Can’t stop Falling . . . Mischiefpaw SRP . . . Pt 2 . . . . . . Trigger Warning: this SRP features mentions of d3ath and self-doubt == This takes place a few days after Saltstone d!es, when Mischiefpaw was 6-8 moons == Mischief had heard the mumbles and the whispers. He’d heard the doubts and complaints. He’d heard it all. But, what could he do? They doubted Mischiefpaw’s ability. And so did Miz, too. Was that his fault? Surely not… he’d tried his hardest. He wasn’t the worst, either. He worked so hard to meet their expectations. His paws always hurt from long days wandering the territory, and his face was constantly stained with tears. Perhaps that was why they doubted him. What had Saltstone said? The most important thing a medic could have was strength. Mischief still wasn’t sure what that meant. Strength was for the warriors. Strength was fighting off predators, and evil wolves. Not playing with herbs and speaking with ghosts. Perhaps that was why they were all so nervous. Each and every cat he loved and cherished were slipping right through the tiny crack in his paws. Did everyone he speak to have to drop dead, right in front of his eyes? Great stars, why did Saltstone and the stars have to leave him, now? He was glad Saltstone had taught him so much in so little time… or at least, taught him the ropes for now. He didn’t know how to continue. He didn’t know how to continue alone.
