Chapter 4 - Cycle 12, March of the Third Year
"I'm glad to see the racoon caravan came with an abundance of herbs, Tawnystar. It is my greatest priority to gather as many supplies as I can in these coming months. Who is to know when the first cat will fall ill… and what the illness will be characterized by."
Dunewhisker, the senior Healer of the Copperdown Pride, was a scrawny, cream white tabby with light brown tipped paws, ears and a brown dappled face. His eyes were blue. What the tom lacked in musculature, he made up for in height. He was a lanky creature, taller even than Tawnystar who was considerably taller than the average cat. He was strange and eccentric, kneading his paws often while he spoke, not frequently looking another cat in the eyes.
In this moment, however, his eyes were fixed on Tawnystar's… his expression was serious and static, yet somehow full of anxiety.
She gazed at his collection of herbs, his concoctions and substances either stored in jaws they had acquired from the racoons over the years, or in little indents in the limestone walls of the infirmary. He was incredibly organized, which always impressed Tawnystar.
"It will be of great use to us this year, it is true." Tawnystar meowed, trying to sound reassuring, sensing the peculiar tom's anxiety, feeling a great empathy towards him. "I fear the cycle just as you do, Dunewhisker, but I also know that the Copperdown Pride is full of a resilience that has always brought us out of these challenges, scarred, but stronger."
He nodded. "It is true. I act as if I weren't alive for the eleventh Sorrow." He lowered his gaze now, to his paws. "Do you remember it, Tawnystar? You were young, perhaps not even an apprentice. I was only just beginning to learn my craft, so young and eager."
Her heart lurched. Of course she remembered it. The Sorrows came in strange ways, from what she had heard in legends… sometimes in extreme losses, seasons without any living kits, premature death. Sometimes they came in the form of disaster. The tenth had been a flood that had terrorized a great region of Scowl, killing off more pride cats than one could could, murdering cats in their own nests. That had been before any of their lives, though, and was as good as ancient history to cats like Tawnystar and Dunewhisker.
The most recent Sorrow, the eleventh, came in the tenth year of the cycle. A pack of wolves invaded Scowl, not the sort that were spotted in the mountainous regions of the territories… but a pack with strange, hungry eyes and a bloodlust not characteristic of the species. Typically, wolves were indifferent unless attacked. These creatures, on the other paw, were mangy, hungry, frothing at the mouth.
"I remember." She replied. "There was so much loss. I've never seen anything like that since, the attack was brutal… I can remember it, though I was young. How they poured into our camp, tearing our pridemates apart."
Dunewhisker gulped. "The thing I remember most, of course, was how sick the survivors were. Anyone who was maimed by these creatures slowly lost their mind. They stopped eating, grew aggressive, some ran away and were never seen again, others began to attack our own… they were all either cared for until death, or, if they were aggressive enough to present a great amount of danger for us, they had to be killed."
"You cared for so many cats knowing they'd never live." She stated. "This will be different. No matter how much this sickness ravages our Pride, there will be survivors. The kits are the greatest concern, and you and Loonclaw alike are so careful and patient. Dunewhisker, I have faith in you. Your experience with the eleventh sorrow is only a small part of the vast experience you have as a healer."
He trembled. "It's traumatic, feeling as if you are responsible for something like that, the only cat who can take care of a situation and being so helpless. My mentor never fully recovered. He was an insomniac until he passed away."
Helpless. God, she knew what it was like to feel that way.
"I understand, my friend." She dipped her head. "We have to just… keep moving forward."
"You're right." He meowed softly, looking over at his herbs. "Listen, I will get to sorting all of these, I don't want to keep you much longer. Thank you for organizing things with the caravan."
"Of course." She turned to leave. "Goodnight, Dunewhisker."
As she was leaving the infirmary, the secondary Healer, Loonclaw, was passing by her.
"Oh hello, Tawnynstar, are you feeling alright? What brought you to the infirmary?"
She was a large, muscular black she-cat with silver flecks on her shoulders, back and head. She had bright green eyes and was pretty in a sort of boyish way. Her fur was a little unkempt, but not dirty, it was as if her pelt naturally stuck out at strange angles.
"Oh, nothing to worry about, I'm not sick or anything…" She managed.
"... looking for more valerian root?" She chirped, cutting the leader off. She laughed. "I'm sorry, that sounded so… accusatory. I can understand why sleeping would be hard for you these days."
Tawnystar felt a little annoyed, but attempted some patientience with the young healer. "No, no, I was just delivering some goods that the raccoons brought to Dunewhisker. You should help him sort through them, there's certainly a lot." She wrinkled her nose. "And my sleep patterns aren't for you to worry about, Loonclaw. I appreciate the concern though. If it begins to affect my health I will let you know."
Loonclaw flattened her ears. "I'm sorry, Tawnystar, I didn't mean to…"
"It's okay." She meowed curtly. "I must get back to the Leader's quarters to speak to my Second Claw."
Loonclaw flicked her tail, seemingly concerned about offending the leader. Truthfully, she didn't offend Tawnystar much, she was just so exhausted, so lacking in social charisma it was hard to tolerate the cats apparent high spirits. She felt a rush of guilt, at her own negativity, as she made her way across camp.
She came across a slightly overgrown, cobbled area where there was a pair of young cats playing. They were scouts in training, wrestling, mewing loudly with each false, sheathed swipe. The larger of the two was Ashpaw, a marbled gray she-cat with dark blue eyes. The other was her sibling, Sleekpaw, who was a thin black Tom with a white chest patch and slightly lighter blue eyes than his sister.
