Chapter Five
Dawnpaw's mind flickered slowly back to consciousness. Darkness greeted her closed eyes. Cool air swirled around her fur. It was lovely. She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and ended up gasping in pain. Dawnpaw's eyes flew open.
She was in a cave, surrounded by gently curving walls of red and orange rock. The patterns of lines and swirls were beautiful. There was a sharp scent drifting from a small grotto to her left. To her right was a dark passage that led deep into the rock of the camp. She could hear a steady trickling sound echoing up the smooth round sides of the tunnel. I must be in the medicine den, she realized. Dawnpaw glanced at down herself for the first time and noticed the poultices that made her pelt prickle and her fur pull strangely.
"You're awake!" Dawnpaw flinched at the sudden noise.
"I hadn't noticed," she grumbled, turning gingerly to face Thistlepaw. His amber eyes swam from his shadowy face. He grinned, showing white fangs.
"I always try to help," he retorted, all of his angelic charm oozing from his pelt. Dawnpaw snorted softly.
"So, you were crouched by my nest in an agony of terror, fretfully waiting to see if I would live or die, right? Or were you just passing through?" Dawnpaw grinned.
"I don't know about terror, but sure, I was here. Nothing better to do, anyways, Batclaw took half the camp to chase those coyotes off. None of the apprentices got to go except Falconpaw."
Dawnpaw's face grew thoughtful. She turned her whiskers to the entrance of the den, enjoying the play of sunlight across her face. She tilted her head to Thistlepaw. "How long was I out?" she asked, her voice casual.
"Not quite a day. You took a nice refreshing nap while they carried you into camp like a piece of freshkill. I thought you were a goner, way they were acting, but Sandpelt hustled you in here and then you just slept the whole night and most of today."
Dawnpaw cringed. "A whole day?" Thistlepaw nodded. "Aw…"
"Don't worry, everyone knew you were pathetic before. The secret's been out for a while," Thistlepaw teased. Dawnpaw hissed at him halfheartedly. Thistlepaw stood, taking his time, and flicked his tail in farewell. "Anyway, Sandpelt told me to get him as soon as you woke up, so I'm off. Try not to get mauled by any more coyotes, will you?"
Dawnpaw rolled her eyes. "Bye, mousebrain. Have fun sitting around!" Her friend didn't reply, just sauntered out of the cave with a haughty flick of his ears. Dawnpaw huffed, trying to ignore the sharp pain in her side.
Dawnpaw quickly discovered that there was not much to do in the medicine den. A steady drip, drip, drip filled the cave with its monotonous sound, saturating it with echoes of dropping water until the sound was layered into a maddening symphony. Her side burned with a deep ache, and she couldn't even shift positions without pulling at the sticky poultices. Where in StarClan's name could Sandpelt be? she wondered. She wanted out of the stupid medicine den already.
The light shone through the entrance of the medicine den. It made the orange walls of rock shimmer with color. Red veins ran in small lines, as though claws had sliced parallel grooves all around the rock, in one long, continuous slash…
A pebble skittering across the stones woke Dawnpaw. "I'm awake, I'm awake," she mumbled groggily. Sandpelt slipped around Dawnpaw, heading for a pile of herbs and dropping a mouthful of leaves on them. He turned with a smile.
"I'm sorry to have made you wait so long," he meowed mildly. His mew was soft, but it carried in the echo-filled cave. "I didn't expect you to wake so early. The poppy seeds wore off more quickly than I thought they would, and Thistlepaw didn't know where I was."
Dawnpaw watched as the medicine cat prodded at the poultices that smeared her side with a claw. He looked into her eyes and felt her ribs, then padded into the crevice she'd noticed earlier. He returned with a bundle of sharp edged leaves.
"So…" Dawnpaw began, wincing slightly as he began to remove the old poultice. "When can I go back to the apprentice den?" A gasp of pain escaped her as he pressed the new one into her side.
