I had an interesting experience at summer camp, and I'm very glad I'm back. PM me (review if you're a guest) if you want the full story. I don't want to bore readers with the details. Anyway, I'm sorry for the shortness and/or bad quality of the last chapter, my excuse is that I was in a rush.
Oh my StarClan, I'm sorry that this chapter was published late... I've been busier than I thought I'd be, and getting more and more involved in the Warriors fandom.
Brightpaw bristled. "I-i need to f-figure th-th-this out! Why isn't m-m-my b-brain working?" Her claws unsheathed for a moment, digging in the hard earth.
The white tom by the name of Smallwhisker's tail reached out to smooth her fur. "Have patience, Brightpaw," he mewed. "Even I can't exactly figure out what this dream means. And I may just be the most experienced medicine cat in the Clans. All the rest are youngsters." He chuckled. "Visit the elders. I'll come too. We can put all our brainpower and experience together to figure it out!" His tone was bright. "I'll go ask Darkpool to take over. He used to train as a medicine cat, you know."
Brightpaw rose to her feet. "Let's go," she said, impatient.
Her mentor, surprisingly, was out of the den in a flash, Brightpaw was left in his dust, although she quickly zoomed after him.
"You have to see this," Smallwhisker said, his voice cracking. "Hazelheart."
Brightpaw peered in over her mentor's shoulder and her eyes widened in horror. Hazelheart was dead! "Wh-what h-h-h-happened? W-w-was sh-she p-p-poi-s-soned? S-sick? B-because I know sh-she only ju-ju-ju-ju-just moved to the e-e-elder's den this n-n-new-leaf," Brightpaw panicked.
"She refused to eat when she first entered the den because she 'was no longer useful'. As stubborn as she was, one cat could actually get her to eat at least once a day... and that cat was Molestar." Molestar was the previous leader, and Sagestar had only just received his nine lives last quarter moon.
"I g-g-g-got it... b-bu-but I'm still g-g-grieving for my-" Brightpaw lowered her voice to a whisper- "f-favorite elder."
"Here, I'll go in. You stay here just in case." Smallwhisker's voice was calm yet serious. His eyes were clearly duller than before, and Brightpaw could tell he was only trying to look level-headed. He was grieving deeply inside; Hazelheart had been a favorite in the Clan; and however much the other elder, Silversoul, wanted to believe he was the best, he was just too grumpy to make the cut.
"F-f-fine, then. B-but I want to t-t-tell the C-c-clan. Th-this is something e-e-e-e-e-every cat should kn-now about!" Brightpaw raised her voice, a trace of defensiveness in her mew. "Hazelheart r-really was popular."
Smallwhisker stifled a purr of amusement. "No. You stay here. It may just be the shadows, but I don't think Silversoul is in here." His tone grew serious. "There may be danger in the territory!"
"Or maybe S-s-silversoul wanted to t-take a walk to d-d-d-deal with the l-loss of his denmate. You never know," Brightpaw reasoned.
At that point, Smallwhisker was bursting with anger. "STAY. THERE. Stop trying to talk back. I am your elder, your mentor, the cat that you listen to," he barked.
"B-b-but-"
Before Brightpaw could say another word, Smallwhisker disappeared into the den. Feeling like a pile of crowfood, she sat down just beside the entrance and sulked. I'm not a baby kit anymore. I know a few things, too. Aren't I smart? Or was Smallwhisker just lying yesterday?
In what felt like 10 moons instead of 10 minutes, Smallwhisker emerged out of the elder's den, with Silversoul dragging his weary body behind him. Hazelheart was being carried in the medicine cat's jaws, ready to be treated with lavender and mint. "Brightpaw?" he called through a muffled mouth. "Help me carry Hazelheart."
Brightpaw did as she was told, and held the dead cat on the other side, so that her fur wouldn't be messed up by the ground. Her mood was still sour, though not as sour as before. However, she was glad that Silversoul was in there, his black pelt blending in with the darkness and silver face toward the wall. Hazelheart's death was a surprise to him, his blind eyes not seeing what had happened, plus, death by starvation was very subtle in terms of sound.
The burial ceremony was shorter than Brightpaw expected, although Hazelheart's last living kit, Nightstrike, stayed the longest. He had even picked a few wild lilies to put on top of her grave, which was beside a beautiful, old, twisted maple tree. Trees were rare in WindClan, so that made it extra special.
Thinking about elders made Brightpaw remember the real reason she and Smallwhisker went to the elder's den: to try to figure out the dream Brightpaw had had. Brightpaw decided to approach Silversoul about it.
"S-s-silversoul? I know you're still g-grieving for your d-d-d-denmate... but c-can you help me f-figure out this d-d-dream I had?" Her tone was hopeful. "It'll h-help you c-c-cope faster. Y-y-you'll have y-your mind off of her for a while."
Silversoul turned around to face Brightpaw, with eyes so focused on her, it made Brightpaw wonder if he could somehow see her right then.
"You think I'm lingering on a denmate I had for only a season? I still wasn't used to Hazelheart being here today!" His angry look faltered. "That doesn't mean I never grieved, though. It means it didn't take long to recover." He paused. "Well, I can help you with your dream. Let's talk about it."
Brightpaw looked around in the dark den for a comfortable spot to sit, and settled down in a corner that had a small depression in the ground.
"W-well..."
"T-T-Then the wind wh-whispered in my ear, 'T-t-this is your d-destiny', and th-then I woke up," Brightpaw explained. Her voice was shaky with fear.
Silversoul pondered for a long moment.
"Well, the only way to figure this out is to get even more information. We have to essentially spy on Squirrelkit, but I know it'll be worth it."
Woo! I hit 1,000 words! I killed off Hazelheart when I had writer's block and couldn't write about interpreting the dream just yet. As always, thanks for reading!