Watching You Stand Alone, All of my Doubt Suddenly Goes Away Somehow

"Aww, man," Ferretpaw groaned, but he didn't protest being sent away like a kit. He was almost a warrior, and he didn't want to jeopardize that. Also, there was something about this entire situation that made his pelt prickle, and he had a really bad feeling. All he could think of was the lightning at his first gathering. He sighed, following along with Olivepaw, Shortpaw, and Starlingkit.

Smallpaw nodded to Finchstar once she gave her orders. He sighed as he walked away, but he couldn't tell if it was a sigh of apathy or relief. He wanted to join the group and stay with the warriors, yet he was grateful for the fact that he was being dismissed, he was already anxious enough as is, and didn't need all this drama. He headed toward the nursery, Wrapping his tail around Starlingkit to make sure he was going in the right direction.

Crowspirit flicked his tail uncertainly. He was a warrior, too, but the others were far older than him. Would he be sent away? “May I stay with you, Finchstar? I don’t know how I could be of much help, but I’d like to listen and participate.”

"I would like to hear this as well, Finchstar." Goldengale limped forward, having heard the chaos from where she had been lounging next to Grousefrost. She had weighed her options, but her morbid curiosity and the tug of responsibility had brought her to her paws, leaving her deaf mate's side with a gentle nudge and a lick on his head. As she approached, she had caught bits and pieces of the conversation, and started to piece together what had happened and why. The dark red blood welling from Aspenheart's maw was regarded with sharp blue eyes, trailing over the group of warriors, leader, and medicine cat while they waiting for Softpaw.

Moving to sit next to her brother, her eyes softened as their father coughed again, the fur at her head creasing in worry. His cough had yet to subside.... And Finchstar had admitted he had lost a life to the cough that had grasped so many of WindClan's strongest. The tinge of fear at the thought of losing her father made her shudder, but she turned her attention back to the topic at hand.

When the first accusations had shattered the relative calm of WindClan’s camp, Raventail hadn’t believed them. Aspenheart wouldn’t hurt his own apprentice unprompted, but Raventail had spent enough time under his and Softpaw’s care to be certain Softpaw wouldn’t do anything to harm him, either. Not self-defense, then. A lie? He’d recoiled internally at his own accusation—no, it couldn’t be, what reason would Downpaw have to lie? He had nothing to gain from harming one of their own, especially their resilient, sharp-tongued medicine cat. On Softpaw’s behalf, maybe? But if she’d found herself in over her head (hard to believe in itself; though she’d withdrawn lately, she’d embraced her new path so readily before), wasn’t talking to Aspenheart a better solution than this?

If it wasn’t a lie, though…it had to be the truth. And Aspenheart, with vibrant lines of blood cutting through his silver fur, revealed it to be so.

Finchstar arrived to bring order, then, smelling of something dry and bitter that couldn’t be fully masked by herbs. Raventail wished he didn’t recognize it. Finchstar and Elmskip; the greencough had taken them both. How many of their Clanmates were in the medicine den for the same reason? Barleytuft, Spotlake, Raventail himself for a time… The growing tension in his chest loosened at Finchstar’s declaration. He sided with Softpaw, with the Clan that was rather than the Clan that the stars said should be. Better they fight StarClan than each other…right? Stars, if that idea wasn’t terrifying. He glanced back toward the nursery, half-wishing he could join the younger cats there. Instead, he continued to hover at the back of the crowd like a spirit himself, for once saying nothing as his gaze shifted from his friend to Aspenheart and back again.

All around more cats had gathered and were crying out, but all Barleytuft could do staring through his feverishly watering eyes was focus on Aspenheart. The medicine cat had spoken in an almost emotionless tone in response to Downpaw, and the words he said made a cold shudder run up his spine unrelated to his illness. Cavern? Spiting StarClan? What in the stars' name is he talking about? Barleytuft thought, bewildered, and the explanation of what Aspenheart did was lost in tears and stammers for several long moments. Finchstar had appeared, his authoritative voice crying out for peace among the Clan. Barleytuft continued to stare intensely at Aspenheart, trying to ignore how heavy - so heavy - his legs felt.

