Swiftpaw's Chance: Chapter 14
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“Hey, Cinderpelt?”
“Hmm?” The gray medicine cat is near the back of her den, half-invisible in the shadows. Swiftscar shifts where he stands in the entrance, glances over his shoulder. He’s awkward, suddenly, when this is really no different from any other time he’s gone to see Cinderpelt.
“Do you ever wish you’d become a warrior instead?” he asks, instead of just asking his question .
Cinderpelt turns. “This isn’t a conversation we should have standing in the entranceway. Come in.”
He ducks inside and sits in one of the nests Cinderpelt reserves for patients. She busies herself with her herbs for a moment and then sits in front of him.
She takes a visible breath. “You mean, why didn’t I continue to try and be a warrior despite my injury?”
He nods.
“Simply put, I couldn’t. It hurt me more to try and be what I had been than to embrace what I am now. I have limits , and it’s worse to try and overcome them than it is to respect them. With time and a lot of training, there’s a chance I could’ve been a warrior, yes, but in the end I just couldn’t.”
“Do you...regret it? Picking this life?”
Cinderpelt sighs. “Some days, when it’s leafbare and my leg is stiff and it hurts no matter what I do, I wish I hadn’t had the injury. And some days when I watch my brother come back from a hunting patrol, I wish I could go with him. But I can’t be a warrior. You have to understand, Swiftscar, that my leg? It hurts, all the time. Running isn’t something I can do often. Jumping? Fighting on my hind legs? I just can’t do it. So no, I don’t regret respecting my body and trying to lessen my pain. I wish things had gone differently, but I don’t regret the way they did go.”
Swiftscar looks at the ground, absorbing everything Cinderpelt is saying. She doesn’t speak again, and he gets the feeling she’s waiting for him to say something. Finally, he just blurts it out.
“What if I want to be a medicine cat?”
Cinderpelt blinks for a second. “Well, you would be my apprentice, for a start. You already know some herbs, but I’d have to teach you all of them. There would be a lot of sickness and injuries to deal with, and you would have limits that you just wouldn't have as a warrior.”
“The medicine cat code,” Swiftscar says. “No mate, no kits. I know.”
“It’s an idiotic rule, I think, but it’s a rule nonetheless,” Cinderpelt says. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve always been so adamant about being a warrior.”
“I had...a talk. With Ravenpaw. He said some things that made sense, I guess.” Swiftscar scuffs at the ground with one paw. “I did well with Snowkit, you said so yourself.” He nods to the back of the den, where the kit is still resting.
“He is healing up nicely. Another day or two and I can clear him for light apprentice duties, I think. He’s due to be a ‘paw.”
Swiftscar nods. “Yeah. So it would really be okay if I...?”
“Of course!” Cinderpelt says. “I was half-anticipating this, anyway. It was just a question of how stubborn you were exactly, I guess.”
“What, StarClan didn’t send you an omen?” Swiftscar asks. He’s mostly teasing, a little curious.
“StarClan are...interesting, to say the least. They don’t actually send many omens or signs unless something very big is going to happen. They’re not perfect either; just a bunch of dead cats, some with the advantage of being very old, but still just cats nonetheless,” Cinderpelt informs him. “If you really decide to go through with this, I can take you to the next half moon meeting, you’ll meet StarClan there, plus the other medicine cats.”
“Right. Will they, uh,” Swiftscar flexes his claws, “accept me? As a medicine cat?”
“Who, the other cats? Or StarClan?” Cinderpelt doesn’t wait for his response. “Of course they will. Littlecloud is the ShadowClan medicine cat, you know, and he used to be a warrior until pretty recently. Yellowfang was a warrior first, as well. And StarClan has rejected leaders , in the past—only in very special circumstances—but never a medicine cat. You’ll be fine, Swiftscar.”
“If you say so,” he murmurs. “But what if I...regret it? Later on?”
Cinderpelt flicks her tail, dismissive. “Somehow I doubt you will, or you’ll figure it out pretty early that this life isn’t for you. If that happens, we go our separate ways. I won’t be needing a new apprentice for some time yet.”
“Okay,” Swiftscar starts, “but-“
There’s a loud yowl in camp, cutting off his words, and both of them scramble out of the medicine den to see what’s going on.
