Post by silverfang218 on Mar 13, 2018 1:31:55 GMT
Silverfang had been absolutely and completely crushed by the death of her mate; instead of happily sitting down to chat with elders or pestering the queens making sure that they were all wellfed, Silverfang had become a ghost. When she went out to look for herbs, she did so with her head down and her eyes dulled. She checked on the queens and elders still, but she spoke with an empty voice, and her eyes seemed like they were never really seeing what was in front of them. The only exception to this was interacting with Bearstar or her own apprentice, as she tried to hide most of her brokenness from them; a couple cats had asked her what had happened, but she merely said that she had been close friends with Frostheart. Her clanmates didn’t press her any further than that; it seemed like a lot of cats had lost at least one loved one in the multiple tragedies that had plagued them over the last few moons.
This is how Silverfang had always handled grief. After the death of her mother and then the death of the previous medicine cat, who Silverfang was very close to, the she-cat had isolated herself, only performing necessary functions while on autopilot. She had begun to do the same this time; she doesn’t really do grief well.
That all changed after Nightfur had her litter. It had been a stressful few days of running back and forth from the medicine den to the nursery, keeping a close eye (probably an annoyingly close eye) on both Nightfur and Meteorfall, as both cats seemed to be expecting kits at the same time. Nightfur’s litter was particularly strange though; despite both parents having mostly black fur, one of their kits was snowy white. Silver knows Nightfur too well to think that the litter isn’t Ravenwing’s… so why is one of the kits white? Silverfang had her suspicions that the kit was either the reincarnation of her former mate or a sign sent down from Frostheart. Her suspicions seemed confirmed when Nightfur said that she was going to name the white kitten after Frost.
For some reason, the knowledge that either Frost was with her in kitten form or sending her a message (albet, a vague one) made the medicine cat feel a lot better. While a part of her was broken forever, her emotions seemed to return fully and she regained the ability to be truly happy.
Today, she was sorting herbs in her den, having sent her apprentice out on some unknown errand; the silver cat’s ears perk up at the sound of tiny pawsteps entering her den, likely a kit trying to be quiet. The scent confirms it is indeed little Frostkit, who must of slipped away from the watchful eyes of her mother. But of course, one can’t ruin all the kit’s fun, so Silverfang continues what she’s doing, allowing the kit to wreck whatever havoc she wants. All the dangerous herbs are up off the ground where Frostkit would have a lot of difficulties reaching them (and she’d likely make enough noise trying to reach them that Silverfang would know what’s up), so there’s no harm at letting a kit snoop around some.
This is how Silverfang had always handled grief. After the death of her mother and then the death of the previous medicine cat, who Silverfang was very close to, the she-cat had isolated herself, only performing necessary functions while on autopilot. She had begun to do the same this time; she doesn’t really do grief well.
That all changed after Nightfur had her litter. It had been a stressful few days of running back and forth from the medicine den to the nursery, keeping a close eye (probably an annoyingly close eye) on both Nightfur and Meteorfall, as both cats seemed to be expecting kits at the same time. Nightfur’s litter was particularly strange though; despite both parents having mostly black fur, one of their kits was snowy white. Silver knows Nightfur too well to think that the litter isn’t Ravenwing’s… so why is one of the kits white? Silverfang had her suspicions that the kit was either the reincarnation of her former mate or a sign sent down from Frostheart. Her suspicions seemed confirmed when Nightfur said that she was going to name the white kitten after Frost.
For some reason, the knowledge that either Frost was with her in kitten form or sending her a message (albet, a vague one) made the medicine cat feel a lot better. While a part of her was broken forever, her emotions seemed to return fully and she regained the ability to be truly happy.
Today, she was sorting herbs in her den, having sent her apprentice out on some unknown errand; the silver cat’s ears perk up at the sound of tiny pawsteps entering her den, likely a kit trying to be quiet. The scent confirms it is indeed little Frostkit, who must of slipped away from the watchful eyes of her mother. But of course, one can’t ruin all the kit’s fun, so Silverfang continues what she’s doing, allowing the kit to wreck whatever havoc she wants. All the dangerous herbs are up off the ground where Frostkit would have a lot of difficulties reaching them (and she’d likely make enough noise trying to reach them that Silverfang would know what’s up), so there’s no harm at letting a kit snoop around some.
