The Cost of Courage

OOC: Takes place immediately after this topic!

Dewlight burst into camp, the small figure of Yarrowpaw laying nearly motionless across her shoulders. Blood dripped from a wound in her chest, and her back was dark with Yarrowpaw's blood. Reeds stuck uselessly against the wound in the apprentice's shoulder, and she yowled for help. "Dennis! Dennis, I need you now! Yarrowpaw is injured, there was a hawk." She stumbled towards the medicine den, vision fading as the adrenaline began to wear off. She had made it to camp, but they weren't quite safe yet. "Dennis!" She cried as she lost her balance, crumpling to the ground as Yarrowpaw slid off of her shoulders to her side. Panting, she tried to stand only to stumble again. The camp was spinning around her... Bile rose in her throat and she tried to fight it, but failed.

Dennis dropped the poppy seeds he'd been precariously manoeuvring in his little paws and they fell to the ground with a quiet clatter. Herb sorting forgotten, he sprang to his feet and raced out of the medicine den as fast as his ridiculously thin legs could manage. He didn't have further than two paces to run before he reached the source of the yowl for his name: two bloodied cats, one clearly more battered than the other. He recognised Yarrowpaw, though barely under all the blood. Dewlight was the cat beneath him, clearly she'd carried him here. Bile and blood pooled beneath the two, creating a sickening image and even more sickening smell.

Taking in the scene, Dennis wasted no time springing to action. He was used to this, he assured himself as his eyes glazed over into that steely look they got to prevent him from crying. Pathetic? Maybe. But necessary, and darn useful. "I'm tending to Yarrowpaw first. If you're conscious, try to stay that way. I'll be with you in a moment."Using strength he didn't know he had, he hoisted the smaller of the two cats up over his shoulders. He half-carried, half-dragged the poor apprentice into the medicine den. it was a slow, grueling task; the apprentice probably weighed more than him. Not difficult to achieve, but still. Rolling him onto his good side into a nest, he busied himself with gathering herbs. Poppy seeds wouldn't be necessary for this one, Yarowpaw was pretty far gone. He grabbed a couple of horsetail stalks and chewed them up while he cleaned out the wound with moss, solely focused on the injured tom. As he spat out the poultice and rubbed it into the deep gash on Yarrowpaw's shoulder, he called out, "Ivystar! Mom!" It was more instinct than anything, but at the very least she could help him with Dewlight.

A panicked gasp escaped Ivystar as she heard someone yowling in the middle of camp, her emerald eyes snapping open almost immediately. Without much forethought, she tried to slither out from beneath Honeytongue, careful not to wake either of her mates- though that was usually unavoidable. Once she'd escaped from underneath the pile she darted out of the den, skidding to a halt and her heart palpitating as she heard Spiderquill yell out her name from the medicine cat den. Blood coated the sandy ground underpaw, and just a few short foxlengths away, Dewlight was covered in more than just her own blood and bile. In an effort to help, she lunged forward and attempted to push her shoulder beneath Dewlight, eventually hoisting her onto her back and padding toward the medicine cat den. "Stay awake, Dewlight... You'll be alright, just... stay awake." She mewed, not sure if the young she-cat could actually hear or not.

Once she was in the rather small den, she carefully slipped the she-cat off of her back and into one of the pre-made nests. "Dennis... Tell me what to do, I can help." She mewed, not taking her eyes off of the she-cat in front of her in fear that she'd fall unconscious. Ivystar was so wrapped up in taking care of Dewlight, that she hadn't even noticed her son was who Dennis had been tending to.

She felt pathetic. She couldn't even protect her apprentice. Her eyes kind of focused on the medicine cat's face, but her ears were having difficulty catching his words. She blinked slowly as she registered him taking Yarrowpaw, and she tried and failed to get to her paws to follow. Why weren't her legs moving? Tears streamed from her eyes as she tried again and again before her nose fell into the dirt. He had to be okay. Yarrowpaw needed to be okay. She'd never forgive herself if he wasn't. Her eyes closed as there was sudden movement, and she opened them to find a familiar pelt hoisting her up. She could do nothing to help, her limbs refused to listen to her demands to move still. Her ear twitched as she recognized Ivystar's voice, and tried to focus on what she was saying. Stay awake? But she was so tired, so cold.... No, Ivystar was right. She couldn't sleep, not until she knew Yarrowpaw was okay. Yarrowpaw, where was he? Ivystar carefully maneuvered her into one of the free nests, and she stretched out her neck to try to see where her apprentice was. Her eyes darted back to Ivystar, and her mouth opened to apologize, only to be interrupted by a coughing fit that racked her body, making her stiffen and whimper as her wounds aggravated further. Her gaze was filled with regret, fear, and the apology she couldn't put words to.

A flower bloomed, in Yarrowpaw’s mind.

Yarrowpaw drifted in and out of consciousness, eyes cracking open for just moments before shutting them again. He felt weak, limbs feeling like they’re full of rocks. The fur of his chest and belly felt sticky and wet, and he was unable to register how the feeling was attributed to the blood flowing from the gash on his chest. He’s never felt sicker- much more than greencough as a kit or a bump on the head, this was an engulfing malaise that drew over his body. He was sorry, so sorry he was such a failure, couldn’t protect Dewlight without almost dying in the process- he wanted, no, needed to apologize to her, but opening his mouth just brought a a wet gag and aspirated blood. Was he dying? Was this it? Yarrowpaw had so much more he wanted to do. He wanted to become a warrior, prove himself to all of RiverClan, have a mate, have kits, maybe even graduate to deputy or leader! He wanted so much in his short little life, and he could feel it being snuffed away.

Yarrowpaw let out a screeching, yowling cry. Oh, how the flower’s petals fell.