Mudclaw is standing in the entrance to the camp, breathing hard, his eyes wild. Firestar is already in front of him.
“What’s going on?” he demands.
“TigerClan,” Mudclaw gasps, “WindClan is under attack.”
Before Swiftscar can even properly process that, Firestar is barking orders for a patrol. Even as cat’s names are being called Swiftscar is stepping forward automatically, and then Cinderpelt gently stops him.
“You’re a medicine cat now, sort of,” she says gently. “And if we’re facing TigerClan I’ll be needing help.”
Swiftscar watches as Cloudtail and Brightheart join the battle patrol and tears his eyes away. Cinderpelt is staring past him, and when he follows her gaze it’s to Brackenfur as he joins the group as well.
“Is it hard? Watching him head off without you?” he asks her.
“Yes,” Cinderpelt says. “When I was young Yellowfang just snapped at me to get over it, it’s not like I’d be much help if I went with him, or like he’d be much help if he stayed. But I always worry.”
“Does it get easier?”
She smiles a bit ruefully. “To do my job despite worrying about him? Yes. To watch him go off without knowing what shape he’ll be in when he comes back? No.”
Swiftscar doesn't have anything to say to that. Firestar gives the signal for the patrol to leave, and Cloudtail and Brightheart both break away, running up to him. Their noses press into the fur on both sides of his face.
“We’ll be back soon,” Brightheart whispers.
“We’ll watch out for each other,” Cloudtail promises.
“Be safe, ” Swiftscar tells them, and then they’re pulling away, running to catch up with the others.
Cinderpelt is looking at him when he turns back to her. “You three are...very sweet,” she says. “You know I’m pretty sure half the Clan is expecting Brightheart and Cloudtail to have kits any time now.”
The thought, somehow, sends a sick jolt through Swiftscar’s belly. “And the other half?”
“Well, you’ve crushed their hopes—they were expecting you and Brightheart, I think,” she says with a laugh.
“What, no one thought about Cloudtail and I?” Swiftscar asks. He thinks he’s joking, probably. Two toms and two she-cats isn’t unheard of, exactly, but it’s not common, either.
“Hmm, maybe,” Cinderpelt says. “Personally, I think the way you look at the two of them—and the way they look at you, and at each other—I don’t think any of you could pick one over another. But I’m just the medicine cat. You don’t have to listen to anything I say about relationships.”
Swiftscar ducks his head a bit. I don’t think any of you could pick one over another . He imagines Brightheart and Cloudtail, with him, the way they are now, for the rest of their lives. Then he remembers: If he’s going to be a medicine cat, he can’t have them. He can’t have that anymore.
“Does it matter, anyway?” he asks, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “Can’t take a mate anymore.”
Cinderpelt hums. “The code says that a medicine cat will not take a mate or have kits. It says nothing about two mates.”
Swiftscar snorts. “I don’t think it works that way.”
“Don’t you?” Cinderpelt gives him a wry smile. “I’m the medicine cat here. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
It’s a joke. It’s definitely a joke. Swiftscar smiles anyway and pretends that it isn’t as he follows her back to her den. Their den, maybe, now.
“So is there anything special we need to do?” he asks. “To prepare, I mean.”
“We have enough herbs to take care of our Clanmates,” Cinderpelt says. “We should make sure Snowkit is set for the rest of the day, in case we get too many patients to get to him later.”
Swiftscar nods and heads over to Snowkit, who’s awake now, blinking up at him.
“Uh, hello,” he says, and then remembers: Snowkit is deaf. “Cinderpelt? Is there a way for me to tell him what I’m going to do?”
“Brackenfur was trying to work it out the last few days,” she says. “Try showing him the herbs and things before you begin. Here.”
She pads over, flicks her tail to get Snowkit’s attention, and slowly makes a series of gestures that end with her pointing a paw at the herbs Swiftscar already has ready. Snowkit looks from the leaves back to Cinderpelt, who nods, and then tips her head, questioning. He nods back.
“There,” she says. “I think he understands. Brackenfur’s better with the signs than I am, but I know enough.”
Swiftscar nods and starts to remove the poultices from Snowkit’s sides. His talon wounds are looking better, even to Swiftscar’s untrained eyes. Blood wells in them as he watches, but doesn’t spill into the kit’s fur. He works quickly, and in a matter of moments he has fresh poultices on all of the gashes.
