Morningdove Visitation Center

Three nights had passed since the events of the Gathering, and just as it always had, the sun had risen and set over the forest, and life continued on. The birds continued to chirp, the leaves continued to rustle, and the forest continued to live and breathe. The dead had been mourned, the living praised, and a new era had dawned on the Clans - an era of peace, of hope, of love. An era that Morningdove would not experience. Three nights ago, she had given her body for the cause, and nearly given her life if it were not for the intervention of Silverpelt's finest - but some scars ran too deep for even the stars to heal. No amount of chamomile or burnet could awaken the warrior, and whether or not she would even awaken at all was (much like her fate) up to the whims of StarClan; perhaps she would arise in WindClan's hour of need, a slumbering briar-rose awaiting the call of the perfect moment? Or perhaps, and what seemed more likely with each passing day-- she would not awaken at all. Just as there had been no guarantee of success when the clans were rallied to battle, there was no guarantee of survival for Morningdove. That she had known the risks and taken them anyway was little comfort when her paws were paralyzed on the line between StarClan and the forest. And that she had not been granted a swift death was, perhaps, the cruellest fate the Righteous Few could have inflicted upon her.

So there she lay, in the comforting warmth of WindClan's medicine den, as still as a corpse except for the gentle rise and fall of her scarred chest. Breathing, but not living; conscious, but not awake; martyred, but not dead. Her life had always been one of impossibilities, and this was no different. There she lay, and there she would remain, a fractured ghost within a shattered shell, the ramifications of her actions as far-reaching as the stars themselves. Perhaps she was a vanquished blight, subject to the fate of all who meddle with their betters; or perhaps, a fallen hero, a beacon of hope who continued to glow even on the verge of death. Or perhaps she was just Morningdove, a brave fool who could claim nothing but that she had tried. And perhaps trying was the most important thing.

Spoiler:

[paradoxes are annoying - it’s 3 days after the gathering so I’ll consider Wildpaw a kit]

Wildkit was left with a raging curiously as soon as she’d discovered Morningdove in the medicine den. Naturally, she wanted to satisfy her curiosity, and so she trotted towards the den. It was empty, at the moment, and Wildkit sat down next to Morningdove, flicking her tail. Not knowing what else to do, she simply talked. Maybe Morningdove couldn’t hear her; maybe she could. Wildkit just wanted someone to listen, and she hoped Morningdove could. ”Hey, Morningdove. I don’t think you know me, but I’m Wildkit. My mother is Larkflight... and Larkflight died. Not in the battle, don’t worry. She died in childbirth after the battle. She shouldn’t have fought, but I’ve heard she was stubborn. Smallbean blames himself for her death. He thinks he should’ve gotten to Aspenheart sooner. Can you hear me? I hope so. I hope you’re okay. I’m told my mom believed in your cause. She went to your meeting. One of them, anyway.” The small kit took a deep breath, rambling on. ”It’s hard without a mother. I feel like people only come to me out of pity. Maybe you feel that way, too. But we love you for who you are, okay? I don’t know you personally, but I know what you’ve done. So hang in there, okay? Lots of cats are hanging onto the hope that you’ll be back soon.” The speckled kit pushed her nose into Morningdove’s fur, and walked away.

As soon as Aspenheart and Softpaw had deemed Mornigndove fit for visits, Olivestone had made her way over at the earliest possible time. She pushed her way into the den, nodding to the medicine cats, before gently settling down beside her former apprentice.
"Hey, Morningdove. I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I want you to know that you do deserve your name in every way. As well, I'm so, so proud of you for everything you've done, not just for WindClan, but for the forest as a whole. You stood up in the face of danger when no one else would, and you united all the Clans... for the most part, you got a few SkyClanners to stick around, which is a feat in itself... and led us into fight for our freedom, which we won.

Olivestone flicked her tail a little bit, searching for the next words to say.
"I want to tell you that I love you like the daughter I don't have. I may not be one of your biological parents, but I love you all the same. You mean so much to me, and I couldn't be more proud of you. Please wake up soon, we all miss you. I miss you."

With that, Olivestone stood and leaned down to groom Morningdove's head for a few moments before standing back up, murmuring,
"I'll be back to visit tomorrow. Please get well soon."

