Hello, everyone! It's Nighty here, with my second Warriors fanfiction!
As you can probably guess, this one is about ThunderClan's former medicine cat, Spottedleaf. I was inspired to write this after thinking about what Spottedleaf must have felt, and what her life must have been like. Spottedleaf is portrayed in the books as this beautiful, perfect cat, and as this Mary-Sue type of person, but she's a medicine cat. She'll never be able to find love, nor will any other medicine cat. In my fic, I'm trying to give her all the depth and personality I think the books should have given her.
This is Spottedleaf's argument and her defense of all the cats who have never found love.
Drip, drip, drip.
Splash, splash.
The ripples spread out across the surface of the pool of crystalline dark-blue water; each ring fading, culminating into new rings, disappearing from view as they expanded, extending across the water.
The water was like time—always changing, never returning to what it was, spreading out in a complicated pattern until what was once there could barely be seen.
Stars were reflected in the water, twinkling, silver-bright orbs that bobbed and danced across the pool, shifting and changing. Slowly, a glimmer of color appeared below the surface of the surface.
The figure who crouched by the pool leaned forward, amber eyes staring intensely into the unfathomable dark-blue depths. As it watched, the glimmer sharpened into clarity, revealing the form of a powerful ginger tom, his green eyes troubled and confused.
The figure's breath caught in her throat, and she lifted her tortoiseshell head, her ears flattened against her head. Her round amber eyes darkened in sorrow and heartache as she dragged her gaze back toward the pool, as if she could not help herself.
"Firestar," she murmured.
The lone she-cat trailed one white paw lightly across the surface of the water, ripples tracing her movements and obscuring the ginger cat from view. The she-cat watched sadly as the figure in the pool faded to the merest sliver before finally sinking out of sight beneath the ripples.
She had heard enough, and she had sent as much help as she could, trapped as she was in the skies of StarClan.
One paw tightened, unsheathing claws, and raked at the grass, as the she-cat hated herself for being so helpless, unable to do anything more than send dreams of warning and foreboding into the world of the living.
"Spottedleaf."
The she-cat jerked upright, turning in a single sharp movement to face the cat who had spoken her name. Her tortoiseshell fur slowly lay flat as she recognized the beautiful gray-blue cat stepping gracefully through the fronds of bracken, her fur glittering with starlight, majesty and authority glimmering in her round blue eyes.
"Bluestar," Spottedleaf murmured, lowering her head in respect.
The former leader of ThunderClan dipped her head in reply and strode silently over to the pool, illuminated by silver light. "How are you, Spottedleaf?" she mewed quietly.
Spottedleaf switched her gaze to the water. "I'm fine," the medicine cat murmured.
Bluestar watched her, not protesting, but merely touched the surface of the pool with her claw. The faint glimmer of flame-colored pelt showed through beneath the ripples once more, and the cat tracked it through narrowed eyes.
Finally she spoke. "Finding Firestar again, are you, Spottedleaf?"
Her voice was carefully even, as if she had expected this all along.
The tortoiseshell she-cat replied with a reluctant nod of her head. "I was watching him, as I promised," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He is so confused. There is so much in his future that is dark, and in ThunderClan's. How can I help him?"
Her tone was desperate. Bluestar shook her head. "StarClan can do nothing, Spottedleaf. We can only warn, and hope it will be enough. StarClan do not control the living."
Another silence settled over the night, broken only by the faint rasp of the wind stirring the bracken. The medicine cat lifted her eyes to the higher skies, as if seeking some answer.
Bluestar broke in with an impatient sigh. "Spottedleaf, you must let go of him, some time or other. You love him, and I do understand, but you can't let your thoughts remain always with Firestar. You have a duty to StarClan."
"Bluestar." The medicine cat's mew was sharp and brittle. "I know."
The leader flicked an ear in surprise at her tone. Spottedleaf's voice was laced with bitter weariness, as if she had done battle many times but at last had succumbed. Bluestar tried again, her tone gentler this time. "Spottedleaf. What is wrong?"
The medicine cat whipped around sharply, her eyes glinting in pain. "What is wrong?" she cried. Bluestar nearly flinched back at the depth of the anguish in her voice. Spottedleaf lashed her tail back and forth across the starry grass as if to give vent to her despair. "No cat in StarClan understands how I feel! This is no mere obsession, Bluestar."
