I woke hurting all over. I could hear the familiar sound of rain drumming on a stone roof, and smell herbs and the old aroma of fresh-kill. Where was I? Back in camp, in the medicine cat's den? It sure felt like it.
I managed to detect pawsteps over the rain. I opened my eyes and, through the darkness of a sunless morning, saw that I lay beneath a stone slab, propped up by boulders, not unlike our medicine den. A neat stock pile of herbs dominated one corner, while another held a bed of ferns and feathers. Looking down, I realized I was in a similar nest. It was really quite comfortable.
I turned to where the entrance must be, judging by the rain sound. A grey shape was moving through the rain. It stepped into the shelter and I realized it was a cat, the same grey tom who had fought Flameclaw. A sodden creature that I couldn't identify hung from his jaws. He put it down and shook, getting the water out of his fur. Blue eyes sparkling, he turned to me. "Oh good, you're awake," he said, smiling. "I brought breakfast." He picked up the prey and carried it to me, setting it down carefully. "Sorry it's so wet. I woke up and it was raining, and I was so preoccupied with you last night that I didn't have time to hunt before then."
"Don't apologize," I told him. I sniffed the prey, then took a bite. "This is good. What is it?"
He flicked his ears. "You've never seen mole before?"
"Mole?"
"They live in holes. You have to be patient and a good digger to catch those guys," he explained.
I nodded and took another bite.
"What about you?"
"No worries. I'll catch something else. You need your strength."
I nodded again, gratefully, and kept eating. He watched me for a moment, then turned to his herb stock.
"Are you a medicine cat?"
He turned. "What?" I took another bite of mole.
"Those herbs. Are you a medicine cat?"
"No. But my mother sort of was."
"Oh."
"Finish your mole. I'll answer your questions when you're done."
"Okay." I hurried to finish the mole. StarClan knows I was curious about this tom.
When I was done, he silently gathered the bones and took them out of the den. He came back and shook himself, then settled in the nest near me, licking himself dry.
"What's your name?" I asked finally.
He looked up from his fur. "Storm. Yours?"
"Ripplepaw."
"You're a Clan cat?"
"Yes. ValleyClan."
"Well, judging by the way that tom was chasing you, I gathered you were a rouge."
"I guess I am now." We were silent for a while.
"So what's your story?" he asked quietly.
"The tom you saw killed our deputy, then was made deputy himself. I tried to stop him, but...they drove me out. I thought he was going to kill me, too." Then I added, more quietly, "You saved my life. Thanks."
He flicked his tail like it was no big deal. "It's no problem. I wouldn't be a very good cat if I hadn't, would I?"
"I guess not."
"And you wouldn't have been a very good apprentice if you hadn't tried to save your Clan, would you?"
I smiled a little. "I guess not."
"Then don't worry about it. I'll take care of you as long as you need it, and you're welcome to stay as long as you want. "
"I can't let you do that."
"Why not?"
"You need to hunt for yourself."
"I can hunt for two. Don't you worry about me."
I was uncertain, so I changed the subject. "What's your story?"
He shrugged. "Dad was a PeakClan. Got captured by Twolegs. Met mom, who was a kittypet. They ran away together, settled here, and had me. Dad taught her everything about the Clans, and they used their ways. That's where the herbs came from," he explained.
"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure what else to say.
He rose and went to his herb stock again. "You were surprisingly unwounded, considering the wounds you gave that warrior," he said conversationally.
"Mm," I muttered.
"I need to replace your poultices. Your legs and paws took a beating from your run. How far did you come, anyway?" he asked, sorting through a couple of herb piles.
"All the way from camp. Near the valley center."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"Stick your leg out."
"Um, okay." I extended my leg past the nest and I realized there were herbs stuck to it. He stepped over with a bundle of herbs in his mouth. He removed the old bits on my leg and chewed the fresh herbs, then spat them out and smoothed them around with his tongue on my leg.
"You wouldn't believe the mess you were in last night. Covered in twigs and leaves, thorns in your pads, vines around your legs, scratches all over. You're a tough one."
"Not tough enough to save my Clan," I replied darkly, looking down.
"Hey." He flicked my ears gently with his tail, making me look up. "Stop beating yourself up over something you had no control over. I have a feeling you're a great cat, Ripplepaw. I bet your Clan will see through that jerk in time."
