Ok...it felt kind of nice to NOT write 2020 LMAO. Welcome to 2021! To kick off the brand new year, we're introducing a round of updates, including new bio and forbidden romance rules, our Secret Santa reveal, OTM winners and nominations, our monthly patrols, and a fun new infectious disease! So make sure to check out the January Announcements for all of the new content! As we leave 2020 behind us, we hope everyone is able to put themselves first this year and practice self-care! Here's to another one! Let's write some cats!
The Apostles is a warrior cats roleplay based in northern Wisconsin. On Lake Superior, the wild cats have made the Apostle Islands their home. It is on these islands - Rocky Island and South Twin Island - that the clan and tribe cats have lived in a peace and harmony that ebbs and flows with the tide.
But as the tides turn, so does the truce that binds them to one another; and as the water raises, a darkness follows, an evil that will end in bloodshed and violence.
Ruefeather trotted beside his brother as the smaller she-cat trailed behind them, the sun glowering above as it slowly began its afternoon descent. Swiveling his ears, the black and white tom attentively listened to the quiet trot of paw-steps as Smallpaw slid through the undergrowth, her breath the only sound escaping her dove-colored maws. Swallowing, the tom redirected his attention elsewhere, careful to hoist his stare toward the archaic trees, and not behind him, never behind him, fearful that his cheeks would redden and his heart would thud as he met the she-cat’s amber gaze.
Clearing his throat, Ruefeather shook his head and motioned toward the redwood graveyard with his nose, the landmark a few more strides north from their current location. With the warm air, the fallen trees and moss-covered earth would be abundant with insects, making their hunt for cobwebs and marigold an easy endeavor, a mere outing Ruefeather would only have to remember for its haste alone. He did not want to waste a lot of time on the trek, his coat uncomfortable, his breath shallow in his throat. Ever since his moment with Smallpaw moon ago, he found himself watching the she-cat, his eyes effortlessly following her lithe form as she trailed behind Loudstorm and into the woods, her small, serious face, her coat as driven as the flourished, brown earth.
The tom sucked in a sudden breath, suddenly aware he was doing it again. He was thinking about her, even though she was now a medicine cat’s apprentice, now that it was worse, much worse. Before he was uncomfortable because he didn’t understand how he felt, but now he was uncomfortable because it was against the warrior code. It was condemned, looked down upon. If she even returned his foolish affections, as outlandish as it seemed, she would lose her entire title, her rank, her reputation within the clan.
This had to end.
But how? He wondered as his ears slowly swiveled back toward the she-cat, his heart profusely cursing Loudstorm for sending them all on this trek together in the first place. He knew the clan needed more cobwebs and herbs to treat the wounds and infections in the wake of the recent battle, a moment he only remembered in blood and screams and flashes of thunder and nothing else, but why did he have to be sent along too, and to make it worse, why was his brother here? If it had been some other cat, the tension would have been less, that he knew. With each stride, Ruefeather felt as if his brother was evaluating his every move, a warmth in his stare that Ruefeather wrestled to understand.
Sighing, the tom drew to a halt as the band reached the graveyard, his maws parting as he scented the land. The fresh scent of herbs wafted across his nose, and his whiskers twitched. Glancing toward the other two, he ducked his head and murmured. “It’d probably be best if we split up and gathered the herbs on our own.” He turned to look over his shoulder, studying the turned over logs, the rich moss that grew in clumps, his brow pursing as he considered where the herbs rested. Smallpaw would know, he thought absent-mindedly, and immediately a faint blush colored his cheeks. Careful so that his face never turned toward them, the black and white tom trotted forward and muttered beneath his breath, “I can find the cobwebs.”
Rowanpath walked in stride with Ruefeather. At first, he looked around at the redwood trees, spotting evidence of squirrels and woodpeckers on the trunks. The sun had started sinking from its peak and the forest seemed to sigh with relief, a refreshing gale withering away the remainder of mid-day heat. Rowanpath's whiskers stretched out to greet it, his eyes closing in relief as the coolness passed through his fur and lifted away the heaviness. The breeze tasted like the lake, earthy and damp... with a hint of animal droppings.