The silver tom slowly turned to look at him, and when their eyes met Barleytuft felt as if his breath was squeezed out of him. Never had he seen such a look in Aspenheart's eyes. The senior warrior didn't understand it, and he didn't understand Aspenheart's answer. He heard it fine despite the pounding of his heart in his ears, but he couldn't comprehend. What Downpaw had said - that Aspenheart had attacked Softpaw, his small, gentle-hearted daughter - was... true. Barleytuft's face didn't change as he listened to the next words; StarClan had tried to send a sign, Softpaw had rejected it, and Aspenheart had, in some way, punished her for it. When the medicine cat exclaimed that they shouldn't be making a spectacle of something that happened to Softpaw without her presence, demanding that Downpaw be the one to bring her, Barleytuft was surprised to find himself bristling. He felt a... a threat in Aspenheart's voice where he had never felt one before. "I believe Downpaw's trouble will be Finchstar's decision, not yours," the senior stated in a hoarse voice, his eyes flashing. You aren't laying a paw on either of my kits.

Before he could say the last, Finchstar had intervened further, his voice immediately calling out commands - including sending Downpaw to do the task Aspenheart had required. Barleytuft's tail flicked, and he turned his head to let out a wheezing cough. He felt his legs tremble with the weight of his body, but he held himself as steadily as he could and felt his chest relax eventually. Of course Downpaw will be punished, but I certainly don't want Aspenheart to be the one responsible for it if he hurt my daughter. I want to know what he did to her. The tabby tom eventually made his way closer to the gathered cats, watching as the apprentices and kits slowly made their way to the nursery at their leader's behest. Clovertwist was immediately at his side, despite a few small protests about catching the illness himself.

"If I'm not sick yet, I won't be," Clovertwist stated to his father in almost a hiss, and that was the end of the argument as his thin silver fur pressed against the radiating heat of Barleytuft's tan pelt. There were more important things to focus about. The two toms immediately perked up when Finchstar turned to them, addressing briefly the situation regarding Softpaw. When the leader stated that it was "the past", Clovertwist's face scrunched with dismay and Barleytuft immediately perked up, eyes flashing with fire. How in StarClan's name is that the past when it's just happened? Barleytuft wanted to demand, but Finchstar's next words immediately silenced and sobered both toms:

"I died last night."

Barleytuft felt the ground shift beneath his paws, and he sank to a crouch with a look of deep concern in his eyes. He said nothing as Finchstar revealed his vision, but he took in the threat that was conveyed: outsiders - cats who weren't truly WindClan - were going to doom them all. Barleytuft had so much to say and so much to try to understand, but he could learn nothing and understand nothing until his youngest litter joined them. His paws were too tired to work the ground with the anxiety he felt.

"And I'd do it again if I had too. I don't regret a thing, except the pain you inflicted on my sister." Downpaw spat, eyes flaring. He turned to Finchstar and narrowed his eyes. So Aspenheart wouldn't be punished. "I would have thought justice would have severed the tie of blood," Downpaw said, as much respect as he could muster in his angry state. Finchstar was his leader, he deserved respect at least. "I don't own Softpaw. Why do think I know where she is? I did this on my own. She had no part in this, other than telling me the truth whilst sobbing. She's probably out in the flower fields, like she is every morning, not that you'd notice." He said, eyes flaring at Aspenheart at his last few sentences. He turned to go find his sister, and unfortunately, cobwebs too.

He'd barely finished his sentences before Softpaw appeared, gently padding into camp with cobwebs and marigold in tow. She'd found a patch of marigold on her way back, and decided to pick some. Cobwebs were wrapped under the leaves, so she grabbed them as well. She was glad she did because as she approached the reek of blood and.... death filled her nostrils. She rushed in and skidded to a halt as she took in the clearing. "Oh my.." She whispered. Finchstar smelled of death. Barleytuft, her dad, was on the ground heaving. Clovertwist and Goldengale were beside him. Smallpaw, Ferretpaw, Olivepaw, and Starlingkit were being ushered into the nursery. Raventail was beside Finchstar. Crowspirit was inquiring something to Finchstar. Downpaw was walking towards her, looking surprised to see her. Aspenheart was bleeding. Woah- wait, Aspenheart was bleeding?! She yowled in yowled in alarm and rushed over to him. She immediately used her cobwebs up and glanced wildly around. "Why are you all sitting down? Get up! Go get cobwebs!" She exclaimed in confusion. When she saw Downpaw's green eyes though, she realized what had happened. "Oh, no..." She whispered, backing up, shaking her head to clear her eyes.

