"And be one traveler, long I stood."

LEAF

She smelled them before she saw them.

The sickly-sweet stench hit her senses like a whirlwind. She would have gagged if she were not so accustomed to the scent of blood.

The earth shuddered as dozens of pawsteps approached the camp. Loud, raucous voices grew louder in proximity. The once-still air filled with hoarse coughs, the occasional grunt, and wayward gaits. With a sigh, she rose to her paws and emerged from her den to greet the warriors returning from combat.

Right away, she recognized a victory. The warriors before her chattered excitedly, jabbering like birds, their eyes bright, despite their haggard appearances. Beaten and bloody as they were, the rowdy group caterwauled triumphantly and romped around camp like overgrown kits.

The she-cat ignored their feverish mirth and stood patiently by, assessing the group as best as she could to determine which of the many patients before her would need to be attended to first.

A dark gray tom with a deep gash over his right eye thrust himself in her path. "We did it! We drove them off!" he breathed excitedly. "They fled for their lives with their tails between their legs!"

"Mmm," she mumbled distractedly, raising a forepaw to examine his cut, but was shrugged off as he raced away to share his wealth of good news. Typical boisterous warrior, high off of battle adrenaline.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, stepping toward a limping apprentice when the familiar long figure of her leader shouldered its way toward her, stopping her short. She opened her mouth to greet her, when something much more arresting caught her eye.

Behind their leader, two warriors dragged a seemingly lifeless body. The warrior was unrecognizable, his limbs dragging, fur caked in mud and blood. She instinctively lunged forward, but a nearby warrior cut her off with a hiss.

"You can't help him," he spat. "He's an enemy warrior!"

"I suggest you get out of my way," she said icily, shouldering the warrior aside. Her instincts screamed at her to treat any injured cat in her line of sight.

The two warriors stepped aside as she crouched over the limp body, assessing the damage before her.

"Leafdew."

Nearby, her leader murmured in a low voice. "Take him to your den, quickly," she said. "Save him if you can, but at no expense to anything or anyone that is more valuable to us."

Leafdew scowled, disturbed by her leader's words before grabbing hold of the warrior's scruff and dragging him toward the direction of her den. The weight lightened suddenly as one of Clanmates accepted part of the burden. She blinked gratefully and together they settled the wounded warrior into a nest. The cry of their leader outside sent the warrior back out into the clearing. Leafdew ignored the gathering call, tending to the warrior as needed, but listened intently.

It took several attempts to silence the crowd, but finally their leader's voice could be heard.

"That's enough," she meowed loudly. "As you have all learned by now, we did, in fact, claim victory tonight in the battle against WindClan."

She allowed for a pause for her warriors to let out caterwauls of triumph before continuing. Leafdew began the tedious process of cleaning away the grime from the warrior.

"However, tonight, I present a topic of debate for us to consider," their leader continued. "As you can may have noticed, tonight we return with a WindClan warrior, a prisoner in our midst."

The warriors began to murmur amongst themselves, but their leader promptly raised her voice. "But not just any warrior. The WindClan deputy himself!"

Leafdew flinched at this news. The deputy?

The uproar of voices from the Clan seemed distant to her as the medicine cat carefully peered into the bloody face of the unconscious warrior before her, his features barely distinguishable beneath a thick layer of blood ad grime. But there was no doubt about it. Though they had never spoken directly, she recognized the muscular, stocky frame of the flaxen tomcat before her. He was undeniably the WindClan deputy.

"Lionpath," Leafdew whispered in shock.

Her head spun. She had never cared for an enemy warrior before, let alone the second-in-command of another Clan. Outside, she tuned into the latter half of the discussion. The majority had come to a consensus about agreeing to hold the deputy here under ransom as their Prisoner Of War, but were outraged at the notion of his wounds being treated.

"Why should we waste valuable resources?"

"We need all of the herbs we have!"

"Our warriors need them more!"

"Why should he be given any care at all?

"Enough!" their leader yowled, silencing the squabble. She turned her deputy. "Nightstorm?"

The gray-and-black senior warrior stepped forward. "I think we need try to understand the potential value. Consider this: we neglect to treat Lionpath's wounds and he dies under our care. Now we face a judgement by WindClan far greater than his life simply being lost in combat. He fails to die a proper warrior's death. He is essentially murdered in StarClan's eyes."

The Clan is silent as they weigh their deputy's words. Leafdew lingers by the entrance of her den, distracted by the debate.

"He dies, WindClan elects a new deputy, and the fighting carries on as before. Nothing changes. But," she pauses for effect, eyes narrowed. "say we keep him here. Alive. Then we hold something over WindClan. We have hostage negotiation rights. They're at our mercy so long as he is in our possession."

Fervent discussions broke out among the crowd as they considered this. Their leader's eyes narrowed critically as she watched her Clanmates slowly come to an agreement.

Leafdew suddenly felt a chill run down her back and she turned. Two deep amber eyes burned like brands of tawny flame.

He was awake.

Leafdew struggled to read his expression. He was weak; he nary moved his head an inch, glued to the ground as though pinned down by some invisible force. His body was broken, but his spirit burned bright. He was angry, there was no doubt about it. He eyed her warily, his features dark with pain and fatigue.

Leafdew recomposed herself. "What hurts?"

"My pride." The tomcat growled.

