"Marigold. Horsetail. Catmint."

She swiftly passed the herbs to the side, identifying each item as it moved out of reach.

"Goldenrod. Chamomile. Juniper."

Fallowpaw's paws moved methodically—she sorted each herb with a newly developed prowess, her confidence blooming with each moment that passed without criticism. She was learning quickly under Heronwing's guidance, "a prodigy," as he'd say to the other medicine cats.

"Daisies—"

"No. That's yarrow."

Fallowpaw faltered, her words dying on her lips as a paw hovered over a cluster of burdock roots. She turned her green eyes to the white flower, studying it closely.

"Right," she mewed, embarrassment burning her ears. "Daisies have more petals, and they're thinner."

"That's correct, but I think we're done for today." Before Fallowpaw could allow her disappointment to show, Heronwing continued, "as usual, you've proven to me that I made the right decision in accepting you as my apprentice. Well done."

Awkwardly, Fallowpaw glanced at the older gray tom. His muzzle was whiskered with silver hairs, and his wise yellow eyes were softened with pride. The other medicine cats had been shellshocked when she was introduced at her first half-moon Gathering. None expected the stubborn old tom to ever take on an apprentice, least of all a cat who'd initially aimed to become a warrior. Yet, here she was, thriving under his guidance.

Dipping her head in farewell, she trotted eagerly into the clearing. The soft new-leaf air met her nostrils in its full, unadulterated glory, flourishing the scents of newly blossoming flowers and herbs. Out of all the seasons she'd witnessed, this had to be her favorite of them all—the season of new life, new beginnings.

She stretched languidly and strolled to the fresh-kill pile. Not many cats were about at this time of day, her parents and sister included. They were all out patrolling, fetching food or marking boundaries, routines engraved into the very roots of their life, just like the cypresses that held the marsh together.

Curiously, she selected a mudcrab. The crustacean always possessed a unique taste, nothing typical for a ShadowClan cat's palette, but the subtle earthy tones and faint fish-like stain to its flavor held its appeal to the ginger apprentice.

She found a corner with some shade from the warm sun and sat down to eat, picking at the crab's legs first, and crunching through its exoskeleton into the juicy meat beneath. As she enjoyed her meal, a brown patched tom padded over. Adderspring, her former mentor.

"How are things holding up?" The tom asked warmly, settling down beside her with his own food at his feet.

"It's going well," Fallowpaw mewed cheerily, her tail twitching back and forth. "I'm doing good at memorizing my herbs, and everybody I've treated so far has healed nicely."

"That's wonderful to hear." Adderspring smiled. His expression was contagious, spreading a grin across Fallowpaw's face, too. "Your sister's assessment was today," he commented idly, his hazel eyes flicking to study the ginger she-cat's face. "Do you think she'll pass?"

Fallowpaw tilted her head. Though many of the Clan expected her to be bitter about her sister's coming warriorship, she found herself nothing but proud. Even if she was still training alongside her, she would've failed her assessment time and time again before finally catching up with Frecklepaw. It's just how she was.

"Of course she'll pass," she mewed confidently. "She's a hothead sometimes, but she knows what she's doing."

Adderspring nodded sagely. "Spoken like a true medicine cat. You'll get your name too, soon enough."

Fallowpaw hummed thoughtfully. "I'll accept my full name whenever Heronwing and StarClan deem me ready. I've only been training as a medicine cat for a few moons at this point. It's a while coming."

"Humble as always, Fallowpaw." The tom shook his head with a grin, and simply continued eating his prey in silence.

Fallowpaw, at a loss for words, did the same. Her only goal in life, aside from keeping her family safe, was to make her Clan proud, and the fact that her former mentor could find it in him to praise her, she counted that as a win.

Eventually, the two finished, and the tom bode her a polite farewell. Fallowpaw preoccupied herself by staring at the sky. Though there were no clouds in sight, she still marveled in the beauty of the world. The shades of blue were something that always caught her eye, and the shadows cast by passing birds were always fun to study. That's quite a few vultures, she noted, staring as they circled off in the distance. I wonder what must've died?

Her ears flicked first as the camp entrance rustled, then her eyes followed shortly after as she recognized an oddity to her sister's familiar heavy footsteps.

