CINDERPAW HAD GONE OUT THAT MORNING IN SEARCH OF A PARTICULAR PLANT. Having seen Swiftpaw on the verge of catching a cold, she went beyond the forest to look for dandelion, since their stock had run out.
It was quite a sunny day, and the clouds seemed to bring good omens that relaxed her entire body. Ever since what had happened with Fireheart, she had been doubting whether she'd truly done the right thing. Only half a day had passed, of course, yet she couldn't help but feel a new sense of freedom within her body.
Her fur felt lighter, as if she had groomed herself in such a way that she could now move with greater ease; her smile was more visible, and her posture had improved since Fireheart had taken her hard the previous night. Though she didn't like thinking about it too much, she wished that night would happen again.
``Maybe I can surprise Fireheart a little from behind when he comes back... if we go to my hideout, I think everything will be fine.''
Cinderpaw couldn't help but smile at the thought, flicking her tail in the air.
She took the dandelion stem and turned to head back to the Clan; however, she heard a strange noise.
Cinderpaw perked up her ears, every muscle in her body tensing like a string about to snap. The sound had come from beyond the fence - a faint creak of wood and shifting dirt, as if something heavy had landed on it. Her instincts acted before her mind: she crouched low until her belly nearly brushed the ground, her heart pounding in her chest as the air grew heavier.
Between the planks of the fence, the silhouette of a cat appeared under the sunlight. The figure was sharply defined: black and white mottled fur, thick and glossy, gleaming in the golden reflections of midday. Around his neck hung a shiny collar that jingled softly as he turned his head. He didn't look like an enemy, but rather like someone who had never had to fight for a meal.
The cat observed her for a moment with curious eyes, narrowing his muzzle before opening it with a surprised look.
``A forest cat out here?''
The voice was light, almost friendly, though to Cinderpaw it seemed to echo too loudly in the calm air of the field. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt dry. She took a step back, claws ready to turn and flee, never taking her eyes off the stranger.
The cat didn't seem intimidated. In fact, he stretched lazily over the fence's edge, showing a plump, comfortable belly that contrasted with the apprentice's tension.
``Bah... I just wanted to talk to you. I don't know if you're from the same Clan or whatever, but... if you see Rusty - no, I mean Firepaw - give him my regards. From Smudge.''
The name stirred something in her memory. Cinderpaw tilted her head, intrigued. The wind blew softly, making the dandelion leaves she still held between her teeth flutter.
``Firepaw? Do you mean Fireheart?''
Smudge had already turned to leave but stopped at her words. He looked back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, his expression calm - the look of someone who was not used to rushing.
``No... I said Firepaw.''
Cinderpaw blinked a few times, confused.
``I don't know any Firepaw, but I know my former mentor used to be called that...''
Smudge jumped down from the fence with a clumsy but confident motion and began circling her slowly, his paws sinking softly into the tall grass. He stopped behind her, still calm.
``Is it a thing in your Clan to change names every now and then? We're talking about the same orange cat, right?''
The wind stirred the nearby branches, letting sunlight flicker across Cinderpaw's fur. She nodded silently, unable to take her eyes off the bright collar around the other cat's neck.
``Well, whatever. Doesn't matter. Be careful out there - I can notice the limp in your paw, little one.''
Cinderpaw lowered her head slightly, trying not to seem vulnerable. The cat's remark pricked at her pride. She tried to move her leg naturally, but a small tug betrayed her. The pain was quick, almost invisible, yet enough to remind her how recent her fall still was.
``Fireheart is doing fine...'' she murmured, looking for an excuse to keep the conversation going. ``Who are you, anyway? Oh, wait... Smudge...''
The name sounded familiar, but at first it was only a faint vibration among distant memories.
Cinderpaw frowned, twitching her ears as if trying to catch an echo.
The midday breeze carried a different scent: a human-home perfume, damp earth, and prepared food. That aroma awakened a hazy image... a fenced yard, the mew of a curious kitten asking about the forest, and a voice her mentor had once mentioned with a nostalgic laugh.