Softpaw didn't know who to comfort. She wanted to help Aspenheart, but she always wanted to curl up next to Downpaw and stay far away from the gray tom. Eventually, she settled on neither and padded up to her father, emotions freely flowing. She sat down next to him and buried her small cream head into his cream fur, slowly wetting his chest fur. The only movement from her was the slight shaking of her small body. Softpaw hadn't wanted it to happen like this. Downpaw padded over and sat in front of them, eyeing Aspenheart in a challenge, as if daring him to strike her again.

Ploverpuddle had a low growl rumble in his chest as soon as Aspenheart spoke up again, trying to justify what he had done. Though shortly after his expression fell and he admitted he was wrong. But it wasn't satisfying enough to the gray warrior it wasn't done in Softpaw's presence. As soon as the admission was done Ploverpuddle felt his rage grow again at the medicine cat's next words. He was about to speak up again when Finchstar appeared.

As soon as the leader made his presence known, Ploverpuddle sat down shutting his mouth. He knew the leader could handle this situation better than he could. As soon as those words reached his ears he froze. He knew Starclan was angry at them for what Finchstar had said and now Softpaw was taking his side. He didn't agree with what Finchstar had said but it didn't mean they deserved to be punished like this...

He.. Starclan doesn't like those not born in Windclan? Wouldn't that include him? He wasn't born in Windclan.. He was born in Skyclan the clan of his father but not his mother.. She returned and he chose to go with her when Brindlestar came asking.. What were they going to do??

His thoughts were interrupted by Softpaw finally making her way back to the camp. Yellow eyes looked at the apprentice as she went through a flurry of emotions before finally settling on hiding herself in her father's fur. He didn't blame her one bit. "Its okay Softpaw.. We actually need to discuss something with you." The tom said trying to keep his voice calm so he could actually reassure her that everything was okay.

Barleytuft shot a warning look towards Downpaw as his youngest son spat more threatening, defiant words back at Aspenheart and even towards Finchstar. Easy, there, he wanted to warn the tom, you're balancing on the edge of the Gorge and I can only do so much for you. It wasn't right to attack Aspenheart, yet it seemed that Downpaw had knowledge about Softpaw that she'd had never shared with her own father which justified the action to him. He tried not to let it sting, though he knew it did; why had Softpaw not confided in him as she'd done with her brother? Did she know that Barleytuft would do everything in his power to protect her and make sure her life was one of peace? Furthermore, why hadn't Downpaw told him once he had apparently discovered the truth? Didn't he know that as a senior warrior Barleytuft had sway with the Clan, even with his illness?

The senior warrior was thrown from his thoughts at the sound of pawsteps skidding to a halt. Barleytuft felt immediate relief as his dark hazel eyes fell upon the figure of his young, innocent, shocked daughter: unharmed, her face agape with shock as she took in the crowd. "Little moonlight," he breathed, sitting up ever so slightly. There were no scratches, no scars on her face on neck or ears or anywhere that Barleytuft could see; her pelt was a bit duller than usual, and her eyes still held that distant, haunted expression that he had not been able to understand. Now he worried that he did, and he feared it, but she was here. She was alive and well, and she would be able to explain. She would be able to make sense of what had happened. Even Clovertwist looked relieved at her arrival, as it meant they would have answers soon.

As expected of the little she-cat, Softpaw was shocked by an injured cat in the camp - even if the cat was the one who had admitted to harming her. Barleytuft fought the unfamiliar urge to keep guard over the interaction between the medicine cat and his daughter as her paws worked to fix the bleeding wound on Aspenheart's face. She was crying out for help when the cause of the situation seemed to dawn on her: the haunted looked seemed to overtake her pale blue eyes and fill them with clear guilt and doubt, and Barleytuft's stomach immediately dropped. It is true. Aspenheart did hurt my daughter. The gray-muzzled tom immediately sat up as Softpaw swung her head in his direction and made his way to his side. Without hesitation Barleytuft nuzzled her against him, his own eyes wetting with tears at the sight of hers. "I've got you, Softpaw; it'll be alright." He felt Downpaw looming protectively over them, and the senior warrior didn't have the words or heart to suggest he keep calm as he simply nosed Softpaw's neck reassuringly.

