A/N

In which Runningpaw is goin thru it

BrambleFlower: Man, if you think the last chapter was heart-melting just wait till you see what I got planned ;)

Chapter 5: Restless Heart

Runningpaw's mind was always busy; thoughts never quiet. One thing jumped all over the place and it was like every idea and thought he ever had were always shouting at each other.

He opened his mouth to taste the air and the smell of warm peat filled his mouth. Green-leaf's hot sunshine was pounding even in the early morning, but an airy breeze kept the sweat off his back.

The slope he was walking down steepened and he slowed his step to head carefully down. A fresh, tangy smell bathed his tongue and he changed direction to follow the scent.

A thick patch of thyme was stretching up to meet the sun at the base of a small ridge, morning dew already burnt off the soft leaves. Gently, he plucked the stems with his teeth and gathered a few stalks.

The biting scent cleared his nostrils as he carried the thyme in his jaws back to camp. Letting muscle memory take over, Runningpaw let his mind wander.

It had been a quarter-moon since the Gathering, and still he had yet to clear Ravenpaw's words from his head. Taking a tom as a mate… It shouldn't have been too surprising of a concept but it made his heart twist. What was he trying to tell me? Something about his behavior stuck out to Runningpaw, but he was unable to place it. It made his throat tight and his heart race so fast he couldn't breathe.

Ravenpaw was hard to decipher, that much was sure. He talked about toms liking toms like she-cats do, and he certainly felt strongly about bending the rules, but Runningpaw felt like he was missing something. Whatever it was, it nagged at him, refusing to give him peace of mind.

He managed to reign in his thoughts about Ravenpaw as he walked into camp and dropped the fresh thyme at Cloverwing's paws. She stared at him blankly.

"Runningpaw, I told you to get blackberry leaves," she said.

Runningpaw balked. That's right, she did. How could I forget? The thyme smelled good, and I just-

"Never mind it," Cloverwing sighed, shaking her head. "I'm coming with you this time. We don't want Crowkit to scratch the sting more than he already has." The foolish kit had swatted at a bee too threateningly while playing by a heather thicket and got stung right on his nose.

Keeping his head low shamefully, Runningpaw followed Cloverwing back out of camp. His leg muscles had gotten considerably stronger since he was first apprenticed. He could walk the length of the territory twice and back without feeling his bones ache.

Heading over the moortop, Cloverwing came to halt. She looked at Runningpaw with expectant green eyes. "Runningpaw!" She snapped. He jolted his head up and in her direction, shaking off whatever he was thinking about.

"Yes?" He mewed. The sternness in her eyes caught him off guard.

"I called your name twice. Did you hear me?" Cloverwing pressed.

Runningpaw stared in dismay. "No."

Letting out another heavy sigh, Cloverwing repeated herself. "I said, which way are the blackberries?"

Runningpaw blinked, scanning the moors. He could smell the river, and a rabbit downwind. He gazed past the wide valley of swooping hills. "That way," Runningpaw said, pointing in the direction of northwest. "Near the gorse patches with the purple lilac bushes."

Cloverwing dipped her head and headed downslope, thin shoulders moving under her glossy coat. They were close to ThunderClan territory now, and Runningpaw could smell the sweet maple trees and the woodsy smell of the forest.

A squeaking sound caught his attention and his ear swiveled in the direction it came from. A grey-brown squirrel was chewing on a cob nut with its little paws, square teeth whittling it down.

"Runningpaw!"

Cloverwing's mew made the squirrel look up. Its tail bushed and nose twitched. Upon spotting him and Cloverwing, it scurried up a birch tree with a light scratching sound against the bark. Runningpaw's eyes followed it until it was up in the branches and out of sight.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and followed her once more. Cloverwing's tail tip was flicking in what seemed like annoyance, but either way, she said nothing.

The purple lilac bushes came into view and Runningpaw breathed in the sweet, heady scent of the flowers for a moment. He wanted to stop for a little longer, but he could feel Cloverwing's impatience with him growing, so he tore himself away.

Plucking some of the bundles of blackberries and leaves, Runningpaw carried them in his mouth, and resisted the urge to chew even as his mouth watered. Though the taste was simple, Runningpaw appreciated the tartness, and the musky smell that accompanied the plant.

"Since we're both out here, we might as well restock our stores," Cloverwing mewed. "Care to tell me what we're low on?"

This time, Runningpaw registered her words. He thought for a moment, going over their herbs alphabetically. "Catchweed. Goosewing keeps rubbing off her poultice."

Her tail tip twitched. "No, Runningpaw. We got catchweed the other day. Try again."