The light brown tabby healer's whiskers twitched, but she did not smile. "Well, I can't do anything about that."

She stepped forward and continued to sift away the mud and blood to better identify his condition. The enormous tomcat fell silent and she wondered if he had fallen unconscious again when he suddenly reared back in agony. He stifled a yowl through clenched jaws, his muscles taut with pain.

"Okay, okay," Leafdew soothed. "Let me see."

She gently moved his leg aside, revealing a deep gouge in the soft tissue where his hip connected with his underbelly. Through the caked mud she could see the raw muscle fibers and pulsating blood. She felt a thrill of panic at the sight of the deep laceration and a familiar prickle of doubt at her capabilities. With a shake of resolve, she turned toward her herb stores and pressed the thick moss to his wound. Meanwhile, she chewed a poultice vigorously. The bitter juices scorched her tongue, but she spit out enough large wads to cover the surface area of his wounds.

"This will sting," she warned, gently placing the poultice on his gash.

A long hiss of pain escaped through his teeth. He flexed his muscles to brace the pain, causing the blood to flow more forcefully.

"Relax," Leafdew instructed. "I'm a medicine cat, not a warrior. Please don't try to tough it out. I need you to stay relaxed."

She carefully wrapped the wound in dried oak leaf and bound it with rush. She turned back to her store and pulled out a harsh-smelling leaf.

"If you can, try to choke this down," she said turning back to her patient. "It will give you strength–"

But the golden spotted tom had already slipped back into unconsciousness. Leafdew sighed and set the herbs aside for later.

"Will he live?"

Leafdew didn't even look up as her leader stepped into the threshold. "His wounds are severe, but at the moment he's stable."

Her leader pursed her lips. "Good. Use the bare minimum of your stores, if you can. We don't want to build him up stronger than he was before."

Leafdew scowled. "No risk of that."

Her leader watched in silence, noting with fascination and pride as she watched the meticulous healer. Leafdew could feel her leader's gaze appraising her. She wondered if she would say something – a critical remark, a note of pride.

But when she looked up, her leader was gone.

Four days passed and the WindClan deputy hadn't woken since that brief initial encounter. Leafdew was beginning to fret for his nourishment, for the nutrients she forced into his system simply weren't sustainable. He would need to feed independently.

On the fifth morning, Leafdew awoke and immediately ran through her mental checklist for the day. She would clean and tend to the wounds of her warriors like before, noting who would be more likely to return to the front line the soonest and who would most certainly need to stay behind. She was just raising into a sitting position when she was met with the same burning amber eyes.

Leafdew couldn't suppress the relief in her voice. "You're awake."

Lionpath eyed her warily. "You're the RiverClan medicine cat?"

"Correct."

The tomcat frowned. "So I really am in the RiverClan camp."

It was impossible not to detect the dismay in his voice. "I understand this must be difficult for you," she said sympathetically.

"I'm a prisoner of war," Lionpath growled, his lip curling in disgust.

Leafdew said nothing. His words were laced with bittnerness.

"What will my Clan think? When I don't come home?"

Leafdew frowned. "Well, I imagine they know by now. You've been out for nearly five days."

Shock registered on the WindClan deputy's expression, then darkened with anger. "You can't keep me here. I'm going home!" The stocky tomcat made a move to toward his feet, but his paws couldn't bear his weight and he collapsed heavily.

"Stop!" Leafdew cried, lunging toward him. "You'll reopen your wounds."

But the golden Bengal's eyes were glazed over with pain, his limbs visibly trembling.

"Just keep still," Leafdew murmured calmly, but the WindClan deputy wasn't having it.

Lionpath unsheathed his claws threateningly. "You can't keep me here."

Leafdew turned her back on him, returning to her herb stores. "Do whatever you want," she said briskly. "It's not my job to stop you. But don't expect me to waste anymore of my herbs, just so you can satisfy your arrogant warrior pride. You won't make it two steps outside this den."

Lionpath blinked, riddled with surprise. "I don't understand," he growled. "Why didn't they just kill me?"

Leafdew frowned, but did not reply.

"Why go to all this trouble to treat my wounds? Why not just let me die?"

"I'm not one to try and analyze war tactics," she said drily. "I fail to recognize the merit."

Suddenly, the unmistakably long figure of the RiverClan leader stepped into the den.

"Welcome back," she said curtly. "Sleep well?"

A low growl bubbled in Lionpath's throat, but his civility outweighed his anger. "Morningstar," Lionpath greeted with frosty politeness. "With all due respect, the minute I'm strong enough to stand, I'm doing everything I can to go back to my Clan."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Morningstar said with a wry smile. "But you're quite a ways off from that day." She studied his wounds critically. "I just thought you should know, I sent a few of my warriors to intercept one of your patrols. WindClan is well informed of the current situation."

Lionpath's tail jerked. "I wouldn't sound so self-assured," he warned. "Harestar will conduct a recovery operation to retrieve me."

"Harestar has been faring on the more conservative side as of late," Morningstar said, circling him curiously. "I imagine he can't have more than but one or two more lives left. I think he will be feeling less inclined to risk his warriors' lives to fetch their deputy in such a vulnerable state."

Lionpath blinked, stunned into silence. Morningstar smiled.

"Rest assured, you will be safe here. You may not be at your strongest," she said coolly, turning to leave the den, "but you'll be alive."