{ mother dearest } mother mine ::kin::

[PHARAOH]

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[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: 8b7e7c; border: #2e2229 solid 10px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] don't ask questions tagged SHADOWLEAF words 554 notes <3 surrounded by answers Tahath was sick and tired of the foolishness that seemed to surround her daily. From thorns in pads to scratches on the nose, it was as if her job had been reduced from healer to babysitter in a heartbeat. Even after this much time, she still refused to adjust to the idea that this was all she could ever be good for. There was no widespread starvation, and no constant bloodshed. Without those two things, the she-cat felt her life was completely useless. As dark and somewhat sadistic as it seemed, she missed the pains and sufferings of other cats. In the very least, it gave her something to look forward to; the art of healing others had not been lost. Of course, she could not blame the cats for wanting to live themselves the lives of peace ad tranquility, but she did at times feel homesick for something she'd never had in the first place. Now she twiddled her claws in menial tasks, never reaching a level where she could find some importance to her name. Even her new title, Prophetpaw, felt lacking. It felt wrong. The little prophet had always been so special, and in this Clan, though she was more important than others, she had lost all in her status. She was not the next Royal Healer. She was not the daughter of the Duke. She was a trainee, plain and simple, who would one day be the equivalent of four other cats, always underneath four others who were leaders. A nasty place in the middle of importance that felt absolutely disgraceful. Her skills were clearly being wasted. As the day went on, Tahath had been invited at a free moment to come speak with her mentor in private out on The Hills. She had always felt nervous around her mentor, as if she were to become a failure at any given moment and be shunned or disgraced, but today, she was starting to find herself in a rut of unusual apathy. The title they shared as Medicine Cat, though Tahath did rank below her, meant that some day they would be equals. It was forcing them to get along, and to work together, and feel a sort of camaraderie to it all. As silly as it seemed, Tahath found in her position of guaranteed power without chance or risk of fatality, she was less attached to her mentor's constant disapproval, and more so eager to prove to her Clan that she was a wise choice. In this, she found greater comfort. Edging toward the crest of the tallest hill slowly, Tahath sat herself down to wait. Her mentor would likely be right behind her, waiting in the shadows, making her feel alone and vulnerable as she approached. It was a popular tactic among cats who wanted to be able to control their peers and offspring. However, Tahath remained unfazed at the thought of being here without her mentor. Twitching her tail back and forth, she instead went over a list of herbs she should look for to stock the den with on her return trip, and she became distracted in her duties, as pleasantly as she could manage it, relieving any remaining tensions by claiming a rare moment to lose her train of thought and not overanalyze the immediate situation.

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[KIN THE CODE MONKEY]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i907.photobucket.com/albums/ac277/Myrrdyn/kintable.png); width: 463px; height: 465px;color:white;] StormClan. What a vile place. Kin sat in her den, tail wrapped neatly around her paws. She was surrounded by every type of useful plant the Clan's territory had to offer, and it still felt lacking. Some of the herbs she was accustomed to using were located in other Clans' territories, and she was no longer permitted to travel or send another to travel and fetch them. It restricted her, made things far more difficult. The black she-cat growled absently and stood, flicking her tail. When she prowled out of her den, the cats milling around the camp flinched away from her, drawing back and giving her a large perimeter to walk. Most of them were still accustomed to the whispers about her, still remembered the yowls and caterwauls of pain that spilled from her den whenever a slave made a mistake or a cat was wounded. They found much gentler care here, under her daughter's paws, but Kin still treated her patients with the same rough, efficient manner that had impressed the Duke so. Very few cats were used to harsh treatment from someone who was supposed to soothe their hurts, and those who were had fought in the war and trusted her very little. Kin prowled out of the camp entrance, head held high and tail wrapped in its customary place around her left hind leg. She padded through the territory, noting dispassionately that the signs of the war were beginning to disappear. Places where rotting corpses had inhibited the growth of grass now sprouted tentative shoots, the sticky pools of tar-dry blood had long since been washed away, and the torn and abused ground was shaping itself anew, smoothing the rough edges and turning the wounds of the earth into features of its face. Without a guiding paw, the earth itself possessed the ability to heal. The herbs that sprang from it took aspects of that, and cats could tame the herbs. Though they would never harness the power of the earth itself, it made Kin suppress a little smirk at the thought of such power. She could heal or kill with a single herb, and with the gentle smile she'd perfected-- though, with the way her slaves had cringed and flinched at it, the expression may have been more alarming than her usual stony mask-- a cat would never know if they were being harmed or healed. She prowled out of the shadows provided by a pair of trees, not bothering with waiting and lurking. Kin had left after her daughter, and it was time the brat took up the mantle she'd been born to, even if it was in a different form. The tiny black she-cat had brought advanced healing knowledge to the area, knowledge that had been lost with the Clans. Her daughter would breathe it back into the Clans. Briefly, she wondered if their legends would recall Tahath as the name of the first "medicine cat" of the newborn Clans, or if the names "Shadowleaf" and "Kin" would be taught to young healers. Would she be dragged to walk amongst StarClan when she died? Or would the she-cat be admitted to the Dark Forest? Or was there another place to go, one where she had to worry neither of giving prophecy or playing babysitter, of guarding her back at all turns? Whichever place she was meant to turn to in the afterlife, it mattered not today. For today, she was mortal and alive, and she was leaving the Clans. Leaving the Clans, and leaving Tahath to take her place. "Prophetpaw" would have to change her name, become something different, something more. "Tahath." Word Count: 603 Notes: -facedesk- Tag! Tahath/Prophetpaw