Chapter 51: Cutting Loose
I awoke at dawn, eager for the new day. Fireheart was not on top of me, so I managed to slip out with ease. The air nipped at my nose with a teasing frosty bite. My breath created puffs of white that lingered briefly before dissipating. I shook myself out, noting the lack of wind. Today would be a good day to hunt. The snowfall had slightly melted, making paths without crunching snow. What had me so excited for today? Blackmail, a smudge most tempting, and a captive audience.
I was scheduled for the second patrol of the day, so I had some time to kill, or rather some time to pry. I eagerly approached the medicine den, my victim unknowingly waiting within. I slipped in briefly looking around. Cinderpaw met my gaze, her leg now having turned into a mummified husk barely hanging on with what was essentially muscle and ligament fibers turned jerky. Gone was that inquisitive and fierce spark she was once known for. She looked sad, pathetic even. Yesterday probably hadn't helped, what with her being unable to defend Yellowfang. That somewhat killed my mood.
"Smudgefoot. What brings you here? Find a scratch you missed yesterday?" Yellowfang harangued.
"I came by to ask Brokenstar…" I was interrupted.
"Brokentail."
I nodded apologetically. "… ask Brokentail some questions, but it looks like I am also needed here for something else."
My eyes flicked to Cinderpaw. Her paws were slightly twitchy from all the time she was on bedrest. She looked equal parts defeated and fidgety. Yellowfang noted my look and glanced at Cinderpaw with a measure of sadness, likely knowing the longing that comes with a stolen future.
"I'd say that leg is ready to remove." I mewed, drawing their attention back to myself. "If you want to knock her out, we can take the next step."
Yellowfang capitulated to my assessment. After she fussed with the leg for a bit, she confirmed that the bone hadn't fused together, and the nerves were largely deadened. Cinderpaw would still need to be unconscious for what came next so as not to go into shock from the pain, but once it was off, she'd be home free. After Yellowfang fed Cinderpaw some poppy seeds, Cinderpaw decided to voice some of her concerns.
"Smudgefoot, do you still think I can become a warrior?" She asked, sounding somewhat broken.
"Do I think you can become a warrior?" I echoed. "Yes, but that depends on you. This injury will forever be a part of you. You will never not notice it. Your pounce will always be short. Your balance will always be off center. Your enemies will always abuse this weakness. It is not impossible, but it is a difficult path. I can unfortunately say you will never be the strongest, the fastest, or the best hunter. It is cruel, and I do not wish it were so, but it is the facts. You do have other talents Cinderpaw. As Fireheart bragged, you have a keen nose, an eye for detail, and had an almost photographic memory." I mewed.
"What does that mean?" She asked with a yawn, the poppy seeds having taken effect.
"You don't have to be a warrior to be valuable. You still have much of your life to live and choices to make, and now your first major choice is upon you. Who do you want to be?" I hinted.
I did not get a response, the apprentice having drifted off at some point in my little speech. Yellowfang looked down at the now sleeping apprentice with a slightly maternal look. We watched silently as Cinderpaw's chest rose and fell before Yellowfang spoke up.
"You know, you're pretty good at talking out other cats' problems." Yellowfang mewed, for once without a barb.
"Well, I am a master manipulator," I teasingly bragged. "It's just that watching someone with so much potential struggle fruitlessly for something they'll never accomplish… It just doesn't sit right with me. I mean, I respect those who put in the effort, but those who desire the unattainable and break themselves down doing it, I pity them the most. They never know satisfaction. I can't force her to change, but I can point out that there are other options."
Our conversation had bought enough time that Cinderpaw wouldn't wake under the procedure. Unfortunately, cats don't have some of the nice tools that make amputation an option. If the break weren't so total, the amputation wouldn't even be an option. We had to make do with our teeth. In a sick way, I always wondered how a coyote felt when it had to gnaw its leg off to get out of a trap. Now I knew the answer. This wasn't something that was easy or quick to do. Nor could I just scratch and cut to remove the offending limb. Instead, Yellowfang and I had to physically chew it off. The mummified muscle made the action all the more difficult. I'd hate to think about the bits of shriveled up flesh getting stuck in my teeth. Cinderpaw lightly fussed in her sleep, likely still feeling the nerves we were removing even in her unconscious state. I hated every second of it, but Yellowfang acted with precision, cutting muscles that managed to slip through my efforts. After the leg was removed, Yellowfang ordered me to bury it while she cleaned up. In an odd way, the leg I now held in my jaws looked just like a piece of petrified grey wood. Only the brownish bits peeking out one end hinted at the reality. I took that thing out of camp and buried it quicky. I hated every second of seeing it. My respect for the cleaners of my last life grew immensely. It was something I could never do. What I did was clean and quick. There was no lingering or dismembering. It honestly made me a bit sick.
When I got back, what Yellowfang meant by cleaning up became rather obvious. What we did now lay under a layer of poultice and cobwebs. She'd even taken the effort to smooth out Cinderpaw's fur and arrange her into a more comfortable sleeping position. I was happy to see that Cinderpaw looked at ease. There was no fitfulness. Her breathing was smooth. If I wasn't paying attention, she almost looked like she never lost a leg. The limb was now little more than a stump. At least now a crippled limb wouldn't slow her down. Hopefully now s0he'd get a new lease on life.