He had heard stories about Morningpaw--Morningdove--ever since the Gathering. As a kit, he would briefly pass by the medicine den, craning his short kitten neck to see the fabled WindClanner. All he could ever catch was a glimpse. He had always been unsure of when he could go and see her. But now that he was an apprentice, surely it was fine. Other cats had gone in and seen her, like Wildpaw, so he could too.

When he got a break from his apprentice duties around camp, Clearpaw slunk into the medicine den, making a beeline for Morningdove's still form. Occupied on his own thoughts, he merely flicked his tail in greeting to Aspenheart and Softpaw before sitting down squarely in front of the gray comatose tabby. At first, he said nothing, just sitting there staring at her, analyzing. His mind was racing. What would he say to her? What could he say to her? Not that she could hear him...or could she? That was an interesting thought...His tailtip flicked back and forth. Clearpaw finally blinked and narrowed his eyes, watching the rise and fall of Morningdove's sides as she breathed. Here goes nothing...

"Hello." Ah, great start. He cleared his throat quietly and shuffled his paws a little, then straighted up, ramrod straight. "You probably don't know me, but I know you. I've heard all about you. I'm unsure if you can hear me right now, but I hope you can. My name is Clearpaw and I have something to say."

He paused, lowering his voice just above a whisper as he leaned over towards Morningdove's face. Whiskers twitching, he had a feeling Aspenheart was eyeing him, which is why he wanted this moment to be a little more private. "...I've been thinking about it a lot, Morningdove. I just have to say...I don't understand you, and I'm very confused. I was too little to be involved with the Righteous Few, but I have heard tales of what happened. I don't know what to think about them. On one paw, they were right. Breaking the Warrior Code...is terrible. Dishonorable. I believe it deserves to be upheld. On the other paw, murdering another cat, multiple cats, in cold blood...is perhaps even more despicable. But they were leaders...StarClan leaders. Is a leader killing another leader bad if it's for a somewhat justified reason? I don't know. I don't know if the ShadowClan leader and RiverClan leader deserved it, and I don't know if Finchstar deserved it either. From what I can tell, he was a good cat. Very...fluid. And that brings me to you. Were you going against StarClan leaders and breaking the Code, or were you protecting your Clan and upholding the Code? I don't know. I don't know if I should be upset with you or regard you with the utmost respect. I feel like I must think about it some more. But if you know the answer, please tell me."

Clearpaw inhaled and let it out slowly, letting his bony shoulders slump. That was, most certainly, the most he had ever talked at one time in his entire life. Granted, he wasn't a very old cat, but still. He got to his feet, glancing over his shoulder at the two medicine cats nearby before looking back at Morningdove, at the rising and falling of her sides with every breath. "I can't say it was nice meeting you, Morningdove, but it was certainly interesting. I hope you wake up soon, I want to discuss this further with you. Goodbye."

This time, he gave Aspenheart and Softpaw a nod of respect as he passed, heading back out into the clearing of camp. Maybe he was none the wiser for his efforts, but talking to someone about it helped a bit, even if she couldn't respond.

"Good Morning, Dove" She purred, trilling at her own little joke. She stretched each paw, before getting up, tidying any moss that had strayed away back into the nest. Walking up to the comatose tabby, she watched with relief as the flank rose and fell, and put an ear to her chest, happy to hear to thump, thump, thump of her heart. With a grin, she sat down. "I had a wonderful dream last night, Mornindove. Clovertwist, Goldengale, Downpaw and I were all out hunting. Of course, I was hunting herbs, not rabbits. As I was examining a clump of goldenrod, a huge rabbit jumped over my head. Oh, Morningdove- it was as big as me! It truly was a lovely chase. Oh, looks like I better get going, hope you slept well, I'll see you later!"

And later it was when she saw Morningdove again. Around Sunhigh, Softpaw entered the den again, a rabbit in her jaws. "Hi Morningdove! I brought us a nice looking rabbit!" She purred, sitting down beside the comatose molly. She tucked her brown-ringed legs underneath her, grinning at Morningdove. Softpaw ate about half the rabbit and then looked at Morningdove, giggling, "Oh don't worry, I saved you half the rabbit." She trilled, purring. Gently, she broke off little bits of rabbit for Morningdove, gently pushing it into her mouth as easily as she could.

