Trampled Clovers, Torn Leaves [OPEN]

Aspenpaw's yowl preceded their stumbling through the gorse tunnel. It was gut wrenching and pitiful, strained, and wrapped around a gasp for air. Cloverpaw was much heavier than the medicine cat apprentice had counted on. A thin stream of crimson blood trickled down Aspenpaw's silver cheek where the haphazard wound coverings came partially undone from his patient's shoulder. He grunted and half-dumped Cloverpaw on the ground, eyes wild. And poor Cloverpaw! His pelt was splattered in dirt and dry blood, and gashes in his shoulders, chest, and cheeks didn't help the tom's appearance. His tail bent at odd angles and his breath was uneven. He was only half conscious, and getting worse. They had come home just in time, hadn't they?

"FINCHSTAR!" he howled, "Get him, and hurry!" His tail lashed violently, but his paws were practically buried in thick mud, unable to move from his place protecting Cloverpaw's body. "I need poppy seeds, now! He cannot fall asleep! Please!" Aspenpaw caught Graybriar's eyes and felt as though he had been tackled by a dog himself. He tore his eyes away, unable to look and face the pain of a mother. He licked the scruff of Cloverpaw's neck the wrong direction to stir him and began to take a closer look at the mangled form to avoid looking anyone in the eye. What a disaster, what a disaster...

She had been resting, enjoying the sunlight shining on her sandy gold pelt. She had always wondered what it would be like, to chase the sun and it's rays to the edges of the horizon, but for now she was content to stay put. Surrounded by her loved ones, including her mentor, even if their relationship has been more strained recently, she felt happy. At home, where the breeze blew across the moor, carrying the cats that slept under it's stars and among it's grasses with it on light, fleet paws. A contented sigh escaped her as she nestled further into the sand of the camp, ready to enjoy a quick nap before she was to start the next duty on her list.

Little did she know her life was going to be flipped upside down in mere moments.

The first thing she noticed was the odd quiet. It was too quiet. Almost as if the wind itself was holding it's breath, too scared to disturb the air. Next was the thick, hair-raising stench of blood. Her ears perked, the scent of something so metallic made her raise her head, casting a worried gaze around camp as she shifted in her resting spot nervously. It seemed like some others had also noticed it, but they seemed to quickly dismiss it for those eating prey in their groups. Trying to convince herself of the same idea, she settled back down, but seemed unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Her eyes kept finding the entrance to the camp, not entirely sure of what she was expecting, only that something was about to happen.

The answer came all too soon, as she heard the yowling of her medicine cat. Jumping to her paws, she watched and listened, completely awake now, as Aspenpaw entered the camp stumbling with another figure on his back. The fur along her back prickled with unease, where was Cloverpaw? She could have sworn that she had heard he was going with Aspenpaw today.... As the medicine cat apprentice grunted and the cat on his back fell to the ground, she couldn't stop the thing wail of panic that rose in her throat as she recognized with a sudden jolt the fur of her beloved brother. She stared at the broken tail, bent in so many unnatural ways, and the blood and mud that caked her dear brother's pelt. No, this was just some horrible nightmare. She must have fallen asleep, and this was punishment sent by StarClan because she slept too long.

If only.

Her eyes opened again only for the scene to have stayed the same, and she turned her blank blue gaze to Aspenpaw as he called for poppy seeds. Turning without thinking, she sprinted towards where he stored his herbs, reaching in a paw and feeling around for the pod that held them. It was easy to distinguish, but she had to find out first. She hissed as she felt a different herb, a leaf of sorts, brush against her paw and fall, bit finally she withdrew and there was a poppy seed pod hung on a claw. Hurrying back over to where they remained, she thrust it towards Aspenpaw, tears in her eyes.

"How... How can I help. Cloverpaw, brother.... You can't leave me. We still have to hunt together, mousebrain...."