Sandpelt wrinkled his nose. It looked quite silly, since the expression made his entire face scrunch up. Dawnpaw stifled a snort.
"You've got a few cracked ribs, but we were lucky. They should heal fairly quickly," Sandpelt said briskly, his face clearing. Dawnpaw grinned.
"Well, that's that, then," she chirped, and made to stand. Her side flashed with pain. Her vision went dark for a moment as she crumpled back into the nest.
Sandpelt hissed and checked her side again. "That doesn't mean you can go leaping about like a silly kit," he growled. He sat back, his ears flicking in irritation. "It will take at least a moon for the ribs to heal enough for you to get back to your apprentice duties."
"A moon!" That was the opposite what Dawnpaw would call 'fairly quickly'! "But I can't stop training for that long! I barely made my first kill, I…"
Sandpelt nodded sympathetically. "I'm sorry; I know how frustrating it must sound. But trust me, you'll feel fine again in no time. For now, eat this." A small black seed lay on the ground where the medicine cat had set it. Probably poppy, Dawnpaw thought, and lapped it up. It wasn't long before Dawnpaw drifted into sleep, the ache in her side lessened.
~oOo~
The next days were an agony of pain and boredom for Dawnpaw. As eager as she was to get back to training, every time she so much as twisted the wrong way her side felt as though it was being pierced by burning thistle thorns. The cave was empty more often than not; Sandpelt bustled out as soon as the sun was up and only arrived back once the sun touched the horizon. By the fourth day of this, Dawnpaw was ready to claw herself out of the medicine den, broken ribs or no broken ribs.
The scuff of paws padding by her nest caused the restless apprentice to lift her head. The yellow fur of Sandpelt met her gaze and she settled back into the nest with a small grumble.
"Good morning, Dawnpaw," he murmured quietly. "I'm going to collect more thistle buds for your poultices." She didn't answer him. The medicine cat purred, almost too quietly for her to hear, and called, "Have a nice day!" as he trotted out of the cave.
Dawnpaw slowly stretched and sat up, careful not to strain her ribs. I can't stand another day of doing nothing, she thought. Her pale green eyes flicked around the cave in an attempt to find something interesting to do. She thought of the dunes of pale sand waiting for her just outside the camp and sighed. It would be a long while before she could even make it on to the gentle sands, let alone out to the dunes.
Her eyes lit on the dark tunnel carved into the otherwise smooth walls of the cave. That might be interesting, Dawnpaw observed. A gleam entered her eyes. A furtive glance back at the bright entrance of the cave was the only hesitation she had before she crossed the intervening space gingerly and slipped into the dark tunnel.
~oOo~
Rainpaw blinked and stretched, feeling sticky poultices pull at his wounds. He could hear Moonstream's feather soft voice from somewhere nearby. He was still stretched on the grassy knoll of the GrassClan camp, he noted calmly. OneClan warriors were striding around the camp, poking their noses in the holes that he assumed were dens of some sort.
Moonstream walked over and nudged his shoulder. Her green eyes were gentle and timid as she checked his wounds over.
"Moonstream," he said softly, capturing her eyes. "Don't be afraid of me." He hated the pleading note that had entered his voice. "I was just trying to keep you safe."
She drooped and pulled away. "Rainpaw, I'm not afraid of you, no more than I am of Smokefoot or Blackflash or even Froststar. Just… don't become Tigerfrost, okay?" Rainpaw couldn't think of anything to say as she padded off to check the next patient.
The gray apprentice felt at his sides and sighed. He might as well rest a while longer before trying to get up and help. He felt a wave of tiredness sweep over him and fell back asleep to the whispering of the waving grass.
~oOo~
Dawnpaw stumbled down the narrow passageway, wincing as her tender side scraped the walls. Ahead, she could see a ghostly shimmer that she could not place, though the crevice was dark. Finally, she emerged into a cave and stopped. She gazed around in wonderment as she paused to catch her breath.
