The branches of the shrub Larkpaw hid within were beginning to scratch his pelt. He had been waiting all day; it was nearly nightfall, and there was still no sign of Diamondpaw. Larkpaw hoped he had made the right decision in trusting her.
Wolfkit mewled angrily from where she sat in front of him. She had curled herself into a fluffy ball of grey fur, her bright green eyes standing out against the oranges and browns of Leaf-fall. "Hungry!" she complained.
Larkpaw sighed. He figured that it was time to give up. He had really only just met the DuskClan she-cat, and for all he knew, she was going off to tell her Clanmates about where he was hiding so they could lie in wait and ambush him when he finally emerged from the bush. It was too naive to expect the best from any cat, especially a stranger. He decided that hunting was a good idea. It would help clear his mind, and besides, DuskClan would probably be more interested in exploring the newly conquered DawnClan's territory than hunting in their own forests.
He was preparing to push his way out of the clump of browning leaves when he heard a rustle from beside him. Wolfkit had gotten to her paws, and now waited by his side as if she expected him to take her along.
"No way," Larkpaw meowed, his voice a whisper so no passing cat could hear him. "You'll scare off every bit of prey in the woods!"
Wolfkit scoffed, something he wasn't aware that kits could do. Disdain was more complex an emotion than he figured a two-moons old kitten could emulate. Wolfkit, as always, was a bit of an outlier.
Larkpaw ran both possibilities through his mind, something he liked to do when he was unsure. Thinking wasn't always really his strong suit, but he wasn't a "claw first, ask later" sort of cat either.
If he left Wolfkit behind, she was vulnerable to attacks from DuskClan cats and possibly even badgers and foxes. He shuddered at the memory of the fox attack that he, Starlingpaw, and Tawnypaw had endured. Blizzardstar was there too, as he remembered, but for whatever reason he hadn't joined the fight. Larkpaw couldn't really blame the tom for being scared, but a leader with nine lives didn't necessarily have to be that cautious. Larkpaw would have gladly lost a life to save his sister from being badly injured if that had been an option. But he was just as mortal as the next cat, with only one life to fill.
No matter how much he disliked it, Larkpaw would have to take Wolfkit along. If he left her behind, she might die, and he would never endanger a kitten, especially not Tawnystripe's. He thought back to when he had first met Diamondpaw, just a small while ago. She had asked if Wolfkit was his, and he said that he wished it was so. Now he cringed at the thought; though all he had ever wanted was a happy life with Tawnystripe, raising their kits together in the warm nursery and living each day as joyfully as the last. That future was impossible, he knew, and perhaps it was better if he stopped daydreaming about it.
But he couldn't stop. Every time he looked at Wolfkit he could only imagine her with his eyes and Tawnystripe's shining pelt, which is to say he imagined her as an entirely different kitten.
Finally pulling himself out of his thoughts, Larkpaw turned to Wolfkit. "Okay, you can come with me. But you'd better stay quiet."
Wolfkit purred happily and mimicked Larkpaw's crouch, stepping tentatively with her front paws to test the ground in front of her before placing her full weight on the ground. They left the bush together, almost silently, though at one point Wolfkit's curly pelt got caught on a twig and she growled angrily as Larkpaw helped free her.
Soon enough the two DawnClan cats were padding through DuskClan's forest, crunching dying leaves beneath their paws with as little sound as they could manage. Larkpaw tasted the air as he walked, but could scent no prey. The woods were barren.
Eventually he spied a break in the trees up ahead, where the forest began to thin out. Larkpaw figured he didn't have much to lose; there wasn't any prey to be found in the land behind him, so maybe by chance he could stumble across something beyond the dense woodland.
The sight he was met with stole his breath away, and Wolfkit's, too. Before him, a huge claw of stone sloped out of the dusty earth and pointed high into the clouds, its jagged surface slicing through the blue sky. The mountain was taller than anything he had ever seen, the height of a million and more cats stacked on top of each other. Larkpaw had heard tales about the cliffs and mountains that blocked the Clans into the dense woods, but he had never ventured far enough to get such a clear view as what he had now.
