EmberClan and Frostclan-- TERNSTRIPE

= Ternstripe = Although he did not exactly hate his job the way some plucky apprentices or concerned warriors did, Ternstripe would have considered it a stretch to call himself happy.

He felt distanced from his clan, which he knew many previous medicine cats felt too. They would not, or could not, go on patrols, and hunt, and fight, and were always considered different by the leader, deputy, and top warriors. Even though he was rather introverted, the feeling of being such an outcast really took a toll on the sad tom, especially in his aging years. He would never have a mate, he knew that was law, but it wasn’t law that he couldn’t have friends. But it seemed nobody in the clan was willing to fully interact with him, beyond what they had to.

According to his old mentor, Stuntedstripe, a medicine cat apprentice, or “first aid kit,” was the closest friend a distant medicine cat could have. It was someone who understood how a medicine cat felt, and at the same time looked up to him in a way the typical warrior and prentice didn’t.

So, Ternstripe was particularly pleased when Rustypaw, a bored-seeming tom, became his student. He planned on teaching him everything, and was starting to get the eagerness and thrills of when he was first apprenticed. After all, he hadn’t felt happy, or normal, even, for a long time.

But things didn’t work out like he hoped. Rustypaw truly was disinterested, in everything; herbs, injuries, climbing safety, all the things that excited a young and naive Ternstripe refused to reach the bland and unfriendly cat. Sometimes the aging black and white tom wondered if the young apprentice liked anything at all.

Once again, life as the sole medicine cat in the rickety EmberClan became lonely and distanced.

In the winter that changed EmberClan and FrostClan forever, and the first winter under Emberstar, Ternstripe was harvesting herbs.

There were little plants to be found at the top of the mountain-- although the soil was thin and rocky further down, in the old CliffClan camp, some herbs could be grown; it was enough for a medicine cat to get by with his patients. It seemed that the slopes, cliffs, and ravines at the mountain peak were even less agriculturally friendly.

Still, a few wildflowers and herbs sprouted amongst the stone, and ternstripe would travel far to reach it.

He clasped the stem of a brittle chamomile flower in his jaws, plucking it from it’s rocky bed. He was so focused in his meticulous work, of finding herbs for the medicine stores at camp, that he didn't see the dark red-ginger figure approaching.

When the old cat pulled his head up, he spotted Rustypaw pad over to him, the apprentice’s eyes dull.

“Rustypaw!” Ternstripe exclaimed eagerly, dropping his plant bundle. “Glad to see you here.”

Rustypaw nodded in his mentor’s direction, but stayed quiet.

Trying to continue the conversation, Ternstripe added, “You know, when I was a young prentice tom, learning the ways of a medicine cat, gathering herbs was nothing short of my favorite chore. ‘Course, back in the old camp, there were a lot more places to harvest than here.”

“Mhm,” Rustypaw nodded, staring off into space.

Ternstripe’s smile faded, realizing this was yet another failed interaction with his apprentice. “You know, the old camp, it was very good, actually. Perfectly suitable.” He grumbled under his breath, “Perhaps you’d actually listen to me if we were there.”

To his surprise, Rustypaw seemed to register this comment. “Yeah,  I agree,” he replied, still not looking Ternstripe in the eye.

The old medicine cat was surprised. This was the only time his apprentice ever seemed to show any interest in his duties.

Rustypaw prepared to jump to another ledge, but Ternstripe pulled closer. “Do you… do you like the new camp?” he pressed on.

“I don’t really know. I have hardly any memory of anywhere else… but you’re right. There are practically no plants here. Or, well, good rivers, or even prey.” Ternstripe noticed Rustypaw was actually surveying the mountainside below the two cats.

The black and white tom sat down, furrowing his brow. He couldn’t risk saying anything that would anger Emberstar, or it would only further his position as an outsider from the rest of the nice, loyal, perfect warriors.

He needed to speak carefully-- he realized, after controversies surrounding Claystar began, that he could never trust that any other clanmate held his beliefs. “What… what do you think of, um, Emberstar?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s crazy,” Rustypaw said frankly. Ternstripe was taken aback by the young tom’s bluntness. “I don’t know why the other apprentice toms think she’s cool. She creeps me out-- especially what she said to dropstar in the battle yesterday.”

Rising to his full height, Ternstripe regarded his apprentice with a critical eye. His old teachings from the CliffClan golden years, flooded through his head. “Don’t let an apprentice disobey his leader,” Stuntedstripe seemed to echo. “Keep them patriotic.”

But he agreed. Rustypaw was right; Ternstripe didn’t understand why the younger clan members liked the leader. And more so, Rustypaw didn’t relate to his peers either, about politics or opinions.

Exactly like his mentor.

But Ternstripe was so flustered, and surprised, he wasn’t quite sure what to say in response to his apprentice. “I.. i suppose, yes,” he stammered, his greasy tail twitching.

He turned to face the mountain peak, outlined against a hazy, smoky sky. “I should bring these herbs back to camp. Several warriors need these, I guess, from injuries. And a few apprentices.”

“Aight.” Rustypaw sauntered away, his striped pelt moving with his elegant body. “I’m gonna hunt, I guess.”

“G-goodbye. Come by the herb store later, I want to show you how to use them,” Ternstripe called after him, although Rustypaw never failed to not come to the herb store, whenever hsi mentor asked.

But maybe this time would be different. Knowing what Rustypaw knew, knowing that perhaps there was someone else in the clan who agreed with him, and better yet, it was a young cat, with power in his claws, was comfort for the lonely Ternstripe.

Maybe he would feel the famed connection again-- just under unlikely circumstances.