We did? Runningpaw blinked. Oh, wait, yeah. "I- I don't know."

"It's part of the job to know what herbs need restocking," Cloverwing meowed.

"I know," Runningpaw said back pitifully through the blackberries in his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Your head has been in the clouds ever since you started your apprenticeship," Cloverwing pointed out, a stern tone to her voice. "A wandering mind helps no one. Your clan will depend on you one day."

Shame pricked at his chest. He curled his claws into the grass. He wanted to say something to fix things, but the words wouldn't come. There was a pressing weight on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Open your mouth," Cloverwing said. "And close your eyes."

Hesitantly, Runningpaw did as told. The moor scents flooded his senses and he took a deep breath. The winds carried rabbit and lapwing on the breeze, mingling with the heavy smell of dry earth.

"We need some lavender," Cloverwing said. "You'll smell it before you see it. Where is it?"

Runningpaw tried to focus, steadying his breathing. A warm, musky smell surrounded him and the various scents of prey and herbs threatened to overwhelm his senses, along with the blackberries he was carrying, he struggled to lock down the scent. A sweet and smoky floral scent caught his attention in the direction of RiverClan territory.

"Th- that way," Runningpaw stammered, calming himself. He was breathing hard but the smells were almost too much. He took a deep breath and looked to Cloverwing.

"You have good senses," she mewed.

Cloverwing walked down the slope, gorse patches scattered around in the thin, wispy grass. Heather tickled their flanks as unobstructed winds rippled their thin fur.

The thin puffs of lavender danced in the wind further downhill in a little dip between the mounds. The smell got stronger as they went downslope, the scent trapped in the low ground. Cloverwing cut the stems with her claws and held the stalks in her teeth gently as she turned for camp.

The sun was beginning to beat down on them now, burning yellow in the middle of the cloudless sky with no trees or shade to block it out. Runningpaw loved nothing more than being under the open sky, but on hot days with dry air, he wouldn't mind a nice tree to cool off under.

He saw the rippling purple and pink of the heathland their camp resided in, blowing gracefully against the dry wind. Honey bees buzzed around the red flowers, coating themselves in the yellow pollen. Runningpaw watched as the small group of the bees left the heather and drifted towards ThunderClan, likely to where their hive was.

The two of them walked through the knotted heather barrier, woven into gorse thickets and grass and down into the hollowed out old tunnel that was the medicine den.

Crowkit was sitting in a nest as Nightblossom dragged her tongue over his forehead comfortingly. "Has he touched it again?" Cloverwing asked the queen.

"No, but it looks a little swollen," Nightblossom said.

"It scratches," Crowkit whined.

"Itchy, honey," Nightblossom corrected. "You scratch an itch, you don't itch a scratch."

"Get those leaves into a pulp," Cloverwing said over her shoulder, placing the lavender beside the mint.

Setting the blackberries aside, Runningpaw plucked the brown tinged leaves off the stems and crushed them into a paste with his teeth and lathered it onto Crowkit's nose. The kit relaxed slowly, seemingly relieved.

"Does it feel better?" Nightblossom asked him.

Crowkit nodded.

"What do you say to Runningpaw now?"

Nightblossom swatted his paw from touching his nose as Crowkit said, "thank you."

"If it swells more, come back in," Runningpaw said, grooming a paw to get the excess taste of the poultice out of his mouth.

Nightblossom nodded and led Crowkit out of the den, keeping a sharp eye trained on him in case he touched the sting. Cloverwing took the leftover blackberry leaves and stuck them in their place.

"You know," she started. "If you had that type of focus all the time, you'd be much more efficient."

Runningpaw slumped his shoulders. "I can't sometimes. It's hard."

"I know you're hardly more than a kit yourself," Cloverwing continued. That stung. "But you have more responsibility than other apprentices do. I need you to have no distractions."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. Runningpaw shook out his fur, feeling guilty. Why did so many things have to draw his short attention away from everything else? Every little movement in the corner of his eye, not to mention everything made him so nervous he felt like he was choking.

"Has Ravenpaw rubbed off on you?" Cloverwing asked. The question was so sudden that Runningpaw jumped.

"Huh? Ravenpaw?" He thought of the strangely handsome tom, and his mind leapt to their conversation at the Gathering. He shook his head. "No! He's… he means well."

Cloverwing's eyes remained steady. "He's bitter. I don't want his bad attitude to influence you."

"He's not influencing me!" Runningpaw squeaked, voice going high in embarrassment. "I thought we were allowed to be friends with other medicine cats." His voice trailed off at the end, muttering it lowly.