The ground at Larkpaw's feet sloped upward, the earthy ground soon becoming too steep for any cat to walk on. The mountain was blanketed with a covering of grass, which was beginning to fade yellow and brown. Spots of rock showed through the foliage closer to the peak. Nothing else grew on the mountain aside from an occasional bush that was starting to lose its leaves, or the few small trees that braved the higher altitude.
Wolfkit padded forward, away from his side, toward a clearing of dusty earth that sat at the base of the mountain. Larkpaw followed, so as to not let the kit out of his sight.
The dusty clearing had been trodden on by a multitude of cats, judging by the pawsteps that traced all around the clearing, so many of them that he could barely tell each set apart. As he stepped onto the spot of ground, the trees falling away behind him as the ground grew into the mountain, he finally tasted the scent of prey.
A few fox-lengths away sat a tiny finch, hopping along the gradual rise of the mountain and pecking at the ground with its tiny beak. Larkpaw dropped into a hunting crouch immediately, creeping forward as slowly as possible. He approached silently, trying to keep out of the finch's sight, and soon enough he was a leap away.
Larkpaw tensed up his muscles in preparation for the pounce, keeping still enough that his prey wouldn't sense him.
Only when the finch shot up into the air moments before his pounce did Larkpaw notice that Wolfkit had been tailing him. She had bounded forward with all the over-enthusiasm of a kitten and upset the finch.
Without another thought, Larkpaw leaped as high as possible, bringing his paws down on where the finch was hovering in the air. He hooked his claws into its feathers and pulled the bird to the ground, finishing it off as quickly as he could.
Larkpaw looked up angrily. "Why would you do that?" he hissed at Wolfkit.
She just stared at him in confusion and meowed, "Hunt? I hunt?"
The cream tomcat sighed. He guessed it was to be expected that a kit wouldn't know anything about how to stay silent and unnoticed by prey, so he couldn't really blame her. Still, he had nearly failed the catch, and it was the only creature he had found so far. What if Larkpaw had totally missed his shot or hadn't yet been taught how to catch an escaping bird?
Stop worrying, he told himself with a laugh. Everything turned out fine. That's all that matters.
Larkpaw pushed the finch toward Wolfkit with his nose. The tiny she-kit sniffed it haughtily and turned up her nose.
"Feathers!" she complained, leaning away from the fresh-kill and puffing out her tail.
He sighed in frustration, but he wasn't truly upset. Larkpaw was beginning to learn that Wolfkit was and would be overly fussy, so it wasn't a surprise anymore. It was cute, really.
"You've got to learn how to eat birds," he explained to her calmly. "Every warrior knows how to. You don't actually eat the feathers; just spit them out! See?" Larkpaw meowed, demonstrating by pulling a chunk of bright-colored feathers off of the finch with his teeth. "Now you try."
Wolfkit leaned down, pushing her head forward to give the fresh-kill another sniff. Tentatively, she opened her mouth and clamped down hard on a chunk of feathers, planting her paws on the body of the finch, and jerked her head backward, tumbling over herself until she landed a tail-length away with a mouthful of feathers.
Larkpaw purred with laughter, amused with the little kitten's antics. He stopped himself again from thinking about Wolfkit's adoptive mother and instead watched the grey she-kit stumble back to the finch and continue her process, taking a bite of the meat here and there and spitting out feathers and bones. Soon enough all that was left was the bones and feathers of the little bird and Wolfkit sat content a pawstep away from the pile of remains, licking the blood off of her snout.
Larkpaw padded forward, quickly licking up any remaining morsels of meat, and then turned to the tiny kit. "Are you ready to learn something really important?"
Wolfkit nodded vigorously, her eyes shining. "Important!" she squealed.
He poked at the prey bones with a claw. "After a Clan cat eats, we always bury the bones of our prey."
Wolfkit looked at him quizzically. "Why?"