He opened his eyes and glanced around, taking in the signs of wildlife that had recently passed through. A mouse trail here, squirrel fur is stuck to the undergrowth there, he mused along, looks like it had a spat with something. His paws itched to pursue the trail, but he wasn't there to hunt. He fastened his focus back on the dirt trail ahead, paving between the red trunks. The massive black and white tom beside him seemed to be deep in thought. Then again, Rowanpath usually thought Ruefeather was thinking about something; he always had that dark look on his face. He took a look at the wounds his brother bore upon his hide, flinching slightly as he did.Shouldn't you be resting? I can take it from here, he wanted to say, but he knew that Ruefeather would never agree to it.
Rowanpath briefly glanced back at Smallpaw to gauge her own expression. It must've been hard for her to see all of this happening, too. She was even younger than them. Rowanpath offered her a reassuring smile before looking at Ruefeather again. He fumbled for the words he was trying to say, failing momentarily.
Then, Ruefeather spoke and he suggested they all split up. Rowanpath's expression twisted into one of disapproval. You are still injured from the battle! There's no way. But he couldn't say that out loud. Any warrior with an ounce of pride would counter such a statement.
"Hey!" Rowanpath called out sharply to Ruefeather as the tom started moving away, "Do you really think it's a good idea to leave Littlefoot on her own in times like these? And anyway, there's cobwebs right there," he nodded his head to the left of Ruefeather, pointing out a patch of them attached to a bush. The scrawny branches only held a small amount of cobwebs, though. Why did Ruefeather want to split up so bad anyway? It's not like he had anything pressing to do, except rest so he could nurse his wounds. Was it something Rowanpath had done? He searched his memory for a reason his brother would be avoiding him, but nothing came to mind.
He turned to face Smallpaw finally, since the beginning of the trek, and lowered his block-head so their eyes were more level. "Do you know where to find the other things you're looking for, Littlefeet?" he asked with a friendly undertone, tilting his head, "Ruefeather and I will stay to help you. Won't we, Rue?" He added with a pointed look at his brother.
At Loudstorm’s command, Smallpaw found herself following after the two towering brothers into the redwood forest. With each step they took Smallpaw took three. And in that moment, Smallpaw cursed her short legs as she raced to keep up with them.
Smallpaw glanced at the black and white time, noting the wounds that marred his hide. At least they didn’t look deep, but still, it didn’t look pleasant. Redwoodclan was lucky to have an exceptional medicine cat like Orchidshade.
Smallpaw dragged her gaze from the seemingly tensed tom, as movement from her peripheral vision caught her attention. She was greeted with a smile from Rowanpath. Smallpaw’s stomach dropped when she realized that she had in fact being staring. Before she could muster her own smile, he turned away, eyeing his companion at his side. Was his wounds bothering him more than what he’s showing?
Finding the courage to raise her concerns, she bit down on her tongue as the two toms finally came to a halt. Smallpaw’s ear perked as Ruefeather’s low murmur hung in the cool air. Smallpaw’s narrow shoulders sagged at his suggestion wanting to keep a close eye on his healing wound, but agreed that it would be faster to split.
Before she could put in her two-cents, Rowanpath’s sharp call halted him in his tracks. Littlefoot? Smallpaw gave the large tabby a puzzling look before her eye lit up. Did she just receive her first nickname? She smiled at the thought, until she comprehended the rest of his sentence. She shook her head, “I-I don’t mind splitting…up.” Her voice was heard on deaf ears as Rowanpath continued on pointing out some cobwebs in front of them.
She chanced a quick glance at the quite tom, his shoulders seem to be even more tensed then before. A small chill went down her spine as she took a step closer to him to insist on checking his wound.
Smallpaw squeaked in surprise when she noticed Rowanpath’s large face was suddenly eye level with hers’. On instinct, the small she-cat took a step back, her eyes widen at their proximately from each other. She nodded her head at the tom’s question, “Y-Yes, I do, but I’ll be fine.” She stammered as she nervously glanced at Ruefeather. It seemed like he really wanted to be alone. She turned back to Rowanpath and gave him a reassuring smile, “Ruefeather’s right, it would be faster splitting up.” She meowed; she didn’t want to burden the two with her presence.
