Welcome to chapter 6000 of "o my gosh cube, learn to draw backgrounds already." Anyway, here's my first sad baybe drawing. It's like his first breaking point. He was telling himself that strong cats didn't cry ;-; - Baypaw padded along the border, tiny claws dragging on the ground. In his mouth, a bundle of confusing herbs he knew nothing about, and in the middle of the herbs, a smooth, shiny pebble, left near his nest with the scent of Smokestorm. His bones and joints ached more than ever, but he kept stomping on, searching for herbs. There was that one that Smokestorm told him about.. poppy, somewhere nearby, but he had no clue what it did. He set his herbs down and started to pick the flowers, trying to think happy thoughts. Smokestorm said he was strong, so he'd get over not having a mentor, and be able to go back to camp, despite the fact that he didn't whip up his herb remedy today. Smokestorm said that he would be proud of Baypaw with whatever he did in life, so he should be happy to be the medicine cat apprentice. Smokestorm said a lot of things. Smokestorm said.. nothing before he disappeared. Smokestorm was gone. The tiny tom's paws, mid picking motion, impulsively slammed the flower into the ground, crushing it, with a small cry of desperation. Normally, he'd be sad he did something like that to something so pretty, but he wasn't. He gritted his teeth and closed his round, bright, blue eyes, fighting to hold back tears of misery. He /was/ strong, but not strong enough. He flopped down on the ground and buried his head in his herb pouch, taking in the scent of the medicine den, a scent he associated with his mentor. "Stormy, you meanie." He whispered, tears streaming down the side of his face. -