Cloverpaw didn't really remember the journey, but he did recall that they were journeying somewhere. He was somehow lumbering over the grasses without using his own paws, the world splotched with swirling darkness and pale lights in his vision. "Just stay awake for me," Aspenpaw had said, and the apprentice could catch those words bouncing around sometimes. The tom occasionally asked him questions or made comments, and Cloverpaw would remember he was traveling on Aspenpaw's shoulders and he'd mutter some kind of answer before half-dozing off again or helplessly fighting exhaustion.

He tried to think of ways to stay awake, but he could hardly think over the stabbing pain in his sides - he could hardly feel whatever had apparently happened to his tail through the pain in his ribs that restricted his already shallow, labored breath. He had nearly given up when suddenly the tom beneath him was yowling out in alarm; a few moments later, he felt gorse thorns scratching at his pelt, plucking a few tufts of fur out as they caught and passed by. Cloverpaw just mewled ever so softly in protest, feeling winded and too sore everywhere else to care about a few little thorns. However unpleasant that had been, it had been even worse when Aspenpaw tried to lay him on the ground.

The silver tabby apprentice, half-awake, tried to stick out a paw to catch himself only to feel a horrible pain in his side that resonated through his whole chest, and that action, combined with the exhausted Aspenpaw's hasty removal, made Cloverpaw collapsed in an awkward heap with a squeal of painful protest. The hurt that radiated through him made the world flicker in and out of focus, but through the pain he realized: he was home. He smiled a little, but it looked little more than a grimace and only lasted a moment. He was uncomfortable, and as he began trying to readjust himself his eyes flickered opened to see his sister, "Gold-d-denp-paw...?" His head began to slump further to the ground and he mumbled almost incoherently, "This is... my p-patrol with Aspenpaw..."

It had been a peaceful day, as most were. Raventail hadn’t been assigned to any patrols; his free time had gone toward idle plans for Goldenpaw’s training, half actual lessons, half ideas for what could fix the tension between them. The yowl tore him from his thoughts, and his ears swiveled toward the tunnel. Then he saw the shape staggering out. Aspenpaw and Cloverpaw, Raventail remembered they’d left on a patrol earlier—except Aspenpaw was carrying Cloverpaw, and blood and fear-scent emanated from them both. He was on his feet in an instant, heart in his throat. The cry that came from Aspenpaw, then from his apprentice, sent ice through his veins.

His eyes dropped to Cloverpaw, and he was immediately, harshly reminded of the RiverClanner who’d died on the shore. A broken body, bloodied fur. From somewhere far away, Goldenpaw sprinted to the medicine den, almost certainly to retrieve the poppy seeds Aspenpaw had requested. He wanted to wait, to comfort her, but nothing he could say would be as comforting as having her brother alive. The only thing he could do was play the messenger. Mouth set in a firm frown, the dark warrior nodded, spun on his heels, and raced away from the group as fast as his paws could carry him.

Soon, his gaze landed on the ginger-and-white pelt of his friend; Raventail ran toward him, vaguely aware that he might be interrupting something, not caring in the slightest, and stopped so abruptly he kicked up sand. That, too, didn’t matter. ”Finchstar—Cloverpaw!” There was no way to describe what he'd seen. Raventail had no medical knowledge; all he knew was that so much blood from one cat never meant well. And Cloverpaw’s tail… Stars, what had they run into? ”His patrol—something happened,” he panted, flicking his tail toward the camp’s entrance. "He needs you." Finchstar needed to be there, with Barleytuft, Graybriar, Mistypaw— Though Raventail trusted Aspenpaw as much as any other medicine cat, he didn't know how much time they had.

Mintwhisker sat bolt upright, her murky green eyes wide as cries of alarm reached her large ears. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Apon scurrying out of the den that she and Aspenpaw shared, she saw the disaster in full: a young apprentice, barely out of the nursery, was lying stiff on the ground. His tabby fur was soaked with blood that was gushing sluggishly from several open wounds. Aspenpaw was nearby, desperately calling for help.