Cloverwing sighed. "You can. I just don't want you getting the wrong idea."

Runningpaw flicked an ear. "What's that?"

She shuffled her paws. "Hazelstripe told me some things about Ravenpaw. It's not my place to share them with you. Just be careful around him, alright?"

Runningpaw huffed softly. "Alright. He's not influencing me, though, you know. We just talked. That's all." It wasn't a lie. Even if it had been, he still would have told it. Because they did just talk. But it felt like so much more.

"That's fine, then," Cloverwing said. She stayed quiet, and Runningpaw felt his chest clench. What had Hazelstripe told her? Sure, Ravenpaw was a little dark, but certainly not a bad cat. He was confident in that.

"Runningpaw?" A voice called. It belonged to Brownthistle, his mother. "Have you eaten yet?" She came in with a rabbit hanging from her jaws. "I just got back from the hunting patrol and thought we could eat together."

Runningpaw glanced to Cloverwing and she dipped her head in approval. He walked outside of the tunnel and brushed muzzles with his mother. She had the smell of fresh-kill on her fur.

"I'd love to eat with you, mother," Runningpaw purred. His work kept him busy, he knew with being the only one his mother had, she missed his presence.

Staying close to the medicine den, Brownthistle dropped the rabbit between the two of them. She tore into the fatty stomach and Runningpaw bit into the leg, his favorite part. The sweet blood oozed and the legs were especially meaty. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

"How's your training going?" Brownthistle asked.

Runningpaw took his time chewing to avoid answering, but he eventually had to swallow. "It's fine."

Brownthistle frowned, not satisfied with his answer. "Runningpaw, is something wrong? Do you not like being a medicine cat?"

His head shot up. "I do! I like it more than anything."

Brownthistle keened her ears. "But?"

"It's just a lot," Runningpaw fidgeted.

His mother leaned over their food to give him a lick on the ear. "I'm sure it's stressful, but I have faith you're going to be the best medicine cat WindClan has ever seen. Even better than Silverwater." She gave him a sly wink, but he only shrinked down. Silverwater was Cloverwing's mentor. He helped everyone, from his own clanmates, to cats from other clans, and even rogues. How could he ever live up to that?

"I dunno," Runningpaw muttered, filling his mouth with rabbit.

"Just relax," Brownthistle purred.

Relax? How could he relax? He was so worried about messing up or saying something wrong it impeded on his ability, not to mention how incredibly easily it was for him to get distracted. However, Runningpaw only flicked his tail and continued to eat.

The sun burned orange on the wide horizon, painting the sky with pink along the edges past WindClan's borders. Fading light made the open camp glow with warmth, and the dry air became cooler with the night coming.

"I know you're worried about doing a good job," Brownthistle spoke in between licking her paw and swiping it over her face. "But I have faith in you. The whole clan does."

Runningpaw swallowed his last bite of the rabbit. It went down thickly and he felt unsatisfied. "It's more than worry, mom." He debated confiding in her. She was his mother. Surely, she of all cats, would understand what he was feeling?

"Just don't think about it, honey," Brownthistle sighed.

Runningpaw flicked his tail. I can't tell her. He stood, and gave her shoulder a respectful lick. "'Night, mom." He made his way back towards the medicine den.

"I love you, sweetie," Brownthistle called after him.

He looked over his shoulder. She won't understand. "I love you, too," he said back.

"Runningpaw," Cloverwing said as he entered. "I want you to strip the leaves off the herbs we collected and sort them. Then you may sleep."

Suspecting it was some slight punishment for his wandering mind all day, Runningpaw dipped his head and walked further down the tunnel. It smelled musty, with various scents of fresh and stale herbs heavy in the air.

Starting with the thyme he had gotten distracted by that morning, he carefully picked the soft leaves off the stems one by one. He knew personally how delicate thyme leaves were. His first time picking them he had completely torn the leaves, and Cloverwing had been explicitly upset with him. He was now extra careful in plucking the thick leaves off their stems.

Moving onto the blackberries, Runningpaw snuck a berry in his mouth and enjoyed the simple but tart flavor as he stripped the leaves from the stems and fruit, separating them into two piles from each other.

The lavender didn't need to be stripped but he did set them outside to dry. The sky was black now, with the sliver of the pale moon barely shining light on the exposed camp of WindClan. Cloverwing was already fast asleep in her nest, paws twitching as she dreamed.

