She listened, but there was no sound. She opened her mouth to draw in a scent, but there were none beyond the subtle fragrances of the forest; they left a bitter taste.

Greysight walked past the Dead Oak, not even bothering to tread carefully anymore. There was nothing around, there was no point. She would be the first to sense something should it come within range- But she longer felt like hunting.

Somewhere back in the fields, she had lost her motivation and now she only felt tired.

When standing among others, the blind she-cat was nothing but confident and self-assured, stubborn and bold. But she was alone now, and so she did not care if she dragged her paws upon the surface of the earth, brushing away a stray leaf here and there like a mopey kit.

If she didn't find something, someone wouldn't be able to eat, someone would be hungry, and she would feel worse for being unable to help them. The rest of the clan didn't realize how heavy a burden she had to carry.

"Help!"

A far away cry, faint but shrill reached her.

"HELP!"

The panicked cry rang out through the forest, deaf on all other cats' ears but hers.

Alarm shot through her limbs as the crying continued, and without even thinking it, or realizing, her paws had already begun to carry her through the forest and toward the source of the calls.

She skidded to a halt just outside of the swamp, her ears buzzing with the cat's wails.

"Branchpaw?" Greysight called, pacing on her paws, hesitant to leap forward onto the muddy earth of the swamp beyond. "Where are you? Can you hear me?!"

She had recognized the sound of his voice, and his cries had led her here of all places.

"Greysight!?"

It was a deep, strong voice that answered her, and not the voice of an apprentice. Greysight's ears twitched at the sound of it.

"Darkpelt?! Where are you, what's going on?!"

"Greysight? Greysight! Help! He-"

"Stop struggling!"

In her panic, she managed to push away her hesitance and she leaped onto a fallen log and by continuing to do so, moved from fallen branches, trees, and debris as quickly as she could toward the direction of the voices which grew louder and louder. The earth was too soft to risk a misstep.

It was difficult for her to feel through the earth in the swamp because most of it was more water than earth, a thick muddy liquid that carried the foulest stench imaginable. She couldn't feel their movements now, only hear their voices and sense the electric panic in the air.

Darkpelt was doing something, and from the sound of his growling voice and his heavy breath, he was exerting a lot of force. She heard something drop, and she heard a heavy splat, and the sound of a breathless Darkpelt.

"Ahhh!"

"Greysight!" Darkpelt bellowed, "Help me, Branchpaw's sinking!"

Greysight was quick to act and leapt off her perch to approach him, but as she did so, she landed heavily into a thick muck. She managed to catch her balance and cringed at the thick sticky substance that attempted to pull her down and she yanked her paws out of it and hurried over to Darkpelt, her pawsteps becoming heavier with each one she made.

"Here- Hurry, grab the stick and pull!" The words shot out of Darkpelt's mouth so fast that Greysight had to take a moment to pull them apart and process them before she could act.

Darkpelt picked up the large branch he had dropped moments before and gripped it in his jaws. Greysight hurried over to him, blindly bumping into his side as she hopelessly tried to get a grip on the stick. When she finally found a branch to bite down on, she followed him in pulling on it as hard as she could.

Branchpaw held onto the other end. Over half of his body had been sucked into the mud, and only his forepaws and neck were poking out; he bit down hard onto the edge of the branch with all his strength, willing himself not to let go.

The weight of the mud was against them, and as she and Darkpelt struggled to pull back, the mud pulled them down. Darkpelt's lower half was already coated in the foul substance, but Greysight was much shorter than he was, and stopping to pull her legs up as they began to sink became tougher each time. She already had more of the mud stuck to her pelt than he did.

Her body was in a panic, and the sensation to flee was stronger than ever before. Her senses were useless now, she only had Darkpelt to depend on, and he was struggling as much as she was.

But they were moving back, and the weight on the other side had not disappeared completely; they still had him, and they were pulling him out.

