little saint michael (c)

Hedgepaw loved her family. That had been a fact of her life from the second that she drew her first breath. When her green eyes opened and she saw her mother, her squirming siblings, her big brother, she loved them with every beat of her heart. They were everything to her. She could not even fathom a world where they were not the most important things, not constantly on her mind, where pleasing them and loving them were not her first priority. As she grew older, the love matured and grew, but it never faded. She had other friends, and she cared for them deeply. She worried about warriorhood, about the safety of the Clan, about other things that older cats had to worry about--but first and foremost, every night she awoke, every morning she slept, she loved her family. Her mother, her brothers. They were everything to her.

She had experienced grief, too, at depths that were all the worse for the care preceding them. Her father, practically gone before she had a chance to know him, had been a small blow worsened mostly by the loss that Mamma had felt. Then there was the missing Bluepaw, then Stagpaw, and finding about about the death of Honeylight whom she had never met. All were difficult, but made so much easier to bear by the love of those who she still had. But... what to do when she still had them, but the bonds became twisted? What to do when the simplicity and purity of her love became complicated? What to do when she had to choose between adoring her family, and caring for those other cats who had come to mean so much to her? There were no answers, or at least none that she had found yet. Hedgepaw had no clue what to do. After Wolfpaw had attacked Fishpaw, everything had become confusing. She could not keep her thoughts away from the mire. He was sick, but not in the way that Mamma had once been, all shaking with cold and coughs. He was sick with crazed eyes, unsheathed claws, hissing and spitting that sounded so unlike the cat she had grown up alongside. His strength and protection directed inward at Clanmates instead of outward at predators and threats. Could he recover? Would he? She did not know.

And still, she loved him. She could not stop. That love, with its accompanying worry and brand new addition of fear, did not leave her at any moment... and so when she found the time and the courage, she knew that she had to see him again. If there was any way that she could help him to recover, she would. If there was any way to bring Wolfpaw back to her.... She would do anything.

It did not take very long for her to make the decision. After returning from a patrol, she was informed by Wolfpaw's guards that he had been asking for her. The knowledge made her stomach twist in a manner simultaneously uncomfortable and gratifying. Wolfpaw was still her brother. They still loved each other. Whatever love still existed between them could be repaired. And yet... that love was what had caused his sickness, wasn't it? He had been so completely convinced that Fishpaw--the harmless, silly Fishpaw--and her mentor Quillsplash somehow meant her harm. She still did not know whether she had somehow given that impression, or had not done enough to dissuade him, or had simply not spoken with him enough to divert his rage. Whatever it was, whyever it had happened, she had been a part of the cause, and so she must therefore be part of the solution. Besides, she wanted to see him. She missed him. She loved him. He was her brother, and her family, and so important to her. So she went to see him.

To see Wolfpaw recovered at least physically lifted some small part of the weight from her shoulders. His limp form lying on the ground was not a sight she would forget anytime soon. Thankfully, if nothing else, he appeared conscious and healthy in body. But despite that, the fright she'd felt at his attack had not left her. Hedgepaw had always been a scaredy-cat, but she had never thought that she would need to be afraid of her own family members. She loved Wolfpaw and wanted nothing more than to trust him. Yet now when she looked into his yellow eyes for the first time since they had closed, she could not forget the raving light in them as he barreled out of the undergrowth with fangs bared. He was scary. He was her brother. She loved him. She was terrified of him. She was glad to see him. "Wolfpaw," she whispered timidly, longingly, stopping a few paces in front of him. Green eyes searched his face; white paws trembled as she tried to gauge his reaction. "Are you feeling better? I was so worried about you."

Hedgepaw did not know how to react. She did not know whether to answer his purr, to pin her ears back, to smile, to step away, to go forward. This was her brother. Hearing him purr should have been a good thing. It should have soothed her ruffled fur and made everything feel normal again. Yet, even as she saw the pure honesty in his yellow eyes, she couldn't trust him. She wanted to, so badly, but hesitance remained inside her chest no matter how desperately she tried to dismiss it. The familiar shortening of her name coming from his mouth felt... strange. It should've been normal. They'd referred to each other like that since they were kits. And yet there it was again as he spoke, the word "safe." The strange obsession that had caused her mentor and her friend to be attacked. Her fault. Words of response felt frozen on her tongue. When had she ever been in danger? Briefly when the owl attacked, that fox with Silverhawk, but that was it. She'd always been safe. She had been perfectly safe with Quillsplash and Fishpaw. Wolfpaw had been the danger. He'd brought it with him, eyes crazy and maw snarling, and then declared protection. What... was wrong with him? Had he always been like this? Had her scarediness of the forest ruined his perception of safety? Had she done something wrong?