He steps back and casts a questioning glance at Cinderpelt.
“Here.” She guides him into Snowkit’s line of sight. “Brackenfur worked out a sign for ‘finished’ pretty early.”
She lifts both her forepaws off the ground and slams them down, then glances at Swiftscar. He copies her movement, watching Snowkit. The kit breaks into a smile and nods, pushing himself up on his own paws to do the same thing. Cinderpelt laughs.
“He’s a fast learner, I think. Sometimes it’s hard to know if he’s just following along or not, but I think he picks up more than you’d think,” she says.
They entertained Snowkit for a little while—Cinderpelt showed Swiftscar a few more signs, and they played a limited game of mossball—before they heard voices outside.
“Cinderpelt!” Frostfur called. She’d been one of the few cats left behind to guard the camp.
Cinderpelt skidded out of the den, bearly on three legs, and Swiftscar was half a step behind her. Firestar was standing in the entrance with the rest of the battle patrol, and from what Swiftscar could see of them...they looked unhurt. Totally fine, but defeated , somehow.
Cinderpelt slows to a confused halt, pads across the last bit of space to their Clanmates.
“Firestar?” she asks. Swiftscar thinks she sounds almost afraid.
So is he.
Firestar hangs his head. “We were too late,” he says roughly. “Gorsepaw is dead. Every other cat is injured. And Tigerstar left us a message.”
Swiftscar is close enough to see Cinderpelt’s eyes widen. “What did he say?” she asks in a near whisper.
“We join TigerClan now, or we face the consequences. Given what Tigerstar did to WindClan...”
“Are you considering it?” Swiftscar snaps, incredulous.
Firestar glares at him. “Of course not. I was just going to say that it will be difficult. We might lose cats.”
“It’s TigerClan ,” Cinderpelt says. “Two Clans combined into one. We always knew it was going to be a hard battle.”
“It’s different, seeing the aftermath for yourself,” Firestar tells her. After a long pause, he finally picks up his head and visibly forces himself to straighten. “I arranged a meeting with Tallstar for tomorrow. We’ll be expecting a fight—I’ll need as many warriors as I can spare, considering WindClan’s condition.”
Cinderpelt nods.
The Clan goes their separate ways to their dens. Anticipation of the battle hangs heavy and grim in the air, a weight settling in the sky. Cloudtail and Brightheart come up to Swiftscar.
“Hi,” Cloudtail says.
Despite everything that’s happened and that is going to happen, Swiftscar smiles. “Hey.”
“Are you...still sleeping with us?” Brightheart asks. She looks up at him for a second and then fixes her eye on the ground.
Swiftscar glances at Cinderpelt, who gives him a smile with layers of meaning he can’t decipher and nods. “Absolutely.”
Cloudtail tips his head a bit. “You’re a medicine cat officially now, though. Right? So shouldn’t you be sleeping in Cinderpelt’s den?”
“Not officially. Probably not for a few days. Cinderpelt wants me to be really sure, and anyway I’m pretty sure Firestar has enough to worry about without conducting any official ceremonies,” Swiftscar says.
Brightheart bumps against him. “Well, I hope it works out. In the meantime, we get to sleep together in the warriors den for a little while longer.”
Swiftscar ducks into the den, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. “Won’t you two miss me?”
“‘Course we will,” Cloudtail says, and then makes a sound like the beginning of a word before he clears his throat, ducking his head.
They settle into their nests again and Swiftscar tries not to think about the fact that they only have a few nights left to curl up together like this. Maybe once he’s a medicine cat he can still sleep in the warriors den when Cinderpelt doesn’t need him. He lays down. The rest of the warriors are still outside for the moment, leaving the den private.
“You know, Cinderpelt told me something today,” Swiftscar says into the quiet, and then mentally curses himself for bringing it up.
“What, did you learn a new herb?” Cloudtail asks, teasing.
“Hey,” Brightheart says, “be nice. Herbs are cool.”
“It’s not herbs,” Swiftscar says, and nearly kicks himself again. “Apparently half the Clan is expecting you two to announce some kits any day now.”
Brightheart makes a face that might be described as vaguely disgusted. “ Really ?”
