Chapter Two: Saving Face
Brightpaw woke in the night with a pounding heart, claws outstretched and her teeth clenched so hard on her tongue she felt blood trickle into her mouth. As the familiar gloom of the medicine den came into focus, she relaxed, her fur still spiked from her dream. She kept seeing nothing but the dogs, those horrible beasts, and what had happened to the two of them. Swiftpaw…
She needed to see Swiftpaw.
His image kept playing over and over in her head. He was the last thing she saw before blacking out. The dogs had rushed at them so suddenly, surrounding them with snapping jaws and beady eyes, their breath hot on their faces as they were backed into the tall boulders of Snakerocks. They had tried to take them on as a team, but the biggest of the three had separated the two of them, flinging her into the dirt with nothing but a swipe.
Her surroundings melded into memory once more as she drifted…
"Brightpaw!" Swiftpaw's voice was a shriek above the barking and growling coming from awful, bloody muzzles.
Brightpaw could not move. She stood against the cold face of the rock, frozen in place as the dog inched closer and closer. Its yellowed teeth glinted red with wet blood, and with a lunge, it took her shoulders sharply in its jaws. The world around her blurred as she was shook, and just as she believed she would be rattled apart, it threw her back into the large stone. Air spewed from her lungs, and her side screamed with the pain.
"Brightpaw, hang in there, I'm-" His voice was choked off as he was battered by the other two creatures.
She couldn't move. She lay there, unable to force her legs to lift her off the dirt. What am I doing? I need to help! I need to save him!
Before she could will herself to stand, the dog was looming above her, it's evil eyes staring into hers. Drool sputtered from its gaping mouth and onto her face, warm and hot just like the breath ruffling her cheek fur.
In a flash, all she felt was agony.
The horrible teeth clamped around the side of her face and kept tearing and tearing and tearing; she felt things pop, she heard the rip of her skin, she-
Was set free abruptly, the dog howling in pain as Swiftpaw raked its side.
"Brightpaw? Oh, Starclan, Brightpaw… " Sudden resolve flooded his voice. "I'm going to protect you. We'll get out of this, together." The black and white tom leaped back into the fray of snapping and growling. Blood pooled on one side of her face, and she watched with black inching the corners of her vision as her childhood friend ripped at the dog's flesh, dodged their swipes, fought with all his might. With horror she realized she could hear them.
Pack pack, kill kill.
She could hear their whispers promising bloodshed.
Pack pack, kill kill.
And then, she could hear nothing at all.
"Brightpaw? Brightpaw, please wake up!" She felt a paw prodding her side, and she woke with a start, Cinderpelt hovering above her.
"W-why?"
"You were muttering in your sleep…" The medicine cat fretted, her eyes filling with sadness as she gazed at her. "Again."
"What… What was I saying?" Still hazy from sleep, she tried to get her mind to unblur, to focus on reality and not the horrors of her dream.
"Not important," Cinderpelt murmured, and then quickly changed her expression, "how are you feeling today? Up for moving around?"
Brightpaw sat for a moment, flexing her paws and limbs in a way of testing their strength. Hope flaring in her chest, she stood, her legs shaky and aching but strong enough to hold her up. "I'm sore, but I think I could," she replied. She remained silent for a moment, shifting her paws, until she finally ventured, "Could I see Swiftpaw?"
Cinderpelt looked as though someone had raked thier claws across her cheek. "Brightpaw… Your friend, he didn't-"
"He didn't make it." It hurt her to force the words out, and though the reality of what had happened had already sunk in, she still felt her heart turn to stone in her chest. "I know. I want to visit him."
Cinderpelt seemed to teeter on the edge, unsure whether or not to grant or deny her request. Finally, she sighed, "I'll take you there."
"Thank you," Brightpaw breathed, grateful. She was glad that Cinderpelt moved at a slow pace, as Brightpaw could just barely put one paw in front of the other as she followed close behind. For the first time in days she emerged from the medicine den and felt the warmth of the sun grace her pelt. Somehow, all the leaves on the undergrowth appeared to be all the more vibrant, and she relished the soft grass cushioning her paw pads. It felt good to be out in the open again.
