[namen_roodles]

FLINTCLAW
Thunderclan warrior | 23 moons | Massive, scarred dark tabby tom with pale blue eyes.
Killer Aptitude T1 | Just a scratch
~~~

Absolute chaos.

Flintclaw felt dazed and disoriented for a moment, his fur bristling and his eyes snapping open at the shouting. Spiderthroat looked murderous in the medicine cat den. As he listened to the shouting of each clanmate in turn within the medicine cat den, his eyes turned towards the back.

Rage clawed up, not even stifled by the pain still raging in his chest. He had thought he was being ignored because of Rosepaw's visits. Her bringing him food and water had freed them up to handle the others. His own daze aside, he should've paid more attention to them. He should've paid more attention to the clanmates that had been on that patrol. It wasn't his job, but he was about to make damn sure that he never took his eyes off of the medicine cats and their patients ever again.

The dark tabby rose from the moss nest in the den and slowly stalked out behind the deputy and medicine cats. There were no tasks left for him back here, not right now... but he would certainly help where he could. First, he needed to know what punishment was waiting for the pair that had failed to do their job. He had never been so naive to think the medicine cat duties were easy, but it was their job! It was everything their lives were supposed to revolve around.

Flintclaw sat just outside the medicine cat den, icy eyes narrowed as he focused on keeping his breathing as deep as he feasibly could. This shouldn't have happened. Not only should it have never happened, but Spiderthroat's punishment felt lenient, at first... though their was a grim satisfaction in Wolfpaw's rank and position being stripped for him to serve as the deputy's apprentice. He listened to everything, a low growl rising in his chest as his claws dug into the dirt. The more the deputy spoke, the better the punishment felt.

To be honest, Flintclaw couldn't really remember that first day in the medicine cat den. It was such a blur, but he did remember Spiderthroat giving orders instead of Wolfpaw, even if the medicine cats may have spoken a few times. There was something so deeply grating about how casually he had taken things. How slow he had moved, even as his apprentice asked him questions. Wolfhawk working on him, when there were more desperately injured clanmates in need of attention.

He remembered when Ravenfire was dragged to a nest beside him after being left to bleed near the entrance. Not by a medicine cat.

Flintclaw's claws dug deeper and deeper into the earth. He couldn't even feel his left paw, but didn't need to look to know. He could feel the tension and ache in his foreleg. The pressure against his paw pads as he dug in further. The same thing repeating in his head, about both the battle patrol itself and the neglect of the medicine cats.

It should've never happened, but they had failed. Again. And again.