New Divide [Wolfstar]

The leader's body was unnaturally still. His neck was bent at an awkward angle, and one dark paw had fallen across his muzzle, which was parted ever so slightly, as if he was whispering consolation to a scared kit in the middle of the night. Wolfstar's eyes were half-open, but they were unseeing, and his chest no longer rose or fell with breath.

---

It was so warm. That was the first thing that registered, the warmth of the grass beneath his belly. Wolfstar opened his eyes, blinking drowsily. He was curled comfortably on a nest of dry grass, and a warm, soft breeze, scented with a multitude of prey, ruffled the fur on his neck. He wasn't hungry, either, or thirsty, or tired. It was a bizarre feeling, to feel... nothing.

Where am I? The question never left his lips, and it didn't have to - a slow, lazy glance upward revealed a sky shimmering with stars, so many stars. A perfect sky, with not a cloud to be seen. He knew where he was. This was StarClan.

And then suddenly, he remembered. It all came back in a rush, the argument with Beechface, her near-death experience, and then the definite crack of the branch breaking beneath his weight. The blur of motion and the agony of slamming first into a branch and then into the ground and then... nothing. Darkness. Until he woke up here. The leader jolted to his feet, heart thrumming in his chest, pulse pounding in his ears. "No," he said, "no, no, no, no, no." Wolfstar ran, his paws pounding the ground so hard they cast up tiny stars in his wake. He had to get out of here, he had to go home. He couldn't be dead... not with SkyClan under the paw of Asylum... not with... the thought that ran through his head then was enough to give him a fresh bolt of desperate energy, and he pushed harder, legs nearly a blur in the warm night.

But no matter how far or how hard he ran, Wolfstar never gained any ground. The landscape around him stretched on for ever and ever, always the same, unchanging. "I'm supposed to have eight more!" he bellowed into the empty sky. "Send me back!"

There was no answer, and finally, feeling the futility of his efforts, Wolfstar slowed to a stop, breathing ragged though still he didn't truly feel tired. The SkyClan tom hung his head, eyes racing against the ground. "Send me back," he begged. "I have to fix this."

"Then fix it."

Wolfstar whipped around at the sound of a voice, and the figure that stood before him hadn't been there a second before. Her long dark fur twinkled with stars, and her yellow-green eyes were narrowed on the leader, expression unreadable. "Mother," he breathed. Panic momentarily forgotten, Wolfstar surged forward, embracing Murkpelt, winding himself around her. The queen lowered her head, butting her son on the shoulder as a low purr emanated from her chest. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, my son," she said quietly, but as she pulled away to look at him, Wolfstar saw something in her gaze that made him pause - something she'd never shown in life: hesitance. Immediately, he was alarmed. Murkpelt was strong, she was fiery and no-nonsense. And she was never hesitant about anything.

"Mother, what-?" he queried. "Spottedstar? Juniperlight?" His eyes searched hers, but Murkpelt just shook her head.

"None of your concern right now," she reminded him, and Wolfstar was rapidly brought back to reality by her tone. She was right. He wasn't here for information.

"I can go back, right?" he asked her eagerly. "I still have... I still have eight lives, right? Even after..." he let the words drop off, unsaid, averting his gaze almost as if he was afraid of the answer she'd give him. But Murkpelt only hummed quietly, sort of a tsk-tsk sound deep in her throat. He looked up to meet her gaze, very much so still a kit just searching for his mother's guidance.

"You can go back," she told him, leaning in to press her muzzle to the top of his head. "But-" the soft, caring touch was replaced almost immediately by a rapid one-two-three battering of sheathed paws against his head. He winced and ducked, pulling away to prevent another onslaught. "Stop being such a featherbrain, Wolfstar. Your family loves you. Let them." Her tone softened again. "Are you ready?"

Abashed, the leader met his mother's gaze once more. "Yes."

Leaning forward again, she touched her nose to his, and in an instant, his body was fire. Every nerve, every hair, every inch of him burned with a raging intensity unlike that which he'd never felt before. For a moment, he could have almost begged for death if only to be released from the pain.

And then it was gone.

---

With a gasp, he sucked in a breath of air, and the pain of the fire was at once replaced with the pain of his battered body. "Ah," he winced, trying to stand and only making it half a step before his legs collapsed beneath him, and he was left wheezing in the dust. The leader's fur stood on end, his eyes still half-lidded with confusion and fatigue and pain. He struggled again to his paws, fighting for air through the tight, dull throb in his ribcage, and tried to stand again, unsuccessfully. Finally, he gave up, lying there on the ground, ears back, eyes blurry. "Send me back," he muttered weakly. "I need to go back."

