Training and Simple Plant (short story)
Myrtlewing woke to the feeling of being poked with a claw on his nose. He flinched back. “Ow!”
Aldereyes stood over him, because of course it was him. “Get up. You're coming with me to train.”
Myrtlewing shifted to a sitting position and yawned. “You do realize that I’m a medicine cat, right?”
“Of course I remember. It’s the only position you could have where no one would judge you for fleeing in a battle. No one’s sick,” Aldereyes added. “The Clan should learn how to fight against bigger enemies.” He said that looking briefly to the ground.
Fleetsong had died three days ago. Myrtlewing had initially planned to sneak back through the dirtplace, but because Fleetsong ended up being mauled by a dog, he didn’t have to pretend. He told them the truth, or part of it–that Fleetsong offered to help him gather herbs while he was still awake, and they were attacked by a dog. Myrtlewing managed to climb up a tree in time, but Fleetsong wasn’t so lucky.
He forced himself to frown in spite of the very different emotion he felt. Fleetsong hadn’t died right away. The dog was chased off by a dawn patrol–another blessing for Myrtlewing, because it meant that he might have been caught if not for the beast. Fleetsong was then brought back to camp, where Myrtlewing would heal him. Poor tom was so terrified, knowing the truth but unable to tell it. Myrtlewing gave him some special herbs, and that was it. He had hung his head after that, telling Stormstar that their Clanmate was already too far gone.
“I’m a medicine cat,” Myrtlewing repeated, “I don’t need to fight.”
“I can tell that by looking at you. But you almost died.” Was that a shimmer in his eyes? “And as useless as you are at everything you do, you’re the Clan’s only medicine cat and we cannot afford for something to happen to you.”
Right. Myrtlewing smirked. That’s why.
He followed Aldereyes out of the den and to one of the training clearings, making sure to tell Mossflake where he would be and to fetch him if anyone needed him.
The training had already begun by the time they arrived. Molespots and Pricklepelt were circling each other, while Hootpetal and Cedarsky wrestled on the ground. Upon seeing Aldereyes, they straightened and watched him, waiting for instruction. Myrtlewing couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of pride at the respect their Clanmates held in his friend. Aldereyes wasn’t even deputy, and he was younger than Molespots and Pricklepelt by many moons, yet they still looked to him for guidance.
He kept mostly on the sidelines, but listened intently as Aldereyes gave instructions, explaining to his Clanmates how to fight a bigger predator in contrast to another warrior, and when he asked Molespots and Pricklepelt to share any knowledge they had on the topic. After all, he may need to use this information one day, whether as prey or predator.
“The best element of all,” Aldereyes was saying, “is surprise.” With that, he whipped around and tackled Myrtlewing, who was behind him, without warning, grabbing him by the shoulder and flinging him to the ground. Myrtlewing only blinked in startlement as Aldereyes pretended to bite his throat.
He felt it was all so funny. Only three days prior, he had done the same thing to Fleetsong, only much harsher, shoving the tom onto the forest floor and slitting his throat with his claws. Aldereyes would make an amazing killer.
After the training was over, the group parted. Aldereyes took Pricklepelt and Hootpetal to hunt, only after hinting to Myrtlewing that maybe he wouldn’t have been so easy to tackle if he had some muscle–which Myrtlewing most definitely did.
Myrtlewing told them that since he was out, he would gather some herbs, and passed up the offer of traveling with a warrior. The dog had been chased back to its Twoleg, and both were long gone by now. Plus, there was the most obvious reason: he was hoping to meet with Nightfly, and didn’t want anybody to see him.
Arriving at the border, he was pleasantly surprised to see the dark grey tom already pacing back and forth along the scent line.
Nightfly leaped into the air, landing semi-gracefully. When he saw Myrtlewing, he practically ran over. “Hi!” he called back, hardly able to contain his smile. “I wasn’t sure if, you know, I was supposed to come here. Was I? You’re not just here for an unrelated reason? I’m sorry if you are–”
Myrtlewing gave him a reassuring smile back. “I’m here for you.”
“Oh!” Nightfly somehow seemed to both stiffen and melt. He looked around, as if distracting himself from the mixing feelings, and his eyes landed on the crumpled patch of flowers. “Good thing you gathered them when you did,” he said jokingly.
“Yeah,” Myrtlewing mumbled. Should he still use the flowers to cheer Aldereyes up, as he had planned? It had been a while since Stormstar–or Maplefall–had gotten on the golden tom’s nerves. There was still the flower that Nightfly had picked for him, laying on the ground apart from the others. It was in much better condition than its counterparts, since it had no longer been part of the bush when Myrtlewing clawed it apart in frustration.
“Speaking of….” Nightfly’s voice began to trail away, and he forced it back up. “I…I spotted another flower on the border here. It wasn’t part of the ground or anything, and there was nothing like it around, so I was wondering if maybe that meant that it was left. Or maybe the wind just blew it,” he added quickly.
“I was hoping you would find it,” Myrtlewing told him. He had taken Molespots’s advice. When the older tom had suggested flowers after Myrtlewing said that he wanted to show someone he cares, it gave him an idea. Of course, he didn’t mean it romantically, but he could certainly trick Nightfly into thinking that’s what simple plants means. The fool was already quivering any time Myrtlewing looked at him.
He went with hyacinth, hoping its bright colours would make it stand out against the yellow-green moor. “We can’t talk long,” he went on, “patrols will be coming by.”
“Right!” Nightfly’s tail fell.
“This was great, though,” Myrtlewing went on. “I like seeing you.” He wanted to vomit at his own words, but Nightfly brightened once again. “We should do it again. Perhaps at the next Gathering?”
“Sure!” Nightfly’s eyes practically flooded with affection. Then his attention flicked to something behind Myrtlewing. “Itwasgreatseeingyoutoobye!” and he was off, leaping back over the hill. Myrtlewing glanced behind him and saw a Shadowclan patrol approach.
“Who was that?” they asked.
“Just a Windclan warrior,” Myrtlewing answered.
“Okay, well we’re heading back to camp after this,” Briartalon, who was leading, spoke. “Do you want to come back with us?”
“Sure,” Myrtlewing responded. His eyes drifted to the dark petals at the bottom of the hill. Padding over, he picked the flower up in his jaws, and followed his Clanmates back to the camp.
================================
--Myrtle likely got the flower from a Twoleg garden
--Finally getting to the ‘Alder thinking Myrtle likes him’ part!
--His Clanmates likely won’t use the ‘how to fight a big predator’ moves on him if he tried to kill them, but best to listen just in case they tried to.
--Hyacinth means play/game, symbolizing that that’s all his and Nightfly’s relationship is to him.
