What a nice day for a rescue patrol [ o p e n]

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Swallowpelt had been so concerned with her daughter, she hadn't noticed another presence in the increasingly-growing-smaller den. She raised her head, searching for the...apprentice. Cinderpaw, wasn't he? Well, he wouldn't be in here much longer if she had her way. Glaring at him with a full force of Swallowpelt annoyance and grumpiness, she spoke.

"Get. Out. Now. Or you will pay. I mean it, whelp. My daughter is hurt, and it's none of your stupid business. So scram."

The big, heavily scarred she-cat growled, just to reinforce her point. And she meant it, too. Willowpaw and Crowpaw she didn't mind, obviously, and she could tolerate Ashstorm, but one more cat was enough to drive her over the edge. She didn't even feel guilt this time; the way she saw it, he was an impediment to the healing and peace that was needed for Willowpaw's recovery.

Speaking of Willowpaw...

"Yes they are something, Willowpaw, and you will be treated if I have to sit on you. I appreciate your nobility, but you need to be treated too." She said, trying to soften her tone a little. But then it hardened again. And she snorted. "I believe you're guilty of overreacting yourself, which is understandable in your present state. And dying you may not be, but you need to rest, and so help me I will make sure you rest." It was a tender response, for Swallowpelt.

Ashstorm watched the discussion with increasing annoyance. Cinderpaw was poking his nose in where it didn't belong, and she so hated that in young cats. She was about to open her mouth to snap a retort at him when Swallowpelt beat her to it. The little warrior had a guilty pleasure at the fact that the tom would shortly be leaving and thought herself lucky Swallowpelt wasn't making her leave as well. Though that could change.

Though it would be hard, she'd simply have to do her best to be quiet and not react if Swallowpelt got grumpy. Grumpier.

She admired her apprentice's reluctance to be treated, in a way; it showed she had strength and the confidence to ask for what she wanted. Which was always good.

The gray tabby also had to agree with her complaint of cats overreacting: she felt Swallowpelt had done a lot of it, despite the big cat's response to her daughter.

[swift]

Cinderpaw watched as a familiar grey shape stumbled out of the bed and broke through the ring of surrounding cats, only to crumple up into a heap of wretchedness and infection all over the dirt floor. For a moment, the cat seemed to struggle with a weakness in her neck and knees, trying to stay standing, lucid, but the last time she opened her eyes, they were jaundiced with the spreading poison and seemed sunken deep into the flesh of her face. It hit him then, as he studied her tiny form outlined in the filth, why his first sight of her had sent a jolt of recognition through him--brought forth a memory from the deepest depths of his subconscious.

The memory was immobile: a petrified image. It was misted over with shades of a darkened white, like the curling edges of a sheet of parchment as it burned in a fire, indicating neglect. He had not visited this memory in a while.

He soon saw why.

The memory was a flimsy piece. It was insignificant, commonplace, and so, easily forgotten. The more he turned it, twisted it, and leered into its unyielding surface, the more confusing it was to decipher through the haze of his own forgetfulness and abandonment.

The subject under scrutiny was a pair of startling green eyes. They pierced through the darkness of the background and glowed eerie. By the fact that the faint, round shape of the moon could be discerned in the far right corner, Cinderpaw decided that it was fairly late in the night. He strained to drive his thoughts back to the particulars of the night, but could not find purchase on the image. It was too abstract.

Perhaps what he had fancied to be a pair of eyes glaring out at him through the inky black could be taken as the reflection of his own eyes projected back from the glass-like surface of a stream or a pond. Often, he had woken just before dawn to see the telltale flashes of green as fellow apprentices snuck in looks at their friends, or their unrequited loves, so the green color of the eyes could be explained away as well. But his gut feeling told him not to be so easily led astray by doubt. He felt that what he was looking at were truly eyes, and that they particularly belonged to the cat playing dead on the floor at his feet.

He shook his head and brushed the memory away, trying to press it back into the recess from which it was first summoned. Right now was what mattered, and right now, there was a she-cat splayed out on the ground before him. He could almost see the breath shaking in her lungs, fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird. She was like a fish out of water--her body pinching out her consciousness and taking over--regulating her ragged breathing patterns, her heartbeat, every twitch of her paws and ears. When her breathing finally grew even again, he knew that she was gone. Her body was on autopilot now.

“Hey, Willowpaw.”

