Awakening. (Open)

(OOC: For time reference, this is 5 days after the camp battle)

A pelt of grey and white lay across the floor of the medicine den. Moss had been used to cushion the body that remained unmoving except for the soft puffs of breath that stirred a nearby cobweb. The scent of blood, faded beneath the strong scent of herbs. Outside the gentle glow of sunlight.

The tom groaned softly. His pale tail flicked as visions of starlight flitted through his closed gaze. It had been so long since the tunnel had fallen onto him. His muscles felt weak and tired. The rumbling of earth seemed to echo in his paws and made his pelt prickle as he slowly opened one of his blue eyes before immediately shutting it again. Too much. It felt like too much, but he opened it a tiny bit. He expected to be completely alone from the silence.

He wasn’t alone. There was a couple of other cats in the den. A fog seemed to cloud his vision as he saw the heavily blurred shapes of cats.
“Go...n..g...le” Fire seared up his throat as he tried to speak. He coughed violently, as his throat protested the use of speaking. His paws floundered as he tried in vain to get to his paws. If he could get closer, maybe he could see who was there… why were they being so quiet? Surely they would have made some noise… he groaned painfully as he sank back down into the nest. Aspenheart… the medicine cat would know.

Some things had gotten better. Goldengale was in Aspenheart's care, and thankfully Briarthorn had been there for Aspenheart when the medicine cat needed his own care. Finchstar was recovering from his battle in captivity. The apprentices were holding to each other and their loved ones, and their perseverance lended strength to WindClan. For Barleytuft one harsh, persistently bitter truth remained at the front of his mind: the star-forgotten fox-cat had fled the moors. The Clan was too shaken to risk any kind of patrol in her pursuit, and it seemed that perhaps she had finally fled the forest for good. The nights that had followed were no more peaceful for Barleytuft despite the things that had improved. That... nightmare was still out there.

His night had been restless, but he couldn't really be grateful for the dawn either. He was exhausted and on edge. When an odd, choking voice rapped from somewhere nearby, Barleytuft sat upright immediately, any thoughts of sleep abandoned in the slowly brightening light of dawn. His dark hazel eyes landed on a sight that surprised him and overwhelmed him with the gratitude he'd been lacking. "Grousefrost? Oh, my stars, you're awake!" the senior warrior said in a low but clear voice, relief clear in his tone. "I'll go get Aspenheart, take it easy, alright?"

The medicine cat was not far away, and Barleytuft gently nudged the tom with a paw. "Aspenheart - Grouse is awake, he needs you," he rumbled. "I'm going to fetch everyone some water; I'll be back in a bit. Steady paws, brother." Barleytuft glanced around the camp, his eyes landing briefly on his loved ones, before he headed off for moss and water. He felt on edge being alone, but water was necessary.

Aspenheart snorted as he was prodded, turning over and stretching out his trembling paws. He took a moment to yawn and decipher whatever moon-speak Barleytuft was yammering about before frowning. "There is no possible way," he grumbled as he wobbled over, "That he is awake. He's probably talking in his sleep again. You're gonna drop dead if you keep getting yourself worked up every time the poor tom..."

He stopped, watching as Grousefrost stirred and trembled, both aware and unaware as he waded through the fog. "Twitches." Aspenheart kneeled down, coming close to Grousefrost's face and peering around in the tom's eyes. "Quit moving," he whispered, lifting a paw to press his patient's head back against the soft moss. The lack of a reaction until after he was touched was... concerning. Aspenheart's brow furrowed as he tried to think of an explanation that didn't involve the blatant obvious.

Scooting up onto his haunches, he swivelled his head to his brother as he returned with moss. "He's not out of the woods yet," he explained cautiously. "If Crowpaw and Goldengale come in, prepare them. I'm not entirely sure he can see us or hear us. He looks like he's still in that tunnel, peering around in the dark."

For what felt like moons, but was really only not even a quarter moon, Goldengale had been forced to remain in Aspenheart's care. Even after her paws came back to life, or so she imagined it being, for how else could she explain it, between Aspenheart and Barleytuft she was forced to remain.... Much to her disappointment. That was, until she found out that Grousefrost had been found, and not dead as she had feared. His state was not a good one, and he could very well have been dead, if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. With that knowledge, she had remained at his side day and night, rarely leaving for anything, even the few things she was allowed to do.

