Turtlepaw's Talent
Turtlepaw is struggling.
She tries her best- really, she does- but every minute of her warrior training feels wrong. She’s so close to her assessment, but she knows she won’t pass it. How is she meant to be a warrior when she can barely land a blow? Every moon, the gap between her and her sister grows wider, and she can barely stand it.
Creekgaze is an amazing mentor, too, always explaining things in ways she can understand, but it’s like her brain and her paws are at war. She wants to disappear every time she scares off another piece of prey, or takes another hit during her spars. She knows she’s letting him down. She knows she can do better. And yet, every day she comes back to camp with nothing to show for it.
”At least I’m good at this,” she sighs to Siltwhisker as she delicately harvests herbs. Siltwhisker insists she helps him, always claiming she’s the most careful. He’s probably just being nice, but Turtlepaw appreciates it anyway. “Maybe I’ll just never become a warrior, and do apprentice tasks forever. I’ll be Turtlepaw the elder,” she jokes, but she can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
Siltwhisker gives her an odd look, and Turtlepaw withers. Of course Siltwhisker wouldn’t let her bother him forever, even as a joke. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Siltwhisker speaks first.
“Is being a warrior what you actually want?” He asks, tilting his head slightly. He looks straight at Turtlepaw, but his eyes seem unfocused, like he's staring past her instead.
“O-of course! It’s what I’ve been training for, isn’t it?” Turtlepaw sounds unconvinced, even to herself. She waits for Siltwhisker to respond, but he just stares at her, his expression unreadable.
“...Well, it’s not like I have other options now. I can’t just keep being a burden to the Clan forever,” she mumbles defensively.
“First of all, you wouldn’t be a burden even if you just sat around and ate freshkill all day,” Siltwhisker mews, placing his tail across her shoulders. “And second… You do have options. It’s not too late to train as a medicine cat, if you’re interested.”
It’s Turtlepaw’s turn to go silent. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, searching for words that don't come. Honestly, it’s an… appealing offer. She’s always in the medicine den anyway, so much that Coralpaw complains about the scent stuck in her fur. And she’s about a thousand times better at finding herbs than she is at finding prey. Still, she’s already been training for four moons… “Is that really okay?” she wonders out loud.
“It’s actually not uncommon,” Siltwhisker shrugs. “I was lucky. I knew when I was a kit that I wanted to be a medicine cat… or rather, I wanted to be like Marshleap,” He admits, a flash of fondness lighting up his eyes. “But the medicine cat before him, Pearlheart, only started training at twelve moons.”
Turtlepaw swallows, her heart fluttering in her chest. “... I don’t know. Wouldn’t I just get in the way…?” she asks hoarsely.
Siltwhisker’s golden eyes shine. “If you did, it’d be the very first time,” He purrs warmly. “Even as a kit, you never made a mess. That’s more than I can say for myself.”
Turtlepaw smooths the fur on her chest, overcome with a mix of pride and embarrassment. She finishes collecting the bundle of sage at her paws, not quite looking at Siltwhisker. “...If it’s really allowed… I think I’d like that,” She meows shyly.
“Then pick those up, and let’s go speak to Foamstar.”