Her voice sounded choked as she spoke again after an icy pause. "You can't understand how it feels. How it burns, to know that you'll always be alone, and no one will walk at your side and know your soul. That I will never feel close to any cat, that I will never fulfill one of the deepest wishes of life."
"You were never alone," Bluestar hastily meowed, attempting to lessen the medicine cat's grief. "You were and are a medicine cat. StarClan always walks with you, closer than any other cat. You are able to experience what other cats cannot, this bond with our ancestors."
"And StarClan gives me what?" yowled Spottedleaf. Bluestar flinched, her eyes widening in shock. Never had she given vent to such an outburst. She could only watch as Spottedleaf paced back and forth in distress, giving voice to seasons of pent-up loneliness.
"StarClan will not give me the love of another. They walk with every cat, not only me. I have merely been chosen to interpret the omens they send for the Clan as a messenger. You say that I experience what other cats cannot. Did you ever consider that that was what divided me from my Clanmates? I was always alone!"
Her amber eyes shone with a fierce light, and Bluestar, looking into them, felt her raw pain, and closed her eyes as she, too, remembered.
xxXxx
Seven-and-a-half moons old—a medicine cat apprentice working entirely by herself, laboriously sorting herbs and finishing a poultice for one of the elders. Spottedleaf raised her head, her spine aching from crouching over the leaves for so long, and stretched.
She looked past the cool darkness of her den to the bright sunlight that rimmed the trees outside. She could hear the mews of her Clanmates as they conversed in the clearing, eating their fresh-kill. The delicious scent of prey rose to her nostrils, and she was tempted. She had been working hard all morning without thought for food.
The herbs can wait a bit, she thought, and she padded out of the cave, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the burning brightness of late newleaf. She pushed past the tunnel of ferns, feeling the fronds scrape lightly against her coat, and stepped into the clearing.
Several of the cats looked up and mewed polite greetings, and she replied, but her heart was sinking. Only seven moons old, and she could already see the careful wariness the other cats had around her. She was a medicine cat, and that separated her from the rest of her Clan. She felt an ache burn in her chest. All she wanted to do was to feel truly a part of her Clan, but how could she, when everyone didn't treat her as herself, or rather as a respected medicine cat?
She wavered at the edge of the ferns, unwilling to walk out amongst her Clanmates.
"Hey, Spottedleaf!"
She turned her head, her spirits brightening almost at once. It was the new apprentice, the kittypet Firepaw. He was racing excitedly toward her, his copper-ginger fur illuminated by the sun and his green eyes bright with hope.
Spottedleaf had to stifle a laugh, watching him. He was the only one who made her feel truly at home. Perhaps it was the fact that he was an outsider, like her. He would always be cut off from the rest of his Clanmates, like she was.
And he had not been assimilated into the Clan enough yet to pick up the accustomed wary politeness the Clan cats treated her with. He was open, frank, and fearless, and not afraid to approach a medicine cat so honestly.
She waved her tail in welcome as the ginger apprentice skidded to a halt beside her. "Hello, Firepaw," she mewed. "Do you need anything?"
Another stab of pain entered her. She rarely spoke with the rest of her Clanmates. No one would ask her how her day went, if she was enjoying life, if she had encountered any problems. When anyone came to talk with her, it was always because they needed herbs, never because they wanted to visit her personally.
Her fears that Firepaw had only come to see her because of herbs vanished as he meowed, "No, Spottedleaf, but thank you. I just wanted to ask you if you would want to eat with the rest of us."
Spottedleaf stared at him. Had she really heard him correctly? Did someone want to eat with her, and not because they needed to talk to her about medicine or StarClan?
Firepaw's ears flattened as she hesitated for a few heartbeats. "I'm sorry, Spottedleaf. I know you're busy, and I shouldn't have bothered you." He turned away, head and tail drooping in embarrassment.
"No, Firepaw!" Spottedleaf called, jerked from her astonishment. She hurried to catch up with him, fearing that her only chance to make friends with her Clanmates was about to disappear. "Thank you very much for asking. I really wanted to come and eat with you. I'd like it very much."
"Really?" Firepaw asked, happiness returning to his expression. "Then come on, let's go! I'll race you to the fresh-kill pile!"
