Poppy Seeds and Cobwebs [Solo]

Nightpaw woke from his dream to an empty cavern.

Fear jolted him awake. Heatherberry had been sitting right there. He could've sworn... she'd been looking at him, just before he'd touched his nose to the stone. He closed his eyes tight and tried not to panic. Deep breaths, Night. Maybe she'd just stepped outside for a moment. Yes, that was it. Heatherberry was waiting for him just outside of Mothermouth, and when he joined her, they'd head home and he'd tell her all about how the ceremony had gone, all about Burdockroot and how her old mentor was doing, and maybe once they got home she could begin his training. Oh, how eager he was to begin his training. He knew some of the basics - poppy seeds and cobwebs, marigold and stuff like that - but Silverhawk hadn't known many herbs, so that was the extent of his knowledge.

Nightpaw took a deep breath to steady himself and began to pad down the same tunnel they'd come in. It was odd - he couldn't pick up Heatherberry's scent here. Sure, there was the faintest trace from when they'd come down here earlier, but there was nothing now. No new scent that would tell him she was, indeed, waiting outside. Nothing that would indicate that something had slipped into the cave and taken her away. Just... nothing. The only scents he could pick up were the cool, almost metallic scent of the cavern, the distant scent of the world that lay outside, and not much else.

His heart quickened. Maybe he'd taken the wrong tunnel. He could see light peeking into the cavern up ahead, but maybe he was just coming out a different entrance. She couldn't have just... left, right? Unless something had taken her... no, he was sure everything was fine. He only had a few more foxlengths to go; when he stepped out into the daylight, she'd be standing right there, ready to greet him. He knew it. Doubt lingered, as it always did, but he was determined to have faith in his new mentor. He was sure she was right here -

"Heatherberry?" As he stepped out of the tunnel and into the day, his heart nearly stopped. He stopped in his tracks with it. Nobody was there. The only sounds in his ears were the pounding of his own heart and the birdsong he usually loved. Today, it seemed mocking. He parted his jaws, trying to catch her scent on the air; but the only scent the wind carried were the scents of prey and the Clans' borders. There was no trace of the medicine cat anywhere. His ears strained as he tried to listen for the sound of her voice, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he tried to spot her pelt among the forest - but no. There was nothing.

She wasn't here.

"Heather?" It was a meek attempt at a shout. He sounded like a kit, mewling its first words. He'd never felt so alone. He didn't know what to do. There was no protocol for this.

His mentor had abandoned him. Or she'd been taken, and he could've helped her, but he was too busy talking to Burdockroot about meaningless things like name changes and traditions. As the reality of the situation dawned on him, he felt the familiar gnaw of anger and grief in his stomach. Whatever way he looked at it, this was his fault. His fault for driving her away or his fault for not saving her. Neither option sounded better.

The tom sat, curled his tail around his paws, and made up his mind to wait. Heatherberry would show up. She had to. He swallowed back the growing lump in his throat and steeled himself against the harsh heat of the day. He'd wait for moons if he had to. She'd come back soon; she had to. He didn't know what he'd do if she didn't.