a guest Jun 25th, 2019 63 Never
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  1. The medicine den is a strange place.
  2. It’s a small, smooth cave tucked away from the rest of the Thunderclan camp, poking out from the wall of foliage. The walls of it are overgrown with moss, and ivy, leaving just the rim of the cave opening revealed. But if one looks closely, they’ll see the stone itself is so intricate and delicate, impossibly fine carvings spreading across the surface, so subtle and organic only time itself could form them. This cave is the oldest part of Thunderclan camp, after all-- trees fall in seasonal storms, puddles dry up in the noon sun, and the bramble bushes guarding the clearing die and are reborn every year. But this stone cave, it has stood since the days when the Great Clans walked the forest.
  3. It looks small from the outside, a tiny stub at the edge of the wide ravine, but from the inside, it feels massive. Sunlight from a skyhole illuminates up the walls of herbs, as dust floats into the light. The den smells of spices and clean plants, washed by cool and clear water trickling through the cave- the last remains of the ancient stream that once carved this place. The ground underfoot is soft, softer than the floor of the rest of the camp, and neat pine nests line up against the walls, organic but orderly. It is quiet, peaceful here; it is meant to be so, when it has to house cats at their weakest.
  4. Leafpaw always found the medicine den to be strange. It had an old, lively quality to it, like it was some elder huddled away, living, breathing, containing all kinds of knowledge. It felt so different from the rest of the camp- inside, you spoke quietly. Noises echoed against the walls very faintly. Herb piles were kept in order. You had to watch where you step, in order not to disturb the soft and serene nature of the place, and any cats who may have to stay there. It was so different from the brash nature of the camp, the bright spots of sun across its packed floor, the shreds of fur dusted across it, the loudness of the cats. The medicine den was an isolated bubble, separate from time, immeasurably comforting and calm.
  5. Little did Leafpaw know, that she wasn’t alone in her way of thinking. She didn’t realize that she thought about it the way countless cats before her had, stepping so gingerly in the same places as them, sorting her herbs under the same skyhole, healing and reviving cats the same way, with the same techniques. She didn’t know the names of Oatspeckle and Featherwhisker, didn’t know about their experiences, how alike to hers they were.
  6. And yet she felt it.
  7. She felt the warmth of their paws in the soft, cool ground. She tasted their tongues in that cool, sweet, stream, felt their snouts nudge her towards the right herbs, guide her into knowing what to do. There was immense love in the simple chores; she could see it as Cinderpelt did them, repetitive, but familiar and comforting, and felt the care and tenderness and cinderpelt healed. She seemed to know everything in the world, that gray cat, wise beyond her years, and yet she never showed it off or boasted. She simply healed, and maintained.
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