It just so happened that morning that she had to go to the Dirtplace. Hearing a commotion, she trotted back as quickly as she could without risking getting scolded, and froze as she saw her two loved ones surrounding her mate. Terror and fear gripped her belly and she gasped involuntarily, fearing the worst.... But then there was movement. Aspenheart's voice cut through the ringing noise in her ears, the pulsing of blood coursing through her veins at the very idea that Grousefrost was okay, and she stepped forward. "Prepare us how? What do you mean? Is he really waking up?" Moving closer, she lowered herself at the tom's side, gazing down at him as tears began to fill her eyes. Slowly, she lowered her muzzle to his ear, and breathed to him. "I'm right here, love. Don't move, all is well."

Turning to begin carefully grooming her mate's ears and head with long, slow strokes of her tongue, she waited, and listened, for anything.

The fog persisted, even as the blurred shapes grew closer. Grousefrost’s ears twitched as he tried to focus on sounds, but all that remained was a complete silence. He blinked his fogged eyes slowly, before he rasped out a harsh breath. He was asleep, he had to be. It was the only thing that made sense. A dark blur moved particularly close, and he cringed as his face was touched, but didn’t make a further movement.

Colour flashed in his vision. Gold. He knew that colour. He slept by it in the warrior’s den… the scent that flooded his muzzle brought forward a rusted and gutteral purr as he felt her tongue lap over his ears. His throat seized within a moment, forced him to cough as his dry throat reminded him not to purr as much as he wanted to.

Why wasn’t she saying anything though? That didn’t make sense… he blinked, trying to find the gold blur, then rubbed his head against her. The warmth of her scent and pelt was soothing.
“Str...cln?” He forced out the question. The thought filled him with dread. Was she in starclan? Had something gone so terribly wrong? The idea was appalling, she was still so young with so much to offer the clan… but more than that, she was his mate. The glowing dawn to his uncompassionate night.

The dawn brought with it more than just light. Finchstar arose from his slumber at the sound of scuffling paws and muffled frantic voices. His fur rose from instinct, claws emerging from their sheathes at the thought of another attack on camp. The leader rose quickly, easing the strain on his wounded shoulder as he half-limped, half-ran over to the source of the sound. There were no beasts. And there was no chaos. Aspenheart was hunched over the stirring frame of Grousefrost, bordered by Barleytuft and Goldengale. "Aspenheart, friend, what is it?" Finchstar whispered, a spark of hope jumpstarting his heart. Grousefrost had fell into a coma while Finchstar was away. The wiry tom had leapt into the tunnel collapse and remained still ever since. The news had saddened Finchstar at his return, and often the tom would come and sit by the silver tabby as he visited Aspenheart in his den. Sometimes Grousefrost would stir. But not like this. He must be okay.

"He's awakening..." Finchstar spoke, yellow eyes wide in shock and exhilaration. "Grousefrost…" The leader whispered, sitting neatly next to Goldengale and Barleytuft as a miracle took place.

Barleytuft had paid no mind to Aspenheart's dismissive grumbling before he left, and the medicine cat would likely be grateful that he hadn't. The senior warrior's mouth was crammed with sopping moss that dripped onto his chest and down his forelegs, chilling him to the core, as he padded back into camp and towards the injured cats and their healer that he'd left. He was relieved to see that the latter had eventually come to his senses enough to get up and observe Grousefrost, who was still sluggish and sleep-like. Barleytuft arrived at Aspenheart's side and sat down the bundles of moss for the medicine cat's ease of use. His dark hazel eyes looked at the shifting and grumbling Grousefrost as Aspenheart warned him things weren't back to normal yet - there was still danger.

A familiar voice made Barleytuft wince, and he shot Aspenheart a slightly helpless look before he turned to see his daughter quickly closing the distance between them. "Goldengale, sweetheart, why are you awake so early? You should be resting," Barleytuft protested ever so gently, wishing he had had a few more moments to prepare himself for preparing his daughter for the worst. He wouldn't dream of sending her away, though; it would take StarClan themselves to pull Barleytuft from Graybriar after something like this, after all. Barleytuft gave Goldengale room to settle beside her mate, working to soothe him as patiently as she always did.