The young she-cat could guess what had happened. Earlier today, Aspenpaw had taken an apprentice named Cloverpaw out into the territory while he gathered herbs. Mintwhisker had been against the idea at first. For one, Cloverpaw didn't know the first thing about dealing with a seizure, and if something happened, she doubted that he'd have enough sense to not abandon Aspenpaw somewhere in Windclan territory and run back to get help. Secondly, and more importantly, he was far too young to face any sort of predator, and any attempt would surely be the death of him.
Still, she knew that once Aspenpaw earned his medicine cat name, she would return to the forest and he would be left alone to care for himself. He'd have to learn how to prepare for his seizures sometime.
She let him go.

And look at what had happened. The apprentice, if it even was Cloverpaw, was nearly unrecognizable.
The tabby she-cat's ears twitched. Poppy seeds... They would only make the small tom more fatigued. "Aspenpaw, wait!" She called, turning and hurrying back towards the herb stores. "Juniper berries, ragwort leaves- take your pick." She placed them at Aspenpaw's feet, ready to take over, when something stopped her.
At some point in time, every medicine cat found themselves alone with a gravely injured patient. They only had minutes to save the cat's life and their actions during those crucial moments could change their lives, and the lives of everyone in the forest, forever. For all they knew, Cloverpaw could be the future leader of Windclan. If he died today, the future of the forest would be greatly affected.

Mintwhisker's tattered ears twitched, and she took a small step back. How did Amberdawn become such a capable medicine cat? When she was apprentice, she was sent to tend to injured warriors and apprentices during the war, armed with nothing but a few bundles of herbs and the skills that she had learned during her apprenticehood. Mintwhisker hadn't been there to guide her, although not by choice.
The only way Aspenpaw would really, truly learn, was through experience. And he couldn't do that if Mintwhisker was there to do it for him. She knew that he had enough knowledge to treat Cloverpaw's wounds, and if something did end up going wrong, she would be right there beside him to help set things right.
"Are there any more herbs you need?" The Skyclanner mewed, her murky eyes scanning Cloverpaw's body, trying to glean from a distance just how many injuries he'd sustained. There were too many to count. Mintwhisker's tail tip twitched anxiously.

Mistypaw had been clearing out the elder’s den. She was almost done when she heard deafening,and frightened,yowls for Finchstar. She was already scared of what was going on to begin with,but her she could not anticipate the horror of what she saw next. Her brother,her twin,her best friend,lying limp on the ground. The blood on his pelt made her feel as if the ground fell beneath her feet,and she could barely stand as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Wh-What happened to my brother?!” Her heart was racing with fear as the words tumbled out of her mouth.
Why was this happening? What horrible creature could have done this?

After what seemed like seasons,Mistypaw found the strength to creep forward,standing beside her sister. She pressed her maw into Cloverpaw’s fur,overwhelmed by the scent of blood and fear. “You are going to be okay. You have to be okay.” With how hard things were for Mistypaw,she could only imagine how her parents must feel.

Blood. The scent was strong and fresh. Grousefrost could smell it on the breeze as he neared the camp. A rabbit dropped outside of the entrance to the little dip of camp as he bounded forwards to where the scent was coming from. Spotting Cloverpaw and Aspenpaw immediately and padding forward to sniff at them both.

The foul stench of dog beneath the blood made his pelt prickle. The deep wounds looked like vicious bites and he padded towards Aspenpaw immediately.
“Where?” He demanded, without so much as a glance towards the already gathered crowd. His ears were pinned back, blue gaze filled with determination. There was nothing he could do for Cloverpaw that wasn’t already being done, and sitting around moaning and crying the apprentice’s name would solve nothing.

He might as well make sure the beast is gone. The clan wasn’t safe with a dog running loose on the moors, and every second he waited for an answer made his pelt bristle slightly more. His mind racing through the tunnel paths he had been memorising since the journey. They were surprisingly efficient, no dog would get him there, but he could safely ensure it was well and truly gone.