She had been so lost in her own conflicting feelings and confusion that she almost did not notice when her brother stepped forward to embrace her. Hedgepaw flinched. She did not shy away from the touch, did not move her paws, but the heavy weight of his head resting upon her own felt suddenly stifling in the same breath that she desired nothing more than to lean into it. She wanted to wrap herself around him and hug him and promise to love him no matter what, but her heart beat fast and jerky like a prey animal trying to escape from her chest. Was he actually okay? Had he really recovered? He said sorry--the word came from his mouth, in his own voice--but did he actually mean it? Had he apologized to Quillsplash and Fishpaw? Or just to her? Her breath caught tight in her throat when Wolfpaw leaned slightly, so that she could see wounds where her mentor had grabbed and thrown him away with sharp teeth. Nearly healed now, and not so brutal as Fishpaw's wounds had been. An injury of necessity and panic. Yet as always, seeing any kind of wound curdled her stomach. He would not have been hurt if he had not interrupted their spar. But the fact that he had gotten hurt at all... It wasn't even the injury, though, that had worried her. It was his still and barely-moving form lying on the ground of camp, looking for all the world like a corpse. What if that happened again? Why had it happened in the first place? She didn't know, and couldn't tell if her brother knew, either.

What was she supposed to do, to say? Breath squeezed itself shakily out of her lungs. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she whispered. In a tentative motion, she leaned forward to press her nose into the fur of his neck, briefly, before she stepped back to see him better. She had to say something. She had to understand. "But, Wolfpaw. I wasn't in danger." Hedgepaw sat down and tried to sort through the words in her head. They came out a little bit shaky, maybe, but audible and honest. "Fishpaw was not trying to hurt me. We were sparring. No claws or fangs. Just like how we used to spar, when we were kits. Remember?" A day of snowfall, tackling her brother in the snowdrift, hiding laughing behind Silver's tall legs. No danger. No blood. "Quillsplash was not trying to hurt me. I was completely safe. Just like I am safe now." Green eyes stared, searched, looked for any hint of recognition or understanding in her brother's face. She had to say it, so that he knew. So that he understood. She would not stand back while he threatened her friends again. But surely, once she told him, he would understand. He was Wolfpaw, her brother, and she loved him. "I am glad your wound is not hurting you, but... it is your head that worries me. You frightened me when you attacked my friend like that. I do not want anything bad to happen to you, but I do not want anything bad to happen to Fishpaw, either. And I... I do not want you to collapse, like that, again." She swallowed. Why was her pulse so quick, and her voice so loud and yet so quiet? "Do you know why... that happened? Are you truly better? Will it happen again?"

Hedgepaw did not like the way that blood rushed so quickly through her veins. She did not like the quick and irregular beating of the heavy heart in her chest. She did not like, above all, that she felt like this around her brother. Her brother. Wolfpaw loved her, and he only wanted to protect her. She loved him too. So then, why... why was she so scared of him? Surely, the attack had been a mistake. The wild light she'd seen in his eyes had been a trick of the moonlight. But even now, as he stepped back and regarded her, something deep inside the yellow of his gaze unsettled her. He did not look sorry. He did not look okay. He did not look like her brother. As he tilted his head--a gesture they had all learned to share from Fernpaw's deep thoughts, grown from the mimicry of early childhood--it felt wrong. This all felt wrong. She had come to see him to reassure herself of his place in her heart, but it seemed that nothing could really be that simple.

The more he spoke, the worse it became. It was as if she had not said anything. Her ears fully pinned back against her head. Why didn't he understand? Did she say it wrong? Surely, he could not truly believe that her close bonds with Quillsplash and Fishpaw were all fabrications. They were not lying to her. She was not as smart as Fernpaw, yes, but she was not stupid. She would have been able to tell if they were faking it... wouldn't she? The suspicion wormed its way into the back of her mind, placed by the complete and unshakable confidence in Wolfpaw's words, but Hedgepaw hated the slimy feeling and shook her head as if to clear it from her brain. "No!" She hadn't expected that to come out so loud. Still, she raised her head, green eyes narrowed but pleading. "That's not true. Fishpaw is my friend. And Quillsplash is my mentor. He has saved me multiple times from bad things. Mamma trusts him, too. They feel love just fine! It's not a trick. It's not." Her tail lashed once behind her. Still, she did not feel angry, despite the force of her words. She just felt worried, and confused, and frightened. Why was Wolfpaw acting this way? What had happened to him, to make him think such things about their Clanmates?

Then... something else he had said caught her ear. An answer to her question. Someone had told him these things--someone he believed more than her own words. No, that wasn't quite right; he said that someone had tried to stop him. What did that mean? Who was he talking about? It did not seem like he meant a cat that they knew. Surely he would have used a name, if it was so. Hedgepaw felt the mixture of uncertainty and fear welling up within her, but it all seemed so useless in the face of Wolfpaw's unflappable certainty. "She?" the small apprentice echoed. "Who is 'She'? Wolf, are... are you sure you're okay?" Was this what was causing his mind sickness? Had he invented someone inside of his mind, or... were the things that Quillsplash and Leopardstar had murmured about the Dark Forest true? She'd always thought that was just a scary story for kits. What if it was real, and something was eating her brother from the inside? How was she supposed to do anything about that?

