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Patchkit squirmed in her tiny nest, groaning in her sleep. Saltfrost placed some dry lavender around her, hoping the sweet smell would clear her nose. Paws shuffled about outside the quarantine den (barely a den, more a bush ancient healers carved away to store sick cats). Saltfrost tried to ignore it.
“Is she sleeping well?” Cranefeather called. Saltfrost held back a groan and stepped into the camp. Cranefeather stood at the den entrance, tail swishing the pine needles about.
“As well as any kit with whitecough can,” Saltfrost huffed. “Don’t hover around her. Let her rest and I’ll take care of her.”
“I gathered as much catmint as I could find,” Cranefeather gulped, glancing at the holy den. “We need to keep this contained.”
“And so far it is,” Saltfrost assured him. “But keep visitors to just you and I. It’s not serious yet, but the Clan would be weakened if the year’s run of greencough began now.”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone else to care for her,” Cranefeather sighed, running his tail down Saltfrost’s back. “Have you had the sunhigh meal yet?” Saltfrost shook her head. “Spiderstorm finished his ritual a while ago, and I think most others have eaten. Let me talk to Partridgeleg and we can share a vole. Unless you have plans to eat with anyone else?”
“No one else,” Saltfrost muttered. Cranefeather trotted to the nursery. Saltfrost stood alone outside the holy den and watched ElkClan.
Sorrellight, Smalltail, and Scauppaw shared tongues outside the warrior’s den. Saltfrost thought about joining them: Sorrellight was close to Saltfrost’s age, perhaps they could be friends. What exactly did friends talk about? All Saltfrost liked to discuss were herbs and healing. She doubted Sorrellight would be interested. It was fine. Saltfrost had Cranefeather. True, the relationship of mentor and apprentice couldn’t be considered friendship, rather something else, but it was a relationship. She couldn’t expect to have many friends, not when she joined ElkClan as a loner and went to the holy den rather than the apprentice’s den. It was fine.
Berryfrost and Grassleaf slipped into camp and made eye contact with Saltfrost. They weren’t injured, but they made a beeline towards her.
“Saltfrost, is Cranefeather in camp too?” Grassleaf asked.
“Did someone call for me?” Cranefeather stepped out of the nursery, quickly joining the group.
“Lemmingstar is at the Stacked Stones and wishes to speak to both of you,” Berryfrost explained.
“Lemmingstar?” Cranefeather stammered. “What could she want with us?”
“Is it about Honeypaw?” Saltfrost wondered.
“We know two things,” Grassleaf sighed. “The war between CliffClan and PuffinClan is older and Hailbranch is no longer a member of CliffClan.” Theories churned through Saltfrost’s head.
“She’s dead?” Cranefeather gulped.
“We asked, but they said no,” Berryfrost added. “We don’t know the full story. Lemmingstar demanded to talk to both of you.”
“The Stacked Stones, you said?” Saltfrost clarified
“Grassleaf, Nutstar is with Hazelear in her den, you should tell them what you told us,” Cranefeather ordered. “I’ll go meet her.”
“She wants both of us,” Saltfrost reminded him. “Berryfrost, you have some herbal knowledge. Keep an eye on the Clan’s health until we get back. If an emergency comes up, fetch us.”
“I will get to work,” Berryfrost said with a slight tilt of the chin.
“I’ll grab some figwort in case they’re simply asking for herbs,” Saltfrost huffed, hurrying into the holy den, “although I doubt that will be the case.” She quickly grabbed her figwort stash and joined Cranefeather at the camp entrance as Grassleaf went to inform Nutstar and Hazelear.
The two healers traveled through the trees, leaping through branches and cutting a straight path towards the Stacked Stones. Deer paths were helpful, but when a healer was called, they had to take a direct route. When they arrived, Lemmingstar and Spottedfoot sat on the stones, staring into the trees. Cranefeather and Saltfrost climbed down and hurried to the pair.
“It’s rare for a leader to call for another Clan’s healers,” Cranefeather panted, standing below the CliffClan cats. “What’s this about Hailbranch and the war?”
“Our conflict with PuffinClan is over, for we have found the culprit behind the moved border, Gooseleg’s assault, and Archpelt’s murder,” Lemmingstar declared. “Our own healer, Hailbranch.”
“No,” Saltfrost snapped, fur bristling as she dropped the figwort. “She’s sworn to save lives, why would she take them?”
“It’s complicated,” Spottedfoot groaned. “We’re still trying to understand everything that happened. With Rippedpool and Whalestar dead, there is a lot of work to do.”
“She killed them too?” Cranefeather gasped.
“No, like I said, it’s complicated,” Spottedfoot sighed, shaking his head.
“She is a wise and talented healer, this doesn’t make sense,” Saltfrost growled.
“We know that!” Lemmingstar hissed. Saltfrost backed off, nerves frozen. The calico leader seemed as big as an ElkClan cat, fur fluffed and claws out. “All the Clans have been betrayed by her. We came to speak with you because we need your help. You’re the only Clan with two trained healers. CliffClan needs you.”
“You have Martenpaw,” Cranefeather pointed out.
“She’s still training,” Spottedfoot reminded him. “She’s been caring for our wounds after the battle, but she’s only an apprentice. Someone needs to finish her training. You can return to ElkClan when she’s earned her name. CliffClan will be indebted to you for your help.”
“I…” Cranefeather gulped, growing stiff. “I’ll go. I can’t deny you.”
“No, I’ll go,” Saltfrost grunted, moving in front of Cranefeather. “You have a mate and kits. How can you train Martenpaw knowing you’ve left them behind? Especially with Patchkit’s whitecough?”
“You’ve had your name for half a year,” Cranefeather stammered. “Are you sure you can handle this?”
“I will be fine,” Saltfrost grumbled. “We’ll speak at the Gathering.”
“We’ll take you straight to our camp,” Lemmingstar said. Saltfrost picked up the figwort. Cranefeather put his chin on her head.
“Good luck,” Cranefeather muttered. Second thoughts bloomed as Saltfrost jumped on the stones with Lemmingstar and Spottedfoot. She was leaving her only friend behind. She knew no one in CliffClan save for Martenpaw. She was a close acquaintance, but how would she behave with Hailbranch missing? She kept her worries under her fur and lurked behind Lemmingstar and Spottedfoot as the three headed towards the cliffs. Her heart raced when she saw the bloodstains against CliffClan’s border with PuffinClan.