A noisy plop met her ears and she and Darkpelt stumbled back with the branch in their mouths, but almost immediately, she felt Darkpelt let go. He rushed forward to grab Branchpaw by the scruff of his neck and pulled him over the mud as fast as possible and onto a fallen tree from which he had snapped the branch off.

Greysight dropped the stick and followed after them, but she too felt someone grab hold of her and unceremoniously yanked her petite form up onto the bark.

"Ow! Hey-" Greysight was dropped onto the log and scrambled up quickly. She opened her mouth to yell at Darkpelt, but she was overcome by an immediate feeling of disgust due to her sticky paws and the foul stench surrounding them; it was worse than foxdung.

Branchpaw's haggard breath caught her attention and she stood by on the sidelines while they each caught their breath.

"Are you okay?" Greysight finally meowed, her concern beginning to rise.

Branchpaw didn't respond, but Darkpelt did.

"He got stuck in the quick mud. It was a foolish decision to try and find fresh-kill in the swamp of all places! Why weren't you keeping an eye on him?" Darkpelt demanded, oblivious to the irony in his statement.

"I-Wh-What?" Greysight returned, stumbling over her words as her jaw dropped, flabbergasted, still only just managing to catch her breath. "Me? Why would I be keeping an eye on him?!"

"Because he was on hunting patrol with you!"

Greysight stopped at that and blinked before she pulled her ears back and growled angrily at her accuser.

"Uh, no! He most certainly was not! I went out on my own today, and if you don't believe me, you can ask Lostheart about it!"

Branchpaw coughed loudly and sucked in a deep breath, then he released it. The apprentice's body slowly relaxed, although his limbs were still a bit shaky as he stood up. His body was completed covered in the mud, only his head had managed to stay clean.

Greysight could sense his shock in the way he held himself. All three of them were coated in the disgusting mud. It would take forever to lick their pelts clean, and that would be revolting all on its own.

Greysight let her anger simmer down, but she would remember this later; she wouldn't allow Darkpelt to toss the blame onto her.

"Let's go to the stream on the TreeClan border," Greysight said, "It will easier to clean off our pelts there." And to get rid of that awful stench.

Greysight's skin prickled as she waded into the water. It rose up to cover her legs, and in doing so, some of the mud in her pelt began to get washed away by the current.

Branchpaw and Darkpelt were already out resting on the bank after cleaning their pelts in the water. Greysight had opted to wait until they were finished before she went in herself, and no, it wasn't because she didn't want them to see her bumbling around like a blind idiot in the water. She could take care of herself; and so, she began to scrub away at her pelt, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she did.

Branchpaw and Darkpelt were seated beside each other in the grass, dying their pelts off in the sunlight as they sat in front of the stream, watching the water flow. They were a little ways downstream of Greysight. Darkpelt could see her when she finally waded into the water, and he looked away, letting his gaze fall back onto the running stream a few feet in front of him, looking through the crystalline surface and at all of the multicolored pebbles.

Branchpaw had hardly said a word since they had left the swamp. Normally, Darkpelt would have pressed him for answers sooner, but Greysight was adamant about letting him get cleaned up first, but now they were both clean and waiting for her to get out of the water.

"I don't understand how you could've allowed yourself to get caught in the mud," Darkpelt began, breaking the silence, making Branchpaw flinch. "You should have been intelligent enough to know where to place your paws, you should have paid attention! You almost died because of your own negligence, and not only that, but you were idiotic enough to go hunting in the swamp of all places, as if you might find prey in such a place!"

No response.

"Don't you ignore-!" Darkpelt's head snapped to look down upon his apprentice with a serious glare. He was then surprised to see that Branchpaw was not looking at him at all, but rather, at the ground in front of his own paws.

His shoulders were tense, likely a result of the warrior's harsh tone.

"I'm sorry..." he muttered quietly, with difficulty it seemed.

Darkpelt closed his mouth, and then after a moment of prompt consideration, he opened it again, letting out a heavy huff before he did.