Runningpaw circled over his nest and lied down, closing his eyes. The second he was no longer busying himself, his chest tightened and his throat felt like it was being squeezed. It was like he was being crushed by every thought he had ever had. The pressure of living up to his mentor's legacy, of pleasing his mother, of impressing his clan. Of… whatever was going on with Ravenpaw. Nothing would allow him an empty mind to rest.

In an attempt to ease his mind, Runningpaw had taken to biting his claws. It was something of a bad habit, so much so that they were practically useless stubs. It didn't matter too much; as a medicine cat, there wasn't much of a reason for him to need his claws anyways, and if he were to be attacked, he always had his back claws. The ends were splintered from his teeth gnawing at them too much, and he had bitten so close to the edges it hurt.

He was tossing and turning now, unable to keep still. Every time he got close to feeling comfortable, his heart would speed up and make it difficult to breathe. It was like his mind was tired but his body had uptight energy.

Giving into frustration, Runningpaw got up from his nest. He glanced over to Cloverwing, who was still in a deep sleep, and snuck out of their den. The clearing was filled with his peacefully sleeping clanmates, who were almost all deep sleepers due to sleeping outside.

Without even realizing it, he ran. His nimble legs carried him across the dark moors, his body finally matching the frantic pace at which his heart and mind were racing. The cool smell of night filled his senses, and the air rippled through his short fur as he sprinted across the rolling hills. There was something freeing about running to him. Maybe it was because it felt like he was running away from everything that bothered him. Whatever it was, he didn't stop.

Runningpaw wasn't watching where he was going. He knew the territory like the back of his paw, so why would he? His thoughts stopped suddenly when he crashed into something, and he fell in a tumble of limbs.

The creature cawed at him angrily, and Runningpaw scrambled up to see a raven peering at him with beady eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Sorry!" Runningpaw breathed, surprised.

The bird ruffled its feathers and shuffled a few steps away from Runningpaw, but didn't fly away. Had he injured it by running into it?

"Can you still fly?" Runningpaw asked, inching forward slightly.

Silently, the raven flew up into the air, just above Runningpaw's head. It squawked at him and flew off. Follow it, his heart told him. The impulse was far too strong to resist. Without thinking, Runningpaw chased after the raven.

The distance between him and the bird remained the same all the while. It flew in a low zigzag, but never straying from the direction it was headed, and always just out of his paws reach. It was leading him somewhere. He just knew it!

Runningpaw's chest heaved. The raven paused, swooping just over his head. It wants me to keep following…

He didn't move for a moment, and the raven flew off again. "I'm coming!" Runningpaw called, beginning his chase again. Desperation pricked in his paws.

Suddenly, he forced himself to skid to a halt, digging his paw pads into the dirt to stop himself from falling into the river. He had chased the raven all the way to the border of ShadowClan. The raven crossed over the water and into ShadowClan territory.

"Wait!" He called after it, but it was futile. The black bird had already disappeared into the dark of the trees.

A feeling of defeat filled him, and just as his heart rate began to slow now that he had tired himself out, a voice startled him.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Runningpaw jumped, and looked around. The voice came from the willow tree. An old tree, with split roots, one side on WindClan territory, and one side on ShadowClan. Partially obscured by the low, sweeping canopy of the ancient tree, was Ravenpaw.

Runningpaw felt his heart jump. "I- I was chasing a raven."

Ravenpaw jumped from his low hanging branch and landed just behind the leaves of the tree. They brushed his flank as he walked through them, close to Runningpaw's face now.

"Looks like you found one," Ravenpaw whispered.

Runningpaw felt his breath hitch. "What… what are you doing here?"

Ravenpaw circled him. "I could ask you the same thing."

"I couldn't sleep," Runningpaw admitted. "What about you?"

Ravenpaw sat beside him. "I like to come here at night sometimes. This tree… it's sort of my place. I come here to be alone."

Runningpaw suddenly felt guilty for being there. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Ravenpaw's eyes danced. "No, it's okay. You can be here too."

Runningpaw's heart fluttered. "I-" He had so much to say, but he had no idea where to start. "I've been thinking about what you said." He swallowed. "At the Gathering."

Ravenpaw blinked. "Come." He walked back through the low hanging leaves of the willow tree, and Runningpaw followed.

The ShadowClan tom knew the tree like home. His claws seemed to fit perfectly into the groove of the bark and Runningpaw struggled to climb at the same pace.

"You asked me if I thought toms could like other toms," Runningpaw puffed as he caught up to the other medicine cat.

Ravenpaw whirled around, amber eyes burning hot into him. "Well? Do you?"

Runningpaw stumbled in an attempt to find his footing on the thick wood of the tree. "Truthfully? I don't know. But I think you do."