Frecklepaw, as predicted, was entering the camp, but what should've been a mouthful of prey was merely bared teeth, and the reasoning behind her uneven pace was a heavy limp. There were no visible wounds; a thorn in the paw, perhaps? Or maybe she twisted an ankle.

Without even thinking, Fallowpaw found herself already making her way over, her pelt prickling slightly with irritation. It would be Frecklepaw to injure herself on the day of her assessment, she scoffed.

Her alarm heightened as she saw the tears wetting Frecklepaw's cheeks, her normally bright, and often stormy green eyes shining with emotion, and her muzzle quivering as she sobbed. Frecklepaw never cried, especially not over an injury.

"Frecklepaw!" Fallowpaw shouted, her speed quickening as she darted across the clearing. She stopped only when she crashed into her stocky sister, who braced her paws against the earth, hardly moving an inch as she squeezed an agonized breath through her teeth. "What's the matter?" She mewed urgently, showering Frecklepaw's cheek in licks.

"I-It's..." Frecklepaw's words quaked, halting her sister in her tracks. Frecklepaw never stuttered. "It's mother and father," her voice was merely a whisper, a whisk of wind.

Dread pooled in Fallowpaw's heart. "Mother and father? What do you mean? Did something happen?"

Wordlessly, Frecklepaw nodded back towards the entrance, her head stooping low and her tail falling to the ground.

In that moment, Fallowpaw's world shattered into a million pieces.

Hoisted between Dawntail and Chiveclaw's backs was the tattered, nearly unrecognizable body of Fawnspots. And behind them, Beetleflight, wounded herself, struggling underneath the weight of Fogpounce. She looked frighteningly small compared to the massive tom.

"StarClan," Fallowpaw gasped, hardly processing what was before her. "What happened?"

Frecklepaw's sobs intensified, and instead of replying, she collapsed against Fallowpaw's shoulder, pressing her full weight against the she-cat.

Fallowpaw was snatched out from her state of shock as Heronwing rushed over, a wrap of herbs already swinging from his jaw. She shook out her fur and gently guided Frecklepaw to the ground. The world was unnaturally slow, spinning on its axis and trying to knock her off her feet. Each intake of breath felt empty.

Breathe, she instructed herself. Just breathe.

"Stay here," Fallowpaw mewed to her sister, her mouth leaden.

Flicking her tail, the ginger apprentice hurried over to Fawnspots, who had been laid carefully on the ground. Heronwing had already checked Fogpounce and was coming over as Fallowpaw sniffed her mother's muzzle.

"She's still breathing," she gasped, relief flooding over her. "What about Fogpounce?" Her eyes flashed up to her mentor, and the shallowness in his eyes confirmed the unbelievable. Her father was dead. Swallowing the tears that stung at the corners of her eyes, she gritted her teeth. "Nevermind. What can we do for her?"

Heronwing placed his wrap on the ground and began pulling out herbs. "Her wounds are grave," he murmured, removing some oak leaves. "The biggest threat right now is blood loss, so we need to stop the bleeding. We can worry about cleaning it later."

Fallowpaw nodded stiffly. "I'll get some cobwebs."

She spun around and darted off to the corner of the clearing. Ducking underneath some shrubbery, she stared up. A dense spiderweb shone above her, absent of its owner, and she swung a paw skywards to swipe it down. She did this multiple times until it thickly coated her paw, at which point she stumbled back into the open.

"Here," she gasped, sticking her paw towards her mentor.

Nodding his thanks, the older tom swiped a chunk of webs away and began to apply them generously to her wounds. He pressed an oak leaf against it and wrapped it in with the wound as an extra barrier against the blood. Fallowpaw snatched up one of the large leaves for herself and did the same.

This went on for what felt like hours until all the wounds were finally dressed, but she knew it had only been a pawful of minutes. Fallowpaw stepped back and surveyed their work. It was certainly messy, and some places didn't block the flow of blood well enough—just how deep were her wounds?

She turned her attention to her sister, swallowing the bile of her anxiety and swiftly approaching. "Do you know what happened?" She uttered, her tail flicking anxiously.

Frecklepaw nodded, her eyes distant. "Badgers."

Fallowpaw frowned. "One badger did—"

"A family of them," Frecklepaw clarified.

