Bloody Trails [O]

Despite the recent turn of the seasons to newleaf, there was a lingering leaf-bare chill in the air around RiverClan’s camp. A cold breeze ruffled Perchfall’s fur as she sat up, moving from the wall of the warriors’ den that had been blocking most of the frigid air from reaching her. It was almost time for the midday patrol to return; she had to go check in with the next cats who were scheduled to go, and make sure that enough prey had been caught. She didn’t want to go on yet another patrol today. There was too much still to be done around camp. And yet, if the amount of fresh-kill brought back to camp was subpar, they would need more paws hunting out in the forest. With an inaudible sigh, she flicked her tail and prepared herself to go find her patrol-assigned Clanmates.

However, there was a strange scent on the breeze that gave her a half-moment’s warning: something was wrong. It wasn’t just the disgusting smell of decaying fungus that she had grown somewhat accustomed to, from the Dark Forest cats that lingered with Jaystar and tended to loiter around camp—it was a more recognizable, frightening scent. Blood. Ears perking up, alert that there might be danger, Perchfall swiveled her head around to the source of the smell, only for it to barrel into her.

“Poppypaw?” she gasped, looking down to see her familiar apprentice burying her face into her side. It was normally a comforting sight. However, the sense of off-ness that had been slowly creeping into her senses was exacerbated by the realization of where the smell of blood had come from. Poppypaw was injured. A fresh, gaping wound slid from her shoulder down to her stomach, oozing red into the normally well-groomed calico pelt. At the sight of the bloody gash, Perchfall felt numb. The world around the two of them, the camp with other warriors and apprentices and Clanmates and potentially even murderous ghosts, felt blurry and strange. Wounds were from battles, from giant predators, on old and scarred warriors—not for tiny innocent apprentices. The juxtaposition of the red on white made her stomach turn. “Get Cloverheart,” she told the nearest cat, someone, anyone, she couldn’t tell who. Her eyes were only on Poppypaw.

As much as she wanted to stop, to think, to understand, to make everything slow down, that would not be possible. Poppypaw’s words sank heavily into the deputy’s ears—just on the edge of understanding, but still incomprehensible enough to warrant further information. Who was “he”? What had happened? What had the apprentice done to warrant such violent behavior… and why was this cat mad at Perchfall as well? Was it therefore her fault that Poppypaw had been hurt? She had to know. The lack of knowledge was agony. But first, she needed to calm the apprentice down.

“Hey,” Perchfall said, not letting the fear and panic that she had begun to feel creep into her voice. Instead, her tone was all slow and calm, quiet. “It’s just a deep scratch. Cloverheart can take care of it. You will be okay. I promise.” In a comforting gesture that was somewhat alien to the deputy, her thin gray and white tail swept over the younger she-cat, drawing her tired, trembling body closer. She didn’t care that the blood was staining her white chest. “What happened? Where were you? Who is this cat you are talking about? I am sorry to ask before you can rest, but I need to know before I can help. I promise to not be angry.” As if anything Poppypaw could ever do would make Perchfall angry. But still, she looked down at the calico, waiting with outward patience and inward worry to see what she would tell her.

Rushpaw was leaving the elder's den, mouthful of soiled bedding. It was the last of what needed to be cleared and he was grateful that working hard would soon be rewarded with the ending of another task. Before he could pad through the camp entrance to properly dispose of it, he noticed the commotion out of the corner of his eye. There were more than just words being exchanged. Blood welled up from a familiar pelt. Poppypaw. She looked like a messy catch, pelt welling up with scarlet droplets in several places. Immediately, he dropped what he was carrying and raced over.

Just in time, he caught the deputy's words. There wasn't even time to nod, he just instantly set out to find a medicine cat. Poking his head just through the entrance, he yowled, "Cloverheart! Ebonyhaze! We need a medicine cat for Poppypaw!" Once the message had been relayed, the red-furred apprentice rushed back to the side of his denmate and deputy. Rushpaw kept a respectful distance, not fully sure of what he could offer in this moment but determined to be there in some way. He dipped his head, eyes flickering between the pair, "Can I do anything? Can I help somehow? If only I were a medicine cat..." The words were more musing than anything as he muttered lowly, feeling quite helpless.