Ravenpaw blinked. "Me?"

"Isn't that why you asked me?" Runningpaw asked. "Because you like toms like she-cats do."

Ravenpaw looked away. It was the only answer Runningpaw needed. "It's alright, you know," Runningpaw said. "You're not any different to me."

Carefully, Ravenpaw met eyes with him. "You don't think of me differently?"

Runningpaw shook his head. "No."

Ravenpaw leapt past Runningpaw and settled into the hollow of the tree, a little dip where the branches met the trunk. He beckoned Runningpaw to him with a flick of his tail.

"It's taboo, you know," Ravenpaw muttered. "Just because you won't produce kits. I know my clan wouldn't care, cause I'm a medicine cat and can't have kits anyway. But still."

"She-cats are dumb anyways," Runningpaw said.

Ravenpaw shook his head. "They're quite smart," he admitted. "You just don't think they're pretty."

"Well neither do you!" Runningpaw retorted sharply. Silence was immediate. He almost thought he was too harsh, by the wide eyed look Ravenpaw was giving him, but then, the ShadowClan tom erupted into laughter. He was laughing. It was a beautiful noise. Runningpaw found himself laughing too.

Once their laughing fit died down, Ravenpaw let out a sigh. "I feel like I can be myself with you," he said quietly. "I'm not afraid to show you who I am."

Runningpaw swallowed his anxiety, and flicked his tail over Ravenpaw's. He locked eyes with him. "Me too."

Runningpaw let himself sink into Ravenpaw's side, feeling his worries ebb away as he breathed in his husky scent. Ravenpaw's tail curled around Runningpaw protectively, and the gesture made his heart flutter. Runningpaw could feel Ravenpaw's purrs resonating, however hard he tried to mask them, but the WindClan tom enjoyed it. It was nice to experience a side of Ravenpaw he showed no one else.

"You should head back…" Ravenpaw muttered. He sounded like he was falling asleep. "Before someone notices you're gone."

"What if someone notices you're gone?" Runningpaw pointed out.

Ravenpaw flicked an ear. "No one misses me when I'm gone."

"I'd miss you," Runningpaw whispered.

The ShadowClan tom blinked at him. Then, he smiled. Soft, and a little crooked, but completely real and genuine. Runningpaw had never seen Ravenpaw smile before, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than that smile, forever.

"You know, Runningpaw," Ravenpaw meowed as he stood up, gently pushing the WindClan tom off him. "You worry a lot."

Runningpaw turned away, shy. "I know."

"That's why you were running, right?" Ravenpaw asked. "You get too anxious and can't control it. And so you can't sleep."

Runningpaw nodded mutely. For a cat who rarely showed much emotion, Ravenpaw sure was good at reading others.

"You should try the four, seven, eight technique," Ravenpaw said. "ShadowClan cats teach it to expecting queens to calm their nerves. Breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale for eight."

Runningpaw blinked. "I- I'll try that."

"We have to be up early," Ravenpaw said. "You should go back before the sun rises."

"Promise me you'll go back too? You need sleep just as much as me," Runningpaw said.

"Runningpaw, you know I-"

"I'll only go if you promise me."

Ravenpaw sighed. "Okay. I promise I'll get some sleep."

Runningpaw smiled a little. Timidly, he brushed his nose against Ravenpaw's cheek. "I- um-... I'll see you later," he stammered.

When he pulled away, Runningpaw saw the shock on Ravenpaw's face. It wasn't a negative response, as he could see the corners of his mouth tugging up in that crooked smile. With a flick of his tail tip, Runningpaw leapt over the open moors. He looked over his shoulder once, to see Ravenpaw still sitting by the river. They stared for a moment, before the ShadowClan tom turned, and disappeared into the darkness.

When the smell of the heather fields hit him, Runningpaw slowed. His eyes were dry and itchy with sleep, and laying with Ravenpaw only made him more tired. Sneaking in with light pawsteps, Runningpaw curled into his nest.

One, two, three, four. He breathed in slowly.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. He held his breath.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. He exhaled.

It was strangely relaxing. His body felt light and his muscled untensed. Runningpaw continued counting his breaths slowly, feeling the sinking feeling of sleep allowing his mind to go blank.

A/N

The 4-7-8 technique is a common trick for relieving anxiety! I use it sometimes when I get my terrible sleep anxiety, which is what Runningpaw deals with here, or with my panic attacks. Either way it's a super helpful technique and I thought it would be good to show Runningpaw's anxiety disorder. He also has ADHD, which even though I have that too, I researched it because I'm often not aware what I do is a symptom.