Hello,my dear readers! Yeah, I know I'm late again. Sorry. :( And in case you're wondering/worrying, I will update Everything but Nothing! As soon as I finish writing the darn chapter and my parents let me upload it! There isn't much TigerXAmber in this one, but she gets to learn more about her mother! Oh, and it seems that PIPA and SOPA didn't shut down this site, so hurray! :D
Bubbletail: Yes, she is! But don't worry, Amberpaw's not going to let Cloudpaw faze her! Not too much, anyway.
Galefire: Thank you! :D
Zestia240: Thanks for reviewing! :)
California Rain: Hey! *wounded look* :( Just kidding! But yes, you were right. But I was just reporting what I'd heard, so hah, I got out of it! :P
SakuraFlutist: Aww, thanks! :)
Spottedfire98: I know, right? I think I almost exaggerated it too much, though.
Mizumaru2312: I didn't notice that! Hey Rain, that must be the mistake you lost! :P I'll fix that, thanks.
Stormfeather of IceClan: Thank you! :D And to answer your question, maybe. ;) But either way, Cloudpaw does not like Amberpaw.
Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.
Chapter 7: Stories
Being injured sucks. And it's boring, too.
I've paced around the floor about a thousand times. I've bounced a moss ball off the wall until it broke into pieces, which I stomped into the floor until even that was gone. I've even tried to help Whispersong organize her herbs, which she politely, but firmly, refused.
And it's only sunhigh. I wonder what state I'll be in by sundown, if no one comes to talk to me. As skeptical as I always am, I'm not counting on Tigerpaw to come visit me. Not after he so willingly followed Cloudpaw into the apprentices' den.
I go back to my nest and lie down, whereupon shortly I flip onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.
And there it is. The ladybug, crawling lazily on the dirt roof with vibrant black spots standing out against a red coat of armor protecting its real, filmy delicate wings. Should ladybugs even be alive in leafbare?
I bat my uninjured paw at it, just for fun. It's way too high to actually reach.
The bug, however, seems aware of my almost possible attack at it and zooms out into the outside. It's free, but I'm cooped up. That gives me an idea.
I stand up and hobble to the herbs hollow, where I can hear Whispersong checking over her supplies to make sure that there's enough herbs to last through leaf-bare. "Hey, Whispersong? Could I please go outside?"
The medicine cat pauses, paw resting on a large leaf with serrated edges. The tip is just beginning to curl up in a dried, brown arc. "No, of course not! You're resting. Need I spell it out?" She waves her paw in the air to enunciate each letter. "R-E- S—"
"Alright, I get it!" I say. Geez, I'm not a kit. I know how to spell "rest". "But please," I whine. "Could I go out? There's not much to do here, and…" I trail off as the gray she-cat tilts her head thoughtfully, looking at me. From what I've encountered with Whispersong so far, it's best not to push her. She seems to be a straight-forward thinker, with no patience for other input.
And right now, she's looking at me slyly. Very slyly. "Well, it is almost time for the elders to get their ticks off…" she begins.
My face falls for a second, and then I remember the interesting tidbit Falconflight told me. Mousetail is my grandmother! Maybe while I'm getting all those ticks off, she'll be able to tell me more about my mother. "Okay!" I agree, quite happily.
Whispersong looks surprised for a moment, and I can't say I blame her. There's not many cats I know who would willingly want to clean the elders of their ticks. At least, not ones who will benefit from it. Then she busies herself scooping mouse bile from a small, leaf cushioned hole in the ground, almost like a well, with another leaf, one that doesn't seem to have any healing ability because if it did, I'm sure Whispersong would hold onto it until it was absolutely needed. She then shuffles the leaf over to me, seeming relieved that someone actually wants to do the tedious job. I guess that even after moons and moons of being a medicine cat, she hasn't gotten used to the acrid smell of the bile. I don't think anyone can, unless their nose fell off or something.
I carefully push the leaf out of the herbs hollow and out into the sun, taking care not to spill. There's a big chance that if it does, a few drops will land on my paws, and Cloudpaw will take great pleasure out that. There's no way in StarClan I'm carrying the leaf in my mouth.
There aren't many cats out; most seem to be outside camp training their apprentices, or hunting or patrolling. I do spot Doveflight, however, just inside the nursery. Doveflight and Brightsky must have moved out by now, as Tigerpaw reported, but maybe Whispersong recruited the white she-cat to clean out the nests as all the other apprentices are out training and Doveflight doesn't seem to have anything to do. Which I didn't, either, a moment ago, but now I do.
Pushing the leaf more hurriedly, I ignore Doveflight's questioning expression and slowly, bit by bit, make my way into the elders' den. Inside, I hear the shifting of paws and the rustling off someone moving in their nest, and then a voice.
"Have you finally come to clean our ticks off? I got one right up on my forepaw."