Ruefeather shot his brother an incredulous look over his shoulder, his brow raised, as his name resounded into the woodland from the tabby’s maws. A retort on his tongue, the black and white tom opened his mouth to meow when Rowanpath gestured toward a nearby bush, its straggly branches covered in thin, wispy cobwebs. His eyes drifted from the bush to his brother and then a sigh escaped his lips, a faint blush covering his cheeks. So much for getting this over with, he thought as he turned back to face the other cats, watching from a guarded stare as his brother bent down to talk to the lithe she-cat. A twinge of jealousy licked the depths of his stomach. Scrunching his nose, the tom looked away, both frustrated with his brother’s ease to talk to others and his own inability to control his feelings.
Swiveling his ears, however, the tom caught Smallpaw’s answer, and he found his gaze returning toward them, his eyes widening as he contemplated her response. Did she also not want to spend time with him? Flicking his tail, Ruefeather turned toward the cobwebs and meowed lowly from over his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll gather the cobwebs, and you and Smallpaw can get the marigold. I’m sure it’ll be faster if she shows you anyways.” Not waiting for an answer, the black and white tom moved toward the bush, his attention focused on the silvery strings that spread between the wiry branches. Using his teeth, he cracked a twig from the shrub and aimed the end toward the cobwebs, so he could wound the white substance around it without having to deal with the sticky mess himself. When he was finished, he moved toward a bramble patch nearby, his eyes keen for the silvery shimmer of webs, but a sudden, low buzzing sound caught his attention instead.
Curiously, the tom raised his gaze toward the ancient trees, looking for the source of the noise, when an abrupt breeze suddenly blistered in from over the lake and into the cliffs, and there! His eyes landed on the teetering shape of a wasp’s nest, it’s odd, rock-like silhouette bobbing dangerously back and forth on a low-hanging branch, wasps swarming the mass like pesky gnats. It looks like its going fall any moment, he thought with a grimace. The tom’s gaze then drifted downwards, following the old trunk until his stare landed on the moving forms of his brother and Smallpaw, who unexpectedly walked toward the nest below, their eyes trained for marigold.
Mouse-dung! He thought as the twig dropped from his mouth, hitting the floor with an anti-climatic thud. Moving toward them, the black and white tom rushed through the foliage, his eyes continuously flickering toward the wasp nest, it’s mass bouncing beneath another gust of wind. The sudden lurch irritated the wounds that colored his back, but still he raced toward them. “Hey!” he meowed, his voice surprisingly loud. “Watch out!” And with another blast of wind from across the cliffs, the nest slammed into the trunk and then descended into the air toward the cats below as Ruefeather watched helplessly from the sidelines, his eyes widened and his maws stretched.
Rowanpath frowned in defeat as he watched Ruefeather walk away from them, despite his efforts to bring him back. He looked at Smallpaw curiously, realizing that, hey, she wants to separate too. What's going on here? Rowanpath wondered at that, but he remained steadily clueless as to the underlying reasons. Perhaps there weren't any, and he was reading too much into things. I guess they really just want to be that efficient. Ruefeather does like to work alone, after all.
"Fine!" he called after his brother, a twinge of hurt in his voice, "we'll just slow ya down!" he sighed again, ears drooping. He turned back and awkwardly realized that Smallpaw was still there. He remembered that she'd smiled at him calling her 'Littlefoot'. Perking up so that she wouldn't feel bad for him or something, he said, "Alright, Littlefoot. I agree, screw that lump of fur," he arched an eyebrow to gauge her reaction to that statement, but after a moment's pause he finally relented, "Alright, come on, I'll lead the way over here. There's a bit of a path that way. It'll make things easier on your small paws," he smiled at her and led the way through the undergrowth that crept out onto the worn path he'd pointed out. He checked to make sure she was okay with it, before looking back at where he was going.
He figured she would meander about looking for her herbs. "When you find what you're looking for, don't be afraid to let me hold onto it all. I don't mind carrying everything for you, little lady," he mused charmingly as he continued along, "I'll just check the path up ahead for any fearsome predators to protect you from!" he told her over his shoulder as the distance between them grew with each huge stride he took. There was a cheerful smile on his face, he'd already forgotten about his brother for the moment, focused on his duties.
He noticed some odd tracks on the ground, almost like a rat's tracks, but bigger, and started trailing them along the path. His nose was to the ground, ears perked, concentrated on his newfound trail.