Spottedleaf let out a purr of pure joy as she dashed across the clearing with Firepaw towards the pile of prey. I haven't been able to play like this ever since I was a kit. Everyone expects me to be more mature, being the medicine cat. I have to be more serious, and my Clan puts pressure on me, even though I'm so young. But maybe . . . I can have a friend at last.
Firepaw reached the fresh-kill pile only moments before Spottedleaf did, but she wasn't able to slow down in time, crashing into him as a result and rolling backwards, skidding across the earth. The two young cats accidentally knocked into Whitestorm, who was returning to the camp.
"And what are you two youngsters doing?" the white warrior inquired, his deep voice punctuated with notes of humor. "Still tumbling about like kits?" He flicked his tail over their ears good-naturedly and paced toward the warriors' den.
Spottedleaf felt as if her heart was about to burst with happiness. Whitestorm had actually compared her to a kit! He had actually acknowledged her as something other than the medicine cat!
"Come on," Firepaw said, interrupting her thoughts. "Which do you want?" He stood back from the pile of prey to let her have first pick.
Spottedleaf stiffened, wondering if this chivalry was reserve, but his eyes held only warmth and kindness. She dipped her head gratefully at him and picked out a mouse.
Firepaw led the way to the tree stump where the other apprentices were eating their fresh-kill: Ravenpaw, Graypaw, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw. They looked up as Firepaw approached, and Ravenpaw and Graypaw mewed greetings, while Sandpaw and Dustpaw tossed their heads dismissively.
Then they noticed Spottedleaf, and she watched as their eyes sharpened with interest, wondering why she was here.
"Hello," she murmured, suddenly feeling shy. She sat down with the rest of them and tucked into her mouse. Firepaw crouched down beside her with a small shrew.
Graypaw, Ravenpaw, Sandpaw, and Dustpaw had once been her friends, Spottedleaf reflected sadly. In the nursery, when they had all been kits, too young to know anything, excited about what their futures held, thinking only of each other as playmates. How simple life had been, how contented and sweet!
That was, until Spottedleaf chose to follow the path of a medicine cat. Though she loved her task, she was forced to watch sorrowfully as her friends left together to become warriors, leaving her behind. They didn't even share the same den anymore. Instead, she slept in solitude in a nest of her own, separated from her nursery friends.
Then her world was shattered when her mentor, Featherwhisker, fell ill to greencough and died. Not even yet seven moons, Spottedleaf, then Spottedpaw, was forced early into her full medicine cat promotion, receiving her full name well before her time. Now she was truly the healer of the Clan, the one who communicated with StarClan and soothed her Clanmates' wounds. The Clan regarded her differently, and the close friendship she once had with her friends faded into awkwardness, then dwindled to nothing. She was so different. Their paths were so different.
She would always be alone.
Spottedleaf shoved the thoughts away and tried to speak brightly to her friends, groping desperately for the remnants of friendship that hung like a tattered thread, barely connecting them. "So, how's your training going?" she inquired.
Ugh! How patronizing her words sounded! As if she were a mentor, inquiring after an apprentice's activities! Had she really been separated so long?
Sandpaw picked awkwardly at her meal, not knowing how to speak with the medicine cat. "Um . . . good," she finally answered. "Whitestorm's teaching me a lot of stuff—you know, about fighting and all that."
Spottedleaf responded with a small laugh, but inside she wanted to curl up in a corner and wail like a kit.
"And how about you?" she addressed the rest of the apprentices, trying to sound casual.
There was a chorus of mumbled "Good"s as the apprentices looked at the ground uneasily.
Spottedleaf's heart sank even lower.
And that was how it went the entire meal. Spottedleaf tried a few more times to engage the apprentices with conversation, but it was tense and stilted. Eventually she lapsed into silence and ate wordlessly, exchanging words only with Firepaw.
She couldn't help noticing that the whole time, Firepaw was the only one who spoke with her, the only one who dared to share tongues with her. She felt the others' reluctance to talk to her like a wall setting them apart.
Firepaw walked her back to her den. "Did you have a good time?" he asked.
Spottedleaf looked sharply at him, almost suspecting him of taunting her, but she saw only hopefulness in his eyes. Letting her fur lie flat, she bowed her head. He was too innocent to sense and understand the tension that had frozen the air between her and her former friends. She stretched forward and touched her nose to his ear. "Yes," she whispered. "Thank you so much."