The name flowed smoothly from his tongue. Her name, something in him spoke up. Hers?

“Willow, hey you, wake up. It’s not nap time yet.”

He shifted his weight back onto his paws and heaved himself up. He felt warm blood rush down into his legs and feet. It felt good to be standing again.

“Anyone there?”

And then, out of the blue, he was answered.

“Get. Out. Now. Or you will pay. I mean it, whelp. My daughter is hurt, and it's none of your stupid business. So scram.”

He cocked an eyebrow as an amused smile twitched at the corners of his lips. You can’t be serious. Dysfunctional mother to the rescue.

“You’re daughter is hurt. But one more spectator won’t cause any further harm.”

He arched his back and stretched out his legs until the joints popped loudly. Aah. It felt so good.

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[glowlynose]

Crowpaw rolled his eyes. His sister could be so stubborn when she wanted to be. Actually, it was more like Willowpaw was stubborn and impossible constantly. He wasn't sure if she knew how to deal with things if they weren't going absolutely her way. There she was, nearly passed out, but still insisting that she was fine and that Crowpaw should just leave her alone. Well, he couldn't do that. Disgusted as she may be with him, it was his duty as a medicine cat to see that she was treated, and treated well. As much as she might resent the fact that it was him nursing her back to health, it had to be so.

"Willowpaw, I told you to take those poppy seeds! Do it. Now. You'll sleep longer that way," he snapped over his shoulder. Now that the seeds had been taken out of the pod, there was no way to get them back in. Willowpaw had to take them, no matter how close she was to falling asleep. As he looked back at the many cats gathering around his sister, he couldn't help but smile, irritating as this was all being. They might be filling up every inch of open space in the den, but at least his sister would know that she was cared for. Still, once the other tom got here, they would have to clear out.

"I'd really appreciate it if everybody who doesn't need to be here would leave." It felt odd addressing everybody in the den, especially as a mere apprentice, but he was the authority in here at the moment. At least, he thought he was. He had a feeling that the tom would be arriving soon, and they would all be forced to leave then anyway. It was better to simply avoid that confusion. He would need to concentrate everything on the tom, not making sure that everybody got out of the den with an injured cat coming in.

"You must be worried about Willowpaw. I understand that, and I'll keep you updated the best that I can, but another cat will be coming in soon. It would be best if there wasn't a huge jumble of cats trying to go in and out, especially with a seriously injured tom coming along." He tried to smile at them, hoping that they would see that he was right, but with his luck lately they would all get offended by his single request. So he stopped trying to smile- it had looked ridiculous anyway- and turned his attentions back to his sister.

"You really should take those, Willowpaw. They'll help with the pain. And don't worry about the tom, I have plenty left for him. Mother, will you please make her take these?" It was getting to be very difficult for Crowpaw not to let his annoyance with his sister show. He understood that she was barely conscious and delirious from her injuries, but that should make her easier to treat, not more difficult. It was incredible how stubborn she was. Sometimes it could be a regular pain in the tailbone, but Crowpaw couldn't help but admire the force of his sister's will. This soon gave way to concern, which he let show clearly on his face. Perhaps if Willowpaw saw his concern she would be moved enough to take the poppy seeds.

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[swift]

Cinderpaw felt a smile edging its way across his lips and he fought down the urge to laugh. Here he was trying to revive a cat that had passed out right in front of him, a perfect stranger. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. All he had to remember her by was the memory of her eyes, and he wasn't even sure if they were hers at all. When Crowpaw asked the cats to leave, he gladly stepped aside, but he did not leave. He stood his ground close enough to be able to taste her fetid scent on his tongue.

"Hey, kid," he said, "you can put the tom in my bed over there." He gestured with his tail, shrugging to show that it was just a suggestion and he didn't mind if his offer was refused. "It's still warm. It might help keep the infection down."

He swallowed the other words that struggled to reach his mouth. And I can look after Willowpaw here for you while you tend to his wounds. Why exactly was he being so helpful today? He let out a sigh and watched it leave as a white mist. It was getting colder. He arched his brow, confused. Was it night already? He wanted to take a look outside to see for himself, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave the she-cat all alone, freezing her fur off on the floor. He sighed again and lashed his tail against the ground, scattering dust motes. Why was he being so indecisive? It was either hightail it out of this cramped, sweaty den or play good boy for once and worry over this she-cat--this stranger--with everyone else. Why stay anyway?