``Smudge...'' she repeated, slower this time, lifting her gaze toward the plump cat with the shining collar. ``I think I've heard your name before.''
Understanding flashed across her face like sunlight breaking through the trees.
``I remember now! You're the friend of Cloudpaw's mother!''
Smudge tilted his head, a half-satisfied smile curling his muzzle. The bell on his collar jingled faintly as he sat atop the fence, watching her with an almost paternal calm.
Cinderpaw flicked her tail; she had heard of that feline before. Though he didn't quite match the image Cloudpaw had described to her some time ago. Do kittypets get fat that fast? she wondered silently, watching how Smudge's fur gleamed under the sun - neat and well-kept, so unlike the roughness of the forest.
Smudge seemed thoughtful for a few seconds. It looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself, biting his tongue. His whiskers twitched slightly before he let out a deep sigh.
"Is Cloudpaw doing well? His mother and I chat sometimes, and she says she misses him. Tell that little one to come visit. And, while you're at it, tell Fireheart to come too. That foolish cat doesn't know how much he worries his sister."
Cinderpaw tilted her head, letting the words float for a moment in the air. The field was calm, and only the hum of an insect broke the silence. Finally, she set the dandelion on the ground and looked directly at the housecat.
"I'll tell Fireheart, don't worry. But... just one question."
Smudge raised an eyebrow, curious. Then he nodded slowly, lowering his head while his collar jingled softly.
Cinderpaw drew in a breath through her nose and exhaled slowly. She felt a tingling in her paw pads, as if the ground beneath her were urging her to speak.
"If Fireheart... ever decided to come back one of these days... would you have a place where he could move in?"
Silence stretched between them. Smudge perked up his ears in mild surprise, his eyes widening like two suns. For an instant he seemed to hold his breath, until a smile of surprise - and a hint of hope - crossed his face.
"Did Rus - I mean, Fireheart say that?"
Cinderpaw looked away. The wind stirred her fur, and for several seconds she said nothing. Then, in a barely audible tone, she murmured,
"Something like that..."
Smudge's tail fluffed slightly as his expression shifted from surprise to reflection. He slowly turned his head to the left, gazing toward one of the human houses. The sunlight glinting off the windows gave his eyes a nostalgic glow. He stretched his neck a little, as if trying to see farther, then turned back to Cinderpaw.
"Yes... there is. My owners wouldn't mind if he came to live with us. I think enough time has passed since the new baby arrived. So... yes, I don't think there'd be any problem."
Cinderpaw lowered her gaze to the ground. She tapped the earth lightly with her claws, scattering a couple of pebbles. Narrowing her eyes, she lifted one paw and slowly curled her toes before voicing her real question.
"And what if... Fireheart brought along... a special she-cat?"
The silence returned, heavier than before. The air grew thick and warm, and a strange itch ran through her body, as if StarClan itself were watching her from above, judging her thoughts. But Cinderpaw closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In the darkness of her mind, she remembered how warm the warrior's body had been beside hers - and how easy it was to forget the world when he was near.
She trusted his promise - his word that he would try to become Clan leader so they could be together
- but deep down she knew that was an impossible dream. The Warrior Code had existed before the stars had names, and not even Yellowfang could recall its origin. It would not break for the love of two doves.
If she truly wanted a future with Fireheart... she would have to find her own path.
Even if that meant betraying her Clan.
Cinderpelt...
The murmur of her mentor Yellowfang's voice pierced her mind like a distant echo. Fragments of her life as a medicine cat flickered in her memory: the scent of herbs, the faint glow of the den at dawn, the rasping voice of her mentor teaching her about duty and faith.
But Cinderpaw wanted to push those memories away for now. She clung tightly to her new ideas, even as her heart began to pound faster, racing at the mere thought of running away.
Why is it so hard to silence my thoughts?!