Grousefrost's reaction was almost instantaneous, as if Goldengale had awakened him - oh, how fitting, that such a golden ray of light would pierce through his deathly shadows; he broke into a ragged purr that devolved into a hoarse cough, and Barleytuft glanced at Aspenheart, uncertain what action to take. He had brought fresh moss with water... perhaps that was the best he could offer other than a fast set of paws to run errands. Grousefrost's choked question made Barleytuft wince. Not this time, my friend; not yet, he thought. Finchstar arrived as well, and Barleytuft greeted him with a long, meaningful flick of his tail. There was nothing to be said, and all to be seen.

Aspenheart sat farther from the reunion, doing his best to remain detached and impartial to the supposed miracle. His head tilted curiously as he silently pondered Grousefrost's condition. His work really was never done. The tom's confusion and constant blinking didn't mean anything good. Being crushed under a mountain's worth of ground wasn't good for one's mind. Aspenheart was a clear example just by existing, after all. After all the time Grousefrost spent unconscious, it was certainly possible that his eyes just hadn't adjusted yet.

Aspenheart hobbled to his stores with uncharacteristic silence as he mulled over the many possibilities. An early retirement was not the life for such a pillar of WindClan's reputation and strength. Celandine was in short supply. It was not an easily collected herb, in any case, and as snowfall became more and more common, there would be less and less. He hadn't exactly prepared for Grousefrost to wake up blind. He tilted the tom's head up and bit down into the herb, letting the juices trickle into the warrior's eyes. Stepping back, he discarded the chewed plant.

"As somebody well-versed in head injuries, I'd say the tunnel collapse is to blame," he explained more to Finchstar than anybody else. He didn't have the heart to look Goldengale or Barleytuft in the face. "I don't know what his prognosis is going to be. These things are pretty random, to say the least. All we can do is watch and wait for something to happen." Aspenheart gulped. It was hard to not feel guilt and horrible, gut-wrenching pity. It was a personal feeling, one of storge and agape. This was all the kin he had, after all. His chest burned with shame.

For a long moment, Grousefrost lay in silence. The warmth of Goldengale at his side as his scrambled thoughts tried to make sense of everything. Then, abruptly, he remembered the tunnel. Other cats that were with him… the rumbling, the opponent he had been fighting… Puddlepaw. The haze in his vision seemed to lighten a bit, then abruptly darken as his whiskers were brushed by a pelt that had moved closer. His head was lifted, and something was dropped into his eyes.

He pulled back abruptly. Blinked them slowly and felt liquid drip down his cheeks… before he realised the strangeness around him. The complete and utter silence. Was this all a dream? This couldn’t be StarClan, unless cats stayed blind in StarClan? He puzzled it over. It didn’t seem terribly efficient for that to be the case.

A rasping cough loosened from his throat as he tried to stand. Muscles protested the movement with aches he had never experienced before. Hints of colour entered the fog, but he still couldn’t hear anything. As if everycat around him… was a ghost.
“...Asp...art…?” He rasped slowly. He felt the odd sensation of his vocal chords not moving during part of the word. A single step made him jolt as cold flooded his paw. water. He bent down, tasting the moss soaked water with a relief he had never felt before. As though he had suffered moons without it.

He wanted to drink it all, but he stopped after a couple of swallows. He had been sick once before, and he tried to instill his self discipline by letting his stomach, which now decided to roil, settle a moment before he drank more. Maybe now, he could speak.
“Goldengale…? Aspenheart?... who’s here?” He asked, trying to step forward before his legs abruptly gave out. He grunted on the den floor, but at least he could speak. Even if he couldn’t see.

A flank brushed her, and she looked up to see Finchstar. She blinked at him once, twice, before turning to her father. "I'm always up early, you taught me that. Remember?" She mewed simply, a little confused as to why he looked so hesitant, so concerned. Grousefrost was awake, this was cause for celebration! Why did everyone seem so concerned? He was most likely disoriented, but would center himself soon. He always did. He was always so stoic, and grounded, nothing could stop him. She loved him so dearly. The guttural purr from her mate that broke off into coughs confirmed her theory to herself... Until Aspenheart spoke. Indignantly her head shot up, staring at the medicine cat. "What do you mean? He's awake, everything will be fine." 


