Cragpaw pushed numbly through the fern tunnel and stumbled into the clearing. He blinked blearily, watching as Larkbite organized early patrols.

His legs throbbed with soreness, and his dressed paw felt cold. He sat down near a patch of bracken and gently unwound the cobwebs. This was his second time taking a look at the wound. His foot was strange and slimy from the overnight dressing, but the small wound had scabbed over already and was barely noticeable. He tossed the cobwebs to the side and lapped the marigold poultice away, satisfied now that his foot could finally breathe. He placed his paw on the ground and smiled as Strikefeather made her way over.

"How was your first day?" She asked, settling down beside him.

Cragpaw leaned over and happily nuzzled her chin. "It was great," he purred. "I saw the thunderpath and met Minnowsong, and Stumpwhisker taught us some herbs." He parted his mouth, eager to explain what he learned, but the names swam away like trying to catch fog. "I forget what they were called, though."

Strikefeather smiled, brushing her feathery tail along the young tom's back. "I'm so glad you had a good time. And you're positive that being a medicine cat is what you want?"

Cragpaw nodded. "Of course! It's really fun, and makes fighting seem like kit's play." He paused for a moment, brightening with excitement. "Do you know when the half-moon is?"

"It's only a few sunrises away. Excited to meet the other medicine cats, I presume?"

Cragpaw bobbed his head eagerly. He flicked his ear as Nightpaw sleepily padded out of the medicine den and made his way over to join them.

He flopped against Cragpaw's side with a groan. "Great StarClan, my paws feel like they're falling off!"

Cragpaw nodded in quiet agreement and gently nudged his brother away, while Strikefeather purred her amusement. "Of course your paws are sore. You've never traveled so far before." She leaned across Cragpaw and gave Nightpaw's ear a gentle lick. "Eventually, trekking the territory will be as easy as washing your fur. Now, how about I get you two something to eat? Does a squirrel sound fine?"

Cragpaw beamed. "Yes, please!" He purred.

Strikefeather strolled away with her tail high above her spine. She returned only moments later with a gray squirrel dragging between her paws. She dropped the fresh-kill before the two toms, and they gorged themselves like they hadn't seen food for moons. All the while, a purr thrummed in her chest.

Cragpaw blinked up at his mother once he was finished, sloppily rasping his tongue across his whiskers. "Sorry, Strikefeather," he mewed meekly. "Did you want some?"

"No, I'm fine," Strikefeather laughed. "I thought you must be hungry after working yourself so hard yesterday. Larkbite promised to share something with me at sun-high, anyways." Her golden eyes glowed softly as she looked over at the camp entrance. Cragpaw followed her gaze, but his father was no longer in sight.

"Do you think he'll bring anything for Nightpaw and I?" Cragpaw proposed hopefully.

Strikefeather smiled in amusement. "Likely not, seeing how you already ate a whole squirrel. Perhaps if you ask him though, he can catch something for the two of you some other time."

Cragpaw nodded in contemplation. It was a nice idea, but knowing how busy Larkbite always was... it was very unlikely.

"Cragpaw, Nightpaw," Stumpwhisker pushed out of the medicine den, glancing between the two apprentices. "Clean up that squirrel and meet me outside the camp. It's time for you to learn the medicine cat code."

Strikefeather gave her sons both a lick on the cheek as their mentor padded away. "Run along," she mewed. "I'll clean up your mess, but only if you promise to tell me all about your day today."

Nightpaw sniffed. "Thanks, Strikefeather."

She watched proudly as the toms hurried off to the camp entrance. Cragpaw waved his tail in farewell as he shoved his way through the prickly brambles. He struggled to clamber up the slabs of rocks, gasping for breath once he reached the top.

Nightpaw shoved him to the side with an annoyed grunt. "Move it, mouse-face—I'd like some solid ground under my paws, too!"

Cragpaw curled his lip for a retort, but thought better of it, and instead mumbled an apology. Stumpwhisker watched the two from only a few tail-lengths away, his eyes sharp.

"Come along," he mewed, pushing off in the opposite direction they'd gone yesterday. Unwillingly, Cragpaw followed, already dreading how much sorer his paws would be.