Softpaw remembered when she fed a fainted Spotlake catmint, and did the same here, moving the molly's jaw as to make her chew the food. With her paw, she stroked Morningdove's throat, making sure the rabbit went down her esophagus. She repeated this process until the rabbit was no more. "It's a bright day outside, it must get awfully dull stuck in here. Let's go get some sunshine, we can share tongues outside." Softpaw purred, gently grabbing Morningdove's scruff and dragging her outside. A little sunshine never hurt any cat. With that, she sat down, rasping her tongue over the gray tabby's pelt.

Eventually, the small she-cat brought Morningdove back into the den, and promised to be back soon. By Sundown, Softpaw had kept her promise, sleepily entering the den. "I hope you're comfy, Morningdove. Do you want to hear a funny story?" She asked, edging closer as she sat down. "Okay, well, Downpaw had managed to bring down a big bird from the sky. While he was celebrating his victory, a smaller bird, with feathers very similar to the first, landed on Downpaw's back, and it whacked it him with a wing over his head. Oh, the look on his face!" As she finished her tale she broke off into a couple rounds of purrs, remembering the priceless expression on her brother's face.

"Well, it's getting late, Morningdove. Tomorrow will be busy; I promised Aspenheart I'd go to Twolegplace to find catmint. Goodnight, Morningdove, sleep well." With that, the medicine cat apprentice curled up in her nest, tucking her tail over her nose as she fell into a peaceful sleep.

Spotlake padded into the medicines cat den and sat down in front of Morningdove, her brave little kit. “Hello my kit. How are you? Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time in the nursery. I tell the kits about you. I hope you wake up soon so you can meet them all!” Spotlake let out a sigh before speaking again. “My kit I hope you are well and that you’ll never join Starclan for many seasons to come.” Spotlake then licked her daughter’s head before bounding off.

As much as she wanted to talk, to calm the fears and banish the doubts of her Clanmates with the silver tongue she had become so accustomed to, there was little Morningpaw (she refused to think of herself as Morningdove-- not yet) could do but think. Think of her apprenticeship, lost to war and strife, to rebellion and chaos, to the cruel, twisted claws of fate and the stars; think of the moors, the wind blowing through the air, the grasses she would never again be able to run through; think of the Clan she had let down, endangered, risked the lives of-- and yet, these visits? These brief moments of reprieve from her mind- these gentle reminders that the world continued to turn, that the prey continued to run, that WindClan continued to live and breathe (and perhaps it was selfish to think this, but- that her sacrifice had meant something)? It was these moments that made it all worth it.

---

Wildkit? Not a name Morningdove (Morningpaw, she reminded herself- she was no warrior, no matter what the Clan might think) was familiar with, and she knew everyone there was to know in the Clan- which meant there had been another birth, another small miracle as another life took form in the forest. And then, she explained- and Morningpaw's heart sank. I'm sorry for your loss, she thought-- and perhaps she was lucky to be in her current state, for what kind of consolation was 'I'm sorry for your loss'? She didn't know the grief of losing a parent- she couldn't even begin to imagine what Wildkit was going through. And yet, the she-cat still sounded so strong, so brave, just like her mother. Maybe if the battle hadn't started, Larkflight wouldn't have-- no, no good would come of that line of thought. But even so. I'm sorry. I know what you mean about the pity, but- well, I want to believe it gets easier. If not for me, then at least for you, she thought. Perhaps Morningpaw would never wake, but that doesn't mean the world would be as cruel to everyone else-- and Wildkit had already suffered far too much (not to mention Smallbean, Morningpaw's own flesh and blood- she'd have to visit him after she woke up, she noted). But Morningpaw could only hope and pray to whatever stars were left that they would smile upon the kit before her. There's a whole world out there, and it's so much more wonderful than what you've seen so far, I promise. And maybe Wildkit couldn't hear any of this, but even so, thinking it- well, it helped a little, and maybe if there was any justice in the world, things would improve, and the sun would shine a little brighter upon WindClan's youngest. So as the sound of soft pawsteps padded away, Morningpaw gave one last thought before letting her mind rest for a while; And- thank you. (What good would come of thanking a cat in her mind? None, but it helped.)

