.˚⭒⸨ SOLITUDE ⸩⭒˚. Dustpaw SRP (1/3)

Instructions

Solitude. Something that the young hybrid felt she was in the company of more than anyone else. Something that followed her throughout her apprenticeship like a tick she couldn’t swat off. Heathersong and Lightlark were never truly there to guide her through the reins of being a medic. Through herb sorting and collecting, wound patching and ache soothing, there was no guiding paw to show her the way. She always had Omit and Golden - that was something she wouldn’t discredit. They were never too far.. But they all led different lives. Omit was spectacular! A true warrior - fighting wolves, going on adventures and getting battle scars! And Golden, too, had always been more outgoing than her. Quick to impress and never short of a cool quip or a thing to say! Dust didn’t have those abilities. If she was blessed with anything, it was the incredible ability to be in the exact place everybody was not. Hoping to immediately be washed with a sense of confidence and the innate heroism of a lionheart was not something that would be realistic. So. The more she tried to attach herself to that mindset, the farther she strayed from achieving it. The farther she strayed from others. And the closer she got to the life of the medic. And what was that life? Well, leaving from her conversation with Petalpassion, veins coursing with vigor, she was met with an empty, herb-ridden den and the responsibility of an entire clan. How close had she come to poisoning somebody? To causing their wounds to become infected, or worsening their headaches - all in the name of flying blind? Conversations with Omit began to flood her mind. She was able to do so much.. The time she should have spent talking with the other cats, exploring the territory, and just simply being an apprentice, she spent with her paws dirty with the lingerings of dried-up marigold petals. Starclan, had she even known herself? Dust supposed she couldn’t imagine things any other way. She was meant to assume such a role, why would she be picked if they - either those of a higher standing or of a higher plane - didn’t think she was ready? With every moon that passed, Dust convinced herself that she still had time. Time to learn about how to be a medic. Time to learn about how to talk to others. Time to learn about how to be herself. And so, with the intention of congratulating Omitpaw, now Omitfox, at her warriors ceremony, Dusty couldn’t help but feel the world around her spin as her name came echoing from her dama’s mouth. Her head stuck in a spiral, the words coming from the highrock left disoriented in the young she-cat’s ears, she listened. Frozen and cold. Younger than a warrior. Far from being a medic. “Due…loss of our medicine…Heathersong and Lightlark…medicine cat apprentice…early. Dustpaw… I trust Starclan to guide you further. From now on, you will be known as..” Dustpetal.