Then, suddenly, he heard a familiar voice coming from the brush. "Huh?" he lifted his head above the undergrowth, spotting Ruefeather hurrying towards them, "Hey, Ruefeather! Did you find-" Then he saw it, the wasp nest hurtling right towards him. He tried to duck out of the way, but the undergrowth tugged at him and caught him by his long fur. "Ack!"
Splat!
"Yeoww!"Rowanpath yowled. He struggled against the bushes, the branches flailing about as they pulled on him. Every time he pulled away, the branches wound tighter. Wasps crawled through his fur, biting his ears, his nose, anything they could get ahold of. Then came the stings, not once, but sometimes twice each. Their nest had landed flat on his face. "Ah! Get off me you stupid bugs! Rue, help, I'm stuck- Agh! Damn it! That was my eye!"
Smallpaw couldn’t tear her gaze from his retreating form. Her chest tightening as she replayed her words, afraid that she had misspoken. She didn't want to burden the two, in fact, she expected the brothers to pair up while she went off on her own.
Rowanpath’s deep voice startled the she-cat to attention, her eyes widen at the large tom’s harsh words towards his brother. She swallowed heavily as she glanced over her narrow shoulders towards the tabby, only to find his bright, calculating gaze staring back at her. She couldn’t lie, Rowanpath intimidated her. There was no filter to him and his gaze seemed to stare right through you.
The she-cat let out a soft sigh of relief when Rowanpath broke the silence, and with a flick of his tail indicated for her to follow. With her head hung low, the she-cat padded after the tom making sure to keep a few tail lengths between them. She couldn’t help but replay Ruefeather’s expression at her words. She would have to apologize to him when they got back to camp, explain to him that she didn't mean to offend him. She chanced a peak once more over her shoulder, the tabby’s words heard on deaf ears when she saw a flash of black and white running towards them.
It all happened so fast, Rowanpath’s yowl echoed in her ears as the underbrush violently shook from his thrashing, his long fur tangled into the brambles. Then a sharp pain erupted from her neck and the underbrush came alive. A short yowl escaped the she-cat’s lips as she slipped through the underbrush, ignoring the brambles that tore at her pelt and bolted from the swarm. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she ran, not realizing that she was heading straight into her fellow clan mate.
Her face collided into his chest, the impact leaving stars behind her eyes. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her vision and blinked up at the ruffled tom. ”S-Sorry…” She muttered just as another pained yowl resonated behind her. She felt her stomach drop as she realized Rowanpath was still within the swarm of bees and that she had left him.
She turned to Ruefeather with wide eyes, ”W-What should we do?” Her tail curled under her as she turned back towards their trapped clan mate. She thought the tom was right behind her, she could have sworn she heard his pounding steps, ”W-What can we do, Ruefeather?”
The nest hit the earth with a cataclysmic thud, the hive exploding as wasps swarmed the area in an aggressive, buzzing cloud. Instinctively, Ruefeather reared from the blast, his ears flattening as he distanced himself from the furious swarm, but his brother’s desperate cries willed him back, his strides inching toward as he braved the horrendous drone. Mouse-brain! He cursed as a wasp whizzed past him, the tom hurriedly sinking to his haunches to avoid its violent sting. Wait! He realized with a tightening seize of anxiety. Where was Smallpaw? He couldn’t see her beneath his brother’s frantic thrashing and the haze of enraged insects. He had no idea if she had made it out unscathed or if she was trapped beneath one of the bushes, scared and alone.
With clenched teeth, the tom surged forward, methodically weaving through the undergrowth when suddenly the she-cat crashed into him, her head colliding forcefully into his chest. A loud, involuntary wheeze escaped his maws, the air violently coerced from his lungs. Embarrassed, Ruefeather backed away from her, a blush coloring his cheeks as he meowed, almost in tandem with the medicine cat between coughs. “Sorry.” He blinked, his eyes widening as he realized that he had merely repeated her apology. His blush only deepened. But, she didn’t seem to see it, and if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. She only turned toward him with those wide, leaf-green eyes, his name on her lips. His heart vibrated in his chest, the color over his cheeks a rich claret.