---

And just as it always had, Olivestone's voice came as a wave of reassurance to Morningpaw (Morningdove?); how was it, she wondered, that her mentor always seemed to know what to say to comfort the appr- warri-- comatose she-cat? Every cat in the Clan had a gift of some kind, and Olivestone's gift was undoubtedly that of kindness. The kindness of unquestionable love, of unfathomable understanding, of unchanging and unselfish acceptance even of cats like Morningpaw. And Olivestone's kindness always seemed to manifest itself in the most reassuring ways. She wanted to laugh at her mentor's quip about SkyClan-- she couldn't, of course, but honestly? Getting SkyClan to cooperate really was a miracle... but even so, they had (at least, some of them), and from what Olivestone said, it seemed the torch Morningpaw had lit still burned bright. And for just the briefest moment, Morningdove lived, her spirit flying high even as her body laid still. And she thought, Thank you,, knowing that her mentor wouldn't be able to hear her-- but maybe if fortune smiled upon her (an admittedly rare event), some of Morningpaw's warmth would nevertheless reach Olivestone. And she thought, I know I wasn't perfect, but I still learned from the best, and meant it- for out of all of WindClan, it was Olivestone who most carried with her the spark of the moors, the gentle breeze rustling through the tall grass- and it was Olivestone who had learned to pass on that spark. A teacher, a mentor, a friend- and yes, just as much a mother as Spotlake, just as cherished and valued. Even so many moons ago, before the mentorship was established, Olivestone had protected Morningkit with her life. And she thought, I won't be like this forever, longing for the strength to open her eyes, push herself to her paws, and greet her Clanmate; not as a martyr, a shattered and shaken fragment of her former blaze, but as a survivor, head held high and eyes shining with hope. But, of course- that was impossible. All she could do was think, after all. And she thought, Look after the Clan for me?, her faith placed firmly in Olivestone's paws, just as it always was - for if Raventail was the voice of the Clan, Olivestone was most certainly the heart-; and she thought, in the way that only an apprentice to their mentor can, as familial as any maternal bond, I love you too.

---

Cats were born, and cats had died, and the wheel of life continued to turn, and WindClan did as they always did, and persevered; and when Clearpaw introduced himself, this was more evident than ever. The so-serious apprentice who carried himself with the gravitas of StarClan, the exact opposite of Morningdove's reckless abandon and disregard for authority- and yet, still unflinchingly devoted to WindClan. And that, more than any rigid adherence to rules, was the trait that mattered most. To do what is right for your Clan, always. So the she-cat listened (for she could do little else, but even so, some company was always appreciated), and... well, she couldn't quite bring herself to agree with everything Clearpaw thought, but she couldn't disagree either - for Morningdove was just as confused as the apprentice before her. She hated battle, hated violence, hated having to bare her teeth and unsheathe her claws at her foes; and yet, was it not necessary at times? It's okay, Clearpaw, she wanted to say, I don't really know either. I don't think any of us do. She knew the Righteous Few were wrong, of course- and that, arguably, so too were the cats of the forest at times, but that was another matter entirely. And she knew that the only reason blood had been spilled was to prevent it from happening again- and that's what mattered. To me, the Code is more like... guidelines. To you, it's everything. And honestly, that's okay, she thought; a Clan needed firebrands, revolutionaries, lionhearted enforcers of peace-- but it also needed those with more tempered minds, those who would uphold and obey the Code without hesitation, those who could establish the ordered scripture that Morningdove operated outside of. Being an apprentice, she thought, her mind drifting back to her own time as Olivestone's protégé, is all about learning. It's about figuring out how things work, and... trying your best to make do with the world. Things aren't always as black and white as the Code suggests; there's days and nights, sure, but... there's also twilights, evenings, dawns, and- well, Mornings. And as the apprentice's pawsteps drifted away, she thought to herself, I broke the Code, but I protected my Clan in doing so-- but I also put them in danger and got good cats hurt. Even if it was for a good cause- I don't know if that makes it okay either. I'm still learning too.