"Of course, there wouldn't be a problem."
Smudge's voice pulled her back to reality.
"Huh?" Cinderpaw lifted her head and stared straight into the tom's eyes, who let out a purr; he seemed amused by the apprentice's astonished expression.
"If both of them know how to behave and get used to domestic life, I don't think there'd be a problem. I still believe life in the forest is complicated. So I'd understand if they wanted to improve their lifestyle and become house cats."
Smudge tilted his head toward his shoulder and gazed at the forest; finally, he sighed.
"Tell him to come back safe and sound. I'll tell his sister the news - she'll be happy to hear it!"
With that, Smudge turned around and started running toward the house he had been watching.
Cinderpaw didn't have time to recover from the shock or to try to stop him.
"N-no! Wait, it's not certain yet...!"
But the black-and-white tom was already gone.
Cinderpaw stood there for a moment, deep in thought, glancing around. Though she didn't see anyone nearby, a strange feeling of unease crept over her. She stamped her right forepaw twice and finally turned around to head back to the Clan, picking up the dandelion along the way.
She only hoped her actions - and her lie - wouldn't make Fireheart too angry...
***
The leaves brushed against her fur with a soft rustle, as if the forest were breathing through her. The air was still, thick, and heavy with the damp scent of freshly turned earth. Nothing moved, except the steady pulse of her own blood.
Everything seemed normal... until a sound stopped her.
A murmur.
Cinderpaw perked her ears. Her body reacted before her mind: her muscles tensed, her tail bristled, and the air grew heavier. It was a voice. Male. Close.
She slipped between the branches like a shadow. Each step sank into the soft mud without a sound.
On the other side, between the trunks, a gray silhouette moved restlessly.
Graystripe.
The warrior was talking to himself. His breathing was uneven, as if he carried an invisible weight. The tip of his tail flicked again and again, and in his eyes gleamed something... between guilt and despair.
Cinderpaw crouched behind a bush. Her heart pounded so hard she feared it could be heard. Not out of fear, but because of that strange anxiety - that mix of curiosity and danger - that comes before disaster.
She shouldn't be there. No one should see her.
The wind shifted. A faint gust stirred her fur and rustled the leaves before her face. The entire forest seemed to inhale at once.
"Where is it...?" muttered Graystripe, agitated. "I can't find it. It should've been here... I... I saw them fly over here last night."
Cinderpaw held her breath. From the shadows, she watched as the warrior sniffed the ground desperately. His whiskers trembled with each ragged breath. He kept scratching his nose, over and over, with a mechanical, almost feverish motion.
Around him, the ground was scarred with grooves. He had dug, scattered leaves, torn up roots. He had been searching for something - for quite a while. Something he couldn't afford to lose.
Silence stretched thin.
An insect buzzed nearby. Cinderpaw followed it with her gaze just to distract herself, but her eyes quickly returned to Graystripe. The air between them felt so dense that every movement seemed to shatter it.
Suddenly, he spoke again. His voice was different this time - lower, restrained. "That herb..." he said after a tense pause, "belonged to RiverClan. Why was it here?"
The tone was so cold that Cinderpaw's fur stood on end. A shiver ran down her spine to the base of her tail.
The ground beneath her paws suddenly felt icy.
She shouldn't be listening. She shouldn't hear what he was about to say.
Graystripe turned his head slowly, and for an instant, a beam of sunlight filtering through the trees lit his face. His eyes looked darker - almost hard.
"That catnip that drove me crazy..." he whispered. "It belonged to RiverClan. Silverstream warned me... and still... I fell for it."
He paused. His breathing faltered, and his next words came out like a curse:
"Damn that catnip. Damn me."
The world shrank.
Cinderpaw realized her paws no longer responded. Her entire body was rigid. Each heartbeat echoed in her skull like a drum.
The forest seemed to hold its breath with her.
Graystripe... could it be that you...?