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[Whiskers]

Too much going on at once, yet again. It was interesting-- well it would be interesting if it wasn't making Willowpaw's head spin-- how things could move so fast, how events could escalate, how conversations could turn from pleasant to vicious in but a second. In this case, there was no pleasantness first, only viciousness, coming from the cat whom Willowpaw called mother. She was unyielding, spitting at this new visitor to leave, leave, leave. But Willowpaw was curious, Willowpaw wanted the cat to stay, stay, stay. Stay for a while longer. Just so she could get a good look at him.

But again, her head was going round and round, and voices were beginning to sound fuzzy. She heard one of them break through the rest, distinguished by its unfamiliarity and nothing else. "Willow, hey you, wake up. It’s not nap time yet."

She listened to the voice. Her eyes snapped open, and the light of the den was blinding. Blink, blink, she cleared the haze out of her eyes. She kept on blinking and with each blink, the events became more clear to her. It was so, so hard to keep up, but she had to. She did not like being in the dark.

Her brother's voice was the strongest now. It distracted her from her mother's yelling and so Willowpaw turned eagerly toward him. She looked at him and thought that he was getting taller that...maybe he was growing. Or was she shrinking? A thought ran through her head-- could rat poison shrink someone? It's why her legs hurt so much, wasn't it! She gasped and looked down at her poor legs and she could practically feel them growing so tiny that she would soon be as short as a newborn kit again.

"C-crowpaw, I'm shrinking!" She announced with a shrill shriek. Her eyes were so wide, so astonished that this could happen. She looked at her paws, then back up to her brother and a waterfall of whimpers cascaded from her mouth. She couldn't possibly get any smaller or someone would step on her!

"No, no, I can take them, I can-- I will. Crowpaw, my legs hurt. They hurt really, really badly." She lapped up the poppy seeds, hoping they would help, like her brother said they would. "Please, please, please stop the burning."

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[Slug]

Where these characters are coming from.
---

Bluefur, as carefully and gently as he could manage, dragged 'Rat Snack' into the medicine den, ignoring whatever stares were sent his way as he awkwardly-- Crowpaw was there, after all. He had to put on a good impression--, yet softly placed the gray tabby tom on an unoccupied nest. "Stay awake, Rat Snack." He whispered to the wounded cat. "Stay awake." He repeated, then turning his head away from the tom, Bluefur gave a quick, encouraging smile toward Crowpaw before worming his way out of the medicine cat den.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Too many cats, too little space, too much tension. Swallowpelt was getting fed up quickly. Very quickly.

And bad things happened when Swallowpelt got fed up.

She could hold it in a little longer, but not much. She needed to get out of here fast. But, she had a few things to do before she did so.

"OUT. That is my last word. You heard what my son said." The scarred she-cat growled slightly.

Her mew softened as she turned to the son in question. "Mm. She's as stubborn as me." But then Willowpaw's frantic meow made all her anxiety return in a rush.

What if the pain was making the little gray she-cat hallucinate? What if she was damaged beyond repair? What if, what if...?

What if she quit worrying like some prissy worrywart and moved her large self out of here.

"'Scuse me." She mumbled as she squeezed past Bluefur. She had...a neutrality with him now. They couldn't be called friendly (who could, with her?) but in the few times they talked since the discovery of his relationship with Crowpaw had been...tolerable. He wasn't so bad. No worse than her, anyway.

As soon as she had backed out of the den, Ashstorm came behind her, green eyes wide. Presumably she was just worried as Willowpaw's mother was about the injured apprentice.

After an awkward pause, Ashstorm cleared her throat and spoke. "I s'pose that cat they brought in is her rescuer, right?"

"Who else would it be?" Swallowpelt grumbled.

Ashstorm had to admit she had a point.

Meanwhile, an exhausted black and white tom was slowly chewing on a vole from the fresh-kill pile. Oddly, he found himself wondering about the wounded stranger. Who he was, where he'd come from. It was unusual, thinking about any cat so much besides Goosefur, Cranetail, or Duckstripe. And he'd been trying to think about them less...but it was hard.

He also remembered hearing Bluefur's and Shrikewhisker's exchange...though he could hardly blame Bluefur, he couldn't help but feeling a pang of pity for the little gray and white tom.

Loonstep also hoped Gingerstar wouldn't tell him off for eating. You never knew with her.