"What if it's too late by then?"
He looked up and smiled grimly. "Then it'll be up to you and I, won't it?"
After Storm finished treating me again he went back to his herb corner and started sorting them quietly. Once in a while he'd glance back at me. We were pretty quiet. I'd try to talk to him, but he'd insist I needed rest and return to his herb stock, clearly deep in thought. After a while I left him alone.
When he was done sorting he gathered his discarded herbs and left the den. While he was gone it finally stopped raining. He stepped around the boulder and poked his head inside. "Hey. I'm going hunting. Will you be okay for a little while?"
"I'll do better than that, I'll come with you!" I told him, getting shakily to my paws.
He glanced at me doubtfully. "Your paws-"
"My paws are just fine," I replied firmly. I walked over and touched noses with him. He sighed, but nodded, and I could tell he was happy.
"Come on, then." I looked around and realized we were in the middle of an old rockslide. Not a bad place to settle. We were a little ways up Darkstone, in a big gash cut through the trees by the rockslide. Small saplings and bushes had begun to come back, and I noted that with all the ready-made dens and young plant life, this was great place for prey, especially with the forests surrounding us.
"Amazing," I breathed. He nodded proudly.
"Yeah. The Clans should have settled here."
"There are predators all over the place. So many cats could have died on this mountain."
"Mm" was all he said. "Let's hunt!" We set off, scrambling through the rockslide. "There's usually plenty of mice around here, but as you're not used to moving through here, we've probably scared them off, so we'll go to the forest today," he said quietly as we prowled through the boulders. I nodded and made a point of moving even more quietly.
We reached the woods easily, and I could hear a stream running in the distance. "This is beautiful," I said, impressed. Despite the stories I'd heard about this mountain-the Clan scouts that had never come back, the rockslides long before my time,-I couldn't help admiring the place. It had everything a cat needed for survival.
We slipped through the still-wet trees, which glittered from raindrops in the afternoon sunlight. We hunted for a good long time and managed to catch quite a bit, as quite a few creatures had emerged to eat after the rain. We stopped when I stepped on a thorn and Storm insisted that we go back. He pulled it out and I limped back to the den, leaning on his shoulder.
We stayed quiet for several days. Storm went hunting or collecting herbs or just walking often, but only took me with him once a day. He explained that it was important I remain strong, but not tire myself out, and give my wounds and scratches a chance to heal. He brought me water in clumps of moss, changed our bedding once every couple of days, and freshened my poultices every day. The fresh kill pile in the corner was refreshed often. He did everything that a Clan cat would have done, save for border patrols. StarClan, his father really was a Clan cat!
One night I woke up and Storm was sitting in the middle of the den entrance, his back to me. I realized it was raining again, and he was watching it silently, perfectly still. Lightning flashed across the sky, and several heartbeats later, thunder followed. Storm didn't move.
I rose and padded to his side, sitting down next to him. He didn't even look at me, just kept staring straight ahead. We sat in silence for a long time. Finally he spoke. "It was a night like this," he murmured, almost to himself. "They left. To look for Courage. My brother. He hadn't come back from hunting. They said they had to find him."
"Storm?" I whispered. Again he refused to look at me.
"They left. This was the last place I saw them. I was only about your age." (Storm was about three moons older than I.) "They walked off. Just...disappeared...into the storm. I waited. I heard wolves, after a while. I kept waiting anyway. But on the moon's passing, I knew."
He finally turned his head. His blue eyes, filled with torment, and sorrow, and longing, emotions I'd never seen there before, pierced me.
"I knew they would never come back."
"Storm, I-"
"My name wasn't always Storm, you know," he cut me off. "It was Truth. To match Courage. Two of the things a cat needs most. But after they left...after the moon passed...I had to honor them. I had to let them know, wherever they were, that I remembered them. So I changed my name. I named myself Storm, for the night that took them away from me." His blue eyes pleaded with me. They begged me to understand. To forgive him for changing his name. For being selfish, or at least what he thought was selfish. He needed someone to tell him that it was okay.
And I did. I slid my head under his chin and licked his throat. "It's okay," I whispered. Storm let his head rest on top of mine. A low, shaky purr made his throat buzz in my ear. "I'm here now. It's okay."