The warrior leaned toward a nearby bush. The crack of branches shattered the silence with a sound that seemed deafening. He buried his muzzle in the dirt, inhaling sharply, almost desperately.
"That catnip..." he murmured, "someone brought it into the Clan."
The air froze.
Cinderpaw felt a sharp sting at the back of her neck, as if an invisible claw had seized her by the scruff.
"If I don't get rid of it... they could accuse me," Graystripe said in a trembling whisper. "I can't let that happen. I don't want to drag... Silverstream into this."
His voice broke into a gasp.
Cinderpaw stared at him, unmoving. Her breathing was so shallow it hurt. Each of the warrior's words felt like a blow against her chest.
Everything was so still...
So fragile.
A leaf fell.
The sound was tiny, but Graystripe's ears flicked instantly.
Cinderpaw shut her eyes, praying the wind would cover her.
Silence swallowed the forest once more.
Just a few steps away, the warrior let out a sharp huff and moved aside with stiff motions, as if trying to shake off an invisible weight. He walked a few more paces, muttering under his breath, until his silhouette melted into the shadows of the undergrowth and the sound of his paws faded away.
Then, without warning, Cinderpaw's body folded in on itself. It wasn't a dramatic collapse - it was small, intimate, like the way a dry branch gives under the weight of rain. Her paws sank into the earth; her pads gleamed with sweat, sticking to the damp ground. Her breathing came out short and quick, as if she had run a distance she didn't remember covering.
She tried to stand, but a spasm ran through her hind leg. Her good paw began to tremble with an erratic pulse, striking the ground in a rhythm she couldn't control. It forced her to stop; her eyes blurred for a moment, and the world narrowed to the rough feel of moss beneath her side and the heavy throb in her throat.
The forest was silent; it felt as though everything within it was holding its breath. Only her chest kept a dull drumbeat that echoed in her ears. She half-closed her eyes, lowered her head, and let out a sigh that sounded like a broken thread. Her tail, moving on its own, struck the ground once, then again; a small, useless gesture meant to shake off the tension.
Fox dung! she cursed inwardly, clenching her jaw. Now I've really ruined everything. If they find out I stole the catnip... I'm dead. They'll cast me out of the Clan... and... and Fireheart...
The wind slipped through the leaves, carrying with it a scent that froze her tongue: catnip - damp, sweet, and accusing. For a second she thought she heard her name whispered among the branches, a distant voice she couldn't tell was real or born of guilt.
Then memory struck her with the same weight as fear: the image of the orange warrior, the previous night, the two of them lying together watching shooting stars. That warm light now felt far away, almost foreign; nostalgia dissolved beneath the growing shadow of panic.
If Bluestar finds out... or Yellowfang too...
Her breathing began to quicken without her noticing. First a faint pant, then another, and another - each shorter than the last. The air came in bursts, never filling her lungs completely.
Her chest rose and fell violently.
She tried to calm herself. She couldn't.
The sound of her own breathing grew louder, sharper, until it drowned out everything else. Not the wind, not the leaves, not Graystripe's steps - only that sound, her own breath rasping as if something invisible were choking her.
Her mind clouded.
For an instant, she stopped thinking.
Nothing had form.
Her eyes opened without knowing what they were looking at.
A tremor ran down her tail, and she flattened her ears without understanding why.
She turned her head backward, slowly, then tilted it with a stiff, unnatural motion, as if her body were moving on its own.
The forest was still there. The afternoon light filtered through the branches, and the path back to the Clan's camp waited as if nothing had happened.
But her face... her face was empty.
She slowly spread the toes of her paws, feeling the cold air slip between them. The earth was damp, sticky - but that sensation anchored her to something tangible, something real.
Little by little, the tension began to leave her body, like an invisible thread slipping out of her chest.
She sighed.
A long, trembling sigh that sounded less like relief and more like the echo of exhaustion.
Her eyes stayed open.