"You were told not to go hunting in the swamp."

Branchpaw shut his eyes in an effort to collect himself before he faced his mentor, but his efforts were in vain, and his emotions betrayed him, making his voice quiet and strained.

"I said... I said I'm sorry! I wasn't hunting, Greysight didn't take me... I was looking for herbs..." His eyes glistened in the sunlight like two raindrops fallen upon a fresh, green leaf.

"I know," his voice wavered, "...that I'm supposed to be strong, but I...can't."

A new sort of confusion settled itself upon Darkpelt's expression; he had no idea Branchpaw's rambling was leading their conversation...

"Wetpaw's gone..." He looked away from Darkpelt, as if in shame, and attempted to hide the weakness dripping from his eyes, clenching them tightly shut, as if the feelings might go away if he did. A warrior was not supposed to show their emotions, a warrior had to be strong at all times, they had to be strong for their clan and for their clanmates.

Darkpelt was impassive.

"I know I'm weak... I'm not fit to be a warrior. A warrior is supposed to be strong and fearless, but I'm not strong, I'm weak and I'm scared." He sniffed, his voice cracking.

"I miss my brother..." he meowed. "He's gone, and I'll never be able to see him again. Someone hurt him... he was afraid and in pain, and I couldn't help him. And now, I'm scared-

"I'm afraid that... what if... he didn't make it to StarClan, and he's lost and all alone by himself? We're not really clan cats, I know...but I want to hope that Wetpaw-frost is okay, and that he's happy and that he's become a star too..."

Branchpaw shook his head and let out a breath to relax himself, "Crying is such a weak-hearted thing to do, I know, but I can't help it. I'm not strong enough..."

Darkpelt had gone quiet and he simply looked down at Branchpaw without saying a word, then he looked up and past them toward TreeClan territory. He wore the same serious expression that he always did.

"When I was young..." Darkpelt meowed deeply, "I believed that a warrior's strength came from his claws, and his teeth. I looked up to the great warriors and leaders of that time, I endeavored to be like them, to be as seemingly strong and fearless as I saw them. All I cared about was becoming stronger so I could win any battle, so that I might one day become clan leader. That was my dream."

Branchpaw's tears had stopped, and at the very same time, Darkpelt turned to look back at him fully.

"Since then, I've learned that is not always the case. I've seen it firsthand. There are many kinds of strength. Some cats find strength in their intelligence, leadership, their spirit, dedication, empathy, talents, kindness, selflessness... The strongest cat is not always the biggest, nor does he have the sharpest claws.

"I doubt your brother would want to see you in such a state of worry and distress because of him."

Darkpelt's gaze shifted to the side, back to the stream.

Branchpaw looked down, miserably, at his paws.

"I don't want to let him go."

"Then don't."

Branchpaw looked back; he had thought that Darkpelt of all cats would have told him the opposite, would have told him that he needed to snuff out his emotions. Something in their conversation, however, seemed to have triggered a change in the great warrior that he had not expected.

"What?"

"Never forget. Carry Wetpaw's memory with you for as long as you live. Live for him, so that you may experience all in life that he has lost the chance to. That can be your strength."

Branchpaw blinked, and his mouth parted slightly.

"Hey! I'm done, so we can go back to camp now! Mintleaf will definitely want to look over you, so no backing out of it!"

Branchpaw's ear twitched at the loud voice and he turned to see Greysight waiting for them in the distance, her black pelt standing out against the golden-brown blades of grass. When Branchpaw turned back around, Darkpelt had already turned back to face him.

"Go." he meowed.

"Aren't you coming?" Branchpaw asked curiously.

"No." Darkpelt answered. "I'll return later."

Branchpaw looked warily back at Greysight, and then at Darkpelt, but he did not want to disobey his mentor.

"Okay..."

And so, sparing Darkpelt a final glance, Branchpaw ran on ahead to catch up to Greysight, suddenly feeling a lot lighter on his paws.