---

If her mentor was the kindness of the Clan, then Morningdove had no doubt that her doctor was the warmth; Softpaw had always been, without a doubt, the most caring soul in the moors, a being of pure light and angelic goodness, touched by the gentle warmth of the stars and radiating it out with every step she took. (Morningdove wasn't even exaggerating here, Softpaw really was just like that.) The injured warrior honestly couldn't have asked for a better carer- and yet, she still felt a distinct sense of shame and regret that Softpaw even had to do all this. It wasn't that the medicine cat minded, but that she didn't - and even if Softpaw was seemingly an infinite well of benevolence and hospitality, Morningdove was still being... well, more an albatross than a dove, a distinct and undeniable burden. She'd have to make it up to the she-cat when she woke up... if she woke up. But even so- the warmth of the rabbit and the warmth of the sun was nothing compared to the warmth of the medicine cat who delivered it. So as she let her mind wind down at the end of what might have been the best day she'd had since the Gathering (which, admittedly, was a terrible day, but- well, so were all the days since then, except this one!), she thought, almost thankful that she couldn't express it (for how could she express the extent of her gratitude?); Thank you. Morningdove had been thinking it the whole day, of course, but just as the sun shined, just as the winds blew, so too was Softpaw far kinder than anyone could have asked. You didn't have to do any of this, but- you did. There's nothing morally questionable about you- you're just good, no questions asked. Thank you. And maybe, if good deeds brought about good results, and if selflessness and goodwill truly was repaid (even if Morningdove herself couldn't repay it just yet)- then maybe Softpaw would receive even a fraction of the warmth she had displayed. And as the comatose she-cat drifted off to sleep, she thought with amusement, You're soft, 'paw. And I'm glad you're here.

---

Morningdove (Morningpaw?) sensed Spotlake's presence even before the she-cat began to speak; she'd recognise the scent of her own mother anywhere, even in this condition, and immediately her heart softened and her worries dissipated a little at the thought of Spotlake standing beside her and comforting her. Spotlake had always been good at that- while her father brought safety and security, it had always been her mother who brought comfort and peace, and this was no exception. The thought of meeting the new kits of the Clan was an interesting (and- pleasant, she hoped?) one; Morningpaw had never been the type to have kits of her own, of course, but that in no way prevented her from wanting to meet the newest additions to the Clan. But, for now, she'd have to wait- for no amount of wanting could heal a shattered soul. Even still, Spotlake's presence helped. I've probably brought you more trouble than the rest of the family combined, she thought, half-amused and half-regretful; there were some things she'd revise if she could, some things to amend and alter and change up a little, but... honestly, she wasn't sure if, given the chance, she'd turn down the opportunity to do all this again. But dwelling would get her nowhere, and all she could do was think her appreciation for Spotlake's visit- and even if it didn't shine through, they did say 'it's the thought that counts'. I don't know if I'm meant to be like this- if it's some kind of punishment from StarClan- or if it's something that'll wear off eventually, or... maybe both- but. If I do come back, I'm definitely not planning on visiting StarClan for a good while. (Except, perhaps, for the Moonstone ceremony-- but that was a thought she'd push aside for another time.)

---

(i'm so sorry this took so long dfghj thank yall for being patient with me)

Heatherkit was very curious. She had heard about the very sick warrior in the WindClan camp, so she decided to sneak out of the nursery and see for herself. Heatherkit looked around to check if anyone was around, before scurrying into the den. A gray tabby warrior lay in the medicine cat den. Curious, the cream and tan kit stepped forward and gently nudged her fur. “Hello? Are you awake? What happened to you?” Heatherkit used one little white paw to brush against the she-cat’s fur gently, not wanting to hurt her. “Uhm...I overheard some warriors and apprentices talking about you. I—I wanted to see for myself. I don’t know what happened to you, but I hope you get better.” Heatherkit sat down next to the warrior, placing her head in her paws. She had nothing better to do. If the warrior could hear her...at least that was better than staying in the nursery for six moons. Sighing softly, Heatherkit patiently waited for any kind of response.

Once he was old enough to explore the camp without an escort, Palekit worked up the courage to ask his mother if he was allowed to visit Morningdove in the medicine den. After being given the okay (and once his mother had positioned herself so that she could easily keep an eye on her kit), he nervously padded his way to the medicine den. Upon reaching the entrance, Palekit hesitated, then stepped inside. Doing his best to stay out of the way of Softpaw and Aspenheart, he settled down beside Morningdove's unconscious body and softly greeted the she-cat.