So DuskClan doesn't know we're here, Larkpaw thought but didn't say. Instead, he meowed, "It's to respect the fresh-kill. Every cat gets a burial, and so should our prey animals. Besides, so many prey bones start to clutter up the forest, and stepping on one is never pleasant.
The she-kit sat for a moment, trying to process what he had told her. She turned to the prey bones and began to scrape out a hole in the ground, raking her claws across the earth and kicking up billowing piles of dust.
Larkpaw coughed as specks of dirt were launched into his face, but soon enough Wolfkit had finished and she daintily placed the bones in her scrape with her teeth. Obediently, she used her tiny claws to gather up the upturned ground and placed it back over the prey, patting it down with her wiry-haired paws.
"Done!" she announced proudly, puffing out her chest. Larkpaw felt a feeling swell up inside him, but he wasn't sure what it was, so he pushed it back down.
"Good job, Wolfkit," he meowed, licking her forehead affectionately. She didn't pull away, only grumbled angrily. "Now I need to hunt for my own piece of fresh-kill. Can you promise me you'll stay quiet?"
Wolfkit seemed to mull over her answer for a long while, but eventually she nodded her head and dropped into the crouch he had used earlier.
The two cats left the base of the mountain and set off back into the woods.
As Larkpaw paced through the forest he turned his mind to what came ahead of him. When he met up with Diamondpaw, if that ever happened, he was going to ask her a huge favor. The issue was that asking the young apprentice to take him to where DawnClan was held in captivity might give her a clue as to where he came from. Not to mention that his smell might show through now that he wasn't covered in river water- maybe he should roll around in some mud to mask the scent before she came to speak with him.
Larkpaw rounded the base of a large beech tree and tried to decide whether or not to tell Diamondpaw who he was. If she knew, would she trust him more or less? He guessed it would be less. Besides, if she didn't know that she was helping her rival Clan, then it might be easier for her to do what he was going to ask of her. Yes, convincing her that he was a rogue was the best course of action. He still had no idea how Wolfkit fit into that part of the story, but surely he would figure something out. When he went on the trek with Diamondpaw to where DawnClan was held, he figured that she was going to ask a lot of questions, so he wanted to prepare for them. That is, if she decided to help him.
He managed soon enough to find a scrawny mouse hiding under a dying leaf, and he ate his prey quickly before burying the bones in the ground. Luckily Wolfkit had stayed quiet this time, and he congratulated her on it. In response, Wolfkit once again puffed out her chest in pride. Larkpaw thought it was well-deserved that she was proud of herself. He didn't think many kits could accompany a hunter as well as she.
The sun was beginning to set, and he decided to return to the bush in the hopes that Diamondpaw would keep her word.
He noticed with a jolt of shock that there was already a thick scent of cat near the bush and dropped into a fighting crouch, his tail lashing angrily. Had Diamondpaw ratted him out, and now some cat from DuskClan was here to attack him? They wouldn't catch him by surprise, at least.
Just as Larkpaw was preparing to launch himself into the bush and claw whatever DuskClan cat was hiding within it, a white she-cat pushed her way out of the foliage, staring at him in surprise.
"There you are!" Diamondpaw meowed in greeting, her bright blue eyes wide. Larkpaw wondered quickly if she was unlucky enough, like many white cats with blue eyes, to have a hearing disorder, but he figured that if she could hear him, she was probably fine.
"I thought you wouldn't come," Larkpaw said in surprise, taking a tentative step forward.
"Me too," the she-cat responded, her fluffy tail wagging back and forth in the air. "I came here just as night fell, but you weren't anywhere around. So I decided to wait."
"We went hunting," Larkpaw explained, gesturing at Wolfkit with his tail. Diamondpaw's eyes widened.
"You hunted in DuskClan territory?" she hissed, her pupils turning into slits. "There's barely anything living in here! You can't just take our prey like-"
"Hey, hey, calm down," Larkpaw meowed suddenly, trying to calm her. The she-cat's voice had risen to a shrill pitch that was bound to call someone over to them if she didn't quiet herself. "You were hunting in DawnClan territory just the other day. I don't see how this is any different."