Did her voice sound choked in sorrow? Firepaw looked thoughtfully at her and mewed, "You're welcome, Spottedleaf. Goodbye."
He turned and brushed his way back through the ferns. Spottedleaf watched him leave, her heart breaking a little as she remembered the desolate feeling she had felt with the apprentices, and she shut her eyes as the pain washed over her once more, dragging her down into a black pit of loneliness.
xxXxx
Her amber eyes were still full of that pain now, as she stood before Bluestar.
"He was one of my only friends," she murmured. "One of the only ones who ever lasted my entire short life, the only one who was my own age. You can't know the loneliness of being a medicine cat, Bluestar. You can't know."
Bluestar trembled, her limbs rigid, her claws embedded in the earth. The medicine cat's despair and anguish and longing for what she could never have tore at her like an accusation. The depth of her agony shocked her deeply.
"Spottedleaf . . ." she faltered.
"Do you remember?" whispered the tortoiseshell cat, flattening her ears. "Do you remember, Bluestar?"
xxXxx
Four moons old—Spottedkit crouched down stealthily behind Sandkit. Her denmate hadn't noticed her quiet approach, and with any luck she would able to shock her for once. Her paws tingled with purpose as she lowered herself closer to the ground, preparing for the spring.
However, as she flung herself at her friend with a happy meow, Sandkit sprang around and caught her in her paws as she fell toward her, and the two she-kits tumbled over the ground, knocking backwards against a tree stump. Spottedkit lay still for a moment, stunned as stars floated amongst her vision, and then she began to laugh.
Sandkit laughed too, flopping down beside her on the ground.
"I'm never going to be able to frighten you," Spottedkit mewed, staring with envy at her friend. "I can't believe you heard me and you acted like you didn't."
Sandkit lifted her head proudly. "Of course," she meowed. "I'm going to be the best warrior ever!" She leaped at Spottedkit again, and they scuffled amongst the grass, laughing. Suddenly, they rolled into an enormous fluffy white object.
Spottedkit scrambled upright, her dusty fur sticking out in alarm. "Oh! Featherwhisker!"
The medicine cat lowered his head, depositing his mouthful of herbs at his paws. His enormous, plumy white tail had been the object the kits had seen. The two she-kits stared in fascination at his tail. It was as soft as a cloud and bore a very strong resemblance to a squirrel's tail. Sandkit leaped up, trying to catch it, but the medicine cat simply raised it out of her reach.
"What are you two doing?" he asked. "Playing?"
"Yeah!" squeaked Spottedkit. "Sandkit's my best friend."
"Yeah, even though you can never catch me!" Sandkit teased, flipping her tail mischievously over her friend's ears.
The medicine cat's blue eyes sparkled with good humor. "Of course, a beautiful greenleaf day like this should never be wasted. Go on and play." He bent his neck, about to take up the herbs once more, when he stopped and looked levelly at the kits. "I wonder, if you can tell me what this one is?"
He separated a leaf from the others. It had a fresh, clean scent to it, fragrant and bright, almost cold.
Sandkit shrugged. "No clue!"
Spottedkit prodded the leaf with a paw and sniffed it a couple of times as the medicine cat watched her intently. "Mint?" she guessed at last.
Featherwhisker's eyes sparkled with delight. "Correct! You're quite good at remembering herbs, Spottedkit." He seemed to regard her thoughtfully before picking up his herbs once more. Flicking his bushy tail in farewell (Sandkit tried once more to catch it, but failed), he padded back across the clearing toward his den.
"What was that all about?" Sandkit mewed.
"Don't know," Spottedkit murmured, but she remembered the elation she had felt as she said the name of the right herb, and a wondering excitement rose in her mind.
One moon passed. Five moons old now, Spottedkit was excitedly contemplating the future with her denmates one evening when Featherwhisker stretched his head into the nursery entrance.
"May I speak with Spottedkit?" he meowed.
Sandkit nudged her forward, and feeling apprehensive and a little frightened that the medicine cat of ThunderClan would want to speak with her, she followed Featherwhisker out of the den.
Outside, Featherwhisker seated himself and looked at her seriously. "You're five moons old now, aren't you, Spottedkit?" he asked.
"Y-yes," squeaked the tortoiseshell kit nervously.