Lemmingstar and Spottedfoot ran back to camp, leaving Saltfrost little room to keep up. She had never been to the CliffClan camp, so she nearly ran past the entrance. Death and blood drifted from the cave. She stepped inside, paws skidding on the steep slope.
Rippedpool’s body laid in the center of camp, her son and grandchildren sitting around her. Cats groomed their wounds while Martenpaw rushed around camp, looking over every warrior before running to the next. Exhaustion clung like fog to the dark stone walls as counselors scrambled like mice to determine wounds of the soul.
“I have to assume you’ve treated the severe injuries,” Saltfrost grunted, looking for the holy den.
“We’ve had to trust Martenpaw’s skill,” Lemmingstar sighed. “The holy den is to your left. Last I saw, Martenpaw had Lynxshine and Rollerfall looking over the badly wounded.” Saltfrost didn’t let Lemmingstar finish, hurrying to the holy den. Lichen clung to the den’s edge and figures paced within the shadows. Saltfrost marched in, unafraid of her strange status.
“What are we looking at?” she called, scanning the den. There were four cats in the nests: Palescar, Honeypaw, Lightpaw, and Ashwhisker. Palescar’s chest was wrapped in cobweb, poultices peeking through the red-stained material as he slept. Saltfrost would have to double-check what poultice Martenpaw used, but it seemed a satisfactory job. The others, meanwhile, barely had a scratch. Each had small treated wounds, a bite there or a scratch here. Weren’t they Martenpaw’s kin? Lynxshine and Rollerfall were quickly pulling herbs out of small shelves and turned at Saltfrost’s call.
“I thought Cranefeather was coming,” Lynxshine gulped.
“You have me instead,” Saltfrost huffed. “Honeypaw, did your concussion return?”
“I don’t think so,” Honeypaw stammered, loafing in her nest.
“Then why are you and your kin in the holy den?” Saltfrost snapped. “There are cats more injured than you.”
“Martenpaw ordered us here,” Ashwhisker explained, standing. “She was upset enough, we weren’t going to argue.”
“You three, out,” Saltfrost grunted, tail pointing into camp. “Rollerfall, how much cobweb do we have left?” Rollerfall waved to two hearty piles as Martenpaw’s kin quickly left Saltfrost’s sight. “How long ago was the battle?”
“We fought at sunhigh, and it’s mid-afternoon now,” Lynxshine reported, glancing outside.
“Lynxshine, with me,” Saltfrost ordered. She stomped into camp, eyes locked on Martenpaw. The nine moon old apprentice carefully groomed a large bite on Fidgetflower’s shoulder while the tom spoke with Avocetcloud in a whisper. He paused when he noticed Saltfrost’s march.
“Martenpaw, you cannot prioritize your kin over the injured,” Saltfrost hissed, stopping beside Martenpaw. She smelled of heartbreak and her pupils were narrow when she glared at Saltfrost.
“What are you doing here?” Martenpaw snapped. “Go back to ElkClan, I don’t need help.”
“Lemmingstar brought me here to finish your training,” Saltfrost grunted. “Judging from the state of your Clan, you’re making sloppy mistakes. I heard about Hailbranch, I don’t entirely believe it either.”
“You weren’t here, you don’t know what happened,” Martenpaw growled, claws unsheathed. Avocetcloud pulled Fidgetflower away. Saltfrost couldn’t handle this.
“Spottedfoot!” she yowled. The brown tom had been comforting Loudstep when Saltfrost called, but zoomed over at her beckoning. “Hailbranch’s betrayal has upset Martenpaw to the point where it is interfering with her work. You need to speak to her.”
“I can’t abandon my Clan when they’re hurt,” Martenpaw cried, ears back.
“And you can’t care for them if you’re not in the right state of mind,” Saltfrost shot back. “Now go. CliffClan’s in safe paws.” Spottedfoot brushed against Martenpaw. The grief-filled hostility dulled in Martenpaw’s stance as she allowed Spottedfoot to lead her into one of the other dens. The entire time, Lynxshine had been standing to the side, watching the debate unfold.
“Rollerfall and I are at your disposal,” Lynxshine declared. Saltfrost nodded. There was no time to worry about an emotional apprentice or the strange glances burrowing through her white pelt. She had injuries to treat and lives to save.
Harriershade and Grebeshine soon joined Palescar in the holy den. Harriershade, as befitting a young warrior, bore the most scratches. While not serious on their own, the sheer number both impressed and worried Saltfrost. Grebeshine’s shoulder, constantly wounded and infected throughout the pointless war, was once again open. Saltfrost vowed to keep the story-keeper in the holy den for the next moon; the shoulder would scar and ache, and all Saltfrost could do was prevent further damage. The seers were quick to follow Saltfrost’s orders, applying herbs and cobwebs as she decreed.
They were such skillful paws that Saltfrost could call in warrior after story-keeper for an examination without hovering over her main patients. She knew some faces already, but she carefully repeated each new name when they stepped inside, making note of the dens and any chronic conditions. All the while she collected scattered stories of the day’s events, uncovering Hailbranch’s full treachery and the brutal battle.
Briarspeck was the last to be seen. Somehow the only wounds he bore were a few missing tufts of fur. Lemmingstar organized war recovery outside, sending Loudstep and Charpatch to PuffinClan. With everyone treated, the Clan seemed to forget she was there.
“I’m clinging to Seabranch’s back, right?” Briarspeck told the cats of the holy den as Saltfrost sniffed him over. “I’m pretty sure she’s the one who attacked Rippedpool, and of course I had it in mine to avenge her. That’s when this old molly comes racing past telling us to stop fighting. We all know what happened from there.”
“Grebeshine, do you think there will be a trial for Rippedpool’s death?” Harriershade asked, splayed across her nest to keep her wounds from rubbing.
“Lemmingstar said she would disregard any code-breaking from the war,” Grebeshine sighed. “It’s too much to handle.”
“Has she picked her new deputy yet?” Saltfrost wondered. “I want to acquaint myself with CliffClan’s senior figures.”
“We haven’t even declared reps yet,” Briarspeck scoffed. “So come on, what wounds do I got? Will they scar?”
“You actually came out of the battle with nothing,” Saltfrost muttered, trying to understand his remark. “Go back to what you last said. Reps?”
“He means representatives,” Grebeshine explained. “In CliffClan, the warriors, story-keepers, and counselors each pick someone they’d like to see become deputy. They each fulfill the role over the next three days and Lemmingstar picks her choice on the third night. It’s tradition, part of the code.”