Diamondpaw cast him a look that he couldn't quite understand. Larkpaw flinched and worried that he had just given away the secret he decided not to share, but he couldn't be sure, so he said nothing.
"Fine, I'll let it go this time," Diamondpaw relented with a nod. "But try not to do it again. My Clan is really suffering here. With DawnClan's territory, now every cat can finally eat. The kits don't have to go hungry, and the elders aren't dying from starvation any longer. Even the warriors get a piece or two of prey every day."
Larkpaw's jaw almost dropped to the ground at her description of life in the starving DuskClan. Cats didn't even get to eat every day? How could StarClan place such a fate upon their descendants?
"Anyway, I promised to help you, so here I am. What is it exactly you want to do?" Diamondpaw meowed, cutting through his thoughts.
Larkpaw moved a step closer to Wolfkit and sat down, wrapping his tail around the kitten to block her from the sudden chill of the night. He turned to Diamondpaw and began to explain what he asked of her. "I need you to take me somewhere."
/
No, Mothripple thought, backing away and tripping over her paws in the process. No, this can't be happening.
All it had been was one tiny mistake, a simple oversight, and now everything was wrong.
She didn't know what to do. That was what scared her most.
Her herbs were ruined. Every last one of them. They were hidden under a sea of swarming insects, devouring her healing herbs like they were fresh-kill.
Mothripple had gone for a quick outing into the woods, checking the dying forest for any signs of recovery, trusting that Freckleface and Hollyfrost would be fine without her until the sun set and she had returned. Thinking back, she remembered all too clearly that she had forgotten to place her herb pile back in the scrape where she stored them.
Unluckily for DuskClan, their camp was entirely devoid of caves or stone. It was much too far away from the northern cliffs or southern mountains. So Mothripple had to make do with what she had, which was little. The medicine cat's den was simply a small clearing in the middle of a clump of thick, thorny bushes, a small tuft of shrubbery in the center. Like most of the camp, large rocks were embedded in the ground here, making nice places for the cats to sun themselves. The previous medicine cats had used a particularly large boulder to store herbs, over time making a shallow scrape at its peak. Then they would cover the herbs with another rock to further protect them from insects.
But she hadn't placed them where they belonged, and now her world was crashing down.
Hollyfrost had complained of more pain upon her return, so Mothripple had gone to concoct another serving of the poultice she had used on the ginger she-cat- horsetail, marigold, and goldenrod, with cobweb to hold them in place. Now every single one of those herbs was beneath the writhing mass of bugs. Even though the cobweb probably hadn't been eaten, it was still covered with insects, and placing possible disease carriers in Hollyfrost's open wound did not seem like a good idea.
"Is everything okay, Mothripple?" Freckleface meowed hoarsely from a few tail-lengths away. He must have noticed her shaking, the lashing of her tail, all signs that she was having a nervous breakdown.
Mothripple tried quickly to mask her anxiety and turned to Freckleface with a curt smile. "Of course, Freckleface. I just..." she thought frantically of what she should tell him; would it induce panic if she told her patient that she couldn't treat him? It was probably best that she try to hide it. "I don't know if I... have quite the right herbs to give you. I need to sort through them some more to make sure it's correct."
Freckleface released a breath. "You know, I'm feeling fine now that Whisperpaw brought me that rabbit to eat. I should really just head back to my den."
Mothripple felt her ears burn. Of course, idiot. He doesn't need any herbs- probably. Wait, does he? All that was wrong with him was hunger, right? I didn't miss anything? What if I missed something? I should probably check him again.
In all her worrying, the medicine cat only managed to say, "You aren't feeling any pain?"
The old tom shook his head. "No. I'd just like to rest with my friends, now."
Though her tail was swishing back and forth rapidly and her mind was full of worries and what-ifs, Mothripple only nodded and briefly helped the elder to his feet before turning back to her pitiful pile of herbs. As far as she could see, nothing could be salvaged. To treat Hollyfrost she would have to head out into the forest and find the plants herself, but she wasn't even sure if they were all in season. At this point in Leaf-fall, horsetail wouldn't be common, and there was barely any goldenrod to begin with. She figured she could find marigold with relative ease, but would that be enough?