The medicine cat purred warmly, dispelling her anxiety. "Calm down, little one. I don't bite. I only wanted to speak with you."
"Um, okay," mumbled Spottedkit, staring down shyly at the ground.
"Now, little kit, you've always been able to tell me the correct names of herbs. You're a fast learner and you instinctively memorize scents," Featherwhisker meowed, looking down at her. "You are also very sensitive to how your friends feel."
"Thank you," muttered Spottedkit, remembering that her mother had told her to always thank someone who complimented you.
"So . . ." Featherwhisker said slowly. "How would you like being medicine cat apprentice of ThunderClan?"
"What?!" Spottedkit couldn't stop the shrill squeak of surprise escaping her mouth; embarrassed, she lowered her head, but just as quickly glanced up again in utter astonishment. She opened her mouth to ask him if she was sure, but she could only stare at him, tongue-tied, unable to speak in her shock. It was as if someone had struck her. Her vision was blurring in a haze of joy, and her mind was racing furiously.
"I mean it," said the medicine cat seriously, but he couldn't quite hide the twitch of amusement puckering at the corner of his mouth. "You would make a very good medicine cat apprentice, Spottedkit. You have the skill and the talent."
"B-but I'm only five moons old!" Spottedkit squeaked, unable to disguise her shock.
Featherwhisker smiled kindly at her. "Medicine cat duties are different from a warrior's. You have already proved yourself capable of remembering many herbs at one time. In fact, you already know most of them. Warrior training won't begin until much later."
Spottedkit wondered if she was dreaming. A medicine cat apprentice?
"So, would you like to?" he prompted gently.
"Oh, yes please!" she squeaked. "I'd like that more than anything else in the world! Thank you so much!"
Featherwhisker's whiskers twitched in amusement at her enthusiasm. "All right, Spottedkit. I'll speak with Bluestar, then."
xxXxx
"That was one of the happiest moments of my life," Spottedleaf whispered, her eyes lost in reminiscence. She glanced away. "Who would have known that would be my downfall?"
"But Featherwhisker made a wise choice in you," Bluestar murmured, looking now at the young she-cat who stood before her, remembering the tortoiseshell kit she had once been. "You proved to be a valuable medicine cat. ThunderClan will always remember you."
"ThunderClan might remember me for that," Spottedleaf mewed quietly, "but do they know the cost that I took to become a medicine cat? Did they predict that one day, I would lose my friends, my Clanmates, and one of my greatest dreams, all in a single strike?"
xxXxx
Five moons old—Spottedkit was an apprentice now. Bluestar and Featherwhisker had just completed the ceremony, and her entire body was filled with a barely restrained excitement.
My name is Spottedpaw now! she kept thinking, over and over again. Spottedpaw! An apprentice!
Her mother, Dappletail, was covering her face and ears with licks. "Oh, my little kit," she murmured, and her voice trembled. Spottedpaw had been her last kit. "I'm so proud of you."
Spottedpaw leaned against her mother, happy in her happiness. She was going to be the best medicine cat apprentice she could be!
Her mother moved away with a parting lick on the ear, and Spottedpaw suddenly heard her name being called. Turning around, she saw her denmates approaching her. "Sandkit! Graykit! Ravenkit! Dustkit!" she called happily, running toward them.
Then she saw their faces.
And it was only then that she realized that they had stayed at the very rear of the crowd during her ceremony; how they were regarding her with expressions of anger and jealousy and wariness; and how Sandkit, her best friend, was staring at her, her pale ginger fur bristling.
"What's wrong?" she faltered. Why weren't they happy?
"Why didn't you tell us?" spat Sandkit, lashing her short tail back and forth. "I thought we were best friends!"
"Sandkit, we are, honest, but Featherwhisker told me not to say anything!" Spottedpaw protested. Her feelings of happiness were rapidly falling away like a distant memory as a disturbed feeling of shock rushed into her mind.
"I can't believe this," Sandkit growled. "I thought we were going to be apprentices together! Now you're one, and we're left behind in the nursery!"
Spottedpaw stared at her, suddenly feeling a chasm open up between them. Their ranks had changed. They were no longer kits anymore.
"That doesn't matter!" she mewed, desperately trying to regain their friendship. "We'll still be friends forever! Please, Sandkit?"
Sandkit hesitated. "I guess," she muttered, and abruptly, she turned away. Dustkit followed her, and Ravenkit and Graykit shot her helpless glances before trailing after the two.