“Oh, Mom, guess what, I was talking with the other warriors, we picked our rep,” Briarspeck chuckled, trotting to his mother’s side. “It’s Buzzardear!”
“Good for him,” Grebeshine purred. Saltfrost sat at the den’s edge, slipping into the background. “The story-keepers picked someone as well, but I’ll keep it a surprise.”
“May all cats old enough to climb the cliffs gather below me,” Lemmingstar called from her den high above.
“I guess you’ll hear now!” Grebeshine scoffed, standing.
“No, rest your shoulder,” Saltfrost ordered, stepping close to the story-keeper. “You can listen from the den, all three of you.”
“Palescar, wake up,” Harriershade whispered, tail brushing the senior warrior’s nose. He grumbled, whiskers twitching. Briarspeck led Rollerfall and Lynxshine out of the den. Saltfrost stayed close to her patients. There was no point in joining a ritual of a foreign Clan. CliffClan sat around Rippedpool’s body. The sun was bouncing off the ocean, forcing Saltfrost to squint.
“As the sun sets, we will say goodbye to Rippedpool and lay her to rest beside her ancestors,” Lemmingstar hummed. “Our elders have prepared her grave and shall take her body.” Wigeonfur and Brookspot trudged through the crowd. xThe elders draped Rippedpool over their gray backs and began the climb out of camp. Saltfrost prayed they didn’t break a hip in the process: why did ElkClan and CliffClan force their oldest members to bury the dead? Was it some sick joke?
Martenpaw and Spottedfoot left the warrior’s den and stood along the crowd’s edge. The emotion in Martenpaw’s eyes had dulled. Saltfrost made her way along the camp walls, heading for Martenpaw.
“Before we continue,” Lemmingstar sighed, “there is someone that requires a formal introduction. Saltfrost!” Saltfrost froze, staring at Lemmingstar as CliffClan turned towards her. She stood tall and ignored her new Clanmates. “With Hailbranch’s betrayal, Saltfrost will be finishing Martenpaw’s training and taking up the role of healer for our Clan. Though young, Nutstar has praised her countless times at Gatherings. Her skill and focus is unmatched and she shall watch over our Clan as though we were her own.” Did Lemmingstar really think so highly of her, or was this flattery to earn favor with ElkClan?
“I will try, Lemmingstar,” Saltfrost replied, unsure of what else to say.
“I expect everyone here to treat her with the utmost respect,” Lemmingstar warned. “Hailbranch has hurt us all, but do not project your frustrations onto Saltfrost. For the next season, she is a CliffClan cat. Anyone who insults her will answer to me. Do you understand?” CliffClan muttered their agreements, finally turning from Saltfrost. She scurried over to Martenpaw and Spottedfoot. Martenpaw ignored her.
“Welcome,” Spottedfoot whispered.
“With three key positions comes three candidates to one day lead our Clan,” Lemmingstar declared. “The warrior’s candidate will take on the role tomorrow, followed by the story-keeper candidate the day after, with the counselor’s candidate ending the campaign. It is time to make your suggestions known. May the chosen deputy of the warriors step forward?” Buzzardear jogged to the front of the crowd, sitting close to Lemmingstar’s ledge. Lemmingstar tilted her head slightly. “If my history is correct, it has been many moons since a cat of non-Clan blood led us. Do you believe you could do a good job, Buzzardear?”
“My brother is buried here,” Buzzardear huffed, huge ears perked and facing Lemmingstar. “He lost his life for CliffClan, and I will do the same. Might as well make it nine lives.”
“Wise words,” Lemmingstar conceded. “Who do the story-keepers nominate?” Sleettuft stood next to Buzzardear. Really? The story-keepers chose their oldest member? Why did Ashwhisker, who stood with his mate and kits near the warrior’s den, lower his ears and bristle his fur?
“It will be okay,” Goldenshade promised him, licking his ear. “Trust me.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if he won, right?” Lightpaw gulped, scanning her father’s face.
“I am not surprised,” Lemmingstar sighed. “Should you be chosen, that will make Avocetcloud the senior story-keeper. I hope she is ready for that position.” The molly in question was hidden in the nursery, occasionally pulling her kits back into the shadows. “Now let us see who the counselors wish to lead us.” Ashwhisker gasped as Goldenshade walked past him and sat next to Sleettuft. The old tom’s glowing pride shrunk as he stared at Goldenshade.
“They chose Mom!” Honeypaw purred, bunting Ashwhisker’s shoulder. His nerves shifted, growing taller and beaming at his mate.
“I’m curious to see how you fare, Goldenshade,” Lemmingstar admitted. “Tell me, do you plan to have more litters? I remember how you enjoyed being a queen.”
“If I do, it would allow me to pour more energy into organizing the Clan,” Goldenshade said. “I would make sure CliffClan is a place where my kits can become whatever they want to be.” She shot a long glare at Sleettuft with those last words, barely noticeable to those not paying close attention. ElkClan curiosity was getting the better of Saltfrost; she did not need to know the problem between those two, no matter how much she wanted the story told.
“Your representatives have been chosen,” Lemmingstar called. “You have picked strong and loyal cats. I look forward to seeing how you impress me. Everyone has their assignments to help us heal from the war. Do what you can and rest. This meeting is adjourned.” Lemmingstar joined her mate outside as everyone congratulated the three candidates. Martenpaw slipped through the crowd, bumping into Fidgetflower and Fowlstorm. Neither reacted. Martenpaw disappeared into the holy den.
“Saltfrost,” Spottedfoot sighed, “I should prepare you for the next few moons. Martenpaw may struggle to trust you. Hailbranch wounded her, so a new mentor will be difficult for her.”
“I understand,” Saltfrost muttered. “I appreciate your acceptance of me as well.”
“I just hope she doesn’t isolate herself,” Spottedfoot huffed. “I’m only telling you this because you’re her mentor now, so you can’t gossip about it.”
“I don’t gossip,” Saltfrost grunted. Spottedfoot scooted closer.
“Martenpaw has been under a lot of stress,” Spottedfoot explained softly. “Now that she’s out of danger, she may behave like the stressors are still there. Everyone respects her, enough that we’re disregarding her involvement in Brownleap’s half-Clan relationship. She’s not close to many cats, though. Outside of Hailbranch, she’s mostly connected with her family. Right now, she’s desperate to make up for the harm Hailbranch caused and be a great healer. But she can’t focus and she’ll only hurt herself by pushing people away. Cats need friends. For her sake, make sure she doesn’t push her family away.”