Her mate flinched as Aspenheart deposited the herbs to his eyes, and she simply pressed her head to his shoulder. She couldn't scold Aspenheart for healing him, no matter how she wanted to hiss at him to be more gentle. Biting her tongue hard enough to taste salty blood, she started as Grousefrost started to rise. Eyes wide, she rose to her paws as well, only to shake in place as it registered that something was terribly wrong. He took a step forward, placing it squarely on the wet moss that Barleytuft had brought, but why hadn't he seen it? It wasn't like Grousefrost to miss something like that. As if he had registered what it was, he bent his head to drink, and Goldengale started to relax. Perhaps he had just missed it, in his confusion, understandably...


His next words shattered her belief that all was well. He called her name, then Aspenheart's, asking who was there despite them all being in front of him or to his side. He tried to take another step before collapsing, and Goldengale watched in almost slow motion, still in shock. She was standing right here, at his side... Why did he have to call her? Padding forward, she lowered to his side and pressed gently. "My Grousefrost, I'm right here. I'm by your side, right here, next to you. Finchstar, Barleytuft, and Aspenheart are here too. We're all right h-here." Her voice cracked on the final word, blue eyes looking over Finchstar and her beloved father to land on Aspenheart, confusion and fear and desperation shining in them. 

Barleytuft had nothing to say in response to Goldengale's comment - yes, of course she was up early, they had always been early risers together. She took after him that way. He felt a bit dumb for saying it, but truly he was just at a loss. He simply nodded as Goldengale, expectedly, settled herself resolutely into the scene. Aspenheart began to do some work on his now-awakened patient, and Barleytuft watched from his position less than a tail-length away. Grousefrost still seemed so out of it - easily startled, disoriented, half resistant. The diagnosis that the medicine cat gave was vague and could only do so much to answer the many questions the WindClan cats all had. All they could do was, as Aspenheart said, watch and wait for something to happen.

Grousefrost seemed intent to not keep them for long; the weakened warrior was determined to stand. Barleytuft immediately rose to his paws and backed up slightly to give him space, casting Aspenheart a slight look of question and alarm. Is he supposed to be up? But the silver tabby warrior wobbled towards the water - he clumsily stepped on it, but it seemed that at least recognition of water was still within Grousefrost's capabilities. Barleytuft watched him drink, feeling an undescribable feeling of relief. He was up, he was moving, he was drinking, he was...

"Goldengale…? Aspenheart?... who’s here?"

He was falling. He was unwell. Was he blind - deaf? Barleytuft watched with a sinking feeling as Goldengale quickly joined him at his side, speaking to him. The senior warrior thought his heart would crack at the sound of the pain and fear in his daughter's voice. His gaze caught hers, and for a moment they shared the look and feeling of helplessness and worry. Barleytuft licked his lips and swallowed, gathering his strength and setting his jaw and trying to replace his fear with faith - faith in Grousefrost, faith in Aspenheart and his medicinal knowledge, faith in WindClan, faith in the ancestors. His dark hazel eyes doubled their resolve and he nodded slightly at Goldengale. She was right. "We're all right here," Barleytuft echoed in confirmation. We're always here for each other.

Finchstar watched with kit-like hope in his eyes, tail still as the world seemed to unfold around him. Goldengale's undying love, Barleytuft's steadfast fatherhood, and Aspenheart's calculating knowledge. The medicine cat knew something was off, but Finchstar couldn't bring himself to meet his friend's eyes. He could not find a line between doubting Aspenheart's wisdom, and striving for Grousefrost's recovery. It seemed the two came in pairs, but his friend hadn't failed him yet.

"Grousefrost, friend, it is your clan. The sun shines for you, can you see it?" Finchstar watched with a jaded expression, moving closer to Barleytuft to wrap his tail around his friend's shoulders. "No matter your injuries..." Finchstar spoke, more quietly this time; "Our care for you is boundless." The leader found the courage to gaze into Aspenheart's blue green stare, watching with fearful interest as his friend and medicine cat broke down the situation. No matter what happened to Grousefrost, he would be loved.