Ploverpuddle was first to speak up, and the gentleness in his tone was plenty to put Clovertwist into a bit more ease, but it did little for Barleytuft. The senior warrior raised his eyes warily but nodded slightly at the tom's kindly spoken, diplomatic words. "Everything's going to be okay, love," he cooed to her gently, yet a moment later he felt his lungs tighten and begrudgingly the bedraggled warrior edged away from his daughter, turning to try to cough away from the poor gathered cats who were still lucky enough to be spared from the illness. Clovertwist pressed his side into Barleytuft's, giving the warrior support as he swayed from his coughing fit before slowly going silent and then turning back. Barleytuft looked shameful at his interruptions and weakness.

Aspenheart spun around at Barleytuft's unsettlingly warning tone. It was more in a display of shock than one of true aggression that his eyes narrowed. He tumbled over the schemas in his brain, searching for an understanding of whatever the cream tom's tone implied. What, were Softpaw and Downpaw suddenly kits now? Did they suddenly not fall under the jurisdiction of StarClan's messenger? So it was true, after all! The distant and seemingly internalized fear that his authority was not respected was suddenly a plain reality. Answering to Finchstar? Ha! Even if Finchstar made a point of being at the top of the clan hierarchy, Aspenheart would sooner bow to a fish than a self-appointed king. There was no true leader in WindClan; Finchstar was merely a spokesperson. Maybe that was why the sharp remark stung his chest.

Aspenheart spat blood on the ground, retching from the disgusting taste. His cheek was tender as he attempted to speak. "I don't know what you're trying to prove, brot- Barleytuft," he huffed, "But I'm not a bunny-rabbit. I'm good for more than picking flowers and curing whitecough."

There was a moment of overwhelming tension when he looked to Finchstar in a desperate plea for order. Logic and reasoning was no good when morality was in question, and nobody could reign in an unruly crowd quite like Finchstar. But their eye contact was brief, and he was soon looking to Softpaw. "Don't worry about it. I'll tell them," he murmured. "StarClan showed their wrath, and Softpaw didn't like what she heard. Not a single WindClan cat would have liked what we heard... including me. But all the prophecies... the omens... the sickness in this camp, the death... the misery. I panicked." He started to come forward, glanced at her father, and hesitated. "Open paw. In front of everyone. In my fear, all I wanted was to make her stop before she became their next victim. But it was an extreme overreaction. Softpaw, we should have spoken about this a half-moon ago. You couldn't have understood the terror in that cavern on that night. You're so young, you've never felt the wrath StarClan can have. I thought you put us in danger, and I pushed it too far. I understand that now. I should have learned my lesson after Mintwhisker lost her mind. There were so many other options, and I chose fear. This is not Downpaw's fault." The silver tom spat once more into the ground and ran his tongue over the deep scores in his chin. "You two aren't kits, and I think you can speak for yourself without us talking over you. You're inexperienced, but you're the future medicine cat. You hold enough spiritual authority to make three leaders in that alone. Whatever you want to say, Softpaw, it's your right to say it."

He didn't meet his apprentice's eyes. He looked somewhere far away from camp, off on the horizon, where a single cloud rolled gently over Highstones far away.

Yellow eyes scanned the clearing as the maw that led them spoke. Finchstar caught sight of the fire that sparked in Barleytuft's face as the leader simply nodded. Let me explain. An inferno raged in camp, but it would keep them warm through leafbare. Downpaw, Finchstar's apprentice spat in his face, angry and hurt. It seemed Aspenheart's orders had no effect on the tom, but he was wise enough to follow Finchstar's. The leader's ear flicked as Crowspirit padded up and asked to join, followed shortly by Goldengale. "Of course, join us." The tom rasped, a red spark in his mew.