"Ah.. h-hello, Morningdove." Though he had thought out what he'd wanted to tell the fallen warrior, all of his planned words had left him when he saw her scar-covered pelt. He'd heard the stories Spotlake told in the nursery about her daughter standing up against the Righteous Few, but he hadn't thought that the young warrior of those heroic tales would look quite like this. He realized Spotlake must have left out many details in her retelling of past events to avoid scaring the kits too much. Clearing his throat, Palekit continued to speak.

"My name is Palekit. Your mom talks about you a lot.... She says you saved the whole forest." The young kit shuffled his paws. "I-I wanted to come say thank you. I bet it was really scary to stand up to those Starclan cats." Palekit couldn't imagine doing anything quite as brave himself. Maybe when he was older he'd grow more confident.... but for now, even the thought of fighting in a regular battle against one of the living clans terrified him. His voice wobbled as he spoke. "Everyone says they don't know when you'll wake up.. I hope you heal quickly. It'd be nice to meet you for real."

Palekit was anxious; now that he'd seen the extent of Morningdove's injuries, he wasn't sure if she ever would wake up, despite the fact that (as he'd been told) Starclan themselves had healed her body. He hoped that this was just another one of his irrational fears, like being taken away from the nursery by a badger in the night (which was ridiculous of course, how would a badger make it past the night guards, the other queens in the nursery, and his own mother unnoticed?), but a tiny part of him was still troubled over the possibility.

After sitting with the fallen warrior in silence for a while, merely to keep her company, Palekit spoke again. "I should probably go back to my mom now. S-See you later, Morningdove." He gently pressed his nose to her pelt, then made his way back towards the entrance to the medicine den. He gave a timid nod of respect towards the medicine cat and his apprentice, then exited the den and scurried back to his mother.

The sun was slowly setting on another day in WindClan, and the moor cats were all beginning to wrap up their endeavors for the day. One last patrol was departing camp, a sun-down check of the borders, but most everyone else had returned to the gorse-ringed camp after their own errands of the day. Clovertwist was one of the last to return to camp, and in his teeth he held a pretty measly finch. He'd been out all day, and it was the only thing he'd managed to catch. His mentor, named after the bird which Clovertwist held, would be disappointed in how much his apprentice had slipped since his death - disappointed that Clovertwist was feeling so dismal and aimless, not disappointed with the reasons why. Finchstar had died for the right to enforce the code as he, the leader, saw fit; he himself had removed the name of the ancestors from the traditional ceremonial words. He wouldn't blame Clovertwist for his crisis of faith.

The silver tabby tom made his way towards the medicine den, though he suspected that practically everyone else in the Clan had already likely visited - if not for the medicine cats themselves then at least for Morningdove. Most of the Clan had visited her at least once in her comatose state since they'd brought her back from the Gathering. Clovertwist had visited, too, but all his visits had been brief and tied to other duties - like fetching fresh-kill, moss, or herbs for his uncle or sister. The warrior stepped inside and caught a scent of recent prey. Someone had already come and taken care of the cats in the medicine den... Figured. Clovertwist's eyes flickered around for a moment to look for the shapes of his kin, and sure enough the two medicine cats were nearby in the den, shuffling around to put away their work for the evening. He looked at Morningdove in her nest beside the entrance to the den. Aspenheart and Softpaw had probably already fed her, too. They didn't need the finch he'd caught at all.

Clovertwist began to turn to back out of the den again, but as he did so his pale amber eyes landed once more on the shape of Morningdove. She'd become so much thinner since two moons ago. The Clan was doing everything they could for her, but even StarClan had said it was in Morningdove's paws now. If she were ever to wake up, she would do it when she was ready. Clovertwist sighed through the bird and moved to Morningdove's side. She didn't deserve this - no cat did, not when all they'd done was fight for freedom, peace, and love. He touched his muzzle to her forehead, the bird's wing draping down to brush the brutal scars on her head and face. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he said quietly, sadly through the bird's feathers. "If I'd had half the courage you did, Morningdove, maybe I... I really would've made a difference. Maybe I could've stopped you and Softpaw and Finchstar from getting hurt." He stepped away, finishing silently, I'm not special like you, though. You made a difference; you did it right. You did better than I can ever dream of doing.