Cloudtail flattens his ears, hurt flickering across his face before he hides it behind a joking look. “What do you mean? Am I not good enough for you or something?”
“Not that, ” Brightheart shoves him. “A proper mate. Kits. Right now, at least. Feels awfully fast.”
Cloudtail relaxes and looks at Swiftscar, “So why are cats apparently saying stuff like that anyway?”
Swiftscar shrugs, not looking at him. “I guess you two have spent a lot of time together?”
“I spend a lot of time with you , too,” Brightheart says. “And it’s not like you and Cloudtail are strangers. Probably some cats are waiting on our kits.” She wrinkles her nose. “Though they should keep their noses out of our business, I think. All any cat in this Clan seems to care about is when you’re going to have a litter.”
Swiftscar nods. “I know. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“No, it’s fine,” Brightheart says. “Not your fault, anyway. Come on, let’s go to sleep, we’ve got...there’s a big fight tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” Swiftscar’s heart twists at the thought of them charging into battle without him, even knowing he wouldn’t be any help. “Yeah, there is.”
-0-0-0-
Except, there’s not. When the ThunderClan warriors—every last one of them, save for Tawnypaw, Bramblepaw, and Speckletail who stayed to guard camp—return, they’re completely unharmed. But somehow, Swiftscar notes, more shaken than they were before.
“I’m starting to get tired of making battle preparations for fights that don’t happen,” he jokes to Cinderpelt.
If she notices him speaking, she doesn’t respond. “Firestar? What happened?”
“Tigerstar met us with reinforcements—a bunch of cats from Twolegplace that call themselves BloodClan,” Firestar says.
BloodClan? Swiftscar searches the ThunderClan patrol as they slowly trickle into camp. Brightheart and Cloudtail are leaning on each other; Brightheart especially looks awful .
“They’re terrible cats,” Firestar continues, “claws reinforced with dog claws and collars studded with dog teeth. BloodClan’s leader, Scourge...he wants the forest for himself. Tigerstar tried to fight him and Scourge...killed him. All nine lives, one after the other. It was a wound even StarClan could not heal.”
Cinderpelt gasps. Swiftscar wants to run to Brightheart, but he’s not sure his legs will carry him that far. Dog teeth, dog claws. Tigerstar dying nine times over. He can barely imagine it.
Firestar shakes his head. “BloodClan has given us three days to make a choice: Flee, or fight.”
“They killed Tigerstar ,” Cinderpelt says. “If we fight, we could lose everyone.”
“If we flee, we lose our homes ,” Sandstorm snaps.
“It’s a terrible decision,” Firestar says. “BloodClan is strong, yes, but they are a small force. If we could convince the other Clans to join us we would have a chance.”
A chance. Swiftscar finally finds his feet and stumbles over to Cloudtail and Brightheart. He gets on Brightheart’s other side and presses against her. Dog claws. She watched a cat killed by dog claws today, never mind that a cat wielded them.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
“No one was hurt,” Brightheart says. “No one but Tigerstar.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
She stands firmly for another moment before she slumps. “No, I’m really not . I’m scared, Swiftscar. You weren’t there, you didn’t see it...they’ll kill us. Maybe, with all the Clans, we could drive them out, but how many cats would we lose?”
“You can’t be saying we just give up?” Cloudtail asks. “Run away?”
“I don’t know,” Brightheart says in a miserable voice. “I just...I don’t want to lose anyone.”
Swiftscar rubs his cheek against hers. “I know. We have three days to figure it out. I’m sure Firestar will be able to convince WindClan to help, and probably RiverClan and ShadowClan now that Tigerstar’s gone. We’ll be okay.”
“You can’t promise that,” Brightheart hisses. “We have no idea what’s going to happen. BloodClan is ruthless . I don’t like the idea of running away any more than you do, but if it keeps us all alive, maybe it’s the best choice.”
“No matter what happens,” Cloudtail tells her, “whether we run or we fight, we’ll stick together. All three of us. I promise you that. Where you go, I’ll go.”
“And me,” Swiftscar says firmly.
Brightheart leans into him and sighs. They all stand together, thinking of BloodClan and cats with dog claws and each other, and what they would do to be by each other’s sides for the rest of their lives.