By StarClan, she needed an apprentice. How was she supposed to keep track of Hollyfrost's condition, find herbs, and treat the injured warrior in a timely manner all by herself? Every sensible cat was probably asleep by now, and most of the able-bodied warriors and apprentices that were awake had been sent to guard DawnClan. Who could possibly help her now?
As if she were answering her thoughts, Featherstar pushed through the foliage at the entrance to the den where there was a small gap in the bushes. The silver she-cat nodded respectfully towards the medicine cat, who was desperately trying to brush away the infested pile of herbs with her tail, shivering at the feeling of a hundred crawling bugs touching her fur.
Perhaps it was because of the darkness of the sky that night, but Featherstar didn't notice the herbs, or at least didn't mention it. Instead she moved to sit by Hollyfrost's side. The warrior was lying on her side, breathing heavily, her leg bleeding slightly, though it was partly healed. The DuskClan leader dipped her head and began to lick the wound clean; Mothripple felt an odd rush of warmth towards the old she-cat. She sometimes seemed disconnected from her Clan, but the medicine cat knew that her leader truly wished the best for them, despite her methods.
Mothripple began to speak, planning to ask about DawnClan's capture, but Featherstar beat her to it.
"How have you been, Mothripple?" Featherstar croaked, pulling away from Hollyfrost, her silver tabby fur glimmering in the low moonlight.
"Well-"
"Have you received any word from StarClan?" she mewed quickly, interrupting her.
The medicine cat's ears flattened slightly, unsurprised at her leader's behavior. Featherstar was never one for small talk, though Mothripple wasn't quite upset about that. She just wished that she could have used the opportunity to ask for an apprentice like she had wanted to. "No," Mothripple answered curtly, a creeping, unsettled feeling running along her spine.
Featherstar nodded slowly. "That is what I thought. Our ancestors have refused to speak to me, as well."
"Do you think they might..." Mothripple began, but she trailed off. She was going to ask if Featherstar thought that StarClan had renounced them, upset at what they had done to DawnClan, but she was too afraid to insinuate that Featherstar had broken the code. Even if she had.
"Do I think they might be angry with us?" her leader meowed, reading her mind. "It seems so, but I don't understand. We followed the signs, did we not?"
The fur on Mothripple's neck stood on end. She remembered vividly the night of the sign, just a few moons ago. She wasn't even entirely sure if it was a sign, or simply a coincidence, as StarClan had been entirely silent since. Mothripple had been unable to sleep, and so she walked to the training clearing as she sometimes did. It was nice to leave the suffocating cover of the trees from time to time and see the sky clearly above her. She had a clear view of the dark sky as the sun began to rise, the small tinge of orange on the horizon as the sun began to rise. Suddenly, out of the fading stars had shot a bright stripe of light, a star streaking across the dawn sky, away from DawnClan's territory and towards DuskClan's. Startled, Mothripple had run back to camp to tell Featherstar, and the old she-cat immediately interpreted the sign to mean that DawnClan had to leave their camp. As time passed and DuskClan's hunger only became worse, Featherstar had taken the sign to mean that DuskClan would have to take DawnClan's territory by removing them from it, and then use their new lands to survive the starvation. Mothripple never quite agreed, but she never came up with any alternate theories either, so she kept her doubts to herself.
She only realized how long she had stayed silent, lost in her thoughts, when Mothripple heard the rustle of Featherstar's fur as she got to her paws.
"It's about time I leave you to your work," the older she-cat meowed, stretching out her paws as she prepared to leave.
The words caught in her throat for a moment, but Mothripple managed to tear them out. "F-Featherstar? Could I ask you something?"
Featherstar turned to her, a flash of annoyance in her green eyes. The medicine cat flinched, embarrassed that she was being a bother. "Go on, Mothripple."