They were children of the Grayspecks and another member of Copperwood, a late she-cat called Brookflame.
Hopefully your kits will be less arrogant than you, Grayspecks. She muttered in her head, remembering the cat's attitude earlier that day. She felt a rush of sorrow then, remembering the untimely passing of their mother earlier in the winter. She had been mauled by a Coyote while patrolling. How painful it must be for those young cats to be without their mother.
She gulped, continuing across the settlement. She saw her pride mates eating an evening meal, biting into birds and rabbits and squirrels, or chatting outside of their sleeping quarters. She was filled with love for all of them, but a plethora of worries as well. At that, she was at the entrance of her quarters, the doorway blocked by a hempen curtain. She pushed her way in. The quarters were split in two, the larger, more exuberant side was for the leader, and the other slightly smaller hollow was for the Second Claw. Tornfeather was awake in her nest, Tawnystar could see through a thin veil of dried grass. She stood up upon seeing the leader, moving towards the entrance of her den and parting the hanging tendrils of grass.
"Tawnystar, my leader, I hope you are well." She murmured, her eyes tired slits.
The leader nodded graciously. "I'm fine, thank you, Tornfeather."
She couldn't help but stare at the second claw, for a few moments, before catching herself. In this dim light, she looked… different. Her tabby fur appeared almost golden, the white patches on her fur as pure as new fallen snow. Beneath her furn… a delicate, yet stocky musculature. Strong, broad shoulders, and large, attentive ears.
Tawnystar blinked. "I appreciate the work you've been doing, Tornfeather. I'd like to apologize for my lack of attention. I'm feeling rather… lost these days."
Tornfeather dipped her head. "I understand. It must be so frightening to be so far from your mate… I don't have a mate, or children but… I can't imagine. Sometimes I miss the moon when the sun comes up, knowing it will be back the next night. I can't imagine such a distance being between me and my own kin."
"It's not… fun." Meowed Tawnystar. "I miss her more than I could have ever imagined. It was so easy when she was here. I could keep watch over her. Now… god, she could be dead for all I know."
Tornfeather gulped.
Was that too grime? The leader thought.
"I'd like to believe she has taken care of herself, and with Nightwing to guide her, I can't imagine she's seen much harm." Replied Tornfeather. "Nightwing is a survivalist to say the very least. And he takes care of his own. Ridgewhisper, she's so resilient, so tough."
The air in the den was stiff and smelled like the beginning of snowmelt. Tornfeather smelled like the breeze, like a recent hunt… a rabbit maybe? She couldn't pin it. She was overwhelmed and distracted, her mind attempting to stay grounded in the moment, yet floating upwards into the strange realm of her memory.
I thought I was tough, once, before all of this.
"Nightwing should return soon." Tawnystar reassured herself. "It should be a few days, maybe more. Perhaps the weather will slow them both down a little. But we will know soon just how things have turned out."
"Yes, my friend, you will. Try to sleep some, I will organize the patrols on my own tomorrow morning if that will help."
"Oh, Tornfeather, that's generous… but will manage to get up. I'm sure." She meowed. "To be honest, I'll probably already be awake."
"Right. I don't mean to coddle you, Tawnystar. I just…" She breathed quickly. "I just care. And I worry."
"Don't worry."
Strangely, Tornfeather drew closer to her, whiskers twitching playfully yet… her blue eyes alive with worry. She gazed across the leader's body, from her eyes, to her ears, then downwards, at her chest, her legs, her paws, her flanks. The tip of her tail, which was curled flat on the ground.
Shaking her head, the Second Claw ran her tail along Tawnystar's side, and the leader shivered.
"You're getting thin, Tawnystar."
"I'm stressed. It will pass."
Tornfeather blinked again, and looked at her paws. There was nothing else to say. "I should be getting to bed as well. I will see you tomorrow." She turned, glancing back once before disappearing into her den.
Tawnystar gulped. Something deep inside of her wanted her to ask Tornfeather to stay awake, to keep talking to her, to share even some irrelevant conversation just to distract her from how badly she missed Ridgewhisper. Even more than that, something animalistic inside of her, more rabid than a cat, something more like a dog or a bear… wanted her to run her tail once more over her pelt, to make her shiver… or was it less to be touched by Tornfeather, than to simply feel the touch of another she-cat… a sensation she missed so badly.
Come back. She thought desperately to herself, knowing it was a plea both for her pregnant mate… and the cat who was just three tail lengths away from her, curling up alone in the Second Claw's nest, the nest where Tawnystar and Ridgewhisper had slept together for months and months.
Do you grow lonely, Tornfeather? With no mate? So tied up in your duties… your devotion. Does your heart long for the pelt of another… as mine does?
She scolded herself. How could she let the thoughts of another cat infiltrate her mind so quickly after her mate had left. Was it a coping mechanism? Or was she disloyal? Were these just playful, fleeting thoughts, or did they mean something more?
Truthfully, it had not been the first time she had thought about Tornfeather this way, though it had been a very long time. They were apprentices together and were quite close at a time. That being said… she'd never felt so inclined to act on the fluttering feeling the admirable she-cat gave her in her chest.
Stop this. She scolded herself, and was so overcome with guilt and confusion so trailed straight to her bed and curled her tail over her paws, attempting to sleep, once more.