Fallowpaw cursed, turning her eyes to her mother, then to the other cats who'd carried them back. Her stomach lurched as her gaze settled upon the broken, limp body of her father—a tom so large, it was nearly ironic. Yet there he was. Lifeless.

"What happened to your paw?" She choked out, returning her attention to her sister in an attempt to block out the sorrow that threatened to consume her.

Frecklepaw winced. "I twisted it on my way back. Fawnspots... she told me to run." Her eyes flashed with regret. "But what if I stayed back? What if I could've saved them?" Her whiskers trembled.

Fallowpaw silenced her with a steady glare. "If you'd stayed back, you would've gotten hurt, too," she snapped. "Here, let me see your paw."

Without complaint, Frecklepaw lifted her forepaw. Fallowpaw clasped it between her own and twisted it back and forth, ignoring Frecklepaw's pained hiss. She prodded deeply against it, again, ignoring her sister's wordless protests. Nothing protruding, she noted to herself, so it can't be anything too serious. A bit of swelling near the joint. She may need a splint depending on how difficult it is to walk. Resting is a must.

"If it's a break, it's nothing that will be permanent," she noted. "The biggest thing you can do is rest it, so you'll be confined to camp for a few days up to a few weeks, depending on how fast it heals. I'll talk to Heronwing about getting you a splint."

Frecklepaw grimaced, but silently nodded.

Fallowpaw sighed. Busying herself with a task had done it's job well, distracting her from the full gravity of the situation, but now there was nothing left for her there. She could hardly bear to turn her eyes in the direction of her parents. She didn't want to know how close her mother was to StarClan.

"Fre...Frecklepaw," a shallow voice called, grating out from between parched teeth. "Fallow...paw..."

The back of Fallowpaw's neck bristled, and the two apprentices whirled around together. Fawnspots' ginger head was craned in their direction, and she was gasping for every new breath. Her yellow eyes were glazed, yet they still managed to find the two sisters. More alarming was the trickle of blood dribbling from her lips.

Swallowing bile, Fallowpaw trotted over, Frecklepaw by her side. The sisters knelt before their mother together.

"You... you two..." she rasped between breaths, "I need you to look out for each other." She coughed, a spatter of blood coating her muzzle. "I don't... I don't think I'll survive this," her words began to fade, the intensity of her voice dying with every weakening breath. "StarClan is calling to me."

"You'll be fine," Fallowpaw whispered, shaking. Her gaze flickered to her mother's bandaged wounds. Blood was seeping through the pale cobwebs, staining their silvery whiteness a harsh red. She gritted her teeth. "Just hang in there, okay?"

Their mother, while always smaller compared to them, seemed tinier than ever as her unfocused gaze slid past them. "No," she breathed. "Your father is here for me." She blinked slowly, warmly. "We'll always be watching you, and we'll always be proud."

And with one final, shuddering breath, her eyes fogged over.

Frecklepaw's wail was the first sound to break the silence, the tortoiseshell throwing herself against the cat who'd nurtured them. She was massive compared to the warrior, completely draped across her body as tears stained her lifeless ginger fur. Fallowpaw's mind reeled in disbelief, and she crept close, sniffing her mother's muzzle for the barest hint of breath, but there was nothing.

With trembling paws she reached forward, gently shutting her mother's eyes. Then, she crept forward, burying her nose deep into her soft, comforting fur to feel the fleeting slivers of warmth.

It's just you and me now, Frecklepaw, she thought sadly. And I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe.

❀

And thus concludes the prologue, diving into Fallowstep and Frecklesky's past, which happens to be all I've written. I don't know if I'll be continuing the story past this point (if I decide to scrap it, I'll post an announcement and throw "discontinued" into the title), but I thought I'd share what I have with you guys! What do you think? Should I continue this? And is there anything I should clean up and/or fix? The first few chapters will be events from Frecklesky's Heart, but from Fallowstep's view. However, it won't remain this way! As the story progresses, it will proceed onto events after the main arc of that story.

Additionally, the current cover is temporary, courtesy of Google (background image) and thiscatdoesnotexist.com, which is an awesome website that takes preexisting photos of real cats, and makes its own!

Regardless of what happens to this story, I thank you for showing interest, and hope to see you in many projects to come.

~ Kitten