“Um,” he swallowed, suddenly unable to speak. But, another screech from his brother carried him back to earth, reminded him of the swarm. Shaking his head, Ruefeather bounded in front of Smallpaw, his ears swiveling back in her direction. “Stay behind me,” he murmured beneath his breath. He hesitated as his eyes scanned the scene, searching for a possible exit route. “Actually,” he added, turning back toward the she-cat. “Head back toward the forest, away from here. We’ll meet you once we get out.” His eyes softened, cradling her round, delicate face. “I’m going to try and grab him, and I know they’re going to follow us.” His brow furrowed with concern. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” The black and white tom held her stare for a few beats before he turned back toward the swarm, a determined fire beneath his chartreuse hues.
Without a second of hesitation, Ruefeather threw himself into the underbrush, ignoring the tiny pricks and stings as he dove confidently toward his brother, the wasps buzzing angrily above his head. One plummeted into his back, driving its stinger into his shoulder. A hiss left his maws in a wince as he thrust his muzzle toward Rowanpath’s scruff, ignoring the fiery pain. “Don’t move,” he muttered, urging his brother still with a violent tug as he pulled the tom out of the entangled branches. Boughs snapped beneath him as he dragged the heavy warrior back toward the trees and away from the furious wasps. As soon as his brother’s paw hit the earth, the toms burst from the fallen hive and ran back toward the small, medicine cat, the hornets hot on their tails.
Fortunately, the wasps didn’t persist for long, not wanting to abandon their broken nest, but not without leaving their own vehement marks across their skin. Dozens of tiny, inflamed bites radiated beneath Ruefeather’s coat. It hurt so much that he thought he could collapse right there on the forest floor, but he continued, his paws thudding methodically over the foliage, knowing that his wounds didn’t compare to his brother’s. The toms did not slow until Smallpaw’s curled, hunched body materialized between the trees, her eyes wide in the underbrush. Chest heaving, Ruefeather neared her, his brows wrinkling with worry as he glanced toward his brother. “Tell me what you need,” he meowed between breaths. “To heal him, I mean,” he added, realizing that he didn’t make much sense. “And I’ll find it.”
His command snapped the she-cat to attention, bringing her gaze towards his. Her breath hitched at the intensity behind his stare and before she could respond, he was gone. His long black and white coat swallowed by the swarming underbrush.
The urge to run after him was strong, but she heeded the warrior’s words and bolted back to where they came from. Her wide eyes, scanning the forest floor as she went, hoping to come across anything that would help them. A bright ray of sunlight twinkled down through the trees, illuminating a patch of leafy green plants. The apprentice beelined towards the herbs, ripping the plump leaves from their stems, crushing the dock to a pulp in her mouth. Though the salve wouldn’t help with the wasps’ toxins, it would at least help with the pain.
She curled into herself as she spat out the chewed dock at her paws, as the two large tom’s barreled towards her. Her eyes widen, surprised by their sudden appearance. Smallpaw leapt to her paws as Rowanpath collapsed, noting that the stings were starting to swell. Her ear swiveled towards Ruefeather, his words broken by his harsh breathes.
She dabbed her petite paw into the fresh salve, chancing a glance at the ragged tom through her peripherals, noting the stiffness in his demeanor. Softly, she dabbed the dock onto Rowanpath’s swollen face, wincing as a low groan escaped his maws. ”I-I was only able to find some dock. Wh-Which will help with the p-pain, temporarily.”She stuttered, carefully spreading more of the pulp onto the tom’s swelled neck.
Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought, there was nothing around them that would help with the toxins. But there was something that could help keep the inflammation down. She turned, her eyes scanning the tom’s figure once more for any major injuries. She let out a soft breath of air, locking her gaze with hise.”M-Marigold. If y-your wounds aren’t too much, w-we could use some marigold. Th-They can usually be found where the sun is alway shining.”She mewed, wiping the last bit of the first batch of dock onto the brown warrior. She turned towards the patch of dock, as she heard Ruefeather take off, his steps becoming faint. Leaving the she-cat alone, with hope that she was doing what Orchidshade would do.