Saltfrost would never say so in front of a CliffClan cat, but she understood the need for friendship. It was why she joined ElkClan in the first place. She vividly remembered her life as a kit without a mother, hearing about the Clans from an old gray tom. She had been welcomed into ElkClan and bombarded with excited faces wanting her story. As she trained under Cranefeather, however, the excitement had dimmed. Saltfrost didn’t know the tales the other apprentices did and didn’t care to learn new ones. She should have cared more.
“I’ll try,” Saltfrost sighed. If there were any cats she could turn to for further advice, it would be Martenpaw’s parents. Yet as she glanced around camp, Goldenshade and Ashwhisker were no longer by the leader’s den. Instead, they carefully slipped over the edge of the grand cave mouth.
“How do I get down there?” Saltfrost asked, pointing her tail to the mouth.
“You can loop around the cliff once you leave through the main exit,” Spottedfoot explained, an ear flicking to the entrance. “A word of advice about those two. Goldenshade has always dealt with Ashwhisker’s nerves. Make sure you aren’t interrupting a sensitive conversation.” Saltfrost nodded and marched to the exit. They’d stop and listen to help their daughter. When she emerged into the dusk air, Lemmingstar was helping Wigeonfur place Rippedpool’s body in a hole in the ground near a newer grave, where grass had just begun to grow. She carefully avoided the leader’s tired gaze.
It took Saltfrost longer than it should have to figure out where the cliff-face led. She trotted downhill, looking for any interesting herbs nestled in the cracks of the cliff or between the rocks and grass. Salt collected on the edges of the cliff, as white as Saltfrost’s fur. She sniffed it; a sharp, mouth-puckering scent. She wondered if her mother lived near the sea, if that was why she was named Salt upon birth.
“I’d die before that tom became deputy,” Goldenshade hissed. Saltfrost stayed close to the rocks. This was not a conversation she should interrupt. She came too far to wait until later, however. StarClan would have to excuse a bit of eavesdropping.
“I know I should stand up to him,” Ashwhisker grumbled. Saltfrost could see Ashwhisker’s tail thrashing from around the corner. “I should have done it when I was younger. Everyone in CliffClan respects him, though. I’m just his talentless son.”
“The fact that he makes you feel like that is why I’m going to beat him,” Goldenshade declared. “Honey and Light will get to be warriors and be everything you wanted to be.”
“Does Buzzardear have a chance?”
“He has an advantage as the warrior’s representative. We still win if he becomes deputy.”
“He’s been talking to Honeypaw so much. He’s had Ottersnout and Grebeshine doing his dirty work for him. Grebeshine’s mostly stopped, I worked up the courage to tell her off, but I know Honeypaw likes her grandfather. Worse yet, I think… I think Lightpaw is considering it.” It wasn't right to listen, no matter what excuses Saltfrost made. This was getting too personal for her tastes.
“Goldenshade?” she called, jogging to the mates. “Ashwhisker? Are you over here?”
“Is that you, Saltfrost?” Ashwhisker stammered, poking his head around the corner. The healer joined Goldenshade and Ashwhisker on the rough sandy beach.
“Did you need us?” Goldenshade asked. She sat close to Ashwhisker.
“Yes and no,” Saltfrost admitted. “I wanted to ask you about Martenpaw. I… well I would like to get to know her better, as her new mentor.”
“You’ve met her at every Gathering and half-moon meeting,” Goldenshade pointed out. “I would have thought you and her would be close.”
“We’re acquaintances,” Saltfrost admitted. “We’ve shared plenty of stories of herbs and healing. Our relationship is changing. I need more conversation topics to be an adequate teacher.”
“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here,” Goldenshade said, sitting next to Ashwhisker and wrapping her tail around him, “but the way you phrase that makes it sound like you aren’t very skilled at conversation.”
“I have skills,” Saltfrost huffed. “I can speak to people. I just need to know what to speak about, that’s all.”
“Most conversations develop naturally,” Goldenshade sighed. “You say what’s on your mind and cats will continue your thoughts. So long as you make an effort to speak with Martenpaw, you’ll become closer.”
“Golden, I think Saltfrost is a bit more like me,” Ashwhisker piped up, leaning into his mate’s ear. “We need a little help to get talking. Here’s something Martenpaw likes. Mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” Goldenshade and Saltfrost said in unison.
“Yes, mushrooms!” Ashwhisker explained. “Not just for herbs or rituals, she likes finding different kinds of mushrooms. I taught her all the types I know.”
“I can work with mushrooms,” Saltfrost muttered, charting her plan of attack. “Thank you. Congratulations on becoming deputy, or being a candidate, I should say.” Her stomach grumbled like wind roaring through the trees. Her ears went back as she tried to pretend that didn’t happen.
“Here’s an idea,” Goldenshade purred. “Let’s get my daughters and my father and we can all share a meal together. I’d love to get to know you since you’ll be staying with us.” Get to know her? Déjà vu rippled through Saltfrost’s pelt.
The trio made their way back to camp, where the elders had finished burying Rippedpool and most of the camp had settled into a nest or warm cranny with their friends. No one had the energy to do anything else that day. Goldenshade trotted to the elder’s den where Firestripe enjoyed the sunset while Ashwhisker searched for his youngest daughters and Saltfrost headed to the holy den. Palescar, Grebeshine, and Harriershade had fallen asleep while Lynxshine quietly muttered to Rollerfall near the back of the den, examining a twig. Martenpaw stood in the den’s alcove, slowly tearing apart a large nest.
“Martenpaw?” Saltfrost asked. “Your parents wanted me to fetch you. They’d like to share prey with you.”
“I’m not hungry,” Martenpaw mumbled. She gripped a thick wad of moss in her teeth and tugged it away.
“Lynxshine, when did Martenpaw last eat?” Saltfrost wondered, catching the young seer’s attention.
“Not since this morning,” Lynxshine admitted, glancing at Martenpaw.
“I really don’t want to be around other cats right now, Saltfrost,” Martenpaw huffed. She stared at the broken nest, toying with some moss between her pads.
“That is unfortunate,” Saltfrost sighed, “because Goldenshade will be very upset if you don’t eat something.”
