that lazybones excuse of an apprentice. (Mothpaw hadn't even talked to him, but from what she had seen--lazy fit well.) She doubted she needed any real treatment, but surely one poppy seed couldn't hurt her.

The poppy seeds were in a hollow dug into the floor of the den, instead of piled up like most of the other herbs. She could see why--there were hundreds of the tiny, round seeds, and a strong cough would send them rolling all over the place. Carefully, Mothpaw picked a few seeds up on her tongue. She then scraped her tongue against her teeth until all but one fell back into the hollow. The last seed, she swallowed.

Nothing happened immediately, but she expected that. Her knowledge of medicine was limited--she only knew about poppy seeds because, well, everyone knew about poppy seeds--but even she knew that medicine took time to begin working. If only she knew how much time. Or even the correct dosage. What if the one seed wasn't enough?

Mothpaw looked back at the seeds and considered taking another, but better safe than sorry, she decided. She had gotten away with enough for right then.

[thistlestorm - *]

What was more enjoyable than taunting a rival Clan member or biting into a fresh piece of Greenleaf prey? Even better than a run over the moorlands or sleeping from dawn till dusk? Nothing other than training the apprentices, of course! He could taunt and tease as much he wanted to, all the while correcting badly aimed pounces or horrid hunting crouches. Today, in particular, he was grading his own apprentice, Mothpaw, in various tasks. She hadn't done anything wrong, though that didn't stop pesky mother nature from interfering with her training. Thistlestorm had caught her mistake, saw the limp just before she corrected her stance, ready and rearing to continue with their practice for the day.

And who was he to tell the Medicine Cat on her? Yes, he was her mentor and sure, her health was important, but if she was that determined to continue on, Thistlestorm saw no reason to stop her endeavors. However, training had ended earlier than usual, certain things left untouched due to the possibility of an injury to his apprentice.

Back at camp, he had taken a break to make dirt, mind you, roll around to get the stench from his fur - which coated him in a thin layer of dust - before searching for the small brown she-cat. He checked the apprentice den before noting that camp looked quite empty today. If it wasn't for the sounds of birds and other little critters scurrying about, he swore his voice would had echoed from the hollow of sorts that was WindClan camp. His paws soon led him to the Medicine Cat Den, the place he should have checked first. If she was hurt, no doubt she would've stopped there.

Then again, he hadn't scented Sparrowpaw or his mentor, who were usually thick with the scent of herbs both bitter and sweet. Quiet on large paws, he stepped towards the den, glancing inside. And there, he found just who he was looking for. Crouching low, edging his body slowly forward, belly brushing the ground, Thistlethorn narrowed his eyes as he watched the apprentice pick up a few black specks with her paw - poppy seeds? - before cautiously lapping up just one. Any cat knew the purpose of the seeds, but maybe Mothpaw didn't? He saw her cast a doting look downwards back at the stash and before she could do any real damage to herself, Thistlethorn leaped into the tight confines of the den, barreling in at the young apprentice's side.

"Interested in being a Medicine Cat, now?" he mused, eyes locked on her, a smug grin lining his muzzle. His lips soon turned into a taut line, showing that he wasn't upset, though not too happy, either. "You've been caught, Mothpaw. Raiding the stash isn't something that you just do." The tom stated, settling in more comfortably beside her, hoping to be less intimidating, less like he was going to give her a punishment. His 'brow' raised as he shook his head with a light 'click' of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. May as well address the problem at hand - well, paw - right now.

"You hurt yourself earlier, didn't you, beebrain?"


( ooc: edited this accordingly! )

[/size][/div]

[::mothpaw::]

Mothpaw started away from her mentor, feeling her face grow warm beneath her fur. "You hurt yourself earlier, didn't you, beebrain?

Oh StarClan, this was the last thing she wanted. Being caught by another cat wouldn't be so bad, but her mentor--

I am in such deep foxdung, she thought, and took one long, deep breath. Her heart was beating quickly, like it usually did when she was in trouble she couldn't just lie her way out of. Calm down.

"Well," she mewed, bowing her head, "Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't want to stop training--" If she could just look pathetic enough, she might at least get off the hook. Maybe. She didn't know Thistlestorm well enough to be completely sure. "I'm sorry. Just when I was trying to pounce on that one mouse, and that gust hit and I landed wrong--I think it messed up my paw."

Of course, if she had been bigger and not the size of a four-month-old kit (Mothpaw knew when she thought it that she was exaggerating, but still), then a breeze wouldn't be enough to mess her up so badly. She hated being small.

More than that, she hated getting caught, especially when she was going to be punished afterwards. Hopefully acting penitent enough and imitating a sorry kit would be enough to pull her out of this one. So Mothpaw bowed her head and waited for Thistlestorm to reply.

[thistlestorm - *]

He waited, patiently, as she drew in a breath. Thistlestorm's gaze never left his apprentice for the few heartbeats she built herself up to speak. The burly tom's tail swooped against the ground, pressing a few leaves that were unsorted aside, and his paws shifted beneath him as finally, he was given a reply.

Thistlestorm tilted his head to the side as Mothpaw apologized, bowing her head. Like this, she reminded him more of a crestfallen kit rather than an apprentice. The warrior let out a low groan, one of indecisive as she finally confessed. "I don't know whether to scold you, or admire your want to finish with training." His voice was stern as he looked down at her paw, reaching out his own white dipped paw to nudge briefly at her sore limb. "Its good to have a spark, just next time, tell me. You can be seriously hurt and I'm not the cat that wants a battered and bruised apprentice in his care."

