Rowanglade & Fawnbriar
A moment of importance
Medicine Cat’s Den, WindClan Camp, WindClan Territory
18
Healing is a matter of time,
but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.
‹‹‹‹ ››››
The waning gibbous moon hung high in the sky, not long from reaching the zenith before it set. Rowanglade was curled, deeply asleep in her nest of moss, feathers and the fur of prey. She was safe from both the biting wind and bone deep cold outside.
Despite the deep sleep the alarrm calls of a chipmunk rang out in agressive shrieks that roused her from her rest.
Bleary eyes blinking open the medicine at first felt the demanding pull deep in her gut, urging her to listen. The words of the chipmunk open ran through her mind: With speed and quick action, you hunt the chipmunk. She rose from her paws, shaking both sleep and bedding from her fur.
Then the peircing call of the blackbird. blackbird would be an opportunity. Before her a shimmer of moonlight beckond her out intro the open cold of camp. Memories rose: a ragged ear and a flash of serious green eyes. The sense of it urged her, pulling her towards the Leader’s den.
Rowanglade raced to follow the urgings, bursting into the den where Fawnbriar slept. ”You need to wake up now!” Her tone was urgent, demanding.
Fawnbriar was curled in her nest, the moss and her leaf-bare thick coat keeping her quite comfy in the protected shelter of her den despite the coldness of the night. hHr breathing even and deep, bordering on the edge of falling into a deep, dreaming sleep but not quite there yet.
The patrols were figured out for the coming day and despite the cold and snow, the clan wasn't going completely hungry that she was aware of. She knew Brightmaple and Beewhisker were making sure to keep the kits warm in the nursery and there were still a good amount of bodies in the elder's den to help keep each other warm.
She gave a light jump and her folded ears twitched upon hearing a piercing cry- it sounded like a blackbird to her. Normally, nighttime sounds didn't bother her, but generally birds were pretty quiet at night save for the occasional cries of owls.
Giving a soft snort and snuffle, the chocolate tortie she-cat shifted and snuggled further down into her nest, ready to finally fall into a satisfying sleep when she heard the soft but urgent pawsteps belonging to some cat approaching her den. That some cat burst into her den moments later with a urgent, hissing demand for her to wake.
But Fawnbriar was already lifting her head and getting to her paws as she attempted to blink sleep away. "Rowanglade? What is it? What's wrong?"
