Life in EmberClan was slowly getting easier. I got better at hunting, especially the birds that Smokecloud treasured so much. I excelled at fighting, defending the Clan from Lionstar's warriors. And training got easier and easier. One bright morning, as I was training with Shadowpaw, Larkpaw, and Stormpaw, I realized that we were all ready to finish our training. We were as skilled as any warrior.

There were only two problems, two roadblocks in my smooth Clan life. One was the medicine den. Despite myself, I missed the scent of fresh herbs, the warm feeling in my chest whenever I learned a new healing technique. Every time I walked by Hollywhisker's den, I felt fresh, sharp pain. Why couldn't I stop grieving? I had chosen to be a warrior instead of a medicine cat. Instead of staying with the rogues and being a healer, I left for EmberClan. That was my decision; I couldn't be moping about it.

The other problem was tall and gray-furred and named Smokecloud. I could still remember the days we spent, back when I was healing Cloudpaw, hunting together. I could still remember how much fun we had. But now, he was happy with Ferntail. I was being selfish. But I really couldn't help feeling hurt whenever I looked at them together, no matter how much I tried not to.

I still spent time with Smokecloud on dawn patrols, and he seemed to think of me as a friend. But I didn't get to talk with him nearly as often as I'd have liked.

One day, I was getting ready to check the elders for ticks when i heard some yowling by the medicine den. I padded over as quick as I could. The yowling was coming from Wolfing, Hollywhisker's apprentice.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Hollywhisker was laying down, and Wolfwing was bent over her, panic in her gaze.

"She's sick," Wolfwing said, and then repeated it to himself over and over again. "Sick. Sick. Sick. Sick."

"What happened?" I asked. Fear was tightening my throat.

"I don't know," he said softly. He continued to mutter "sick".

There were a few cats nearby watching. I looked over at the closest, Cinderstripe, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Hollywhisker collapsed a few minutes ago," Cindestripe explained. "But I don't know what's wrong, or why Wolfwing's so upset."

Wolfwing was done with muttering "sick" and switched over to "like a mother". He repeated this phrase to himself, and when Cinderstripe reached over and licked his cheek comfortingly, he hissed and walked away.

"Hollywhisker?" I tried, looking to the sleek black medicine cat. "Are you okay?"

I only heard a moan.

A gray she-cat brushed past the gathering crowd. It was Rainstar! If anyone knew how to fix this, it would be her. She was the leader of the Clan, after all! She had to know how to patch this together!

"What's happening? Is Hollywhisker okay?" Rainstar said.

"She just keeled over," squeaked Specklepaw.

"Maybe she's overworked," snarled Briarfang. "You guys are stretching her thin, coming back from battle with all of these wounds. Real warriors don't need to be treated!"

"Briarfang, be nice," Mothflame hissed.

"Hollywhisker is old," Cinderstripe said uneasily. "Could it be...?"

She didn't have to finish her sentence.

"Sick," Wolfwing said loudly. "Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick..."

I stepped forward and sniffed Hollywhisker. Her eyes were shut, her breathing jagged. She looked like she was barely clinging to life.

"She's had some kind of attack," I said.

"From IceClan?" Redpaw suggested.

"No," I said, flicking my ear. "More of... an attack on her health."

"Is Wolfwing fit to be medicine cat? He only recently got his full name..." mused Smokecloud.

I looked over. He was curled up with Ferntail, of course. Icy claws seemed to grip my heart.

"Like a mother," Wolfwing whispered. And then he fell to his knees, looking defeated. I walked up to him, careful not to touch him - I remembered Cinderstripe's attempt to help - and looked him in the eye.

"Do you know what's up with her?" I asked. I didn't want to use the wrong word, not in front of this damaged cat.

"Yes, no, I don't know," Wolfwing said. "Sick. Sick. Sick."

I crouched down, sniffing Hollywhisker. What could you do to help a cat like this? Was something wrong with her heart? I nosed around until I found Hollywhisker's hidden stash of foxglove seeds. I wondered if they were worth the risk. The tiny, poppy-seed-like herbs were used to treat the heart in rare circumstances, but with a fatal cost: they would cause paralysis or heart failure. Hollywhisker had hidden them away so that no kit could ever find them, but she had shown me her stash while I was treating Cloudpaw.

I didn't want to give the seeds to her, not just for fear of losing her, but also for my own selfish reasons. I lost Cloudpaw. Would cats blame me for losing Hollywhisker?

Do you think foxglove seeds would work?" I asked Wolfwing. Getting Wolfwing's advice was the only compromise I could come up with.

"Dangerous," Wolfwing said, his voice soft. "Foxglove could..." He trailed off, his eyes wide with fear. And then he went off on another fit of "sick" and "like a mother".

So Wolfwing didn't think foxglove was worth the risk. But then again, he wasn't completely right in the head.

"Isn't foxglove a poison?" asked Ferntail.

"It can be," I said. "But it can also treat the heart. I don't know if it's worth it."

"We need to save her!" cried Wolfwing.

"I think you should give her the foxglove," said Smokecloud. "I'm no medicine cat, but she clearly needs herbs."

"Don't give her something that'll kill her," said Cinderstripe.

"But she might die anyway," argued Smokecloud.

I just stared miserably down at my paws. A vision was starting to form in my head, a memory:

In the gray tom's place lay a tawny-furred she-cat. A muddy brown warrior let out a cry of anguish and bounded towards the she-cat, craning over her. With a flash, the light in her eyes faded away. The warrior turned to me, despair shining in his vision.

I had mistaken Wolfwing for a warrior when I first saw this. And that tawny she-cat was Hollywhisker. She was going to die; I couldn't prevent it.

"You can help her," Smokecloud said. "Give her the foxglove seeds."

"I don't want to make it worse," I answered miserably. All I could see was the vision of Wolfwing's anguished eyes.

It had started to rain. First a slow drizzle, but then it go heavier, until some of the less interested cats returned to their dens to get shelter. The warriors, who slept in a patch of gorse, grunted angrily about how they were going to get another wet night.

"Sick," Wolfwing announced after a long silence.

I waited and waited and waited, until every cat had gone except for me, Wolfwing, Ferntail, and Smokecloud. They watched me with anticipation.

"I don't know how to save her," I said softly. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and there was an incessant rumble of thunder overhead.

"Give her the seeds," Smokecloud said gently.

Starting to finally lose hope, I scooped up a pile of foxglove seeds and fed them to Hollywhisker. Then I got a pile of wet moss to chase them down. Hollywhisker opened her eyes for a moment, and quite surprisingly, I could only see pride and thanks. Hollywhisker was proud of me. But then the light in her eyes flickered out.

The foxgloves seeds hadn't worked. Once again, I had failed.