mothdreamer, medicine cat

onyxfall and rubygaze were the epitome of young love, seeming to always be in the giggly courting stage of romance even moons after being together. it was no surprise that a pair of mates with so much love to give would eventually look to starting a family.

and so mothkit and his siblings came into existence.

he was born alongside three other siblings, all dutifully named by their loyal cavernclan parents for creatures of the dark. mothkit was named for his lighter coat, similar to the pale wings of certain species of moths that would flutter around the cave. his kithood was happy, playing with his siblings under the careful watch of their parents.

even from such a young age, mothkit showed little interest in warriorhood. while the idea at first held an exciting and unknown appeal, he soon started to question the point of it all. this question garnered shocked and offended responses, and so mothkit quickly learned to keep quiet regarding such matters. but even so, mothkit found himself lingering in the elder's cave, listening to their exaggerated tales. even the medicine cat's den held some appeal, something different from the repetitive stories of the warriors.

even despite his initial distaste towards being a warrior, it was hard to deny the excitement that came with finally being made an apprentice. he was assigned to senior warrior beetlebite, a gruff old tom who was not at all understanding towards mothpaw's more laid-back nature. rather than working with the younger tom, he tried to work him harder, though this only built the resentment mothpaw started to feel towards his mentor. 

the excitement soon wore off, leaving mothpaw entirely unenthusiastic with about his training. why should he want to be a warrior anyways? all it seemed to be was working like an ant, the same tasks everyday to keep alive a system that they were only pawns to. sure, there was loyalty and survivorship, but in mothpaw's eyes, much of the hardships were self-inflicted with the rivalry between clans. 

of course, he couldn't voice these opinions, especially not to his bristling mentor. 

so he simply stewed on them on his own, growing more and more resentful towards the life he had been born into. beetlebite constantly scowled at him, called him lazy, all while mothpaw worked on doing the minimum to avoid scorn from any other warrior. complaints from beetlebite were mostly unregarded by others, considering that the old tom complained about everything, from the movements of the sun to the changing of the seasons. 

so he worked when he had to, but often spent time with the elders, listening to their stories to repeat them later to kits. he also spent time with his siblings, whenever they weren't working (harder than he was, for certain). 

finally, his training was over, much to his own relief and the relief of beetlebite. he was named mothfoot, a nod to his light steps and hunting ability. beetlebite was all the more offended by this, as his specialty was fighting. mothfoot certainly wasn't fond of the practice, especially when the loses often seemed to outweigh whatever gains there were to be had. 

as a warrior, mothfoot did not bloom. he continued his easy going and laid back ways, resenting the structure that warriorhood demanded of him. life was a drag, slowly going by day by day. he made his friends and had a few passing romances, but there was truly nothing exciting to keep mothfoot invested in the clan. his lack of devotion to his clan prevented him from being assigned an apprentice, but mothfoot didn't pay this much mind. why would he want to train a cat to take his place in the endless cycle that made up the clan? 

his attitude was a true contrast to his brother, who was swiftly making a name for himself in the clan. batcry was eager to prove himself where mothfoot was not, and the darker tom's devotion to his clan soon earned himself the position of deputy. despite the lack of spark in mothfoot's life, he was proud of his brother, if not a bit envious that batcry saw something to work towards. 

if anything, though, batcry's new position made it all the more fun to tease him.

as the moons carried on, deputyship soon turned into leadership, batcry soon taking his place at the head of the clan. again, mothfoot felt the familiar mixture of pride and envy, especially has he had accomplished little to nothing within the clan. his paws began to grow restless, becoming impatient and irritated with his lack of successes. he had no desire to work at what was expected of him, leaving him feeling trapped and stagnant, until one day, he decided to take his fate into his own paws and solve his own problem. 

and so he left. 

it was as easy as that. he offered batstar a vague excuse, and while there was surprise and attempts to change his mind, he had already made his decision. and so he walked out of the caves, and began his trek towards a different destiny. 

he headed towards the nearby twoleg place, and while every instinct in him was on edge, he approached with a warrior's boldness. for a few nights he lurked on the outskirts, scouting out different homes and families and territories before settling on a small twoleg nest to make his own.

lurking around the nest, eating scraps and using all the bravery his warrior genes provided him, it wasn't hard for mothfoot to catch the attention of the twolegs living there. an older pair, seeming nice enough, as far as twolegs were concerned. they began to leave out food for him, calling to him every time they spotted him on their way in and out of the nest. 