Hedgepaw pressed her paws close together in front of her, feeling the grass scrunch up beneath them. Obviously her brother was still unwell. That was why warriors guarded him. But, even if he thought bad things, she still could not abandon him. He had to get better. She had to explain to him... she had to make him understand. "Wolfpaw... you're scaring me." Green eyes locked onto his serious face, searching for any hint of her brother inside his gaze. "Who are you talking about? Who has made you think this way? You are... confused. I think you are the one being tricked. Quillsplash, Fishpaw, and all our Clanmates are good cats. None of them want to hurt me. They have saved me lots of times when I was in danger. I am safe, yes, but not only because of you. All of them are safe and good. Something--someone--has confused you, and made you view them as dangerous even though they are friends." Hedgepaw chose each word carefully, haltingly, sending a prayer to the stars that she could make herself understood this time. "You can't fight and hurt my friends like that. They are not predators, waiting for some chance to hurt me. None of them are going to hurt me. You are confused. You are sick. But it's okay--it'll all be okay. I've just got to figure out some way to make you better, right? Then it can be like it was again. You can be my brother, and we will be warriors together." Her eyes grew wide, desperate, without her conscious thought. As a kit, sometimes she had intentionally made herself endearing to get what she wanted--but never before had she wanted anything so much and so honestly. This was not a ploy or a trick. This was a plea, made with all the force of will and all the honesty in her heart. Her voice came out low, entreating, hopeful. "Please."

Hedgepaw felt tight. Everything within her--her heart, her lungs, her stomach--all brittle and taut, as if one strong strike could shatter her completely. It was hard to breathe as she looked at Wolfpaw. He was Wolfpaw. But at the same time, he wasn't. This cat before her was a stranger. As he insisted he was not sick, as his eyes darkened and narrowed and remained fixed on hers, she kept desperately searching for a hint of the tom-kit who had rolled around in the snow with her. The young apprentice who'd invited her to walk in the territory, searching for predators. Her brother. Where was her brother? Was he in there, somewhere? Surely, she just had to keep trying. He would emerge eventually. He would... he would. He had to.

There was no longer any point in trying to convince him. Not right now, at least. It seemed that he was still completely convinced that everything was out to get her. That Quillsplash was out to get her. That Fishpaw was out to get her. Hedgepaw felt a shaky breath leave her lungs as she remembered frighteningly red blood seeping from a wound on her friend's neck. If she couldn't convince Wolfpaw in time... then would that happen again? No. Not if I can do anything about it. I'll jump in front, next time. Or... or I won't let there be a next time. I'll stay away from him when I'm with Fishpaw. Whatever plans she made in her head... she'd figure something out. She had to.

But... how could she help him? How could she, when she didn't know what he was talking about? Hedgepaw tilted her head to the side in confusion when she heard the name dropped from Wolfpaw's lips. "Burdockroot?" she echoed. Had she ever heard that name before? It sounded familiar... Wait, yes. From her kithood. The name evoked memories of a gruff, herb-smelling cat administering to Mamma Pine when she lay sick in bed. Back at the awful lakeplace during the journey. "The... medicine cat before Heatherberry? I don't understand." She and Wolfpaw had just been kits back then. She'd blocked most of the memories out from back then, repressed through sheer terror at the strange circumstances they'd been forced into. But now Hedgepaw racked her brains, trying to remember anything about this cat she'd barely known. The tip of her tail flicked back and forth. Had Burdockroot said something to him, when he was a kit? That didn't make sense though, if his sickness was recent. He hadn't always been like this. So... how else could one talk to a cat who was no longer alive? StarClan, right? That's where Mamma said Honeylight is. So Burdockroot must be there, too. But only medicine cats could talk to StarClan. There was no way Wolfpaw was... right? Or was he?

None of this made sense. Surely if she were smart like Fernpaw, she could understand. This was hurting her head. But she had to figure it out. Wolfpaw's wellness depended on it. Hedgepaw blinked hard, trying to make sense of the old, foggy memories. "Are you getting dreams?" she asked tentatively, green eyes probing into her brother's face. "Like, medicine cat dreams? 'Cause Burdockroot's dead, I thought. I hope she's not telling you scary things. I... I wish I could tell her to stop. I want her to leave you alone, if she is the one doing this." If she had put things together, then that left her with more information than before, but still nothing to do. There was no herb to get rid of dreams of dead cats... was there? Hedgepaw frowned. So close. Close to finding a way to cure her brother, but with no real luck. "Can I help you? What can I do? Tell me, Wolf. Please. I'll help however I can."