I recognize the voice as Treefall's. Of course he would ask that first, I think, rolling my eyes. He's always been an impatient cat, even when we kits piled into the den asking for stories. He would yell at us to "BE QUIET!" first before he grudgingly began a tale.
"Yes, I did," I reply patiently. I pad toward the direction of his voice, pushing the leaf full of mouse bile in front of me. It's only then that I realize I forgot the moss. Darn!
"Be right back," I say before I tear out of the elders' den and back into the medicine cat's den, going as well as I can with one sprained paw. Whispersong already is carrying a bundle of fresh moss in her jaws; she must have realized her mistake and was getting ready to bring the moss to me. However, she doesn't look surprised when I rush into her den.
"Here you go," she says cheerfully, dropping the moss in front of her, and then turning back to pawing at the leaves in one storage pile.
I roll my eyes and, picking up the moss, go back to the elders' den.
Treefall is waiting impatiently. "Where'd you go?" he asks tetchily. "One second you were here, and then you just tore off. I still have ticks, you know."
"Treefall, be patient," a voice says out of a corner. I turn and see Mousetail reclining in her nest, her clear green eyes watching me. "I expect she forgot the moss." I nod.
I begin to carefully apply the mouse bile to the tick-inhabited areas, the old brown tom monitoring and instructing my every move. "There, right behind my ear… Yes, that's it! One more sucker gone! Now, there's an annoying itch on my back, that might be one… Ah, that feels better!"
I've almost forgotten that Mousetail's there when she speaks again. "So what are you doing here?" she asks. "Aren't you supposed to be out learning how to be a warrior?"
I look up, surprised. "You know we're all apprentices now?" I say.
Treefall chuckles. "Listen, 'prentice, just 'cause we're old and gray now doesn't mean we're cut off from the rest of the Clan."
I feel my pelt grow hot. "Oh." I apply the bile to a tick clinging to Treefall's underbelly, and watch in quiet satisfaction as the bloodsucking parasite falls off in a pleasingly dead manner.
Mousetail nods in agreement. "Yes, we watched the apprentice ceremony," she says. "I would never miss one, especially since some of the new apprentices were my own grandkits."
So she does know that we are her grandkits! I mean, of course she would, but she's openly admitting it now. I glance up again to see the old she-cat regarding me with a glimmer in her green eyes. "How come you never told us that you were our grandmother?" I ask, getting straight to the point.
Mousetail shrugs. "Didn't see much point in it," she says. "Most of the younger Clan cats only know me as 'one of the old elders' or 'Fireblaze's mate'. Informing you kits that I was your grandmother would only lead you to bugging me more because I was the mate of one of the most respected warriors in the Clans." She sighs, then continues on. "And so it doesn't really matter at all, and no kits visit me for the single purpose of meeting Fireblaze's mate." I understand her reasoning; I know a certain white apprentice who might do exactly what Mousetail just described. But what about her relatives who don't know? It's not like she's broadcasting it to all the Clans.
"But I would have liked to have known!" I protest.
"And now you do," Mousetail says matter-of-factly.
"But-but if I'd know sooner," I say in a much quieter voice, "I would have asked you about my mother." The den falls silent, and I have the slight awareness that my grandmother is tilting her head, scrutinizing me carefully.
"You know, I really hate to break up a family reunion," Treefall breaks in, "but there's an annoying little bugger on my hind leg. Just finish up the job, have your talk, and let me sleep in peace." I snort with laughter, and, ignoring Treefall's confused expression of What did I say?, finish getting all the ticks off.
With the job now done, Treefall curls up in his nest, shuts his eyes, and then turns his back to me—without even a word of thanks. I glare at his back. Well, you're welcome!
Mousetail clears her throat, and I sheepishly turn around to look at my grandmother. I gather the now-foul smelling moss and the bile-covered leaf, and push the smelly pile near Mousetail. I carefully begin combing through her fur for ticks, waiting for her to begin talking.
Soon, she does.
"Your mother…was a headstrong cat. What she wanted to do, she would do. I remember the time we wouldn't let her go out of the camp because there was a huge snowstorm. She was an apprentice. Twenty minutes later, she was gone. The snow had by then trapped us in our dens, and the snowflakes would have fallen in her paw prints anyway, so all we could do was wait. She came back two hours later, ice hanging off her nose and pelt half-frozen, but she had two small, scrawny mice in her jaws. And when she laid them at our paws, we—Fireblaze and I—had never been so proud of her." Mousetail sighs again.
"Of course, she was in big trouble. She wasn't allowed to go to the next Gathering—or what would have been the next Gathering, seeing as the snow kept us from going far outside the camp, and I doubt the other Clans managed to get out either. She also had to clean out the elders' den for a month. But she acted like cleaning out the elders' den was exactly how she wanted to spend her free time, with her head held high. She never let anything faze her, not through her entire life." Except for when she got greencough and died, I think cynically. But I keep that thought in my head, and keep on listening.