Soon, the familiar deciduous trees and dense undergrowth blended into pines, their tall trunks stretching far into the sky and the scent of their particularly sweet sap soaking the air. The ground was barren aside from thorn-covered vines and little shrubs, the edges of their leaves painted red. He leaned forward to sniff one, but Stumpwhisker batted his muzzle away.

"Don't," he growled. "That's poison ivy. Touch it, and you'll be scratching yourself raw for days."

Cragpaw winced and backed away. His paws were reluctant as they pushed further into the woods. He carefully maneuvered away from any more poison ivy. Nightpaw walked with his tail high above his spine, nose tipped curiously to the air as he drank in all of the new smells.

"This is Tall Pines," Stumpwhisker explained, pulling to a stop. He looked at the two apprentices, sitting down and curling his tail over his paws. "The twolegplace is not far, and we can find catmint in their gardens. Do you know what catmint is used for?"

Cragpaw, carefully eyeing the ground beneath him, lowered his rump. He shook his head.

"Isn't it used to cure greencough?" Nightpaw proposed, his pelt brushing against Cragpaw's.

Stumpwhisker nodded. "That is correct. It's difficult to find, especially when kittypets have a tendency to eat it. Every cat knows what it is, in case they can find any while patrolling."

Nightpaw beamed, and Cragpaw mentally clawed himself. Of course that's what it is. Strikefeather taught us all about it when we were kits! He twitched his tail unhappily.

"Anyways, that's not what we're out here for. I'm here to explain to you the medicine cat code," Stumpwhisker meowed, glancing between the two apprentices.

Cragpaw sat taller in his eagerness, pricking his ears. Nightpaw, on the other paw, scuffed uncomfortably at the ground.

"You may not share the messages you receive from StarClan with anybody but your leader or fellow medicine cats. Your bond with your ancestors is sacred, and doing so would only infringe on it," Stumpwhisker paused to allow the apprentices to take it in, and Cragpaw felt excitement flood through him. His brother was a medicine cat, so it was a relief to know that he wouldn't have to hide anything from him. "A medicine cat only shares dreams with StarClan. Watch for stars in the sky and in your ancestor's fur. If they are missing, you must wake immediately."

Cragpaw shivered at the thought. "Does that mean there are other spirits out there?" He breathed.

Stumpwhisker nodded grimly. "There are, and you must tread carefully when you share tongues with StarClan. It can be dangerous." He flicked his tail and continued, "You may only retire if there is another cat ready to take your place. In the case of you two, I would suggest training an apprentice together when you're ready to retire, unless one of you desires to perform your duties longer than the other." He cleared his throat, and fixed his steady gaze on Nightpaw. "Lastly, a medicine cat may not fall in love, take a mate, or have kits. Upon treading the sacred path of a medicine cat, you are sacrificing romance in a show of love to your Clan. Do you understand?"

Nightpaw swallowed uneasily, but gave a short nod.

"I understand," mewed Cragpaw.

"Well, that's our code. Simple and to the point." Stumpwhisker sighed and rose to his paws, wincing. He flicked out his legs to shake out their soreness.

Nightpaw's eyes narrowed to slits. "Isn't there an herb we can lie in your nest to help your sore joints?"

The mottled tom huffed a laugh. "There is. Who told you about that?"

"You put some in Strikefeather's nest last moon when she was really sore," Nightpaw mewed proudly.

Stumpwhisker nodded with approval. "Good eye. That was ragwort." He paused, and contemplatively sniffed at the wind as it whisked through his fur. "Let's keep moving. Since we're already here, I'll show you the best places for catmint."

Cragpaw grinned as Stumpwhisker padded through the trees, weaving between the tall trunks until they came across a field. The grass was thin. Never before had Cragpaw seen grass so green and short and finely trimmed, and it made him uneasy. On the other side of the grass, a broad wooden fence stretched as far as the eye could see. Cragpaw tested the air. Strange scents flooded into his lungs. They tasted unnatural. He glanced uncomfortably at Stumpwhisker, who was silently watching him and Nightpaw's reactions. His brother showed just as much discomfort, crouched low and ears sharp.

"Up ahead is the twolegplace. You must tread carefully around here, as twolegs like to take their dogs outside the fence. Come," Stumpwhisker bounded easily across the stretch of finely-trimmed grass.