"Well, I..." she began, her tail twitching nervously. "With nearly thirty warriors in the Clan, and soon to be more, I can barely keep up with all of my work. You see, I really need to replenish my herb supply, but I can't leave the den or I might miss a cat in need of treatment. So..."
There was a long silence as Mothripple tried to work up her courage. She wasn't quite sure why it was so hard to ask the frail old she-cat for an apprentice, as weak as she had become in her old age. But the reason didn't matter; she was very afraid of asking Featherstar for help, as if it meant admitting weakness and failure.
"What is it?" Featherstar meowed impatiently. "I'm sorry, Mothripple, but I really don't have all night to sit here and wait for you to spit out what you need to say."
Mothripple felt tears prick at her eyes. Why couldn't she just say it? All she could do was think about Featherstar's reaction, biting and prickly. It's not like she expected her leader to act any differently this time, but why was she making this more difficult than it had to be? She just had to say a few words, just a few, and then see what happened. It wasn't that hard, not really.
"Could I... maybe have an apprentice?" she managed to whisper, her voice small. "I'd really appreciate the help, and-"
"No," Featherstar answered curtly, cutting her off. "There are no warrior apprentices that would be allowed to simply give up their training and spend their days sorting herbs like rabbits."
Mothripple was shocked into silence. Of course she had expected Featherstar to say no, but not to insult her entire life. Ever since Hazelpaw's death, she had dedicated herself to healing the Clan, to saving lives and fixing injuries. "B-but, Featherstar, I-"
"Look, Mothripple," her leader sighed, turning to her with an exasperated expression. "I gave you the honor of becoming a medicine cat because I figured you could handle it. You shouldn't need some bumbling apprentice to help you heal a wound or two."
She felt an unexpected anger burst up inside her, and before she could stop herself, Mothripple got to her paws. "You have no right to demean me like that! Being a medicine cat is difficult, more than just 'healing a wound or two!' I have to remember a hundred herbs and ways to use them, I have to keep my patients healthy and comfortable and hydrated, and I'm responsible for the lives and safety of every cat in this Clan! I can barely keep up with everything, and now you've thrown DuskClan into an all-out war that will fill up my den with three times as many injured cats than ever! By StarClan, Featherstar, you're going to make cats die with this plan of yours! Hollyfrost is already suffering over there, and now I have no herbs to further treat her, and Leaf-bare is coming in a few moons so I have little time to gather herbs but regardless I still have to find the time to get out there and track down a dozen different plants you don't even know the names of! If I get even one more patient with my stores in this state, I'll..." she faltered, her fury leaving her in an instant. "I might not be able to save them."
Featherstar stared at her with a look of either horror or intrigue, and Mothripple braced herself for the worst. She had just defied her leader, very loudly so, and surely half the Clan would have heard her tirade. Mothripple already felt horrible about it. She shouldn't have lost her temper.
"Sorry," she mumbled.
"No, I'm the one that should be sorry," Featherstar mewed quietly, her gaze fixed on her paws. "It's at times like these that I am reminded of how young you are."
"Young?" Mothripple meowed, confused. "Featherstar, I'm two winters old."
The grey she-cat laughed. "To think that is old is the height of innocence, Mothripple. You still have many winters to come, and much more to see and experience from the world."
She tried for a moment to think about her future and what was to come, but all she could manage to focus on were the worries of the present. Mothripple turned back to Featherstar, just as confused as before.
"I shouldn't expect any cat, especially a young one such as you, to handle such a workload. You're right. The Clan has grown too big for what you can handle. It's the root of all our problems; the starvation, the overcrowding. I feel bad for not seeing it sooner," Featherstar explained, putting Mothripple's nerves at ease. Slightly, at least. "You aren't Miststripe. Not to insult you, but she seemed to get her talents straight from the glory of StarClan."
Mothripple nodded, remembering her old mentor. The dark tabby she-cat had been an amazing teacher, and an extremely skilled medicine cat. She could only aspire to be as good of a healer as the old she-cat had been. "So... do you think I could have an apprentice, then?"