Beechface stared at Wolfstar's unmoving body, panic clawing at her throat. He shouldn't be this still, shouldn't be this quiet. The fact that he was losing a life registered in the back of her mind, he'd be back... Right?

The thought only managed to send a fresh wave of panic coursing through her, however. If he died, it wouldn't be Bloodstrike that became leader. It would be Dawnhawk. Dawnhawk, who had thought nothing of letting the rogues so badly maim their father and had taken him who-knew-where. Dawnhawk, who had no shame in raising claws against his kin or threatening their lives.

That couldn't... It couldn't happen. Wolfstar needed to come back. He had to.

After what felt like hours. Movement. Finally. Beechface leaped forward as Wolfstar struggled to his feet, a furious hiss escaping her.

"Wolfstar! Wolfstar, you idiot! Don't-" As angry as she was that the foolish tom had decided to try moving immediately, her voice still held panic beneath. Beechface wasn't happy with her grandfather, but that hadn't meant she wanted to see him hurt.

"Do. Not. Move." She gritted out, placing a paw on his shoulder to keep him down, just in case he tried to get up again. She ran her other paw carefully along his ribs- yes, still very much broken. There was definitely going to be bruising from where he'd collided with branches on the way down.

Maybe that would teach him a lesson. It was Wolfstar, so Beechface very much doubted it.

"I swear if you wind up losing all of your lives from this stupidity and we get Dawnstar as leader, I will visit Starclan just to box your ears." She growled, voice too low for anyone but Wolfstar to hear.

"Foxdung... I need to get you back to camp. I can't splint broken ribs and there's no herbs out here." Thanks, leafbare. "Think you can lean on me?" She might just have the strength to carry him with a bit of help if she hadn't been so panicky, but doing so would jostle his ribs and she didn't want to risk that. Ribs couldn't be bound in a splint like a broken leg could, so that meant Wolfstar was going to have to walk. Slowly. And avoid any sudden movements that might make this worse than it already was.

It took a moment for him to fully register Beechface's voice, as when she initially spoke, it sounded as if it was coming from several directions at once. But as the haze of star-induced confusion started to clear, his gaze met the medicine cat's, her command to not move ringing between his ears. So he lay there on his side, obedient if only to prevent a fresh wave of pain from overtaking him. Beechface's panicked ranting was met with a steady gaze, but despite everything, the pain, the fear... he smiled. She was talking to him... and the moment he needed help, she snapped right into medicine cat mode without even a hint of uncertainty. Wolfstar lifted his head to look squarely at her. "StarClan..." he said quietly, grimacing at the pain even talking caused. But he fought through it and continued. "...made the right choice."

He wheezed, and delved into a coughing fit that made him taste copper at the back of his throat. Wolfstar laid his head back down, closing his eyes. "I just need a moment." And he lay there, cold ground underneath him, for several minutes, just focusing on the right pattern of breath that would hurt the least, and preparing himself for what he knew was going to be agony when he stood. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, he let out a gentle sigh and looked at her. "Okay, I'm ready."

Wolfstar sucked in a short breath, holding it as he gently attempted to climb to his paws. Once there, still half-crouched and rigid with pain, he stared. "No one can..." another pained gasp, "...know about this."

"Oh, don't start." Beechface rolled her eyes at the comment on Starclan. Some days she wasn't so sure they had made the right choice, especially now. Yet her reaction was done more out of habit than anything at this point, the idea having lost much of it's stranglehold on her.

She'd sworn that oath. There was no changing it.

Eyes narrowed at the coughing fit, but there was nothing that Beechface could do for him out here. The coughing definitely wouldn't help the pain of his broken ribs, and the cough itself was worrying. He needed to get back to camp and to the medicine den, and soon. Once Wolfstar caught his breath and indicated he was ready, Beechface nodded.

"There's at least one in the tree over there that saw it... I hope he's as dumb as he looks." Beechface muttered, claws flexing into the ground as she carefully slid her shoulder against Wolfstar's once the leader had steadied himself. Beechface curled her tail around him to keep him steady, though she'd wait another moment before moving off in the direction of camp. They hadn't gotten that far, at least, though their treetop argument had made it seem that way.