“Marigold,” he repeated with a brisk nod, watching as the lithe she-cat turned back towards his brother, her small paws working the salve into the blistering stings on the tabby’s shoulder. Momentarily, he met Rowanpath’s gritted grimace, his own face wincing in pain, before he turned on his heels, bounding back toward the redwood graveyard. He didn’t particularly want to return to the carnage, but it was the only place where the herb grew, it’s golden petals like honey beneath the dense foliage. As his feet thudded over the underbrush, the distant sound of furious buzzing flared like a sudden roar. He drew to a sudden, slowed hesitant halt, his stare wide as the vibration intensified.
Mouse-dung! He breathed as he lowered himself toward the earth, his eyes narrowing as he watched the wasps angrily circle their nest in a heated fire. Slowly, his gaze drifted toward a brilliant patch of orange, the flowers tucked near the base of a tree, it’s roots achingly close to the wasps. A groan left his maws. There was no escaping it. He’d have to dive back into the chaos in order to fetch the herbs. Closing his eyes, Ruefeather inhaled once, drawing the breath in from his mouth, before exhaling from his nose. Then he was on his feet, rushing toward the flowers without a second of hesitation. Immediately, the insects dove for his flesh, their stingers piercing him like claws, but it was not enough to stop him. Ruefeather merely gritted his teeth and dove for the herbs.
Swiftly, the tom cut the flowers at their base, using his teeth, as his paws worked to bat away any pesky wasps. That earned him another sting or two, one above his eye, the other on his cheek. Hissing, he reared his head, trying to escape the swarm, but it was no use. He had to grab the herb and run. His right eye pulsing, Ruefeather snatched the herbs between his teeth and ran as fast as he could back toward his clan-mates, the earth wildly kicking from his feet. His entire body ached, alive with a sensation that felt like teeth, but he persisted, his paws not slowing until he saw the medicine cat huddled near his brother, still rubbing the dock into his wounds. Nearly collapsing, Ruefeather laid the marigold near her paws, his chest heaving as he tried to let out an uneven breath.
“Here,” he meowed at last, his eyes widely scanning the perimeter. He couldn’t hear the wasps any longer, but he had to be sure. The last thing he wanted was for Smallpaw to get stung, or worse, mutilated like his brother. Grimacing, Ruefeather looked back toward the direction of camp, his breathing slowing as his adrenaline started to dissipate. “After you're done treating him, we should go,” he meowed softly, ignoring the sounds of his brother’s worried meow. “Let me know,” he started as his stare moved back toward the medicine cat, a slight blush across his nose. “If you need help or anything. I could chew the herbs, maybe.” His voice lowered, a meekness returning to his tone as he realized how close he was to her, their flanks inches apart.
A long, low groan escaped the large tom’s maws as Smallpaw dabbed the last of the salve onto his wounds. Her ears twitched at the pained noise, "I-I'm sorry.” She murmured, noting the few places that needed some more. She returned to where she found the herbs, ripping another mouthful of the plump green leaves and chewed them into a pulp as she came to Rowanpath’s side. She spit the salve at her feet and with delicate paws continued to dab the dock on the tom’s remaining wounds.
Harsh, heavy breathing alerted the small tabby as Ruefeather returned, throwing the mangled bundle of flowers at her side. Instantly, she moved her attention to the marigold, chewing it until it turned in a paste. Gently, she dabbed the gold goo onto the worst of Rowanpath’s wounds, as Ruefeather’s words were heard of deaf ears. It was ideal, but it was the best for the time being.
“H-How are you doing?” She mewed, as she turned her attention back to the large black and white tom, oblivious at the close proximity they were to each other. She let out a small gasp, as her gaze fell on the large welt that was beginning to form above his eye. “H-Here, hold still,” she murmured, dipping her paw into the marigold and gently spread the paste over his brow. Her eyes shifted as she noticed the swelling on his cheek, a soft hiss escaped through her teeth. “I-I’m sorry this happened to you, both of you.” She mewed, dabbing the last of the goo onto his cheek. She paused, as her eyes caught the tom’s own wide gaze on her. ”A-Are you in pain? I-I can put some dock on to help with that.”
“Oh, me? No,” his voice slowed as the she-cat’s stare turned in his direction, their noses almost brushing beneath the balmy canopy. “I’m,” his voice caught in his throat as he took a step backwards, embarrassed by their closeness. “Fine.” The word drifted out of his maw in a whispered hover, stilling as her paw swept across his brow, the marigold cool to the touch. A faint blush colored his nose as she moved towards the blister on his cheek, her face furrowed in concentration. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured softly, his gaze flickering toward the forest floor. Only, the tender whistle of the wind filled the silence, the sun almost touching the horizon in its final descent.