Barleytuft began to hack, a sound the tom knew well. His friend - his counselor was sick, and unlike Finchstar, he did not possess nine lives. Clovertwist was quick to intervene, but before Finchstar could move, the cat they had been waiting for appeared. Softpaw padded through the gorse tunnel, as bright as a spring breeze. She was almost toppled over by her brother, Downpaw, and Barleytuft, who had now made a recovery. If there was one thing that could send that cream tabby into a warrior's rage, it was his family. Finchstar had seen first-paw how Barleytuft had fought to protect his daughters against the foxes. He wondered darkly for a moment if any mercy would be spared to Aspenheart if things escalated. A cool shadow found its way into the corner of Finchstar's vision, and he looked over to spy Raventail. A smile broke the leader's maw and he beckoned the tom over with a nod. If the clearing was fire, then Raventail was a cool summer rain. Finchstar and Aspenheart's craft was sun, and a scorching blaze. But their deputy, the ever steadfast Raventail was a cool presence.

Finchstar could only stare for so long however, as Aspenheart laid out his life for Softpaw. The leader's heart ached as he saw his friend, raw and broken. It was a thing Finchstar would often spy through the cracks. As they discussed the future - as he apologized for his rashness at the gathering. Instinctually, the tom wanted to pick up the pieces of his medicine cat, hold him together. But his fate rested in Softpaw's paws now. She had been wronged, and now she would be the judge of his fate. Finchstar felt as if he was watching a duel, feeling strongly for both sides, but unable to intervene, lest he break the honor they all lived by.

Instead the ginger patched tabby stepped forward, yellow eyes flashing in the sun. "Go on, Softpaw. We cannot pave the future until the past is decided upon." Finchstar gave Barleytuft a pointed look, choosing his words carefully after the fiery gaze he had recieved seconds earlier. "We must look forward, yet we must not forget the ground that supports us. In this moment, you are Softstar. Do what you will." Finchstar remembered the ground he once stood on too. The ground which had swallowed up Brookclover and himself. He remembered the rocks which were fallen upon Sharptooth many moons ago by Blizzardshine and Firestone. Sacrifices. Their past made them who they were. But the wind was fast, and they needed to choose quickly. Galestar's warning echoed in Finchstar's head, and he dug his claws into the sand. Softpaw was brave to deny StarClan, and Finchstar would ensure she was right. He would shelter WindClan from ever fearing again, so Aspenheart needn't become a martyr in such a way.

The cream she-cat didn't know what to do. So many emotions fluttered in the clearing. Downpaw was so angry. Barleytuft was angry too, and she picked up sadness from him. Ploverpuddle was angry, too. But he was trying to comfort her. Finchstar was letting off a flurry of emotions, some she couldn't pinpoint. But Raventail was calm. That calmness seemed to calm her. Softpaw wasn't sure what she'd felt. She was scared, worried, hurt. She was sad, panicked, angry. Not at Aspenheart. Not at Downpaw. At herself. She'd started this problem, she was directly at it's roots.

Finchstar understood this; he put her in charge of the solution. Nothing good came violence. It was merciless, destroying everything in it's path. She'd solve this problem the right way; through peace. Her job was to heal people. So she'd heal this issue as best she could. "Oh, okay, I-" Softpaw took a deep breath. She had to be fair about this. "Well, first, we need to stop Aspenheart's bleeding. Ploverpuddle, Goldengale, will you both please go fetch some cobwebs? Barleytuft-" She turned to look at her father. "You need to rest. Clovertwist, you know what catmint looks like, right? Please go fetch some, dad, you follow him and go rest in your nest in the medicine den." Softpaw directed. Now that all the sick or injured cats were taken care off, she had to get to the actual punishments.

"Okay, now that that's taken care of, we need to take care of Aspenheart and Downpaw's punishment. They both broke the warrior code. They, um, they broke the same rule, so their punishments should be similar." Softpaw hesitated, reluctantly looking at her brother and mentor. She had to be fair. Finchstar had called her Softstar. What would Finchstar do? "Okay, so uh, first, you both apologize to each other." She glanced at Downpaw, "And mean it." She meowed sternly.

"Okay, so, Downpaw, elder duty for a moon sounds suitable, right Finchstar? And for, uh, Aspenheart, um, apprentice jobs for a moon? If they do elder duties together, they'll have to get along." Softpaw looked at Finchstar anxiously. Would he approve of her decision?