Perchfall forced her breathing to slow down. As she had told Poppypaw, it was fine. She would heal from the wound in no time. Mentally, it might take a little while for her to feel better, but... now was not the time to worry about that. She had to know what had happened. Thankfully, the shaky calico spoke up, albeit quietly. Accidentally crossing the border... well, she was not the first nor the last apprentice to do such a thing. Unfortunate that it had to be next to ThunderClan, who they were not on the best of terms with. When Poppypaw mentioned a gray tom, the deputy's eyes narrowed. That description certainly sounded familiar. She caught the hesitance in the apprentice's voice, and made a note of it, but did not interrupt her. Instead, she drew her tail tighter around Poppypaw to comfort her.

The next few sentences made a strange feeling begin to seep into Perchfall's veins. She had been frustrated and unhappy before, but... this might be the first time she had truly experienced anger. Every other time, she had been logical about things that displeased her. This was something else entirely. Attacking an apprentice with no mercy? One as kind as Poppypaw? Revenge? And yet, as the pieces began to fall into place, the strange feeling grew colder. Who in ThunderClan holds a vehement grudge against all RiverClan cats, is quick to anger, and would have reason to hate me specifically? Along with the earlier description, an image sprang to her mind. "Softpaw." Her voice was quiet, but almost a growl. The tom who earlier tried to steal prey from RiverClan, crossed the border, and got away only because she let him go-- he had tried to kill Poppypaw over such a small mistake?!

The deputy wanted to stand up right now, wanted to leave, wanted to run claws unsheathed into ThunderClan-- and for one blood-red moment, she almost did. But the quiet whimpers of Poppypaw stopped her in her tracks. First, she had things to take care of. And then she would go to ThunderClan... but she would not run in claws unsheathed. She would walk, dignified, and talk to Stoatstar about this. Softpaw-- likely a warrior now-- he couldn't get away with this. Surely the leader would see reason. First, however.... "Poppypaw," Perchfall said, her tone firm. "It's okay. The tom who fought you... I know him. He is a scoundrel who has no respect for the borders himself. As a matter of fact, he once tried to steal prey from RiverClan. I caught him and did not attack him, but let him go back with his father, the leader. To learn that he would be so fox-hearted as to turn that around and try to kill you..." The icy-cold rage began to build up in her again. Yet it did not show on her face. She was calm. "No, Poppypaw, it was not your fault. The warrior code says that an honorable cat does not kill. He is no honorable cat." Her tail squeezed tighter for a moment, offering what little comfort she could. In an unfamiliar gesture, almost instinctual, she pressed her nose to the top of the calico's head. After almost losing her apprentice to the waves, and then almost losing her to a battle.... Once she returned, she would not let Poppypaw out of her sight. She would not fail a third time.

Then, she stood up. "I'm sorry, Poppypaw, but I have to talk to them about this. There is no way that he can get away with such-- such unwarriorlike behavior. Stoatstar must see reason." Glancing to the side, she saw that Rushpaw had been the one to grab the medicine cats. He expressed a desire to help... Good. A friend would be of great help to Poppypaw in her current state, as much as Perchfall knew she might prefer her to stay. "Rushpaw, look after Poppypaw for a little while. Make sure Cloverheart takes care of her. I will be back soon." She hesitated for a moment. Should I... Jaystar?... No. That traitor has no part in this. He will hardly fault me for taking matters into my own paws; he always does the same himself. With that decided, she glanced down at the pair of apprentices. "If anyone needs me, I will be going to ThunderClan territory. It should be a short trip. If I am not back by sundown, then send Ashflight or Egretstorm after me." This was foolish of her. She should stay, or wait, or something. But she couldn't. Her paws itched to run all the way to Softpaw and take his scruff in her jaws and shake him like an unruly kit. This would be solved, one way or the other. With those final words, and another nod to Poppypaw-- "I will be right back, I promise--" Perchfall was gone.