“You didn’t let me help with treating wounds and now you’re dragging me away from my chores,” Martenpaw snapped, fur bristling. “I said I’m not in the mood.”
“The nest will be there when you’re done,” Saltfrost promised. She approached the young apprentice, but Martenpaw blocked her path into the alcove.
“You don’t need to be over here,” she grunted. “I’ll come eat.” Martenpaw shoved past Saltfrost into the camp.
“Don’t take it personally,” Lynxshine sighed. “That was Hailbranch’s nest.” The lichen covering the secret tunnel stirred when Saltfrost turned. There was a chill to the alcove she only now noticed.
“Well, tomorrow I’ll be checking those who didn’t fight,” Saltfrost muttered, stretching her back, “and I’d like your help to organize their future treatments.”
“Whatever you need,” Lynxshine promised. Rollerfall made a strange gesture with her tail.
“It will give me a chance to…” Saltfrost explained, unsure of herself, “to get to know you better. Perhaps I can learn your signs, Rollerfall. If we are to share a den, I don’t want to aggravate your condition and force you to speak, so it only seems fair. After all, what will happen if a deaf kit arrives in ElkClan and I can’t speak with them?” Rollerfall touched her paw to her chin before extending it. Saltfrost looked to Lynxshine. Did she once again turn an honest gesture into healer nonsense?
“That means ‘thank you’,” Lynxshine assured her, chuckling. The kitten inside Saltfrost bounced and cheered as she headed out to eat, tail high.
Saltfrost was not the sort of cat to sleep too long. She preferred to pick herbs early in the morning before anyone rushed into camp with a torn claw or a rat bite. Something about the previous day had been so exhausting, however, that she only stirred when someone gently nosed her shoulder.
“I’ll check on Patchkit in a few minutes,” Saltfrost murmured, rolling over.
“Who’s Patchkit?” someone asked. Saltfrost suddenly remembered she was no longer in ElkClan.
She sat up in the nest hastily thrown together after her sunset meal with Martenpaw’s family. Martenpaw was checking Grebeshine’s shoulder while Harriershade stretched and Palescar groomed his wounds. The seers were nowhere to be seen. Buzzardear stood in front of Saltfrost, still waiting for an answer.
“Did you need something?” Saltfrost asked, beginning her morning grooming and licking the sleep away.
“It’s my day as deputy, and I wanted to know what your plans are,” Buzzardear explained.
“I’m still adjusting to CliffClan,” Saltfrost admitted, dragging a paw over her ear. “I have to learn what conditions Hailbranch and Martenpaw were treating before the battle and see if I’ll continue the same treatments or not. I haven’t even been to the nursery yet. Beyond that, I’ll see what Lemmingstar needs and determine what Martenpaw needs to learn.”
“There’s a patrol going to the PuffinClan border after sunhigh,” Buzzardear said. “They’ll be giving us herbs, so you or Martenpaw should join that. I also want you to join Briarspeck’s hunting patrol so you can learn the territory. They’ll be leaving mid-morning.”
“I prefer to explore on my own time,” Saltfrost explained.
“I need to submit my patrol schedule to Lemmingstar soon and everyone needs to know what they’re doing for the day,” Buzzardear sighed. “Trust me, Andy and I were just as thrown off by it when we arrived. You’ll get used to it.”
“Who is Andy?” Saltfrost asked. Buzzardear cleared his throat, big ears dipping back.
“Beaverstone, I mean,” Buzzardear corrected. “When we were loners, his name was Andy and I was Van Dyke. We use them as nicknames.”
“My name as a loner was Salt,” Saltfrost added.
“We should share stories of our lives before the Clans when he eat at sunhigh,” Buzzardear suggested, tail tilting up. Huh. Was it really so simple to make friends? If Saltfrost had been a different kit, would she have made friends in ElkClan as well? “Can any of your patients resume their duties?”
“I want Grebeshine resting for a while,” Saltfrost coughed, snapping out of her regretful daydreams. “As for Harriershade and Palescar… Martenpaw, what do you think?”
“Harriershade can leave if she’s careful,” Martenpaw said, still focused on Grebeshine’s shoulder. “I’ll have to see about Palescar.”
“Let me know if you need any herbs,” Buzzardear warned. “I know we’re short, but I’ll do my best to get you what you need. Harriershade, would you like to lead a night hunting patrol? Honeypaw should learn how to catch bats.”
“You can count on me,” Harriershade chirped, hopping out of her nest. “That reminds me. I never got the chance to thank you, Saltfrost, for caring for Honeypaw when she had her concussion.”
“The rest of your Clan has shared their appreciation,” Saltfrost assured her. “I’m glad she’s fully recovered. I worried the battle would stir up old pains. Take care.” Saltfrost watched Harriershade trot after Buzzardear, but her gaze lingered on a group of five cats. Fidgetflower, Ottersnout, and Sleettuft shared two mice with Honeypaw and Lightpaw. Saltfrost couldn’t hear what Sleettuft said, but Ottersnout was enraptured as Honeypaw politely nodded, focused on her prey. Lightpaw barely touched the mice, always watching whomever was talking.
“Martenpaw, I don’t have to stay in my nest all day, do I?” Grebeshine wondered.
“You’ve been overworking it,” Martenpaw insisted. “We can’t risk you developing permanent damage. You’ll likely live with shoulder pain for a long time anyway.”
“You’re very skilled with wound treatment,” Saltfrost noted, approaching her new apprentice.
“That’s been the main focus of my training,” Martenpaw grumbled, stepping back from Grebeshine. “Hailbranch taught me everything about injuries. She was probably preparing me for her ‘take over PuffinClan’ dreams.”
“Then I can teach you about diseases,” Saltfrost declared. “Winter is coming, and you would have been too young to remember it. Disease is the biggest killer in all four Clans. Most years, it will be a blessing if only one cat dies.”
“I’m looking forward to learning from you, I really am,” Martenpaw said, ears erect and gaze focused. Saltfrost trilled softly. This was her comfort zone, sharing herbs and knowledge with someone just as passionate. Then she remembered Martenpaw's behavior the day before.
“We’ll run through the basics of disease so I know what to teach you,” Saltfrost explained, turning to the herb stores. She would have to get rid of Hailbranch’s odd organization system if she hoped to find anything. “While I’m on my territory tour, I want you to have a meeting with Spottedfoot. He seemed to help you yesterday and I think speaking with him regularly is for the best.”
“I don’t want counseling,” Martenpaw huffed, fur ruffling. “I never know what to say.”