Spottedpaw watched in silence, her heart dropping to the bottom of her paws in dread. Her world had gone colorless, and her special day would forever be marked in her life as the day she lost her best friend.
xxXxx
"Who knew," Spottedleaf murmured in the present, "that one day my former best friend would love Firestar, too?"
There was no anger in her voice, only bitter wondering.
"Things were so simple, when we were kits," Spottedleaf went on quietly. "Sometimes I wish nothing had changed. But things were hard for Sandstorm, too, watching me grow up and become an apprentice, and then a full medicine cat, without her, until one day our friendship faded into a memory."
"You lost this much?" Bluestar whispered, her voice choking. "In the end, every one of us loses something—our kits, our lives, our loves."
"But I lost all three," Spottedleaf meowed, her voice sharpening and hardening. "The day I learned of what I had given up to become a medicine cat—was one of the hardest days of my life. After one of the queens had given birth to a litter of kits, I told Featherwhisker that one day, I hoped to have kits, too. He told me that I could never have kits."
A silence settled over the two she-cats, heavy and sorrowful, and the breeze swirled about their ears, speaking voiceless stories of cats whose dreams were never realized.
"So many of us have broken dreams," Spottedleaf mewed softly. "Why should StarClan dictate what we must do? How many cats walk amongst StarClan now, who never fulfilled their visions?"
"Spottedleaf, StarClan did this for a reason," Bluestar attempted to explain. "Medicine cats are not allowed to have kits or mates because they must care for the entire Clan as if it were their own kits. It might also distract them from their loyalty to StarClan."
Spottedleaf's head whipped up; her eyes blazed in a furious rage of roiling amber fire.
"Is that so?" she spat, kinking her tail over her back as Bluestar stared at her, speechless. "Do warriors, who have kits and mates, serve them more than for the entire Clan? Do they hunt first for their mates and kits? Do they bring bedding and herbs for them first, instead of the Clan? Does the fact that they have a mate cause them to lose loyalty towards their Clan? No! If warriors, who follow the same rules as we medicine cats do, are allowed to have mates, why are we not? Why?"
"I—I don't know," Bluestar rasped, taking a step backwards as the combined force of Spottedleaf's anger and desperation hit her like floodwater. "I don't know."
"Warriors serve their Clan well, and are rewarded with the freedom to choose a mate and bear kits, watching them grow up and become strong warriors themselves," Spottedleaf hissed. "And we medicine cats, who share the work of two, are denied that? Not only do we serve the Clan as medicine cats, having to care for every Clan member and running the risk of dying from their diseases, we must train as warriors ourselves! I myself died fighting an enemy Clan as a warrior! One cat, performing the duties of two. Is this fair, Bluestar? Is StarClan justified in this?"
Bluestar closed her eyes tightly, the pain of countless seasons of watching her warriors die breaking out upon her afresh. "I'm not sure, Spottedleaf," she said quietly, her voice even though her mind trembled within, thousands of thoughts racing through it with the ferocity of ten Clans.
Could StarClan have been wrong, all these seasons?
xxXxx
Screeches and yowls split the air in a cacophony of sound, tearing the skies as all over the clearing, fur was torn, claws raked through flesh, and fangs bit, drawing blood. The rank scent of ShadowClan filled the air.
ShadowClan were attacking.
The tortoiseshell medicine cat stood at the entrance of her den, feeling the thunder that lay hidden in the dark clouds massing overhead. Soon the power of the storm would be unleashed.
"StarClan, give me strength," she prayed. Flattening her ears, she dove through the ferns into the heat of the battle.
She landed squarely on the back of a large tabby warrior. She unsheathed her claws, ripping through tangles of thick fur and flesh. Blood spattered her own coat, and she felt the pain of having to hurt another cat in battle, but she clung determinedly on as the enemy caterwauled in agony, writhing over the ground.
Keeping her claws deep in his pelt, she leaned down and hissed in his ear: "Leave, unless you want more blood to be drawn!"
She released the tabby and he hared away, his paws tripping over the ground in his haste to leave the fight.
Suddenly the scream of a kit reached her ears, piercing through the roar of the battle.
Spottedleaf gasped. "Frostfur's kits!"
