KESTRELPAW

The days following the flood blurred in Kestrelpaw's mind. Each day followed the same routine of collecting prey and building materials, patrolling the borders and helping to rebuild the camp. A heavy silence hung over the Clan as they worked, broken only by barked orders during the day and soft sobbing throughout the night.

The water had stripped the camp of everything Kestrelpaw found familiar, the strong scents of RockClan and the surfaces her paws once traveled washed away. In the mornings, she often woke confused, the smell of water hitting her before that of her denmates. Those scents, too, were changed, with Whitepaw's tinged by grief and Emberpaw's turned sour by the infection that had filled her wounds. Starlingpaw's was often missing, as she arrived late in the night and left before the sun came up.

Once the scent of RockClan slowly seeped into the red rock and Kestrelpaw became familiar with her surroundings once more, learning to navigate the changed landscape of the camp became her priority. With the cliff path changed and rocks shifted from their original locations, the tortoiseshell could not get from her den to the freshkill pile without help.

She hated being a burden, asking others to help her move through the camp. It made her more aware of the piercing gazes and hushed commentary of both younger and older warriors. She did her best to ignore them, but the words cut into her sharper than claws.

Kestrelpaw refused to complain, instead focusing on learning the landmarks of RockClan's territory all over again. She helped with collecting moss, rebuilding dens and restocking the freshkill pile. Border patrols and battle training kept her busy the rest of the day, leaving little time to grumble about the way the Clan talked behind her back.

The attentions of her Clanmates turned from her blind struggles three nights after the flood. Beetlestar, now perched atop the Fallen Tree's replacement, the Speaking Rock, told the Clan of the rogue's wish to join RockClan.

Up until then, the giant ginger tom had been more of a background figure, always lurking somewhere in the camp under either the careful supervision of Beartooth, Palethorn or a combination of other warriors. He had helped with some of the rebuilding efforts but no one truly noticed him until Beetlestar's announcement.

"Our guest has expressed a wish to join our Clan," he began diplomatically. Kestrelpaw, having recently returned from a border patrol, settled down beside her mentor to listen.

"Fire, as some of you may know, has been a valuable asset to us in the past days, helping us reclaim our camp after the flood as if he were already one of our own. Though the actions that led to his capture are regrettable, Fire acknowledges his wrong-doing in attacking one of our apprentices and battling with our warriors. He has seen the close bonds we share and the grief we feel when we lose a Clanmate."

Beetlestar paused and Kestrelpaw knew he was checking the reactions of the Clan. No one had spoken out, though the tortoiseshell felt Gentlefern shift beside her and Whitepaw slouch at the mention of grief. The white tom had taken Littlepaw's death more harshly than anyone in the Clan anticipated.

"If anyone believes this rogue should not join our Clan, or at least be allowed to stay with us until his path leads him elsewhere, come speak with me." From Beetlestar's tone of voice, Kestrelpaw could tell he'd already made up his mind. He jumped down from the Speaking Rock and a couple of cats moved to join him, whispering their concerns, but the rest of the Clan returned to their duties.

"Go get some freshkill," Gentlefern urged her apprentice. "You can have the rest of the day to rest."

Nodding, the tortoiseshell moved off to the relocated freshkill pile, excitement filling her at the prospect of having some free time. With the past days so busy, she'd had very little time to herself.

Lost in thought, Kestrelpaw let out a short, startled cry as she stumbled over a small stone. Landing with a thump, she took a moment to gather herself before rising to her paws in as dignified a way as she could, pelt burning underneath the curious gazes of Badgerclaw, Martenfur and Frostfur.

Feeling mouse-brained, she continued on her way, careful to step over the line of pebbles, which Brightkit and Skykit strung together the day after the flood, and around the Speaking Rock, which now served as the Clan's meeting place. With no Fallen Tree to serve as the leader's den, Beetlestar spent his nights in the warriors' den.

Finally arriving at the freshkill pile, Kestrelpaw nosed her way into it, picking up the fresh scents of lizard and mouse and the slightly duller ones of hare and wren. She decided on a large mouse and a smaller lizard. With the rest of the day off apprentice duties, she could visit Pebbleheart and share with him.

Freshkill swinging from her mouth, she began making her way back to the path. Around her, the Clan had resumed its everyday tasks; Beartooth shouted out evening patrols while Morningbreeze gathered up her hunting patrol of Starlingpaw, Dapplefur and Runningheart, who had resumed his Clan duties.

