[Rose]

She/Her | Purrks Overlook

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[ @Omari - Midnightpaw / @silver. - Batpaw ]

Head lifting at the sound of dragging pawsteps, Lostspark turned her face in the direction of her newest den-intruders, if only for it to look like she was giving them her attention. She didn't really need to turn her face towards them, but usually it was a motion done with deliberate thought. To make sure whoever was speaking with her felt listened to.

The scarred molly parted her maw, head canting to the side as she took in the scent of... just the two apprentices. There was no blood. "Bring him here." She growled, voice low and throaty as she waited for the duo to approach her.

Dropping the herbs she'd been aimlessly sorting into their correct spots, Lostspark rose to her paws and prowled over to where Batpaw was spitting vile words at his denmate. "Listen here, apprentice." The blind feline sniped sternly, hovering in front of the pair, amber hues flaring with agitation - and for a moment Lostspark could have sworn she could see them - until everything faded back into familiar darkness again. "Midnightpaw has more than likely saved your sorry behind by insisting you come here today, so if you have anything at all to say to her, it should be conveyed with gratitude. Learn to accept help when you need it, Batpaw. Arrogance is a folly only succeeded by death."

Lingering a moment to let that fact sink in, Lostspark arranged her features back into a mask of quiet calm. "Sit." Inclining her head towards an unoccupied nest, the Medicine Cat silently waited until her orders had been followed before she sat down in front of the dark-furred tom. "Where are you hurt, exactly?" Lostspark questioned. "I smell no blood. What happened?"

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[ @Bean - Lotuskit ]

Lostspark huffed out a lengthy sigh at Lotuskit's stuttering. "Stay." She told the kit, gentling her voice as she moved away from the little thing. Aiming a smile at the youngster that probably looked like a grimace, the blind Medicine Cat aimed to brush her feathery tail down Lotuskit's much smaller frame before pulling away again.

"I don't have much company around here." She paused, a frown tugging the corners of her mouth downward. "Speaking of company, don't you have a Nursery to be in? Siblings to be playing with, parents to be watching after you?"

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[ @Lewolfers - Nightwolf | -1 Marigold / -1 Cobweb ]

Blind, she was. Face scarred, probably hideously so. Tired, for certain. Her body was exhausted, limbs feeling heavier than usual. But her head lifted all the same when a voice called out for her. Sightless eyes stared straight ahead as the Medicine Cat rose to her paws and stepped out of her nest, prowling over to the cat who'd called out to her.

It was when she neared the tom that she placed his scent. A former outsider he was, like her. Not Clan born, like she. Not much older than her, he was. Around Darkfall's age. Maybe just as arrogant as him. "Nightwolf." Lostspark returned the greeting, stepping into the warrior's personal space as the sharp smell of blood assaulted her senses. "Bleeding." Was her simple statement as she ducked her head, sniffing a moment at the wound in question before drawing back.

"Come in. And sit." Lostspark said simply, turning back towards her herb store, each pawstep she placed down a careful action. Every sense of hers was on high alert, weary. Once Nightwolf had settled down and Lostspark had picked out the herbs she required, the blind feline picked her way back over to him, cleansing the blood from the scratches on his pelt and moving on to the much larger injury; the fox bite on his backleg. She followed the same procedure with the bigger injury, and applied a layer of marigold paste she'd gotten from chewing the plant into a pulp before patching it with cobweb.

Afterward, Lostspark sat back on her heels and cocked her head to the side. "It should be fine." She said, voice a low rumble. And then, the Medicine Cat added; "If you re-open that wound and waste my herbs, don't bother coming back." Lostspark grumbled, but hesitated in case he was taking her seriously. "That was a jest." She informed him stiffly. "If it gets infected or re-opens unintentionally, come back."

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[ @Micanomancy - Birdkit ]

It was in the form of a fluffy little kit that came Lostspark's distraction from her tasks that day. And skies above, Lostspark would never complain of it. She scented her daughter long before the kit latched onto her paws, as Lostspark's senses had become attuned to taking note of each and every cat that entered her den on a daily basis. So when the fourth child of her second litter started attacking her paws as if they had personally offended her, Lostspark did not stop her. No, she gathered one of the loves of her life to her chest. (or tried to, anyway. kits squirmed too much).