There were no tears, no fear, not even guilt - only a stillness that didn't belong to her, as if someone else were looking through her body.
A tiny, crooked smile formed on her face. An imperfect gesture, unintentional... one corner of her mouth higher than the other, as if her own face doubted what it was supposed to feel.
Cinderpaw stayed that way for a few seconds, motionless, before picking up the dandelion from the ground.
The flower trembled between her jaws.
Then, she simply began to walk.
Not with urgency, but with the docility of someone who has accepted a fate she doesn't yet fully understand.
There was only one thing she could do.
Keep being the medicine cat.
Until the Clan decided what to do with her.
Cinderpaw stood still.
She said nothing.
The wind stirred the leaves around her, and the sound seemed to fill the silence left by her held breath.
Her eyes were fixed on a point ahead, without truly seeing it. Her eyelids barely blinked once.
A few seconds passed... perhaps more.
Then her lips curved slightly, without conviction. It was a weak, incomplete smile - one of those grimaces born more from exhaustion than joy.
And from her lips escaped a small sound, almost a broken laugh.
"Ha."
Her voice trembled slightly.
She bent down to pick up the dandelion from the ground. It took longer than usual, as if even the simple act of bending required too much effort. Then she straightened, staggering a little as she took her first step.
She walked without rhythm, tripping over a root she hadn't seen - but she kept moving.
"Smudge... promised us a place to stay..." she murmured, her smile fading as she spoke. "Whether they throw me out or not... I'll still win in the end."
Her voice was soft, as if she were speaking only to herself.
"As long as Fireheart's with me... I think... everything will be fine."
The last word disappeared among the bushes.
When she finally entered ThunderClan's camp, no one said a word - but she felt their eyes on her. She didn't look back. She walked straight toward the medicine den, staggering just slightly, until she set the dandelion down on a small mound of unarranged herbs.
The faint sound of the stem hitting the pile was the only thing that broke the silence.
Swiftpaw, who was resting inside, murmured something in his sleep, but the medicine apprentice ignored him.
Cinderpaw let herself fall onto her nest. The moss gave a soft crunch beneath her weight. For a moment, she heard nothing but the faint beat of her own heart.
She lifted a trembling paw, took a piece of damp moss, and brought it to her lips. The tiny drops it held tasted of soil and decaying leaves. Even so, she drank. She needed to feel something real, something tangible, something to keep her awake.
Then, without thinking, she pressed the moss against her face.
The silence broke with a short, muffled sound - almost animal.
Her breathing turned uneven; her body trembled with every effort to hold back the tears.
The air smelled of dried herbs and wet stone. No one could hear her. No one could see her like this.
The minutes passed like a slow river. The tension ebbed away, leaving behind an empty sensation, as if something inside her had gone out.
Sleep began to pull her gently under.
Then she heard footsteps.
Slow. Hesitant.
The faint brushing of a tail across the floor broke her stillness. The sound was so light it barely seemed human - or feline... only a presence moving within the dimness.
Cinderpaw opened her eyes but didn't lift her head.
The figure stopped a few steps away.
A soft, almost kind purr filled the air.
"Cinderpaw... if you have some free time later... let's talk."
The voice was low, calm - too calm.
Cinderpaw didn't reply. Her lips barely moved, as if she wanted to say something, but exhaustion stole her strength before she could.
Silence once again enveloped the den. The visitor left - or perhaps not. She wasn't sure.
The medicine apprentice let her eyes close.
The last thought that crossed her mind was neither regret nor hope, but decision.
She wished that, whatever might happen when she woke, destiny would choose her path soon.
Or she would make the first decision that came to her mind the moment she opened her eyes.
Chapter End Notes
Thanks for reading my fanfic, please leave a comment with your opinion of the chapter, it will motivate me to keep posting!
Cinderpaw leaves the forest in search of an herb to replenish the Clan’s supplies, but an unexpected encounter changes the course of her day—without knowing that soon after, someone would put her in a difficult position.
