Post by blackheart on Mar 19, 2008 2:58:23 GMT -5
The wind blew sweetly outside, slowly, and smelling of green leaves. new-leaf would soon be here, and blackheart smiled a little inside. Soon he would be able to replenish his stores of herbs. he had been having trouble finding new herbs during the leaf-bear, and it would be nice to go out of the camp and hunt down some herbs.
"Great Starclan" Blackheart yawned, "I must get some rest if I'm to go out all day tomorrow, and replenish my herbs"
He lay upon his bed of moss, licking his ruffled fur lightly as his mind began to wonder. it had been some time since his arrival to Shadowclan. He could remember his reception well, and how frightened he had been. How the cats had attacked him, but in the stopped short. Had his aura of bad luck overtaken them, what had made them stop, what made them look at him with those curious eyes?
And what in there right mind had made them nominate him for the position of medicine cat? He was great with herbs, he had a talent for healing, and obviously he had an intimate relationship with starclan that transcended clan-born barriers; they did after all send him that dream about shadowed cats. But was this the right place? Was shadowclan truly where starclan had willed him?
Perhaps it was best not to question there decisions. They had saved him from a life as a Loner in that two-leg place. They brought him through all those trials, and tribulations. Taught him the art of healing, the art of tongues. His loyalty was to starclan first, and then to Shadowclan. Its the way it must be, when you're a medicine cat.
But after all those troubled thoughts, Blackhearts last thought of the night was a simple one, I hope theres a plump vole on that freshkill pile tomorrow morning
"Great Starclan" Blackheart yawned, "I must get some rest if I'm to go out all day tomorrow, and replenish my herbs"
He lay upon his bed of moss, licking his ruffled fur lightly as his mind began to wonder. it had been some time since his arrival to Shadowclan. He could remember his reception well, and how frightened he had been. How the cats had attacked him, but in the stopped short. Had his aura of bad luck overtaken them, what had made them stop, what made them look at him with those curious eyes?
And what in there right mind had made them nominate him for the position of medicine cat? He was great with herbs, he had a talent for healing, and obviously he had an intimate relationship with starclan that transcended clan-born barriers; they did after all send him that dream about shadowed cats. But was this the right place? Was shadowclan truly where starclan had willed him?
Perhaps it was best not to question there decisions. They had saved him from a life as a Loner in that two-leg place. They brought him through all those trials, and tribulations. Taught him the art of healing, the art of tongues. His loyalty was to starclan first, and then to Shadowclan. Its the way it must be, when you're a medicine cat.
But after all those troubled thoughts, Blackhearts last thought of the night was a simple one, I hope theres a plump vole on that freshkill pile tomorrow morning