Featherstar took a long breath before replying. "I think so. I'll have to check on the nurseries to see which kits are ready to be apprenticed, and if any are interested in training with you."
Mothripple felt a little queasy at the thought of a tiny kit bounding around her den, scattering herbs across the ground and undoing all her careful sorting. Then she remembered that she had no herbs, which did little to calm her fears. Despite this, she was glad that she would get an extra pair of paws to help her around the den, and smiled at her leader. "Thank you, Featherstar."
The silvery she-cat nodded and turned to leave, pausing for a moment to speak one last time. "You might want to work on replenishing your herb supply, by the way. It looks like Hollyfrost will be fine without you for a while, at least."
Mothripple agreed to the idea and followed Featherstar out of the den, taking a sharp left and padding through the foliage tunnel at the entrance to camp. There was a long gap between the trees, maybe a few fox-lengths long, and the generations of pawsteps traveling over it had flattened the undergrowth so that it was easy to walk on.
The medicine cat walked into the cool air of nighttime in the woods, a light breeze flowing through the trees and tickling her pale cream fur. As she walked briskly through the woods, her paws crunching the leaves that spiraled down from the trees as if they wished to escape, to grow up and leave home, she decided that marigold was the best herb to look for. It was common in early Leaf-fall, and it liked to grow in sunny spots around the edges of the forest where the canopy wasn't quite so thick.
She chose to walk to the river so she could follow it downstream. That way she could look for any herbs growing along the waterbed and she wouldn't get lost trying to find the edge of the woods. The mountains were usually easy to spot, but when trees blocked her vision she often lost her way, unable to see through the canopy towards the grassy slopes of the Hooked-Claw peaks.
Mothripple reached the river soon enough, and she paused a moment to dip her head and take a drink from the flowing stream. It felt nice to be out alone in the forest, but it was rather unsettling too. The dark of the night made it hard to discern colors and shapes from each other, and though she could, like most cats, see in the dark up to a certain point, she much preferred the safety of daytime.
For a moment she thought she spied a clump of dandelions, but as she approached the yellow flowers blooming by the side of the river, Mothripple realized they were only coltsfoot. She figured it was a good idea to take them. It was rare to find coltsfoot in full bloom that late in the year, though they were already beginning to wilt. Mothripple bit off a few flowers, carrying them by their thick stems, and continued to travel downstream.
A rustle in the foliage to her right startled the medicine cat so much she dropped one of the coltsfoot flowers and had to dip her head to pick it back up. She dropped into a crouch and crept toward the noise, which had come from a dense bush just a fox-length or two away from her.
To her surprise, Mothripple heard another noise, this time a cat's voice. She thought it sounded familiar, and her heart eased. It was just a DuskClan cat hunting later than usual.
As she turned to leave, she heard a different voice, this one entirely unfamiliar to her. It wasn't from DuskClan, that she was sure of. Mothripple moved a step closer and spied a flash of white fur through the shrubbery and tried to listen in on the cats' conversation.
"I came here just as night fell, but you weren't anywhere around. So I decided to wait," the familiar voice mewed.
The other one responded, "We went hunting."
We? Mothripple wondered in confusion. They can't be talking about the DuskClan cat and theirself, right? So who else is here?
"You hunted in DuskClan territory?" the DuskClan cat hissed, moving a step backwards. Mothripple mimicked the motion, trying to keep distance between herself and this white DuskClan cat. So the other cat wasn't in DuskClan, if the white cat was accusing them of stealing prey? Then why were they speaking with each other?
Mothripple's head swam with confusion and worry as she walked back to the river, padding downstream and passing multiple herbs that she was too distracted to notice. What was the white cat doing speaking with a rogue, or perhaps even a kittypet, and why was the rogue even on DuskClan's territory? Was some young DuskClan cat plotting with them, or were they simply friends?
She shook herself, reminded of the fact that it was none of her business. Mothripple was a medicine cat, and herbs were what she should be focusing on. There was no danger for her or the Clan in what she had seen, so it was unimportant.
Right?