“We are healers of the body,” Saltfrost sighed, “but they are healers of the soul. Someone who is bleeding out doesn’t say they don’t want a healer.”
“Saltfrost…” Martenpaw grumbled. She got close so Grebeshine and Palescar wouldn’t overhear. “All he’ll do is insult Hailbranch. I know she betrayed everyone, but she was…”
“If you don’t like Spottedfoot, we will see if a different counselor will speak with you,” Saltfrost promised. “Trust me on this, as your new mentor.”
“Fine,” Martenpaw mumbled, “but… can I not call you my mentor? I know it’s rude.”
“I understand,” Saltfrost said, lying. “Let’s see what you know, then. You may be low on herbs, but surely you have some poppy leaves. Poppies are good for more than pain.” As Saltfrost quizzed Martenpaw, the brown molly sat at her side, diligently answering every question.
-
Most of the Clan’s activity occurred outside Saltfrost’s sphere of focus. As Ottersnout prepared for Brownleap’s trial, Saltfrost got her tour and Martenpaw met with Spottedfoot (who promised Saltfrost he wouldn’t badmouth Hailbranch). While Saltfrost helped Firestripe stretch his legs, Fidgetflower led a patrol to search for his traitorous sister. Buzzardear explained to Saltfrost why Rollerfall had to examine her vole before she ate, all the while balancing their conversation with the tests and expectations of a potential deputy. Even as Saltfrost examined Avocetcloud’s kits, studying Milkkit’s ears (Saltfrost thanked StarClan she was born with green eyes, otherwise she may never have heard the hum of the wind through the leaves or the gentle purr of a sleeping Clanmate), Martenpaw returned from the afternoon patrol with fresh herbs and Twigbrook, the defender for the upcoming trial.
“I know some herbs that can improve her hearing,” Saltfrost explained, releasing Milkkit to play with her sisters. “They could give her more range than she has now, but she won’t get all her hearing back.”
“Try them,” Avocetcloud ordered. “Do whatever you need.”
“I think it would be a waste of time,” Saltfrost admitted. “Rather than search for something she doesn’t have, we should figure out the best way to communicate with her. Getting close will do for some situations, but I’m unsure about speaking from a distance.”
“I’ll let you handle it,” Avocetcloud sighed. “Could you tell my mate about Milkkit? I need to clear my head.” Avocetcloud wandered towards the exit before Saltfrost could say a word. Pochardkit stuck out her tongue when her mother’s back was to her.
“Pochard, that’s mean!” Perchkit gasped. Fidgetflower was grooming Palescar by the holy den, so Saltfrost approached the pair.
“Milkkit should be just fine,” Saltfrost told Fidgetflower. “You’ll have to keep an eye on your daughters. Avocetcloud went on a walk.”
“Queens shouldn’t be leaving their kits so much,” Palescar muttered.
“That’s my mate you’re talking about, Palescar,” Fidgetflower reminded his older brother. “She’s been worried about Milkkit.”
“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” Saltfrost added, sitting. “It’s about our apprentices.”
Later that day, as Charpatch and Mistblossom took up the night guard, Saltfrost finished the two extra nests beside Martenpaw’s spot. Palescar and Grebeshine were able to sleep in the warrior’s den, although both would still be kept from duty. Lynxshine and Rollerfall sat at the edge of the cave mouth, watching Silverpelt.
“Firestripe wants more comfrey,” Martenpaw sighed, slipping into the holy den. “He never has enough!”
“Does he always ask for comfrey root?” Saltfrost wondered. “We may have to cut him off. I don’t want him to get leaf love, if he doesn’t already have it.”
“Did you make new nests?” Martenpaw pointed out, pausing inside her own.
“Healers sleep away from the rest of the Clan so we can watch over our patients,” Saltfrost hummed, “but I thought tonight we could bend the rules.”
“Sleepover!” Honeypaw cheered, suddenly bounding into the den with Lightpaw on her heels. Lightpaw carried a few stones in her mouth.
“What are you two doing?” Martenpaw laughed as her little sisters crawled into the nests beside her.
“Our mentors said we could spend the night with you,” Honeypaw trilled, kneading her nest. “Saltfrost thought you could use the company.” Saltfrost dipped her head, unfamiliar with the joyful look in Martenpaw’s eyes.
“I even brought the family pebbles!” Lightpaw chuckled, dropping her rocks.
“I was curious about those,” Saltfrost noted.
“Oh, well, the night I became an apprentice, I was really nervous to sleep in a den without my mom,” Lightpaw quickly explained, showing off her collection. “Dad went out and found a bunch of stones and said they represented all five of us!” The stones had been carefully picked out and worn with attention. There were three sandy yellow stones, one of which was larger than the other two. A big gray stone laid next to a brown pebble. “This way, my family’s always with me.”
“I would think sleeping with stones in your moss would be uncomfortable,” Saltfrost hummed, trying and failing to hide her jealousy.
“That reminds me,” Lightpaw hummed, scrambling out of the den. She reappeared a few moments later with a dull white rock. “This is for you, Saltfrost.”
“For me?” Saltfrost repeated. “Why?”
“Mom said it was a good thank you for letting us spend the night with Martenpaw,” Lightpaw hummed. Saltfrost cradled the stone in her paw. Many ElkClan cats put pine needles or flowers in her nest to thank her for her work, but never stones. Never for something so mundane.
“Thank you, Lightpaw,” Saltfrost chuckled. “Don’t worry about staying up too late. I’m a heavy sleeper.”
Saltfrost had to come to terms with the fact that yes, she was an eavesdropper and just as gossip starved as any other ElkClan cat. This was not the night for such a revelation, however. Instead, she laid in her nest, Rollerfall and Lynxshine’s gentle breathing trying to whisk her to sleep, and listened to the three sisters.
“It feels wrong to miss her, but I do,” Martenpaw groaned. “Everyone is going back to normal.”
“Well that isn’t true,” Honeypaw pointed out. “Rippedpool and Beaverstone are gone.”
“But they died like warriors,” Martenpaw sighed. “Hailbranch is different. I don’t know what to feel. I’m mad that she did all those things but I wish she was still here. She was a good healer, despite everything.”
“Things have to get better,” Lightpaw muttered. “The war’s over and we’ll find Hailbranch so she can pay for what she did. You’ll move on. Didn’t Dad and Grandfather move on after Grandmother died?”
