No Fear For the Setting Sun [Cinderpaw, Brighteye welcome]

((A direction continuation of Live For the Hunt.))

By the time they had made it into the medicine cat's den, Mistypaw felt drained. He'd had to lean heavily against Brighteye's shoulder, face throbbing each time he blinked blood out of his eyes. How the dog's teeth had missed taking out an eye entirely, Mistypaw really didn't know. He wasn't going to question it. He was alive, in one piece, mostly.

The dark-furred tom more or less stumbled into the provided nest, blue eyes dull with pain and exhaustion. His body couldn't take much more movement. As exhausted as he was (and he surely looked it), the pain was enough to keep his gaze open as Brighteye told Cinderpaw what had happened. He didn't know the medicine cat apprentice particularly well, as they'd rarely spoken even before she'd been called to serve as a medicine cat. After that, well, they'd both been kept busy doing different things. Mistypaw didn't know the large she-cat well enough to judge her reactions. Maybe if he'd been less exhausted, he'd try to pick apart her body language and add to the conversation, but for now the capability was beyond him.

Brighteye and Cinderpaw shared quite a past - all formed in the course of one day that boasted Cinderpaw yelling and Brighteye bleeding. It'd been a miracle she'd been able to heal the warrior at all, but with each new passing day, Cinderpaw felt more adept, although she never made the mistake again of overestimating her own abilities. Being the sole medicine cat for all of ShadowClan had brought many a struggle, some of which left the she-cat stumped. She'd skipped last moon's gathering in favor of organizing her den and sorting her herbs, such a menial task that Cinderpaw never imagined she'd enjoy. But it felt nice to have some semblance of control over her life - as she'd been desperately trying to keep the lives of others afloat around her.

This night marked the second occasion of a cat vaulting themselves into Cinderpaw's den with more blood on the outside of their body than in. However unlike Brighteye's brief excursion with a young loner, the apprentice's wound - Mistypaw his name was - looked much more serious. Not that it was right to compare wounds, but Cinderpaw could judge a injury's risk based on how much ice it lodged into her veins. Swallowing, the medicine cat parted from the lichen to meet Brighteye once more, and this time instead on annoyed, Cinderpaw was concerned. "Put him here." She gestured to an empty moss nest lying lonely on the nettle strewn floor. I don't know what to do... Cinderpaw realized, hazel eyes wide as more crimson stained the dark apprentice's pelt. She blinked once, twice, then went to work, shaking herself out of shock to grab all the cobwebs she could from her storage. "Water." The medicine cat mumbled to Brighteye through her webs. "Bring water."

At Cinderpaw's instructions, Brighteye carefully helped Mistypaw to the spot she indicated. From her last experience with the medicine cat parents, she knew that it was best to keep her mouth shut and do what she said. The white warrior was perfectly happy to do just that though. Panic set into her as she saw the look in the huge she-cats eyes. This wasn't going to be an easy injury for her to heal. But she would do it somehow. She may've been scared of her, but still had an immense sense of trust in her.

Nodding briefly, Brighteye remembered when her injuries from Twig were in need of healing. They had been no where near as serious, but at least she knew where the pool and moss was because of it. She tried her best to avoid standing on anything on the floor of the den and grabbed a chunk of moss. With little care (speed was the main thing on her mind), she shoved it into the pool. However, she did wait long enough to make sure it was fully soaked - there would be no use giving it to Mistypaw dry. Moss dripping in her mouth, she made her way back to the nest where her friend lay. She leant down and placed it gently beside his mouth, hoping he had enough strength to drink by himself.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Brighteye asked cautiously, hoping to maybe avoid Cinderpaw's wraith this time.

The moss nest Mistypaw had been laid on was already stained crimson, his wounds bleeding out fast. The medicine cat sucked in a breath of air, the chilly breeze filling her lungs with ice. Brighteye placed the wet moss into Mistypaw's maw, hoping he could drink. Cinderpaw watched with concern, her heart thumping hard in her chest, trying to desperately remember what Mothglow would do. Brighteye's wounds were easy, water and cobwebs. The loner hadn't even been full grown - let alone large enough to do real damage. But who... or what had attacked Mistypaw? His poor frame was mangled and bruised, utterly ravaged by something sinister. Cinderpaw rolled the tom over, biting her tongue as he groaned. What had Mothglow used for infections? If these wounds weren't from a cat - which she had began to consider - they'd get infected fast. Infections killed - and with the combination of the Leaffall wind and Mistypaw's already poor condition, he wouldn't make it another moon. Cinderpaw hissed to herself at the thought of losing him. What would ShadowClan say? She'd be outcasted, an utter useless failure, with a life stained on her paws.

Closing her eyes, Cinderpaw buried her nose into Mistypaw's fur and threw her mind into the past - searching for something, anything. There was a tall plant that grew out in the marshes, something old that Mothglow kept deep in her den. Horsetail. Once upon a time, she'd used it for infections, chewed into a pulp and spread on the wound. It was a story Cinderpaw had heard from the elders, when Mothglow treated all of ShadowClan's wounds after the Great Battle at Fourtrees. Horsetail, used for infections. Cinderpaw pulled her nose from Mistypaw's side and ran to the back of her cave, grasping at the closest plant that fit the description. Thick-stemmed, little leaves at the top. Cinderpaw grasped all she could in her large maw and dumped them before Brighteye. "Yeah." She answered the nervous warrior, tail lashing with tension. "Chew these, then spit them out on this leaf." Cinderpaw glanced at Brighteye as she realized how gross that sounded, face growing hot. "I've seen your blood, frog-brain. Your chewed up spit isn't gonna be repulsive." As Brighteye began to chew, Cinderpaw took the makeshift poultice and carefully smeared it over Mistypaw's wounds, hoping to the stars above that she'd grabbed the right herb. Only time would tell.