The night was cold and bleak, a soft breeze blowing steadily over the treetops as the moon observed from its place in the stars. On the far edge of the forest stood a solitary figure, gazing off into the solemn darkness of the forest, her mind plagued by thoughts and haunted by memories of the past few moons. She held a faint recollection of the ancient voices that echoed in her mind those many risings ago, the foreign, otherworldly feeling that had risen in her chest as she dictated the words of foretelling, the prophecy of StarClan themselves. She never achieved the goal of ridding herself of the tension, the anxiety that filled the air as she and her clan leader met in the den above the highledge, and the solemn silence that lingered in the rocky crevice as the two she-cats attempted to discuss the fate of their kin and clanmates. Spottedleaf had indulged in her thoughts, intimidated by the sacred destiny that perplexed herself as she pondered on it with a weary mind, the fear of the horrid prospect that the vital mission of all of their futures lay in the paws of an avatar of death and destruction itself.
Countless sunrises had the early appointed medicine cat remained in the long crack that made the infirmary, with her head in her paws and a dismal expression plastered to her face as she dreamt, and the days she spent in the dreary cave, furiously working with heavy paws and blistered pads as she organized the bundles of herbs piled in the den, cluttered and scattered from some of her many restless nights. This behavior was nothing akin to Spottedleaf's usual calm demeanor, or of her optimistic attitude to act like so, but something was amiss in her mind, stalking her every pawstep and invading her every thought.
She knew the forceful beckons of her clanmates, from their soft voices laced with concern, to their loud bellowing commands tinted with worry and agitation, that they cared deeply for her well being, the emotion showing every time they paused in their daily routine to share tongues, idly chat, or thank her for her loyalty and devotion toward her position, accompanied by a skeptical glance as she assured them of her health. But though her heart warmed whenever they returned to drop a stray mouse at her paws, accompanied by sparing words of encouragement, she knew deep inside that they simply did not understand. The brave warriors that fought and defended their home gallantly would never digest the true meaning of her duty, the real intensity and weight of the burden that rested on her shoulders from a very early period.
Training in the medicinal arts was an intricate process, only to be attempted by the brightest of minds and the purest of souls. Success in training was attributed to a sharp wit and a caring heart, one that truly wishes to serve the needs of others. One who bears a unique bond with their ancestors, and who holds much authority and honor in their title and position, with a certain compassion and duty to welcome every and any cat in dire need. A medicine cat's path was long and difficult; one must pledge to hold not one single cat in their heart, and bear no blessings of life that would distract them from their duty. Their mate was StarClan; their kits the clan. Goosefeather, her mentor, had carefully selected her because he saw her potential - and to this day Spottedleaf found confidence in his words.
Spottedleaf often reflected upon herself, upon the time when she had retrieved the title that was left at her feet as her mentor had fallen, when she was still an innocent apprentice not yet prepared for the challenges yet to come. After so many eventful moons of spending her nights alone in the medicine den, she only held a faint remembrance of what it was like to be Spottedpaw, loyally following her mentor and hanging on the wise medicine cat's every mew as they strolled along Sunning Rocks, fetching the herbs growing in the crack of the flat stone. But now, even though it was post the battle with RiverClan, with countless long, tiring experiences laying behind her, she realized, with eyes of uncertainty, that the real hardship had yet to come.
But finally she had enough of waiting and procrastinating, the silence becoming too painful for her to remain. She felt the need to take a stroll in the forest, and left the camp under the rouse of scavenging herbs to replenish their depleting stores. And here she was now, at the edge of ThunderClan territory, gazing up to the foreign world beyond the forest, garbed with the scent that made any clan cat wary; the Two-leg place. She had felt drawn to the large fence, a call that she had never felt in all her short time as a medicine cat. The faithful she-cat knew a sign when she saw one, and followed the urge, knowing that StarClan trusted her and was always helping her, directing her pawsteps.
"Fire alone will save our clan." She repeated softly, eyes foggy and glistening as they reflected off the moon's rays. She flexed her claws, anxiously tearing at the soft grass underneath her paws, still staring at the two-leg den from in between the sharp cracks in the fencing.
As she bent down to scratch an itch near her ear, Spottedleaf's senses suddenly went on alert, hearing a rustling nearby, and her instincts sharpening as she tensed in preparation to flee. Once the recognition finally settled in, she relaxed her posture; it was only a kittypet, and a kitten at that, barely apprentice sized. She spied through the crack, spotting the orange bundle of fur padding toward the fence, in a slow, fumbling pace that would have been shameful in any clan cat. The bright colored kittypet's collar jingled, the tiny trinket catching his attention, and she smiled softly as he paused to bat it innocently with his forepaws.
What did StarClan hope to teach her? The medicine cat wondered as she observed the kit's movements, his playful distraction. Surely her attentions were better directed elsewhere?
The orange kit suddenly stopped wrestling himself, shaking his head in a frustrated pout before staring at the top of the fence with startling seriousness, yet Spottedleaf saw something else in his eye - determination, perhaps? With curiosity directing her, the young she-cat carefully watched him. It seemed that something was holding the kit back from what she observed to be a drive, a pull urging him to cross the border. Spottedleaf felt herself drawn to study him closer, analyzing his actions, his hesitation. There was a strong curiosity inside of him she had never seen before, but there was also a healthy fear in his pawsteps. The fear of possibilities. The fear of pain, experience.
The fear of the unknown.
Spottedleaf knew this fear, and sympathized with the orange tom, as she had been faced with a similar plight. Uncertainty shrouded her path, and it restrained him from following his own. But somehow, deep inside her, Spottedleaf acknowledged what they both needed; a little courage to face it.