Rosewing's Blame

Chapter 1

Rosewing looked down at the pile of herbs at her paws and sighed. She had been sitting here for hours, and while she had just arranged them earlier this morning, Taterheart had... different ideas for what to do with the herbs. She couldn't blame him though, he never was exactly, right, in the head and also supposed to be an elder by now, though that didn't mean she couldn't be upset with him for it. She had enough. The smells of poppy seeds and tansy were mixed up in her nostrils, and she could barely focus anymore. She instead went out to the clearing, and got a mouse from the fresh-kill pile.

It was Newleaf in Farmclan, and the fresh-kill pile was almost always stocked. Newleaf also brought new kits and queens. For some reason, though she had never had a mate or kits, she had always had a soft spot for queens and kits. For the queens, it might've been their gentleness, or even just the joy of the thought of new life for the clan. For kits, it might've been their innocence, safe from the scars of battle. To everyone else, she was her normal self: Cold, grumpy, Rosewing. She sighed. Around the camp, she was known for having a "fox-heart" and never showing any emotion but anger. She had emotions! She just chose not to face them, it made her feel better. 

Bitterly, she took a bite out of her mouse. She started to hurry as she noticed a cat sniffing around her carefully arranged piles, probably Taterheart. When she looked up again from her mouse, she noticed the cat was gone. She got up, taking one more mouse from the pile. Mouse blood was the best for sweetening herbs, and it couldn't hurt now. She slowly got up, stretching, before padding back to her piles. Carefully, she nipped at the mouse's belly, making a slice with her thin fangs, and watched in satisfaction as the blood flowed out, staining it's fur. Hooking it with her claw, she held it, dripping, over the different piles. Once the mouse had nothing left, she put in in the corner of the medicine den, planning to throw it out somewhere later. She then neatly put the usable herbs into their small holes in the back wall of the medicine den. She barely looked at where she was putting the herbs, she knew their location in the wall down to the smallest speck of dirt. 

She walked over to Birchmoss, her previous apprentice. "We need more feverfew." she mewed, annoyed. "I thought you said you would go out to get some a few sunrises ago."

Birchmoss, used to her mentor's edge, though she had collected the feverfew before, replied with "Yes Rosewing." She tried to not sound annoyed, as she knew a fight with Rosewing was one that you could never win.

She muttered something else in an annoyed mew as she walked away. Rosewing heard the mumble, but decided not to go after her for it. She turned around, and saw Taterheart sitting in his nest, mumbling his usual nonsense. He had never been able to form coherent sentences, and always was stuttering about strange, non-nonsensical prophecies. Through his mumbled words, she though she could hear something about poison. No one really knew how he became a medicine cat, or why he was chosen in the first place. He didn't really do anything medicine-cat related anymore, and started to mumble panicked words when retiring to the elders den was brought up, so the clan just let him stay in here. 

She sighed, and went to her nest on the opposite corner of the medicine den. She curled up, and tried to go to sleep, exhausted from the previous night of caring for Yowlsoul. They had been vomiting through the night, but seemed fine in the morning, so she let him out. She listened to everything around her. Taterheart's mumbling, chatter in the clearing, all of them mixed together to make something else, something unique. It was the sound of life in Farmclan, and despite almost every cat being a mousebrain, she didn't know what she would do without it.