She had no time to think or to plan. She raced through the battle, leaping above the cats in an effort to reach the bramble nursery. Cats heaved and bobbed around her, still fighting, still tearing at each other's flanks. Her vision was full of gray and brown, spattered with red, red like blood. . . .
"No!" she cried, seeing a limp gray form the color of cinders, curled up on the ground. "Cinderkit!"
The kit opened its tiny pink mouth and wailed, too weak to move.
Suddenly, a rustle within the nursery startled Spottedleaf. The sounds of the battle faded into the background as a thickset, powerful brown tabby tom stepped out of the nursery, a golden brown kit dangling in his jaws. A slow, hunting grin spread across his lips as he caught sight of the medicine cat.
"Let go of those kits," Spottedleaf hissed, tensing.
"I suppose you wouldn't be able to stop me, would you?" the ShadowClan warrior sneered, dumping Brackenkit beside his sister. "ShadowClan could do with some more kits to join their ranks."
"Kit-stealer!" screeched Spottedleaf, and without a moment's thought she launched herself at him. He let out a yowl of surprise as she landed on his shoulders, sinking her claws instantly into the fur, but he rolled over with the movement, crushing her against the ground, her head knocking against the stones.
She lay there, stunned and winded, her vision focused on the gray skies above. Then two paws landed heavily against her shoulders, pinning them back against the ground as the leering face of Clawface moved closer.
"Close to StarClan, are you, medicine cat?" he hissed quietly. "We'll see just how close you are."
And he unsheathed his claws and brought them down in a devastating blow across her throat.
xxXxx
"And one more time, I was separated," Spottedleaf murmured as the terrible images faded from Bluestar's mind. "I lost my Clan as well as Firestar, in that one fatal blow."
"You died too young," Bluestar rasped, stretching forward to touch her muzzle to Spottedleaf's cheek. "So many deaths . . ." She blinked slowly, her eyes submerged in grief. "I had never thought that you had lost so much. . . ."
Spottedleaf sighed, a shudder spreading through her body from her ears to her tail-tip. When she looked up, there was a weary sadness in her eyes. "Bluestar, this rule is wrong. That's all I can say. It's wrong.
"I speak not only for myself, now. I speak for all the medicine cats past who never found love. Cinderpelt, Yellowfang's apprentice—she loved Firestar and Littlecloud, but so many parts of her life were stripped away from her. She, too, died young.
"Yellowfang herself—she loved Raggedstar, and bore Brokentail. Is it possible that if she had kept her kit and raised him as her own son, he would not have strayed to the ways of darkness? I think so. But because of this rule, she was forced to give him up, and he was sent to the care of an ambitious queen who never loved him at all. I think that perhaps, after all, he had some justification for his actions.
"And Leafpool—poor, poor Leafpool! My heart aches for her, all this time. She suffers what I myself had suffered. She found love, and she healed a broken heart, but because of this rule, she had to meet with her love in secret. This is wrong, on so many levels. Why should love be hidden? How can StarClan be so cruel?
"And in the end, her secret was revealed by no less than her own daughter. Crowfeather still loves her, I know. But because of this rule, he must suppress his love, pretend he hates her, because his Clan will reject him if he doesn't. He cannot give his mate, Nightcloud, the love she deserves, and his son, Breezepelt, the attention he needs. So many secrets, spun into a web of darkness, so many cats with broken hearts, and the cause of this all is a rule that StarClan created, that medicine cats could not find love. Do you think that this whole thing would have started if Leafpool and Crowfeather, and all those other cats, were able to love?"
Spottedleaf faced Bluestar, her amber eyes glinting with a fierce light.
"We are medicine cats," she mewed. "We give and we give and we give. We throw away our lives so that the Clan may prosper. But in the end, we ourselves take nothing. After all we have lost, is it fair that StarClan can dictate the matters of our hearts?"
Bluestar stared at her, unable to speak. Her mind and her eyes had opened to the life of this medicine cat, but how could she help her? Would StarClan accept their mistake?
Spottedleaf dipped her head to Bluestar. With a twitch of her tail, she slunk back silently into the bracken, leaving Bluestar alone in the clearing, her quiet mew trailing on the wind long after she had gone:
"I leave this matter to you."
So, here it is. And with that, I leave the matter to you too, to decide by yourselves which side you will take in her argument.
And please, please review. I hope you enjoyed this fic.