[Whiskers]

Willowpaw

Colors, which were usually so sharp and lively and beautiful, lost their edge. She noticed it with a panicked whimper and she searched Crowpaw's face for any reassurance, but only found that his back was turning, that he was looking at something else. Something else? Something else? No, no, she needed her brother right now! Here she was, shrinking down, her body burning itself up, and he was leaving her?

"Crowpaw, stay with me!" she said so breathlessly that it was possible that he would not even hear her. She tried to move her legs, to crawl toward the black fuzzy shape that was now her brother, but she could not move. She opened her mouth to call him again, but found no sound. Her voice, her movement-- all stolen from her, all burned up by this poison that coursed through her veins.

She really, really hated rats.

The colors, the colors were blending. Her brother was no longer just black, but green, very green, like leaves or her eyes. And there were swirls of gray in his fur and there was this blinding color too-- a startling aquamarine that hurt her head, yet comforted her heart. She wanted to look at it more, despite the hurt, but her eyes had other ideas. They wanted to rest. They wanted to close. And so they did.

Willowpaw fell into her dreams, where the colors would be much sharper, but where she would be much lonelier.
---

Gingerstar

The patrol was back.

The shuffling and heaving of tired toms alerted her to this fact. She whipped her head around and spotted the three. They were supporting a truly massive tom. He was probably bigger than any in her own clan. Better watch him then, she thought to herself. It was only after this thought crossed her mind that she realized that, oh, he was injured and oh, he had saved a Pineclan apprentice. He did not deserve any hostility.

It was a flash of guiltiness but it was swallowed up by reason. He'll get better sometime, y'know. She said to that other her, the her that admonished her for being too harsh. And then what? What if he wishes to take advantage of our hospitality? She pointed out. Better safe than sorry.

Just go check on the damn cat already, the other her snapped back. Gingerstar scoffed, but listened and she lifted her body and crossed the clearing in fluid strides. As she came close to the den, Ashstorm, Bluefur and Swallowpelt exited. She gave an extremely awkward dip of her head-- she wasn't good at manners, she didn't feel comfortable with lowering her eyes to look at the floor, as if the dirt was something important-- toward the trio. She almost murmured a quick question, an inquiry of the state of young Willowpaw. In the end, however, she saw it best to let the three go and check on the apprentice herself.

She entered the den and her eyes tried to find the slight, dainty frame of Willowpaw. But her view was obscured by the big tom. He was gray, he was big, broad-shouldered, with wide paws. She imagined that some she-cats in her clan would giggle and call him handsome. If Gingerstar was susceptible to such ridiculous, immature, useless, foolish behavior, maybe she woul--

She had thought this before.

She had seen this cat before.

Rain.

"Rain?!" She exclaimed before she could stop herself. The name had just leaped up, grabbed her tongue and slid out, escaped from her clutches. She let out a long hiss, very low and quiet, but it was directed at herself. Not only had she just informed young Crowpaw-- and whoever else was in this den, she hadn't bothered to really look around-- that she knew this stupid tom, but she had informed this stupid tom that she had remembered him. And that was... almost a compliment from a cat like Gingerstar, and it also gave away that she had let his presence mess with her head. Oh no. Oh no she hated this cat, hated how he had wormed his way into her trees without her granting him permission. Heck, he had not even asked.

But he has saved Willowpaw. And because of that, because of Willowpaw's stupid, irrational, kittish behavior (which she would suffer for, oh yes!), Gingerstar owed Rain and she could not deny him the care he needed. She was stuck with him.

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[swift]

”Please, please, please stop the burning.”

She whimpered pitifully. She was barely able to bear the pain. And the injustice of it all was that her eyes were wide open. She could actually witness the poison burning up her body, hot flames licking at her face and neck, thriving in her chest as each ever increasing, throbbing ache of her heart fed the fire and ushered it still deeper inside of her. Cinderpaw closed his eyes, shutting out the image of her writhing in agony at his feet. He couldn’t do anything to help, to alleviate the pain. He was simply a bystander.

”Crowpaw, stay with me!”

She pleaded after her brother, begging him to stop her from hurting, to stop the pain. Cinderpaw felt a pang of guilt. He wasn’t usually so squeamish about these sorts of things and it bothered him to realize that he was being stupid. He might not see her, but he could still hear her. He reopened his eyes just in time to watch Willowpaw pass out.