Behind him, Rowanpath released another low moan, the herbs not strong enough to completely alleviate his pain. Ruefeather sighed, his ears swiveling to catch his brother’s moan. “No,” the black and white tom meowed as his stare returned to the medicine cat’s careful gaze. “Rowanpath needs it more than I do, but,” he hesitated, the blush deepening over the crown of his cheeks. “Thank you, Smallpaw.” Motioning toward the direction of camp, Ruefeather continued, his voice low. “We should return before the sun sets.” He glanced over his shoulder, his brow threading as he watched his brother clamber back onto his feet, his face twisting into a grimace. “I’ll help him,” he murmured as he turned back to the lithe she-cat, a small smile on his maws. “You can lead.”
Before she could even move, Ruefeather snatched the remainder of the marigold, so she didn’t have to carry it, and moved back toward his brother. “Come on,” he murmured, his teeth clenching as he shouldered his brother against his wounded flank. He knew his stings were far worse than his, but Starclan, it hurt. Even with the marigold, the blisters on his face radiated like the sun, the bites as hot as the summer itself. With a grimace, Ruefeather moved in tandem with his brother as they followed the lithe medicine cat beneath the archaic redwoods. Only her swaying tail earned his attention in the drowning light, the woodland dappled in oranges and reds. He didn’t say another word to her until they reached camp, their feet carrying them to the mouth of the medicine cat’s den in silence.
Nosing his brother into the hollow, Ruefeather lingered near the lithe she-cat, watching as the older medicine cat, Orichdshade, took a look at him in the shadows, her cool eyes narrowed in observation. Shyly, the black and white tom set the marigold down at his feet, pushing it toward Smallpaw. “Here,” he murmured softly as he took a few steps back towards camp. His eyes hovered on the brilliant flowers, the time they spent together, her touch as she brushed his cheek, before he lifted his head to meet her careful gaze. “Um,” he murmured with a blush. “Don’t worry about me. The bites don’t hurt that much anymore.” He looked back towards his brother, catching as the black she-cat rubbed a salve into his coat. “He needs it more than me.”
With his crown bowed, Ruefeather remained there for a few seconds before he turned back toward camp, a soft “Thank you” on his lips and a furious claret across his nose. Fox, he breathed as he hurried into a trot, desperate to escape her gaze and dive into the shadows of the warrior’s den. He understood now. He knew what was wrong with him. He liked her, Starclan, it was worse than that, far, far worse. He was in love with her like some idiotic, mouse-brain.
His soft thank you sent a shiver down her spine, his warm breath almost like a caress on her cheek. She swallowed before nodding her agreement, noting the sun descending below the treetops. In a blink of an eye, Ruefeather was at his brother’s side with the remaining marigold gripped in his jowls. The petite tabby hesitated, feeling useless as the warrior shouldered his brother’s weight, as the large brown tom let out another low moan, his swollen face scrunched up in pain.
She glanced over her petite shoulder, noting the grimace that the black and white tom was hiding. Her brows furrowed at the sight, her paws itched to free him of his and Rowanpath’s pain. She bit down on her tongue and decided to follow his order and lead them quietly through the Redwoods’ underbrush, ignoring the throbbing pain in her neck from the single sting. Luck was on her side, unlike the two brothers that followed behind her. She could only imagine what pain they were going through.
Her wide eyes brightened as they entered the camp’s entrance and bee lined their way towards the medicine cat’s den, in which Rowanpath was quickly handed over to Orchidshade. Smallpaw watched the ebony she-cat work her magic, oblivious to the large figure that stood beside her.
She blinked in surprise as the bundle of marigold that they picked dropped to her paws. She met the tom’s warm gaze, as something in her chest fluttered as he spoke. She watched as Ruefeather trotted away, his large frame disappearing into the warriors’ den. She took a step after him, but stopped herself from going further and decided to accept his departure. She turned back towards Orchidshade, her wide eyes filled with determination as she watched the she-cat at work, ready to jump in when called.