A pale ray of slanting sunlight slid through a narrow crack in the stone above her, gleaming down on a pool of still water. The reflections lit and bounced around the room, bathing the reddish walls in a silver-gray light. On the other side of the pond on a short peninsula of rock, a miraculous little bush stood stalwart. Its leaves were a startling green that Dawnpaw recognized from her father's eyes.
Sufficiently recovered from the descent to the little grotto, Dawnpaw carefully padded closer to the pond. She could feel a thrumming in the air, as if this were a holy place, not to be touched by unclean paws. She became aware of a burning thirst as she gazed at the pond. Dawnpaw dropped into a tense crouch and stretched forward.
As the drops of cool water touched her lips, Dawnpaw felt her eyes slam shut.
A great, black sky stretched above her, unlit by stars or moon. Below it, a sand-strewn, cracked desert floor seemed to glow with an unearthly light. Dawnpaw glanced around her, feeling unnerved by the strange place. A breeze picked up and blew across the flat landscape, carrying an eerie whistling sound that Dawnpaw could almost imagine was a mournful wail. She ducked to avoid the stinging sand that clawed at her face.
Where am I? she wondered. The dark sky glowered down at her. This desert wasn't the same as her home; it lacked all the warmth and comfort of DesertClan's territory. Dawnpaw shivered and padded along the chilly sands. She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, hoping that it would guide her in the featureless, sandy landscape.
"Dawnpaw?" The apprentice jerked and spun around at the sudden noise. A cream she-cat with amber eyes stood behind her. Her pelt stood on end, but something seemed strange about it. The she-cat seemed to… glimmer? With a shiver, Dawnpaw realized where she must have been. Starclan! She gazed into the she-cat's eyes and felt a sort of vague recognition.
"Who are you?" she asked. The she-cat's wide amber eyes narrowed in sadness.
"My name is Featherfur, Dawnpaw," she said. "I was your mother's littermate." Dawnpaw gasped, suddenly seeing the resemblance in the heart shape of her face and the tufted tail.
"And…where are we?"
A troubled look rolled across Featherfur's face. "We're in the Desert of No Stars. We shouldn't be here." At that she turned and flicked her tail. "Come with me." She took off across the desert, leaving Dawnpaw to follow in her wake. Glancing one last time at the empty sands behind her, the apprentice sprinted after the starry warrior.
She noticed changes in the desert around her as she and Featherfur ran. It started with a lightening in the sky, as stars slowly flickered to life. Then she felt comforting warmth envelop her paws as the sands regained their natural heat. She sighed with relief, feeling a tension she hadn't been conscious of seep out of her. Finally, Featherfur slowed to a halt and whirled around. Dawnpaw just flopped down and rolled in the luxurious warm sands, purring all the while.
"Dawnpaw, it's time for you to go," Featherfur said, her voice thrumming with contained laughter. Dawnpaw looked at her mother's littermate as she sprawled on her back. The creamy she-cat was upside down. She found it strangely funny.
"You don't belong here, Dawnpaw. And please don't go snooping around where you shouldn't from now on." Featherfur's voice grew dark. "I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't found you."
Dawnpaw rolled to her feet. She saw the shadows in her kin's eyes and for the first time felt afraid. Featherfur continued, "You'll be back here again, Dawnpaw. StarClan isn't through with you yet." Before Dawnpaw could ask what she meant, a gust of wind rippled across the sands and a sea of starry-furred warriors appeared, gazing at her. Then, in a moment, it was all gone and Dawnpaw was spiraling into darkness.
The apprentice woke with a gasp, her muzzle tingling from contact with the pond. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the cave and the burning in her ribs. The little bush across the pond seemed to wink in its own personal halo of sunlight. Dawnpaw clambered to her paws. I miss not being in pain, she thought, remembering StarClan. She turned and wiggled through the crevice.
When Sandpelt returned to the cave that night, he found Dawnpaw curled up in her sandy nest, fast asleep.
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