Mousetail looks down at me, a small smile on her mouth.
"You know Doveflight?" she asks.
I nod, my fur inadvertently bristling with the thought of her daughter. I wonder if unfriendliness runs in the family. I haven't gotten the chance to know Doveflight, Breezetail, or Graypaw yet, but they seem pretty nice.
"Well, she and your mother fought like badgers over Birchstep. Like badgers!"
What? Now this was something I hadn't expected to learn. Doveflight—Cloudpaw's mother…and my mother…fighting over Birchstep!
Mousetail coughs, and I sit up straighter, resuming my picking off of ticks. In my surprise, I'd momentarily stopped.
My grandmother goes on. "It amused the entire Clan very much. With the small number of cats we have in a Clan—though the eight apprentices we have now is a number to marvel at—it was possibly the biggest thing that had happened all moon. Doveflight—Dovepaw back then—would try to get Birchstep—then Birchpaw, of course—to sit with her and share freshkill. Your mother, called Blazepaw in that time, would, every single day, try to convince her mentor to do pair-up training with Birchpaw's mentor. It goes without saying that if she succeeded, then she would get to train with Birchpaw. Oh, how Birchstep lapped up the attention.
"But eventually, Blazepelt won. I'm not too sure about the specifics, but I suspect it had something to do with the fact that she had this certain…confidence that made you believe in what she was saying. Everyone could feel it. And Doveflight never forgave her. Now, it seems that she has passed on her dislike to you."
"You…you've noticed?" I ask, not sure whether to feel relief over the fact that Mousetail has noticed and that she seems to be on my side, or doom that the fact is now confirmed.
"As I said, this is a small Clan," Mousetail replies. "And to quote Treefall: 'just 'cause we're old and gray now doesn't mean we're cut off from the rest of the Clan'."
My pelt grows hot in embarrassment, again. "Yes," I say simply.
The elderly orange she-cat eyes me. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"
What am I going to do about it? I'm taken back. "Uh…well…nothing," I say. I honestly hadn't thought of having a rivalry with Cloudpaw.
Mousetail chuckles. "Believe me when I say, I've noticed how Cloudpaw glares when Tigerpaw looks at you."
Er…what? I think. I say aloud the only thing I can. "Huh?"
"Don't give me that 'huh'," Mousetail snaps, rather fiercely. "I know that no granddaughter of mine will ever be reduced to dumb, one-syllable answers."
"What about Ashpaw?" I ask cheekily.
Mousetail stares at me, and then she begins to laugh. Her laughing is contagious, and I feel like giggling too, except I have a feeling that it will make Mousetail think less of me, so I just manage to hold the chuckles in. I wait for her to stop.
When she finally does, she looks…proud. "Hah, that's what I want to hear!" she crows.
I cock my head to the side, confused, but still continue looking for ticks. I thought I came here to find out more about my mother—and clean the elders of their ticks—not to hear my grandmother praise me on my smart aleck mouth!
Mousetail explains. "That's how your mother was," she says. "Her tongue could rip the fur off of a fox. She had a bold, fiery temper, my kit." Her eyes momentarily lose her focus, and I can literally hear the echoes of her words, and the emotion hidden under it. My kit…
Birchstep's not the only one who was heartbroken when Blazepelt died.
My grandmother continues to tell more stories, spinning out tales of when Blazepaw fell into a puddle and for days, would threaten to claw the pelt off of any cat who even came close to talking about the incident. Of when Dovepaw somehow fell into a giant mud puddle during her warrior assessment, and though there was no evidence pointing to her, everyone knew Blazepaw had done it. Of when Blazepelt, as a young warrior, had led a patrol into battle against StoneClan, and saved the then LeafClan leader's life, a she-cat called Lightstar.
When all the ticks are off, I shove the entire disgusting mess of bile-covered moss and leaf far, far away from me. I resolve two things: one, as soon as night falls and I have to leave Mousetail and her stories about my mother, I'm going to wash my paws as through as I can; and two, I'm never volunteering for cleaning the ticks off the elders again—unless, of course, Mousetail tells me stories.
I sit there then, the job done, listening to my grandmother's voice as she tells her tales—an amused tone one second as she recounts when Blazepelt caused an entire avalanche of snow to fall on the deputy and medicine cat—who was Whispersong, an interesting fact—and grave another when she tells about the time my mother almost got caught by a dog. And by the time night falls, and it's finally, finally time to wash off the mouse bile stink on my paws, I feel like I've known my mother moons, instead of those few precious seconds when she laid her paw on mine and gasped out my name.
Having a really long chapter means that there can be more room for mistakes, so please tell me if I have any tense changes or anything! Thank you and review! :D (Oh, and the annoying ladybug appeared again! But this time it didn't stay to land on Amberpaw's nose. :P)
~Ponyiowa