However, as she entered the clearing to their camp, she regretted coming out at all.
Cats stared at her openly before quickly turning away and busying themselves with any task they could. Some never stopped staring, and others wouldn't even look her way. Queens gasped and covered their kits eyes with their tails. Her denmates, who were currently sharing fresh kill by the apprentice's den, murmured to each other as she passed by. Shame and embarrassment made her pelt go hot, and she wanted nothing more than to run and hide.
She felt a sudden weight on her shoulders. Cinderpelt had placed her tail tip atop them, and without looking at her simply mewed, "Ignore them."
Easier said than done, she thought to herself, anxiety still wrapping itself around her like a thicket of brambles. How am I going to get used to this?
The world outside the camp lulled her into a gentle calm; it seemed to move along differently than the hustle and chatter of the camp. Light filtered softly through the treetops and cast itself like yellow pools on the forest floor. Birds chirped and bugs flew past in a lazy buzz. She looked up to catch small wisps of clouds peeking out from the gaps in the branches.
"Look out-!"
Cinderpelt had warned her too late, and a burning sensation shot through her paw as she tumbled over a stone that lay in her path.
"You alright?" Cinderpelt was by her side, letting her lean against her as she struggled to stand.
"Yes, fine," Brightpaw muttered. I almost forgot, she thought to herself dejectedly, I can't just take it all in anymore. I can't even see what's to the right of me.
More disappointed now, Brightpaw continued to follow the medicine cat until they arrived where the gnarled roots of an oak curled in and out of the earth. Fresh herbs and flowers sprouted from the mossy base, and a small mound sloped gently against the trunk of the tree. Brightpaw's heart caught in her throat, and she felt the tears well up in her eyes. Swiftpaw…
"His mother requested he be buried here," Cinderpelt murmured, solemn.
Brightpaw felt her paws move her forward as though she were being pulled towards the mound. Tears were staining the fur on her cheeks now, and as her paw pad touched the soft, recently churned earth that now marked her dear friend's grave, a sudden longing washed over her. "Swiftpaw…" She choked out in a sob. She began to scrape at the earth, dirt shifting underneath her as she digged.
"Brightpaw, what are you doing?" Cinderpelt rushed over, attempting to shove her away from the grave. "Stop it! Why are you doing that?"
"I-I…" Her sobs were coming fast now, hot tears bubbling from her eyes like a brook. "I need to see him… I need to see him one last time, please…"
"Brightpaw, no, you need to let his soul rest," Cinderpelt's voice was soft. She gave her another nudge. "Let him rest."
She stopped the churning of her paws, noticing that with her weak limbs she barely even left but a shallow dip in the earth. "But I never got to say goodbye," she whimpered, feeling as though her heart would break in two.
Cinderpelt was silent for a moment. "What's your last memory of him?"
Sniffling, Brightpaw tried to focus on her memories and not the grave she was sitting pawsteps from. Her last memory…
"I don't know when the end came for Swiftpaw, but... " she trailed off, her gaze wandering to the slope. "... I remember him fighting like all of Lionclan. That's how I'll always remember him."
The world went silent for several heartbeats. Then, suddenly, the medicine cat softly butted her head against the side of her cheek, her eyes sympathetic and warm. "Then why would you want to see him now?" Cinderpelt shifted her gaze down to the grave. "He would want you to remember him as a brave warrior. Not like this."
Brightpaw nodded, soaking in these words. I believe she's right, she thought to herself, Swiftpaw wouldn't want me to see him… Or, what was him… Like this. She was about to respond when a crashing sounded from the nearby undergrowth. Both cats pricked their ears towards the sound and watched as Ashpaw, one of her fellow denmates, slipped from between two brambles.
"She needs to come back to camp," he announced, his pupils flicking towards Brightpaw, "there's a clan meeting."