Apprenticeless for the day, Finchstar took the time to chat with his other clanmates, finding himself at a loss for a conversation. Aspenpaw had taken Cloverpaw out for some adventure, and the leader found himself smiling at the thought. The medicine cat had been Finchstar's good friend ever since he was made teacher to him long ago. And while Aspenpaw had outgrown both his mentorship and his duty as a warrior, they still stayed close. He wondered if Cloverpaw would find his sarcastic comments and witty snags as enjoyable as Finchstar did. His two apprentices, journeying together. It was almost poetic.

But now alone with himself, Finchstar took the time to share a rabbit with a fellow clanmate in the sandy hollow, chatting lightly about the preyflow and weather. Fluttery little things. But as wispy as their conversation was, it was soon whisked away as Raventail bounded into the clearing, panic plastered onto his face. Sand kicked up around where the black tom slid to the leader's side, and Finchstar found himself standing before the warrior could even utter his first word. When he did though, they were few in number but heavy in meaning. Cloverpaw. Finchstar gave Raventail a horrified stare, and then sprinted away, not caring to waste time talking. He needed to see what had happened for himself. He needed to see whether his apprentice was okay.

The smell of blood came first, before the leader could even run close enough to the clearing to see the sight. The crimson trail laid in streaks across the sand, telling a story of a cat, dragged into the grass. Pawprints sat next to the red road, most likely Aspenpaw's, and Finchstar felt the full wave of shock then. Stars, what had happened? His ears were ringing now, and cotton filled his brain. Everything was a haze as the leader shouldered his way through the crowd. Faces, so many faces. Grousefrost angry, Mistypaw terrified. Mintwhisker regretful, and Goldenpaw broken. The tears in their eyes emerged in Finchstar's as well as his maw sat open as if he was trying to speak. But no words came, only a hoarse whisper at the sight of his apprentice. Cloverpaw was sprawled across the grass, silver pelt soaked in red. His chest was lumpy and misshapen, and large gashes flanked his pelt and cheek. And his tail, oh his tail. It was as crooked as a gorse bush, and Finchstar's heart broke in two. "Cloverpaw..." He rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You're alright, 'paw. You'll be taken care of..." The leader lowered himself to the ground to be able to meet eyes with his apprentice. The fur around Cloverpaw's was drenched in crimson, and the leader swallowed a sob as he gazed upon him. What had happened to this poor cat? Barely even more than a kit, and already bleeding out? Finchstar dug his claws into the ground and lashed his tail, growling to himself softly. Frustration, fear. But he was alive. They had beaten fate this time, and hope was on the horizon. Aspenpaw's actions made sure of that. And whatever had attacked the two hadn't managed to strike its final blow. "Aspenpaw, friend. You possess all the grace and wonder in this forest, and I applaud you for your actions. Please, heal Cloverpaw. Whatever herbs you need, whatever assistance, I will scour the whole moor to find it. Tell me, what happened out there?"

As clanmates crowded around, Aspenpaw began to hear a thumping in his ears like nothing else. Guilt, hot as coals, burned through his pelt and stirred his chest. All he saw were the faces of anguish, the faces of everyone he had let down. It was his fault. It was. He should have been paying attention, he shouldn’t have put an apprentice in harms way, and he should have known better. He was comfortable. He felt safe. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. The curse of his affliction followed him, he was dead weight. The questions, the cries, the crowding, it consumed him. He shut down. Shut his eyes, his mouth, tight against the world. Why did all the pressure suddenly have to be his? He wanted to share it, to put it on somebody else. It would be easier to blame Cloverpaw and tell the entire clan that he was insistent on trying a spot near the twoleg path.

But it wouldn’t be right. Finchstar’s gentle words found his ears. He met his eyes. Somebody who understood, thrust into the duty too young, having lost too much. They were equals, now. Somehow. He was sucked back to reality, which was no less stressful.

“Listen,” he said finally, “Everybody needs to take two steps back. Let me fix this, and I’ll answer all of your questions. Mintwhisker…” He looked down at Cloverpaw, who still moved in and out of consciousness. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. Juniper berries. His ribs are broken, can we do anything? All his other injuries are external, which means… Comfrey, goldenrod, horsetail. Catchweed to hold it, cobwebs to cover. Okay. Everything’s great. It’s cool. It’s fine.” As he received the herbs and began chewing the poultice, he looked towards his mentor. She wasn't helping him. Good. He didn't need another set of paws in the way. He just needed to think.