“I don’t want to talk about Sleettuft,” Honeypaw grumbled. “He won’t leave me alone.”
“He might now,” Lightpaw admitted sheepishly.
“What did you do?” Martenpaw wondered.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Lightpaw groaned, “and when we were sitting with Ottersnout and Sleettuft while they talked about Brownleap’s trial, I decided to say something. I told him if he laid off you, Honeypaw, I would consider becoming a story-keeper.”
“Lightpaw, you can’t!” Honeypaw gasped.
“I might not do anything!” Lightpaw insisted. “It was to get Grandfather off your back. It might not be that bad, anyway.”
“You’ve wanted to be a warrior since we were tiny!” Honeypaw said.
“Mom and Dad always said we could follow whatever path we wanted,” Lightpaw pointed out, “but what do you think Dad would have said if any of us wanted to be story-keepers?”
“Do you want to switch paths or not?” Martenpaw asked.
“I don’t know,” Lightpaw groaned. “Fidgetflower spends more time in the nursery than training with me. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Saltfrost tried to stay focused, the apprentices’ conversation swirling through her ears, but exhaustion gripped her mind. Lightpaw’s worries became nothing more than rumbling thunder as Saltfrost drifted away.
Saltfrost had nearly forgotten about the changing deputies until Sleettuft slipped into the holy den the next morning, interrupting Saltfrost’s lesson on distemper. Martenpaw’s sisters had slipped away as morning arrived and the seers bickered with Avocetcloud, trying to pull Milkkit away to learn signs. Saltfrost’s ears tilted up when Sleettuft arrived, expecting Ashwhisker or Loudstep.
“Good morning, Saltfrost,” Sleettuft greeted her with a little bow.
“Martenpaw, I’ll quiz you on treatment once I’m done here,” Saltfrost said, trotting closer to Sleettuft.
“Yes, Saltfrost,” Martenpaw hummed, absorbed in her lessons.
“Here to see what I need today?” Saltfrost asked.
“I know you aren’t one for meticulous planning, being from ElkClan,” Sleettuft admitted. “I only have one request for you today, then you are free to do whatever’s required. I’ve been thinking about injuries in the wild. There are situations where cats won’t have access to a healer yet need to treat wounds. That’s why I want to give a lesson on basic medicine to Grebeshine’s litter and the apprentices.”
“That’s a wise idea,” Saltfrost hummed. “It’s something I’ve tried to push as part of every cat’s training in ElkClan. When would this be?”
“At sunhigh, as they eat,” Sleettuft explained. “I’m glad to know you agree. I’ll speak to you then. Good luck on your training, Martenpaw.” He left the den, catching Fidgetflower by the cave mouth. Saltfrost returned to Martenpaw’s side.
“Let’s make sure we don’t waste herbs during this little demonstration,” Saltfrost reminded her. “Now, you have a three moon old kit presenting symptoms of distemper. The only symptoms they do not have are the digestive issues, although they still lack an appetite. What would be your treatment?”
“I would go for sloe-bush leaves to treat the cold symptoms and hide knapweed seeds within for the fever,” Martenpaw said, brushing her paw against each herb as she spoke. “Kits are weak to distemper, so I need herbs I am certain will help.”
“I approve of that treatment,” Saltfrost cooed. “How would that change if there were stomach pains?”
“Field gentian,” Martenpaw declared. “They’ll eat the leaves and the roots. I can’t remember which one first.”
“The leaves will soothe the stomach,” Saltfrost explained. “Good job.” Outside, Sleettuft had finished talking with Fidgetflower. He joined up with Harriershade and their apprentices outside the warrior’s den. The idea that sprang to Saltfrost’s mind was one of rather agonizing socialization, but it was something both she and her apprentice needed.
“Come,” Saltfrost hummed, trotting outside. She and Martenpaw caught up to Harriershade, Fidgetflower, Lightpaw, and Honeypaw just before they left camp.
“Hello Saltfrost,” Harriershade said, halfway up the slope.
“Are you going to train?” Saltfrost wondered.
“Hunting in the tunnels,” Harriershade explained.
“I’ve heard they’re a great source of herbs,” Saltfrost hummed. “Care if we join you?”
“You’ve never been in the tunnels,” Honeypaw gulped. “What if you get lost?”
“Martenpaw can guide me to the main caves,” Saltfrost answered.
“You can see the Underground Forest,” Martenpaw suggested.
“Shouldn’t one of you be here in case someone requires healing?” Harriershade asked. Saltfrost glanced over her shoulder. Rollerfall, in the midst of a coughing fit, nosed Milkkit to the holy den as Avocetcloud sculked back into the nursery.
“That’s why we have seers,” Saltfrost sighed. “Let’s set out.”
Saltfrost knew what it was to be enclosed, spending her life in the confines of the trees. The tunnels were a different sort of entrapment, with shadow and stone threatening to choke the life out of her. She stayed in the middle of the group, keeping close to Martenpaw. Lightpaw and Honeypaw continually swapped places at the front of the group, leading everyone to new caves. Eventually they stopped in a large cave with a huge mouth. While Harriershade carefully stalked through the dark with the apprentices, Saltfrost and Martenpaw examined herbs growing near the cave mouth and Fidgetflower stalked about outside.
“I found some wood sorrel,” Martenpaw pointed out, sticking her paw in a crevice. “It should grow a bit more before winter. I’ll take a few leaves, but we can come back after the first snow fall and see how it’s grown.”
“I like that idea,” Saltfrost approved, sniffing the ground. “That may be the only good herb here. The rest has been picked clean.”
“Let me look deeper in the cave,” Martenpaw suggested. She slipped into the shadows just as Lightpaw pounced on a mouse, ending its life with one last defiant squeak. There was another mouse in the grass beyond the cave, but the sound of its brother’s death made it lift its head and bolt. It moved just in time, as Fidgetflower landed right where it had been nibbling.
As Fidgetflower muttered a curse, Saltfrost debated whether to start a conversation. Would they talk about hunting? Perhaps Avocetcloud? No, Fidgetflower wouldn’t appreciate another cat discussing his mate’s strange behavior.
“So, Fidgetflower,” Saltfrost hummed as Fidgetflower scanned the territory, “what made you want to be a warrior?”
“Likely the same reason you became a healer,” Fidgetflower muttered, eyes squinting beyond the cave. “There’s something out there.” Fidgetflower stalked out of sight. Saltfrost peered after him, a warning rippling down her neck. She trotted after Fidgetflower.