With another sigh through the mouthful of tiny finch, Clovertwist's shoulders slumped and he turned, departing the medicine den to find some place to eat his meager catch in solitude.

(this happens the day of olive's solo and of shrike and thorn)

Having kept true to her word, Olivestone had visited Morningdove daily to tell her about the happenings of the days that the comatose she-cat didn't get to experience firsthand. Despite having told the apprentice pretty much everything that had gone on in the deputy's life, there was one thing that she'd kept under wraps, and for good reason. Since the plague had been cast onto her Clanmates, Olivestone couldn't have denied the feelings that were brought forth and into the light in the wake of the suffering. She'd worried about all of her Clanmates that had fallen ill, of course, yet she'd found herself worrying the most about Zinnia, laying bare the feelings she hadn't realized had been buried.

Now that the Righteous Few and their reign of terror were several moons behind them, and most of her Clanmates had recovered from the illness, she had been able to devote more time to figuring out her deepest thoughts in between training an apprentice and helping to keep the Clan running smoothly. It was only that day, that everything that had happened since the plague had led up to, that everything came to fruition. Earlier that day, Olivestone had faced her fear and plunged deep into the tunnels that ran under the moor's rolling hills, all in search of a gift to give to the cats that meant the most to her. She returned to the camp with a mate by her side and another mission to carry out before she could rest, and it was this mission that she carried out as she visited the medicine den, wad of moss carried gently in her jaws and dirt still caught between her toes and under her claws as she stepped into the den.

Setting down the moss bundle, she unrolled it to reveal one of the other shiny green stones she'd found in her harrowing journey into the tunnels, and she opened her mouth to speak, not before giving a nod of respect to Aspenheart and Softpaw.
"Hey, Morningdove, it's me, Olivestone. Today was pretty good! I led the dawn patrol, I caught a hare while out, and it was such a close catch that I couldn't believe that I actually caught it! Otherwise, I actually had a really eventful day." she paused to take a deep breath, "So you know how I don't like tunnels too much, right? I'd heard legends of small natural caves deep in the ground filled with shiny stones with many flat faces. Well, I went into the tunnels today, and by pure chance, I actually found one of those caves. I still can't believe that I actually found one so easily."

She nosed the stone out of the moss she'd brought it in and into Morningdove's nest, the stone rolling in and stopping to rest against the apprentice's chest.
"I brought one of them here for you. I guess it's a gift for everything you've done for me and for the Clans as a whole."

She dipped her head a little in respect, before taking another deep breath.
"I have one last thing to tell you. I haven't told anyone else this, so you'll be the first to know-" she cast a glance and a smile over to Aspenheart and Softpaw, "-that Zinnia and I are now mates. I'll tell everyone else soon, if Zinnia hasn't already. I took her out to this spot I found a few moons ago in the flower fields, with a tree on top of a hill that's perfect for watching the sunset from. I gave her one of those shiny stones I found as a gift, and confessed to her there. It's needless to say that she accepted."

Olivestone rose to her paws and stretched, before continuing.
"I figure that I've talked your ears off, so I'll give you more time to rest. I'll be back tomorrow to talk again."

With that, she leaned down and groomed the top of Morningdove's head for a few heartbeats, before giving a final nod to the pair of medicine cats and turning to leave the den, the now empty moss bundle in her jaws.

Spotlake padded into the Medcine cats den, like she'd done so everyday. She nodded in hello to Aspenheart and Softpaw before sitting down in front of Morningdove. "Hello my little kit." Spotlake greeted to Morningdove. "I have some news for you. Wildflower and Clearstone earned their warrior names! Clearstone was your father's apprentice and Wildflower is your niece! Of course you must already know that. They've probably visited you a few times." Spotlake stopped for a moment before contuineing. "Not too long ago a Skyclan cat attacked me. I don't why he was away from his territory. I think he gained a new enemy with Crowspirit." She let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh Morningdove, my brave little kit, I hope you wake up soon. That way you can meet a bunch of new cats! That way you can tell your story, from your perspective." Spotlake gave her a small lick on the head. "And I'm sorry little one. For being such a bad mother." Guilt could be heard all over that last bit Spotlake said. Sadly, Spotlake nuzzled Morningdove before bounding off.