“He’s stable. Will you get him to eat the berries please?” He gently pressed the concoction onto Cloverpaw’s flesh in various places. He felt a trickle as Cloverpaw’s blood dripped across his nose from carrying the apprentice in. “This blood isn’t mine, but that little trickle is about the last of it. I stopped most of the bleeding at the scene.” Oh. The scene. He had some explaining left to do.

Aspenpaw tried not to look up. “This entire thing… it was my fault. We were too close to the twoleg walking path. It’s Greenleaf, I should’ve known better. Some stupid… d-dog…” The silver tom paused. Frozen. He couldn’t help but see the jaws snapping at him again. Disgusting breath. Blood. “Sorry. It was a twoleg’s pet. It took the dog away with it, the mutt’s not coming back. Back to Twolegplace. If Cloverpaw hadn’t been there, it would have killed me. He saved my life, and he shouldn’t have had to.” His handiwork was a lot cleaner when he wasn’t limited to the two herbs he had on paw. He almost smiled at it, but he merely looked up at Mintwhisker. “Did I miss anything? His tail is going to need a splint, but I don’t even know if it’s worth it.”

As more and more cats gathered around, Goldenpaw brushed against the pelt of her sister Mistypaw, taking comfort in the familiar touch of her pelt. Mintwhisker and Finchstar arrived, and Goldenpaw had never felt so useless, so helpless. Her brother was battered, broken and bleeding, and she could do nothing to help. She turned to stare blankly at Cloverpaw as he requested everyone step back, about to snap back at home before swallowing hard and taking a deep, steadying breath. She moved to stand next to Grousefrost, looking up at the tom with a quiet, grim determination as she listened to Aspenpaw's tale. Grief and anger filled her gaze as she turned to look at Cloverpaw once more. This shouldn't have happened... And someone should check that the dog was truly gone. Besides, she wasn't able to help here anyway.

Looking back up to Grousefrost, she mewed quietly. "Take me with you. If that dog is still out there for whatever reason, or if there's more, you'll need help. Besides, it'll be more efficient that way, and I can't do anything here regardless." She looked at him stubbornly, regardless of his answer, the she-cat would follow him.

Vinekit had peeked out of the nursery, curious about the coppery tang that filled the air and made her nose wrinkle in disgust. Cats of all ages seemed to crowd around Cloverpaw, an apprentice who she had only seen in passing. What was strange was that he had... red stuff, coming out of him. It seemed to stain the air around it, making the surrounding group buzz like an angry hive of bees. The clearing seemed full of a nervous, fearful energy, and Vinekit found herself getting swept up in it.

Vinekit padded up to Grousefrost, wondering why he had such a stony expression on his face. "Daddy, why is Cloverpaw sleeping?" It didn't look very restful, and the hard ground hardly seemed like a comfortable space. His face seemed to be twisting into a pawful of different, strange expressions, and his chest heaved with every passing breath.

She leaned in closer. "Cloverpaw," Her mew shook slightly. "Why are you sleeping?"

Mistypaw looked at Vinekit. The kit was so innocent,she couldn’t help but smile a little,despite what was happening. “Cloverpaw is very tired,sweetie. He just came back from a patrol with Aspenpaw to help gather herbs,so now he is taking a nap.” She didn’t have the heart to be honest,that would just scare Vinekit. She would understand when she was older,but for now she let the kit maintain her innocent ignorance. She padded over to her mentor. “If there is something I can do to help,let me. I want that thing to die for what it did to my brother.” The she cat hissed under her breath. She had never felt such pure rage before,but now it bubbles over like a waterfall over a cliff.