What he did next was the result of shock and overall panic. He threw his arm to her chest, hooked it around her back, and caught her before she planted her face into the ground. That was the moment when his mind caught up to his body and he suddenly found himself gathering her to his chest, his heart beating wildly. Would she hear? He hoped that she wouldn’t get any ideas if she could. He let her slide up to rest her head on his shoulder and peered curiously into her face. She looked so peaceful, and her breathing was even again. All traces of anguish and misery had been eradicated from her face. Her head lolled against him as it could only do in deep slumber. Cinderpaw had to admit it. It kind of felt nice.

And then he caught himself again. The other cats were bound to notice if he held on to her for longer than was necessary. He shrugged her off, grabbed her scruff in his teeth, and dropped her back, rather roughly, into her bed where she belonged.

[/blockquote][/justify]

[glowlynose]

Crowpaw

Willowpaw was crying out now, though it sounded faint, as if Crowpaw was hearing it through a bolt of fabric instead of from a few feet away. Crowpaw's sharp intake of breath would tell anybody who was actually paying attention to him that he was very distressed. Of course, he should be. His sister was passing out on the floor in front of his very eyes, and he was powerless to stop it. The poppy seeds were working well. Distractedly, he sighed. He hadn't even had time to tell Willowpaw that she wasn't shrinking. Oh well, she'd be fine once she woke up.

Crowpaw didn't say anything to Bluefur as he dropped off the newcomer. His friend came in and out of the den so quickly that he would have only been able to mutter a quick hello, though something he said made the apprentice purr in amusement. "Rat Snack" he called the large gray tom. That couldn't possibly be his real name, but it was funny. Bluefur was always good for lightening up a tense situation... unless he was the one causing it, of course.

The night-furred apprentice only had time to shoot a warning glance towards Cinderpaw before he started to minister to the stranger's wounds. Who did he think he was, holding onto his sister like that? It made Crowpaw's blood boil.

"Hi, I'm Crowpaw. I'm only an apprentice, but I'll be treating you. Looks like those rats got you a lot worse than they did my sister. Why'd you save her? It was a very brave thing to do. You must be very brave, mister.

"Oh, hello Gingerstar. How are you doing today? Do you need anything from me?" Crowpaw tried to alleviate his tension by talking to his patient and his leader. It was funny though Gingerstar looked like she knew this stranger. Though she had not said anything to suggest so, there was a look of recognition slowly dawning in her eyes. Crowpaw had never seen the tom before. Where could she have met this non-clanner? Oh well, it didn't matter. They knew each other, which put his care in an even higher priority.

Rain

Rain hissed irritably. He had asked that big buffoon, whatever his name was- Bluefur, was it?- to stop calling him "Rat Snack." Apparently in his injured state his threats didn't do much as far as intimidation went, though he was the same size, if not bigger than, Bluefur. Drat. He really must get well soon. Nicknames were his thing, and this Clanner was taking it away from him! That simply wouldn't do.

"Hey, what the- " he cried as something gloopy was suddenly pressed on his shoulder, followed by something sticky. The sticky substance did a surprisingly good job of holding the gloop in place, he noticed. Then he craned his head over to see a little snip of a kitten spreading more gloopy stuff on his wounds and pressing... were those spiderwebs on them?

So this was how PineClan expressed their thanks? They sent a kitten to attempt to treat him? He'd probably end up being poisoned! Oh, wait, he already had been. He chuckled quietly. He could be so clever sometimes.

As the little tom introduced himself as Crowpaw, Rain caught a flash of ginger fur out of the corner or his eye. He smelled the she-cat before he saw her, but seeing her didn't make him feel any better. In the stressful events that had made up his night, Rain had completely forgotten that Gingerstar ran this particular group of cats. That was just fine and dandy, now, wasn't it? She'd probably kick him out before Crowpaw even managed to finish his ministrations.

"Yep, the one and only. My my, ain't you a sight for sore eyes, O Illustrious Leader?" He grinned up at Gingerstar, then winced as Crowpaw prodded a sensitive spot on his abdomen. There must have been a deep bite there. "And to answer your question, little squirt, I saved your sister because she needed it, and none of your warriors was nearby, so I could either let her die or save her skin. It was the right thang to do. So I did it." Rain looked pointedly at Gingerstar as he said it. He couldn't really guess what she was thinking right now, but the look on her face told him that she was not very pleased with her circumstances. Perhaps she wouldn't think so badly of him if she found out his motives... not that he cared what she thought about him anyway.

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