Username: orbiting
Cat Name: Smallfern
Clan: bloomclanRank: Warrior
Gender: Male
Age: 57 moons
Prompt:Ever since he was a kitten, Smallfern would dream of being a healer.
When he would lean his head out of the nursery, not even a full moon old, to crane his head up and look at the stars shine above him; his heart would race thinking about being closer to them somehow.
Being closer to the stars than any other cat in his clan.
He'd fall asleep and have dreams about being a protector of the innocent, feeding injured cats herbs and remedies, and watching the color come back into their faces. A smile would cross the kitten's face when he would dream of being in a field of flowers, picking stems and harvesting petals, knowing what he was doing would be worth it: that he would be able to save lives, rather than fight for them.
He would never play-fight with the other kittens; but when they'd get cuts and scrapes, Smallkit would swear he knew exactly what to do, "healing" his friends with a mixtures of hand-made salves from mud and tree leaves.
There came a day when the medicine cat asked Smallkit about his future.
"You're always spending so much time in here, always asking me about things," Pepperflare smiled. "Would you like to become my apprentice when you're 6 moons old?"
The offer had stunned Smallkit. He had always thought his dreams would be just that: dreams. He'd never become a real medicine cat.
But now, the reality was pressing in on him that he could have the future he'd desired for so long in his paws - and the offer was right there. To live his life as he designed, as he'd been longing for. It was right in front of him - finally.
He nearly imploded with his excitement, and it was apparent on his face. The kitten began to hop on all fours, violently shaking. "Yes." He whispered in an all-telling tone.
"Hold on," Pepperflare smiled, clearly amused by the kitten's enthusiasm. "I'll give you a day; so you can be sure. I don't want to make it so you regret not becoming a warrior. You're still young. Come to me with your answer in about 3 night-passings."
Smallkit nodded, but the answer was already in his head: and it was a glaring YES. Yes, I want to be your apprentice; Yes, I want to be the medicine cat; Yes, I will never, ever, regret, for a day, becoming a warrior.
What was the appeal to being a warrior, anyways? Smallkit hated violence, hated the sight and smell of blood. He was a runt, smaller than his peers, was weak for several days after birth - he couldn't see himself as a claw-slinging, pelt-biting, bleeding warrior, fighting wars and killing innocent prey animals.
When he thought about killing animals, feeling them go limp in his jaws and blood wash over his toungue, he felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't think about killing anything; no, he only wanted to heal. To save.
That night, he told his mother how he felt.
"... And she said she'd let me become her apprentice, if I wanted! Isn't that so great, mom?" He announced happily, awaiting his mother's reaction.
His heart dropped when her eyes turned cold, and her smile into an icy frown.
"A medicine cat? You...?" She bemused of him.
"Y-yes. You see, I've always wanted to save cats, I think! Oh, and the stars! I wanna be closer to the stars. I think that they're so fascinating, and I want to know the stories of all the cats up there, and - and you know what, mom? I think I could be - I could be a really, really good medicine cat, too!"
Smallkit couldn't tell whether he was informing his mother of his life's choice or simply trying to persuade her; but during the entirety of his speech, his mother kept the same dead-set, angry expression.
As he finished, panting from the outburst of enjoyment, she focused her eyes on him.
"Do you know - what happened to your father? Did I ever tell you?!" She demanded, voice shrill.
Smallkit shrunk back, knowing what was coming next. His father had died before he was born.
"Y-yes, mom, you've told me before-"
"He died fighting in battle," his mother recited, for the thousandth time since his birth; "He died as a noble warrior, but he didn't die nobly. Instead, he was murdered! Killed unjustly by a warrior from another clan. He pounced on your father from behind, and bit into his neck with no warning, with no way for your father to fight back. It was a murder! It was unjust! It was cruel!" She sobbed out, like she always did when recounting the story.
And as always, Smallkit cringed, like hearing about battles always made him do.
"When I gave birth to you, I realized something," His mother mewed. "I realized = I had one kit. Just you, just a little boy. And you know what I saw?"
Smallkit shrunk into his shoulders. "What?"
"I saw your father," his mother beamed. "And it was like he told me something. He told me that you would become the strongest warrior in the forest - in the clan, just like him. And with all your power, and your might, he told me that - that you'd avenge him. He told me that you'd avenge your poor father," his mother weeped. "That's what he told me! And now, look at you! Medicine cat!?" She screeched.
"I - mom, please, listen -"
"You can't do this to me! You're his only blood, the only kit I had! Someone has to avenge him! SOMEONE!" She screamed.
Smallkit trembled. He'd never seen his mother like this.
"And as long as I live, that cat will be you. You, his son, will avenge his death. You and you only! And you will do that, as a warrior! Do you hear me?"
Smallkit felt the tears hot in his eyes. He didn't want to disappoint his mother, but -
"I miss him so much - Smallkit! How could you do this, to me? Don't you have any idea how much it hurts for me to not have him around? To know how he died, so wrong? How could you do this to me...!"
The clan's attention had now been drawn to the sobbing cat. Several cats had gathered around the nursery's entrance, watching the mother and her son in horror.
And all of them had a look in their eyes - of disapproval. And they were all staring at Smallkit.
He couldn't stand it. All this judgement - all the looks, his mother crying -
"Oh, Smallkit! Oh, no...!"
His mother's sobs rang in his ears, and when he shut his eyes, he could still see the clan staring at him in disapproval, in hatred for making his mother cry -
"I'm sorry! Mom, I'm sorry! I won't do it! I'll become a warrior, alright? Just for you, mom! So don't... don't cry anymore, okay?"
His mother looked at him. "Really? Oh, my baby! Thank you! Thank you so much!"
Having to tell Pepperflare he wouldn't become her apprentice hurt. It hurt more than anything he'd ever done.
But the pain was not yet finished with.
He became Smallpaw, and was apprenticed to a warrior who had rippling muscles under his pelt and claws sharper than death.
The pain came from the battles, and the training. It came from fights where he'd feel blood dripping down his pelt and scream in pain, and it came from everyday he woke knowing he hated his life, the life he'd chosen for himself.
It came when he was named Smallfern, the warrior who couldn't do anything right. The one who hated to fight and hated to hunt, and the one who would never be more than less than average.
The worst pain was when Beechpaw, a small, bouncy, excited kit became the medicine cat's apprentice. As Smallfern watched, he touched noses with Pepperflare, and the medicine cat bond started.
He watched the kit live his dream through glassed eyes. Through a fake smile.
His mother died of sickness, and her crooked belief in her son avenging his father's death still ran deep inside of her.
But she was gone now. The pressure had been lifted off his shoulders.
But of course, it was too late.
He was living the life his parents - both dead - had dreamed for him.
But the life he'd dreamed of since he was a little kitten - that dream had been lost.
The regret hits harder each night he sits under the stars, and stares at them like he did when he was little.
The regret fills his heart as the tears fill his eyes, as he sulks, alone, under the stars he had always loved.