Despite the situation, Mintwhisker found herself struggling to conceal the beginnings of a proud smile. Although he seemed overwhelmed at first, his disposition suddenly shifted, and Mintwhisker found herself half-running back to the herb stores with a list of berries and leaves to gather. It was like a light had suddenly brightened in Aspenpaw's mind, like the moment the Moonstone began to shine. The clouds had shifted.
She dropped the herb bundles at his paws. "There's no splint that can be used for broken ribs that I know of. A comfrey poultice would help speed the healing process, though." Her voice was suddenly brisk and businesslike. There was no room for emotions in a medicine cat's mind, especially when they were treating a patient; Mintwhisker found herself effortlessly slipping into her more efficient, purposeful persona.

"He's stable. Can you get him to eat these berries, please?"
The taupe she-cat blinked and nodded. She crouched beside Cloverpaw's head, nudging two of the frosty purple berries near his mouth. "Eat these, dear," She said, her voice changing once more, becoming softer, warmer. "They'll help the pain." She gently nudged the young apprentice's head, trying her best to hold his attention and keep him conscious. Right now, Cloverpaw was fighting both exhaustion and shock: a dangerous combination. Since the young tom wasn't getting enough blood to his internal organs, he could end up with permanent internal damage- and if he passed out, it could spell disaster, perhaps even death. Luckily, thanks to her apprentice's quick work, it seemed like Cloverpaw was beginning to come around.

All was well. Cloverpaw was in stable condition, breathing steadily, Mintwhisker listened grimly as Aspenpaw told the gathered cats what had happened. 'A dog...' No wonder Aspenpaw had been overwhelmed. "It was an unfortunate accident," Mintwhisker said gently, "and there's nobody to blame. As for Cloverpaw..." She glanced down at the little apprentice and blinked. She had forgotten just how young he was. Starclan, he was probably terrified. "He's a hero, and I'm sure he'll become a spectacular warrior." The Skyclanner mewed. "He's only what, seven moons old? And he's already saved his medicine cat's life. Finchstar, your clan's got a very promising apprentice."

At Aspenpaw's question, the tabby she-cat shook her head slowly, looking over Cloverpaw's wounds. "You've done an excellent job, Aspenpaw. As for Cloverpaw's tail... whether you put a splint on it or not is your choice, but I don't think it will help much." She began, her large, tattered ears twitching. " I'm afraid his tail is beyond saving. You could possibly straighten it a little, but the damage is already done, and I believe it will stay bent for the rest of his life." 'Besides,' Mintwhisker thought, 'he'll be stuck in the medicine den for moons. Why make him spend more time there than he has to?' She could remember what it was like to be a warrior's apprentice, watching as your friends had adventures and learned new battle moves while you did nothing but lie down all day. In a moon, Cloverpaw would be begging to leave the den.

Grousefrost was ready to leave when he saw Goldenpaw shuffle closer to him. He listened to her, eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about it. Goldenpaw was almost done her training, she’d be a worthy help, and hopefully the dog would be gone anyways.

On the other paw, he didn’t want it to be, simply so he could shred the beast and warn it off from WindClan’s territory for good. His train of thought was broken by Vinekit, heart lurching at the sight of his little one so innocent. The relief of Mistypaw stepping in was immediate as he padded the couple steps to his apprentice.

“Watch over her.” He ordered, then turned and looked at Goldenpaw with a firm nod before rushing out of the camp. A silver blur through the crowd as he ran off towards the direction the scent of blood was coming from. Where it latched onto the ground during their arduous journey back.

What Goldenpaw's response to his statement was, Cloverpaw didn't catch - he hardly remembered what he had said and slipped into a dark haze as soon as the words left his mouth. The wounded tom's restless sleep was interrupted irregularly with murky awakenings and moments of lucidity. At one point the familiar scent of his twin, Mistypaw, colored his thoughts, and his glassy eyes blinked at her a time or two as she crept forward and pressed her muzzle into his fur. He closed his eyes again; if he'd had the energy and air to do so, he would've purred. Her breath was warm, and for a moment in his daze he was a kit again, not seven moons but five, nestled besides Graybriar with his littermates on a cool greenleaf night. When Cloverpaw awakened again she had disappeared, and his eyes struggled to find something to focus on before darkness could overtake him again.