Busy listening to the voices of her Clanmates, Kestrelpaw nearly walked right into the giant tom standing in her path.

"Careful," he said quietly.

Her fur bristled as a flash of ginger passed over her vision and the startled apprentice nearly dropped her freshkill.

"Sorry, Fire," she murmured through the tails in her mouth, skirting around the rogue. Heart pumping, she moved away as quickly as she could, wondering if she was seeing things.

That one spot of ginger fur reminded her of another she'd seen not too long ago - that of Sun, the little kit Starlingpaw found. Her mind raced as she thought what this vision might mean.

Was the rogue going to die?

Then, she thought of the day the flood came. The way she'd watched Asterpaw have her seizure and tell Gentlefern and Leafpelt of the coming danger. Their figures had been clear in Kestrelpaw's vision, shrouded in darkness once more only when they were out of harm's way.

And, yet, Kestrelpaw had not glimpsed the forms of Redblaze, Thistleclaw or Littlepaw before leaving the camp. Why were the cats she had seen still alive while those she had not were dead?

She gulped as another thought came to her mind. She'd seen three cats, but a different three had died in the flood; were the deaths of the cats she saw in her visions preventable, as long as the price was paid by the lives of others? If she hadn't supported Asterpaw's claim and removed the patrol from harm's way, would those who died in the camp still be alive?

The little tortoiseshell shivered at the horrible idea. She felt guilty, suddenly, as if she was responsible for the deaths of Redblaze, Thistleclaw and Littlepaw.

The smell of lavender and chamomile that met her in the entrance of the medicine den helped to soothe her mind and calm her furiously beating heart. Kestrelpaw breathed it in and the tension left her muscles.

The scents of mint and juniper became more prominent as Pebbleheart poked his head out of the medicine storage, greeting the apprentice with a smack of his jaws. Kestrelpaw purred, hearing the tom's stomach growl, and tossed him the lizard. Pebbleheart accepted it gratefully, swallowing nearly all of it in three quick bites.

"How was your trip to Moon Cliffs?" Kestrelpaw asked before biting into her mouse.

"Well, StarClan accepted me as a full medicine cat, so I can't complain," he replied, licking his jaws. The tortoiseshell purred in amusement, glad to have her friend back.

Between his vigil and trip, Pebbleheart was tense and seemed anxious, as if worrying if StarClan would accept him. Both Kestrelpaw and Otterheart, along with many others in the Clan who noticed his nervousness, had assured him they would, but still the tom remained quiet and distant.

Now, he seemed different in Kestrelpaw's mind, but in a way that made him seem older, more mature and more like the full medicine cat he was. More confident and at ease, though still as organized and meticulous as ever.

"Do you have any duties to get back to?" Pebbleheart asked.

"Gentlefern gave me the day off," Kestrelpaw replied.

"Good, Otterheart and I need your help with something." Finishing off the remainder of her mouse, Kestrelpaw followed the tom.

He led her into the medicine storage, where it took the tortoiseshell a moment to pick out the scents of Otterheart and, to her surprise, Emberpaw.

"Why is Emberpaw still in the medicine den?" Kestrelpaw asked Pebbleheart, confused. "I thought the infection was gone now?"

"It was," said the tom vaguely.

Kestrelpaw narrowed her eyes in the tom's general direction. "Then why is she in the medicine den?" She could smell marigold and chervil, but didn't know what they were used for.

The silence of the medicine den was suddenly split by a shriek. The tortoiseshell's fur bristled at the sound, magnified by the confines of the cave.

"Don't bring that near me!" she heard Emberpaw hiss.

"But this is the only way your wounds will heal!" Otterheart growled back exasperatedly. Kestrelpaw heard her shuffle about the storage, picking up the herbs Emberpaw must have knocked out of her paws.

"And this is why we need your help," Pebbleheart continued. "We thought you, of all cats, might be able to talk to Emberpaw. She keeps telling us that the wounds will heal on their own, but if we don't treat them the infection will spread and she'll die."

Kestrelpaw flinched slightly at how blunt the tom's words were. He sounded frustrated, but also like he was on the brink of giving up.

"It's either that or we drug her with poppy seeds until the wounds heal completely," he added.

"I'll talk to her," the tortoiseshell replied with a purr.