there was a moment mothfoot almost bolted and headed home, but at the same time, his heart pounded with excitement. this offered the life he had wanted, no expectations to kill or fight on command and risk losing his life or the life of his family. no orders to do the same tasks everyday, a carefree and casual life to fit his attitude. 

and so, after a moon of lingering, mothfoot was invited inside, and he crossed over officially into the new life he had chosen. 

while initially tense, things soon seemed to be going well. he was offered food, and while not as tasty as fresh-kill, it had a satisfying crunch and filled his belly better than thin prey ever had. he was offered warm places to sleep, and while he initially shied away from the touch his his new companions, he soon came to learn how nice a gentle pet from them was. 

everything seemed perfect. his companions were quiet, though the nest got louder when members of what mothfoot assumed to be the twoleg's family came to visit, young kits coming to break the calm serenity that mothfoot appreciated. their touch was not gentle, and mothfoot soon learned to keep his distance and simply observe them. 

all was well and good, mothfoot beginning to fully relax as several moons passed with his new home. then it happened. his male companion grabbed him, rougher than usual, pressing him into a small box and bringing him into the monster the twolegs used to get from place to place. he was brought to a bright and frightening place, where hands poked and prodded, tugging at limbs and his mouth and pricking him with sharp thorns. he was too frightened to fight back, especially when he began to grow sleepy and eventually fell into unconsciousness. 

when he awoke, mothfoot was back at his twoleg nest, but something was different. he hurt and felt sick, sluggish and disoriented. it took little time to realize where he had been brought and what had been taken from him. he had been to the cutters, altered in a way that had been spoken of like a rumor among the clan. 

he was horrified. no longer did he let his twoleg companions touch him, and he ate the food they offered sparingly. it was only then that he realized what he had left behind, the freedom of the life he had spat on. while it had had its downfalls, he had simply become an object for the twolegs to manipulate and alter to their will. wasn't that even more structure than the life of a warrior? while he had not been entirely suited to it, surely it was better than this. 

but how could he return? he couldn't, not now. he was trapped here, in a place where he had thought he had freedom and luxury. and so he withdrew into himself, lurking wherever the twolegs were not. could he truly live out his moons like this?

then he dreamed. 

he was back in cavernclan, starry cats surrounding him. he hadn't thought of starclan in several moons, and mothfoot was initially frightened, fearing that they had come to shame him for his choice to abandon the warrior code. 

but he was approached instead by amberblaze, the medicine cat through much of his younger warrior days before passing away. and what he said shocked mothfoot. he spoke of a different path, not the one he had abandoned or the one he had tried to escape to. a path to return to the clans, not as a warrior, but as its new medicine cat. 

and while several moons ago, mothfoot would have laughed at the idea, now, he was enraptured by the medicine cat's words. 'mothdreamer' he was named, receiving the blessing of past medicine cats who placed the future of his clan in his paws. 

but first, he had to get back home. 

and so at the first chance, mothdreamer left, bolting through the door as his twoleg captors entered, running from the neighborhood and back to the territory he was born in. the journey back was a bit more difficult than the journey there, his body more sluggish and his belly a bit bigger than before, but he soon arrived, demanding an audience with batstar. 

faced with his brother and leader, he apologized profusely, words tumbling over themselves in an attempt to explain the rut that he was in and his foolish idea that life outside of the clan would grant him what he was looking for. he spoke freely of the freedom that was taken of him, for he knew it was no secret, that his scent was different. but he also spoke of his dream, the granting of his medicine cat name and position by starclan. 

batstar, one to value family, let him return, much to mothdreamer's relief. he was placed under probation, as was expected, and mothdreamer knew there would be much work to do to repair the damage that had been done in the eyes of his clanmates. and he was different now, in a way that no other warrior could relate to, both from his visit to the cutters as well as the position that had been granted to him by starclan. for the first time, mothdreamer felt self-conscious, both about his decision and the events that happened during it.

he quickly began his training with newtblossom, who welcomed him back home like an old friend with a knowing gleam in his eyes. there was no judgement there, and he spoke as though he expected mothdreamer to come to him. their time together was cut horribly short, though. while out collecting herbs, newtblossom tripped, tumbling down a short rocky incline. while the fall itself wouldn't have hurt him too badly, his head hit a rock, causing an injury that even an experienced medicine cat wouldn't be able to heal. 

and so he was suddenly the sole medicine cat of cavernclan, with only two moons of training. while he maintains his calm and mellow attitude regarding work, there is a new anxiety present as well. despite all his moons of experience, he does not have all the knowledge he needs to care for his clan. was this what starclan intended? his faith remains strong, but he knows there is much to be done.