Exchanging a nervous glance with Nightpaw, Cragpaw sprang out of the woods. His fur prickled uneasily as he raced across the stretch of springy ground, until he finally reached Stumpwhisker's side. Nightpaw pulled to a stop with a lash of his tail, and he glanced back to whence they came.

"Climb up onto the wall. Be sure to dig your claws in to support your weight." Stumpwhisker gathered his haunches beneath himself and sprang up. His front paws hooked over the wood, while his hind claws dug into the planks. It wobbled under his weight. He hauled himself up, perching on the precarious wooden fence as he stared down at the apprentices. "Come on, now."

Nightpaw scrambled easily to the top, a proud purr rising to his throat as he settled next to Stumpwhisker, his tail swaying over the edge of the wooden planks. He twisted his neck around to stare down at his brother. "Are you coming or what?" Nightpaw teased.

Cragpaw hesitated, his ears panning out. He cast an uncertain glance back towards the tempting confines of the forest behind him. But I can't leave, he scolded himself. Nightpaw will just call me a mouse!

Bringing his eyes back to the fence, he gathered his haunches and launched himself at the wood. His front claws clung deep into the soft bark, and his arms trembled with effort. He squeaked in surprise—he'd only made it halfway up! Now fuelled by the fear of falling, he scrabbled frantically the rest of the way up, pulling himself atop the wood with a gasp of relief. He clung to the top for a few moments to stabilize his breathing, slowly turning an anxious eye back to the ground below. He wrapped his tail tightly around his flank.

Stumpwhisker stared for a moment, then turned around and began padding along the narrow fencetop with the ease of practice. Cragpaw swallowed his nerves and followed carefully, watching his paws as he placed them, one at a time, in front of each other.

On the other side of the fence stood strange, tall structures. They were colored with a mixture of whites and reds, stone and wood and various other substances marring their surfaces. They were squarish and large, with sharp, pointy roofs and the occasional rectangular gap opening to an even stranger interior. In some gardens, Cragpaw even spotted twolegs minding their own business. Some tended their plants, a few yapped at their dogs, and others simply sat beneath the shade—with a peculiar few absorbing the sunlight, much like a lizard on a rock. He jolted as Stumpwhisker pulled to a stop.

Cragpaw peered past the older tom, but couldn't see anything up ahead. He blinked. "Why'd we stop?" He mewed.

Stumpwhisker huffed and flicked his tail to the garden below. Cragpaw looked. Little bushes with tall purple flowers lined the bottom of the fence. "Is that catmint?" He asked.

Stumpwhisker nodded. "That's right."

Nightpaw leaned his front over the edge of the fence and dropped to the garden below. Cragpaw jerked his head to Stumpwhisker, but the older cat simply bore a soft smile as he followed the black apprentice. Cragpaw flattened his ears, and with an anxious twitch of his tail, he joined them.

Stumpwhisker leaned forward and gently nipped off a few shoots of the flowering shrub. Cragpaw mindlessly began digging at its base. Stumpwhisker snorted, cuffing the apprentice over the ears. Cragpaw looked over, blinking in confusion.

"Don't dig up the entire plant, you mouse-brain," he growled. "We don't want to kill it, we want it to regrow."

Heat rushed to Cragpaw's ears, and he shamefully ducked his head. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning his attention to watch exactly how Stumpwhisker did it.

Carefully replicating the medicine cat's moves, he stretched his neck forward and nipped at the bottom of one of the stalks. The bits of catmint tumbled to the ground, and he scooped them together with a paw. He looked over at his companions, who were also finished collecting their catmint.

Stumpwhisker glanced behind them, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Gather your catmint and hurry to the other side of the fence," he growled.

Cragpaw didn't waste a second in snatching up his stems. As a grinding noise sounded from the twoleg nest behind them, he scrambled up the fence and earnestly dropped to the other side, just in time for a twoleg to angrily shout from the garden.

Nightpaw's eyes gleamed as he joined Cragpaw, and the brothers raced across the springy green grass and back into the treeline. Cragpaw paused, glancing back at the fence. Moments later, Stumpwhisker landed roughly on the ground and hurried to join the apprentices. Assessing the two toms, he grunted his approval. Excitement flooded into Cragpaw's racing heart.

Flicking his tail, Stumpwhisker plunged into the woods, and Cragpaw happily chased after him.