"Hello, love." The scarred molly whispered, voice turning pliant and soft with adoration. With devotion. With a mother's love. It was moments like these, when Lostspark's feelings flared high, when her emotions drowned out the stoic facade she usually wore, that little glimpses of sight peeked through. And for a moment, Lostspark could see her. Little Birdkit, wriggling in her grasp. One second her vision was there, clear as ever, and the next - it was gone. This had been happening for a couple days, and Lostspark did not know why. "How is my little bird today?"

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[ @Dark - Darkfall / @BEAR. - Smokekit | -1 Marigold / -1.75 Cobweb ]

There was another.

Another of she. A copy. A twin. Lostspark had never seen this cat. This feline who matched her in every aspect, except that of which her eyes. No, this one’s glowed in the dark like green fire, cruel and mocking. Taunting and amused.

“Traitor.” Came the malice-coated whisper. A harsh retelling, a judgement and reflection of the worst kind, as Lostspark’s mirror image prowled closer, the harsh slant of their mouth a hostile line. “You, Lark, are a traitor of the worst kind.”

—————

It was the screaming, the crying, the wailing, that woke Lostspark from her restless slumber. Nightmares plagued her frequently nowadays, ones that felt too real. Each and every second of her dreams was a heartless joke, reminding her of the losses she’d endure. The losses she’d keep on enduring as time went on. But it was not the fact that her son was wailing which jerked her into lucidity.

No. It was that she could see. Before her stood her mate, his brow creased with concern, and Lostspark found herself holding her breath, unable to look away. As if this was a dream that would disappear if she did. But this felt too real to be a dream, and as Lostspark looked around her neatly stocked den, she felt an uneasy prickling in her gut. A warning.

Scarred face, glassy amber eyes. Externally blind, the feline remained. And yet – yet able to see. Inches from her, Smokekit writhed with pain, with the loss of one eye. An eye, that Lostspark knew already could no longer see, because she was starting to figure out what she had not before. A taunt, the truth was, as it dawned on her; the price she would pay. The price she was paying. Cruel and mocking it was, a memory of the words she’d spat at her grandfather in her lowest of moments. Regret had no place in Lostspark’s heart, but in that moment, she felt nothing besides endless remorse.

Something was very wrong, and Lostspark now knew it.

Because where Smokekit had lost vision in one eye, Lostspark could now see perfectly through both of hers. Permanently. Irrevocably unalterable.

Flashes of a jigsaw puzzle fit together at that moment, each recollection a damnation. Being told Wispkit was born sightless, that Birdkit had a relentless cough, that Magpiekit had been born without a limb, that Gloomkit had nearly died at birth. And now, Smokekit.

Here was the price for her vision’s return; something of equal value from each of the thirteen kits she had carried in her when she’d made that wish, when she’d pleaded to her grandfather to give her her sight back. She had foolishly believed that she would be the one to pay the price for her wish. It seemed not.

And right then, something snapped. That fragile thread of sorrow, that hollowness in her chest, the one Lostspark had harbored, had let simmer for too long, dispersed with newfound vigor, and Lostspark’s rage came roaring back as she surged out of her nest, amber hues flaring.

Angry. She was angry. Pissed. The first flicker of true emotion she’d felt since Starrywisp’s Tross had blinded her, leaving her an empty shell. A snarl tore from Lostspark’s throat, deep and guttural and filled with wrath. “I will KILL him.” Wolverine had claimed to be her family, and Lostspark had accepted it. But he was no family if he hurt those who she considered hers.

Maybe she should thank him. In his own twisted, callous way, her grandfather had brought back her spark. Had brought it roaring to life. But she would thank no cat who’d hurt her family.

Limbs shaking with newfound, pent-up emotions, Lostspark prowled over to her mate and son, reigning in her anger for a later moment. She had some vengeance to dole out, but that would come at a later date. Pausing long enough to gather the marigold pulp already set out from before when she had treated Nightwolf, the grey feline gestured for Darkfall to set Smokekit down. It was a matter of moments in which she cleaned the remains of blood on her current eldest son’s face, and then had lathered on the marigold paste, firmly binding it in place with multiple cobwebs. She’d rather not have the wound re-open itself.

And once Smokekit’s eye had been patched, Lostspark sat back on her haunches, expression grim. “I have a mother and a grandfather to visit.” She muttered, voice low.