Aspenpaw's voice roused Cloverpaw again - "He's stable. Will you get him to eat the berries please?" The apprentice felt a stinging pain somewhere in his pelt and he sucked in a sharp breath in response, sending a crackle through his ribcage. He mewled in pain and flexed his claws, and sleep threatened to conquer him again. However, a less familiar shape stepped into his view: Mintwhisker, medicine cat of SkyClan - Aspenpaw's mentor. Cloverpaw squinted at her, as if trying to see her through glaring sunlight, and he heard her voice as if through a curtain of rain. Something bumped his chin and he looked to see her paw gently pushing two berries towards his mouth. "Are they tasty?" he managed to ask with a rasping voice. The she-cat explained they'd help his pain and he made the tiniest absent nod, opening his mouth to take them and chew them slowly with a vacant expression.

"Not tasty," Cloverpaw mumbled as he swallowed them at last, licking and smacking at his lips. However, a little more light had begun to appear in his eyes. Sure enough, the berries went to quick work, and though his pain did not disappear Cloverpaw could tell, without realizing he'd been in a fog, that the world was clearing up a little. He let out a faintly contented sigh, feeling some relief, but then he heard Mintwhisker's words about his tail. ". . . I  believe it will stay bent the rest of his life," the tabby said gravely, and Cloverpaw couldn't resist but trying to lift his head despite the screaming protest in his muscles and ribs. He grunted from the pain and effort and rested his head back down without seeing it. "My tail is bent...? Wh-Wh-What h-happened to my t-tail?" he whimpered, and suddenly tears were springing to his eyes.

He remembered the dog. He remembered exactly what happened, but only in a red-and-black flashing haze of teeth and terror.

---

His heart was pounding in his head, thoughts racing. Barleytuft had been hunting not too far from camp practicing stalking smaller rodents when the wind had shifted and brought the scent of blood with it - mingled with a scent that made his heart feel as though it had stopped. That's one of my kits, the lean warrior thought with alarm, and immediately he had abandoned his hunt to race back to camp. His pale paws were a blur as he raced over the moor, the scent of fear and pain growing thick in the air as he drew nearer. He burst through the gorse tunnel to see the clearing crowded with the chaos of his Clanmates, all gathered around what looked to be the medicine cats Aspenpaw and Mintwhisker. His fear increased with every step, but he did not slow as he approached.

His daughter's voice was the first he heard, and Barleytuft tuned into her voice as Goldenpaw spoke gravely and urgently to Grousefrost, her blue eyes glinting with a challenge. "... dog is still out there for whatever reason, or if there's more, you'll need help," she was explaining softly. Barleytuft's stomach knotted at the horrific word: Dog. He drew near enough to see that his eldest daughter, Mistypaw, was sitting nearby with Vinekit, a look of anger and deep concern on her face while she tried to distract the kit from the scene. My sons, Barleytuft thought in fear, now that he had seen his girls safe. Where are my sons? The slender tom moved to see around where Aspenpaw and Mintwhisker were crouched, working swiftly and thoughtfully. Barleytuft's eyes landed on a familiar silver tabby coat with dark, distinct markings.

"Cloverpaw!" Barleytuft gasped upon recognizing the pelt of his eldest son, and he immediately raced to stand just over the shoulders of the focused medicine cats. "Oh, stars, how did a dog get to him?" he breathed, and his eyes simply stared at his son's tail, bent and torn. They had been fairly well-cleaned and had many herbs applied by now, but the wound was still clearly grisly. As he stared, suddenly he remembered what he had heard Goldenpaw saying to Grousefrost. With a jolt of alarm he whipped around, searching the camp for her, but she and the warrior were nowhere in sight. "StarClan, keep her safe," he whispered with a helpless look to the sky, and then he looked back with stricken eyes at the medicine cats. "Is there anything I can do? M-My son..."