Picking her way carefully through the stacks of herbs in the storage, Kestrelpaw thought about what she might say to Emberpaw. She didn't believe she was the most qualified cat to speak to the she-cat - Beetlestar, Beartooth or one of the queens would have been a much better choice - but Pebbleheart seemed to believe she could make Emberpaw listen.

Picking up a fallen marigold flower she stepped on, Kestrelpaw handed it to Otterheart, who gave a frustrated huff and turned to continue cleaning up the mess Emberpaw made.

"Kestrelpaw, how nice of you to join us," Emberpaw said dryly. The air around the large tortoiseshell almost sparked with tension.

"Emberpaw," Kestrelpaw replied, picking her words carefully. "I actually came to visit you because I thought you might need the support."

The older apprentice remained silent for a few moments. "I guess it's nice to have company. But I can do this on my own, without support and without herbs to heal me."

Behind Kestrelpaw, Otterheart muttered, "Warriors, always thinking they can do everything on their own."

The little tortoiseshell considered Emberpaw's words, wondering if it was her pride or independent nature standing in the way of accepting help from others. After some deliberation, she decided on both.

"The herbs don't do all of the healing for you," Kestrelpaw explained. "They're just... like the prey that keeps you going." Though she couldn't see Emberpaw's expression, the she-cat knew she'd confused the other apprentice.

"What I mean is, battle training is hard to do on an empty stomach, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, healing is hard to do without herbs. You need to put something in if you want to get something out."

"But prey and battle training are completely unrelated. Herbs are used for healing," Emberpaw pointed out.

"Then doesn't it make sense to use herbs when you're trying to heal?"

Emberpaw did not reply. Kestrelpaw could hear her gritting her teeth, but she didn't give her the time to think it over.

"I know it's hard to accept help," Kestrelpaw said quietly. "These past few days, stumbling around camp because I don't know where anything is, have been incredibly embarrassing and almost degrading."

"If they can't accept a blind cat - "

Kestrelpaw cut her off. "They can. That's what Clanmates are for - to help you when you can't do things on your own. What do you think medicine cats are for?"

The older she-cat said nothing, but Kestrelpaw knew she'd gotten her point across.

"Please, let them help you. I wouldn't want to lose you."

The words slipped out before the little tortoiseshell could stop them and she realized they were true. On the day of her apprentice ceremony, it had been Emberpaw to stand up for her and show her the way to the apprentice den; since then, she'd helped Kestrelpaw too many times for the she-cat to count. Just the idea of standing up to Whitepaw or Silverhawk without Emberpaw's support made the younger apprentice quake.

"You're right," Emberpaw sighed, though she still seemed hesitant.

"Thank StarClan," Kestrelpaw heard Otterheart murmur in an annoyed tone.

"But I don't want to stay in the medicine den," the tortoiseshell added in a steely voice.

"You can go back to the apprentice den," the medicine cat replied, already pushing past Kestrelpaw with herbs in her paws. "But only if you agree to rest."

Emberpaw's next words were cut off with a yowl as Otterheart pressed the pulp of marigold and chervil to her wounds. Her part done, Kestrelpaw removed herself and met Pebbleheart in the main medicine cave.

"Nicely done," he said, flicking his tail over her ear. The she-cat swatted at it, pinning it to the ground.

"I see your reflexes are getting better," Pebbleheart added, amused. "I told you so."

Kestrelpaw licked her chest fur modestly. "I've been practicing."

The two sat in silence for a moment, listening to Emberpaw's muffled growls and Otterheart's words of assurance. Kestrelpaw believed the medicine cat, even if Emberpaw didn't, that the herbs would help her heal more quickly. She wasn't in danger of dying, but that could change at any moment.

The idea of death brought back her earlier thoughts and the images of Asternose, Gentlefern and Leafpelt flashed across her mind, making the tortoiseshell shiver.

Pebbleheart noticed her sudden discomfort. "Is something wrong?"

"No," came her immediate answer. Though the images weighed heavily upon her conscience, she was afraid that if she told anyone, even Pebbleheart, she would be even more of a freak than she already was. And she didn't want to lose a friend, especially this one.

"I'm just cold," she added, hoping the tom would accept the lie. He did, padding over to her small body and laying his warm tail over her shoulders.

"Leafbare is coming," he said solemnly, staring out of the medicine den's entrance. "It's only a matter of time before greencough hits us."

A chill ran through the tortoiseshell at the words. More death.