At the sounds of commotion and the scent of blood— Hollyleaf immediately stopped what she was doing, eyes fearful for what might've happened. Rushpaw and Perchfall rushed to the scene, the molly following close behind as she then spotted Poppypaw. Injured. Yet, if that wasn't awful enough already; mixed with Poppypaw's scent, there was someone else's scent so unforgettable— and so horrifically fox-hearted, that she couldn't ever forget. Softpaw. Her ears pinned back, teeth gritting as Perchfall spoke the name of the cat. "So it wasn't just Beaverpaw that he was aiming for, but any of us that crosses him, too." Her voice lowered, making sure Perchfall's voice could still be heard clearer than her own. Beaverpaw.. Poppypaw, myself, and even as far as Perchfall. What was he thinking?

She wanted to ask more of what had happened, as she'd only heard halfway through the story. However— the idea of Perchfall crossing into ThunderClan's territory made her fur bristle. She was a deputy, yes— though Hollyleaf could only watch in vain as the she-cat made her final decision. "I can help look after Poppypaw, if that's fine with you both," She'd mew, glancing between the two mentioned cats, before nodding silently again. Rushpaw had already called for Cloverheart and Ebonyhaze, they should be able to head here fast enough.

Goodluck, Perchfall. That was all she could think of as the deputy set off, quickly darting outside the camp.

Cloverheart had been slow to respond to her summons. Rushpaw's words had echoed around her, not quite reaching her ears until long after the russet tom had disappeared from the mouth of her den. The medicine cat lingered, swaying slightly back and forth as she put the words in order in her mind. Eventually, something clicked for her, and she pushed herself to stand, drifting towards the wall of herbs. I don't need to bring everything with me, she thought as she nosed through everything. Settling on the bare minimum, she coated a paw in cobwebs and hobbled her way out of the den.

Perchfall disappeared out of sight at the same time the medicine cat made her appearance. Odd, she noted, the ridge of her brow lowering. Was this so bad that the deputy needed to be involved, or was she just separating herself from the situation? Pale green eyes flicked this way and that, looking over the scene; Rushpaw and Hollyleaf were both there, hovering near Poppypaw. And poor Poppypaw, too– her whole frame trembling, fur muddied with blood and her own tears. With a soft sigh, Cloverheart hopped over to the group, wobbling slightly as she went (and feeling very grateful that they hadn't been on the other side of the territory). Gently brushing past the little apprentice's guards, Cloverheart touched her nose gingerly to Poppypaw's shoulder, careful not to touch the wound. Still, she came away with a spot of blood sticking stubbornly to her cheek. "It's going to be okay, Poppypaw. I won't make you regale your whole story to me out here," the small she-cat mewed softly as she settled down onto her haunches. Paw still suspended, she stretched forward to gently nip loose the cobwebs, catching them in her teeth before they could slip off to the earth. "Stay still. The pressure might hurt." Despite being slightly muffled, her voice was strictly professional as she gingerly stretched the cobwebs over the deepest parts of the wound. "Pressure," she warned before reaching out a paw to press them more firmly into place. "These will keep you from bleeding out too much, alright? They won't stay on long. I'll change them and set you up with something more firm in my den, but try not to shake them off before we get there." Turning to address the other cats present, Cloverheart offered them both a faint smile and went on, "Thank you both for watching over her, I've got her now. You two can go. If you want to bring her some prey later, that'd be wonderful, but for now you're dismissed." With that, she rose to her paws again, hovering at Poppypaw's side to allow the apprentice a chance to lean on her. "Let's go to my den, Poppypaw. You're going to be alright, it doesn't look too bad. I'll take better care of you there, alright?"