Barleytuft hadn't the time to respond to the medicine cat's bitter response. No, you're not a bunny-rabbit, but you're not a warrior either - what are you trying to prove lashing out like one? the senior warrior sneered in his mind, feeling heated by his fever and his fierce protection of his kits. Even as defensive as he felt, some part of him registered what a hateful thought that had been and rejected it; Barleytuft had been there the day that Aspenheart's stable life with a future as a warrior was crushed from his body. He saw firstpaw what the silver tabby tom had lost, and in a clearer state of mind, he never would have wished it on him again. When the fighting was over, Barleytuft would find himself guilty and grateful that he hadn't been given the opportunity to speak the words aloud. Instead his eyes remained a cold flash until Finchstar had swept the attention elsewhere.

Still, as Barleytuft nuzzled his daughter, Aspenheart took the liberty of explaining - truthfully and completely now - what had happened. He felt his fur bristle slightly when the medicine cat made a hesitant move towards him; it ached his fevered skin like needles, and he could see in Aspenheart's eyes that he had thought better of it anyhow. Barleytuft was aware of his son Clovertwist's tail resting firmly over his hindquarters now trying to keep him grounded, and the feeling of himself trembling beneath the gesture was sobering again with the reminder that Finchstar was one life closer to StarClan from the same illness. Barleytuft was on the edge of seething, but Softpaw was quiet... calm. If she wasn't afraid, was he overreacting? He hesitated; he didn't know. In order to best serve the Clan, though, he supposed he needed to.

The senior warrior forced himself to listen - closely, carefully - to the rest of Aspenheart's words as the tom admitted he had overreacted out of fear of punishment. Barleytuft did respect StarClan, as much as any good Clan cat. He had always respected StarClan. He didn't understand their power, but they had power. All of the troubles harrying WindClan were directly intertwined with the starry ancestors... Aspenheart's words touched the tom's faith, and he relaxed ever so slightly, discontented but pacified. The medicine cat continued his explanation - still not an apology, Barleytuft noted - before at last declaring that Downpaw and Softpaw weren't kits and deserved to speak for themselves. The medicine cat turned the attention back to Softpaw, and Barleytuft looked at her curiously.

What she told him, though... "You need to rest." Barleytuft inched back from her, looking startled and dismayed. "What?" he gasped, and almost immediately his lungs consticted again. You've kept this from me for over half a moon and you want me to leave before it's resolved? He fought hard against the cough as he sputtered out, "Softpaw, you can't mean that!" He broke off to cough.

Clovertwist nodded with sad agreement to his youngest sister's instructions, already feeling the protest from his father. The fever coming off the tom in waves was almost enough to make the younger warrior uncomfortably warm. He turned to Barleytuft and rumbled, "Father, you're not well. We're just concerned about you." He touched his nose to Barleytuft's shoulder to try to nudge him towards the nursery.

Barleytuft scrabbled to his paws in a flash, his tail immediately bushed out and his claws flexing as he edged away from his son's patronizing touch. He was a senior warrior! He had every right to be here and be present at a Clan meeting! These were his own kits, how could they send him away?! He looked back at Softpaw with a look of betrayal and a plea, but he was immediately halted with a wave of heartbreak: she had turned her back on him and was already enveloped in the focus of Finchstar, Raventail, Aspenheart, Downpaw, and the rest of the Clan, having instantly forgotten him. He hesitated, blinking back a surge of tears at the realization that she really, truly didn't want him there. She wanted nothing to do with him. "How could you not tell me?" Barleytuft protested weakly, the heart of his betrayal. Did he really mean so little to her? Was he just another cat to practice medicine on?

Clovertwist had flinched back with alarm at his father's sudden spitting, but seeing the look of hurt and defeat on his face the moment he realized he wasn't needed hurt more than any claws might have. When his father made a soft, sad whisper, Clovertwist knew he'd accepted his instructions. Clovertwist pressed forward again, his shoulder bumping against Barleytuft's. Staggering and numb, Barleytuft turned and began to move with him, guiding his father towards the medicine cat's den again even as the pale tom glanced back with a more and more distressed expression each moment.

They disappeared into the medicine den without another word before hearing Softpaw's decree.