So, he had let her off the hook this time. Or had he? Thistlestorm looked down at the poppy seeds, then back towards Mothpaw, then her paw. "Did you eat one of those, by chance?" He'd gotten to the point of her stressing herself on an injured paw, though what about nosing through the medicine cat's supplies? "I hope they're poppy seeds. There's another seed that looks almost the same and is good for helping elders pass hairballs." Maybe tricking her was a little cruel, but what was a bond between mentor and apprentice without a little goofing off in between.

[/size][/div]

[::mothpaw::]

"It's good to have a spark, just next time, tell me. You can be seriously hurt and I'm not the cat that wants a battered and bruised apprentice in his care."

Mothpaw nodded solemnly and waited a heartbeat for a punishment, but Thistlestorm simply glanced around at the medicine cat den. It didn't seem like anything but a reprimand was forthcomming. "I understand, Thislestorm," she meowed quietly. "I'll let you know if something happens again." She probably would, too, unless it was something really minor. Mothpaw still didn't think it was such a big deal this time, just a sore paw--

"Did you eat one of those, by chance?" Mothpaw nodded. "I hope they're poppy seeds. There's another seed that looks almost the same and is good for helping elders pass hairballs."

They did what? Oh fu--foxdung. Mothpaw's eyes widened. She searched her mentor's face for any sign that he was joking, but she couldn't tell. Was he trying to teach her a lesson or was she just really, really stupid? That's why you don't raid the medicine cat den, mousebrain.

But that was just if they were really poppy seeds...and she was pretty sure they were...not that Mothpaw had ever seen more than a few...

"I hope they're poppy seeds, too," she mewed finally.

[thistlestorm - *]

The verbal confirmation of her understanding was met by a flick of tail against her flank. Thistlestorm grunted as he heaved himself to his paws, ignoring the small ache in his own bones. The tom chose to disregard it because... honestly? Only elders got stiff joints during the cooler seasons. What well rounded, healthy, warrior felt tense due to a little cold air and wind? Hoping that Mothpaw wouldn't see his own brief struggle, he looked at her with faked interested as she nodded in response to his question.

"Start yakking later and you'll know why," he grumbled as he nudged the smaller she-cat's head with his nose, hoping to press enough force that would at least cause her to sway on her paws. "That paw of yours is good enough to walk on, I assume, so let's get out of this den." Thistlestorm was starting to feel squashed into the place and didn't understand how the medicine cat's and their patients were able to deal with it. Not only was the air stuffy, but stung with the clingy smell of herbs, old and fresh.

As he padded out, pulling himself through to head into the center of camp, he glanced back at Mothpaw. "Have you eaten?" Thistlestorm wasn't feeling particularly hungry and after their bout of training, Mothpaw deserved a good meal although her own catch had gotten away after the wind decided to play tricks with her.

[/size][/div]

[::mothpaw::]

Mothpaw made a face at the word yakking—it just sounded disgusting—and, caught off-guard when Thistlestorm nudged her, nearly toppled over. She kept on her paws, but just barely. Good thing, too, because on top of everything else how embarrassing would that have been?

She followed Thistlestorm out of the medicine cat's den a little reluctantly. She liked being shielded from the freezing air and smelling the herbs—not all of them were fragrant, but they were interesting. Ah, well.

"Have you eaten?"

Mothpaw shook her head; she had thought about it, but she wanted to get the poppy seed first. Now that Thistlestorm had reminded her of it, she was pretty hungry. It didn't help that, now they were out of the medicine cat den, the fresh-kill pile was tantalizingly visible. And smell-able. Is that even a word? Probably not.

There was a mouse right on top, too—not a big one, but the sight and smell of it was enough to make her mouth water. Great StarClan. Mothpaw shook her head firmly to clear it; she hadn't thought she was that hungry. Or, now that she thought about it, tired. Her belly rumbled and her eyes itched for a nap.

"Do we need to do any more training now?" she asked, hoping the answer was no. It was a little pathetic, really; why was she so tired, anyway? A moment ago she had felt very awake, but now…ugh. And they hadn't even been training that vigorously. She and Thistlestorm hadn't left camp until well after sunrise, and it was barely after sunhigh now.

There was no help for it, really; and there was no way she was telling Thistlestorm how hungry or tired she was.

((OOC: So, so sorry for the long wait. xD and sorry all you get from it is this crappy little thing.))

[thistlestorm - *]

He stretched his limbs, a small shiver trembling down his spine. He glanced back at his apprentice to ensure that she was near him and seemingly unharmed. Thistlestorm was almost positive that she had eaten a poppy seed and if that was true, he wouldn't be surprised if the young she-cat began nodding off eventually.

Her question roused him and the tom cat shifted on his paws with a roll of his eyes. "You didn't answer my question," Sometimes, he was exasperated by his apprentice. "I'm going to assume that you're hungry. Not as if you'd be able to train any better on an empty stomach and a mouth full of hairballs." Thistlestorm was sure that Mothpaw wouldn't find anything about his statement funny, but apparently, he did, and let a deep purr rumble from the bottom of his chest. He flicked his tail in the direction of the fresh-kill pile, eyeing her sternly, as if daring her to object. "Eat, Mothpaw. You can have my share." She hadn't hunted today, since they were busy with training, but he had managed to bring in something for the Clan.

Thistlestorm wouldn't miss just one meal and found it more important that his apprentice ate anyway. His stomach didn't seem to disagree with him much, as it stayed quiet and he tipped his head, sending a small grin in her direction. "Just know that next time we train, you'll be working double to make up for what we didn't get to today."

[/size][/div]