From that new angle, Saltfrost could see what concerned Fidgetflower. Something glimmered in the grass. Fidgetflower knew well enough to stay back. Saltfrost hurried up to him. A mouth of shimmering silver teeth flattened the grass around it.
“A silver jaw,” Saltfrost muttered. While she had yet to see the thing in action, she knew the results; Partridgeleg’s injury, Magpieflower and Rabbitface’s near brush with StarClan.
“Harriershade!” Fidgetflower called. A few moments later, Harriershade and the apprentices rushed out of the cave, with Lightpaw carrying her mouse.
“Another one?” Harriershade groaned.
“Counting the strange snares SealClan encountered,” Saltfrost muttered, “this is the fifth or sixth human trap found in the last two moons.”
“Harriershade, you know the rule,” Fidgetflower sighed. “Fetch a story-keeper.”
“Both of you, stay right here,” Harriershade warned the apprentices. “Don’t touch anything!” Harriershade booked it for the cave, vanishing into the shadows.
“Why would you wait for a story-keeper when we can feed the silver jaw ourselves?” Saltfrost asked.
“We can?” Honeypaw said, eyeing the silver jaw with the excitement of a newly named apprentice.
“Story-keepers know about human traps,” Martenpaw pointed out. “They’re trained for this.”
“So am I,” Saltfrost huffed. “Lightpaw, I want you to fetch me a stick, the heaviest one you can find. Honeypaw, you look for a big stone.” The two apprentices split up, quick to follow the healer’s orders.
“Warriors don’t touch silver jaws,” Fidgetflower said, pacing around the silver jaw.
“Why not?” Saltfrost questioned. Fidgetflower lacked an answer, continuing to pace as Honeypaw trotted out of the cave with a heavy stone.
“Is this big enough?” she asked, dropping the rock at Saltfrost’s paws.
“Let’s see,” Saltfrost hummed. “Pay attention and you’ll be able to feed silver jaws too.” Saltfrost took the stone in her mouth and chucked it into the silver jaw. Fidgetflower jumped back when the rock hit the back of the trap’s mouth, but it did not take the bait.
“Why didn’t it work?” Honeypaw wondered.
“It wasn’t heavy enough,” Martenpaw guessed. A few moments later, Lightpaw returned with a thick branch.
“Yes, this will work,” Saltfrost said, grabbing the branch. She braced herself, moving back and forth, building momentum. Suddenly, she let go, and the branch fell into the silver jaw. The jaw jumped, snapping shut on the branch. The wood cracked and snapped, tiny shards of bark crumbling around it.
“Woah,” Lightpaw gasped, carefully batting the broken branch.
“Every summer, human hunters hide silver jaws in our forest,” Saltfrost explained. “They snap up deer and other beasts. We have to learn how to feed those jaws, otherwise more cats would end up like Partridgeleg.”
“The story-keepers won’t be happy,” Fidgetflower sighed
“Let them whine,” Saltfrost scoffed with a flick of her tail. “I thought we were here to hunt.”
And hunt they did. Saltfrost and Martenpaw checked the outside of the cave for more herbs while the apprentices and Fidgetflower continued their hunt. Lightpaw found another mouse when Harriershade and Sleettuft arrived.
“Isn’t he the deputy today?” Lightpaw grumbled. “Why did he come over?”
“Because we’re here,” Honeypaw sighed.
“It’s been fed?” Sleettuft stammered, stamping up to the silver jaw. “Who did this?”
“I did,” Saltfrost admitted, unwavering. “The apprentices deserved a lesson, should they come across one again.” Sleettuft examined the well-fed silver jaw, sniffing the branch.
“That was dangerous,” Sleettuft chastised her. “Story-keepers feed the silver jaws because we have the training.”
“So do I,” Saltfrost huffed.
“This isn’t ElkClan,” Sleettuft reminded her. “I don’t want you putting my grandchildren at risk. I thought you would know better.”
“They are old enough to decide what they want,” Saltfrost grunted. The pair stared each other down, the pretenses of Clan manners restraining their words.
“Why don’t we head back to camp?” Fidgetflower suggested. “We’ve caught some prey for the elders and Martenpaw has some herbs.”
“Yes, let’s,” Harriershade agreed, shuffling all three apprentices towards camp, the two mice dangling from Lightpaw’s mouth. Saltfrost was the one to break away from the glare, joining Martenpaw’s side.
Unsurprisingly, the lesson on basic medicine later that day was strained. To Sleettuft’s credit, he avoided discussing the silver jaw and instead supervised as the youngest cats of the Clan laid cobwebs on imaginary wounds. Mistblossom, Ottersnout, and Briarspeck got into a competition to see who could chew up a poultice fast enough. At first, Fowlstorm declined to compete, but when Mistblossom dared him, he destroyed his brothers by a sizable margin. Martenpaw gave her sisters a focused lesson, going over as many vital herbs as possible.
While Saltfrost was loath to admit it, Sleettuft was an educated and responsible deputy. He reminded her of Hazelear, quick to put down problems and loyal to his leader. There was no reason for Saltfrost not to like him for the position. Had she been in ElkClan, she would have no qualms about it. Yet she was noticing things she never had before. She had moved beyond the aches and spasms of the body and saw the emotion behind it. She could see how uncomfortable Sleettuft’s family grew around him. She joined Loudstep in discussing leaf love with Firestripe when she would have left the counselor alone before. She had a long conversation with Goldenshade about Avocetcloud’s state of mind not just due to the health issues of her family, but for her own sake. She was far more comfortable following her old routine, but the elders invited her over near dusk just to have a chat. How different had she become to be welcomed over for a chat?
Saltfrost pondered those revelations as night fell and Fidgetflower and Lightpaw took up the night guard. PuffinClan had brought over beautiful tansy flowers, carefully resting in a soft birch leaf. Martenpaw sorted the fresh flowers while Lynxshine and Rollerfall guided Saltfrost through a lesson on signs.
“The foundation of signs are the universal signals everyone knows,” Lynxshine explained as Rollerfall demonstrated. “Tail signals, comforting gestures, you know them all. Most of the additional signs are expansions of these signals. We touch noses to show respect and love, so bringing your paw down from your nose says thank you. That also leads into the sign for ‘I need help’, which is lifting your paw from the ground and leaving it on your nose for a few moments.”
“I see where that comes from,” Saltfrost hummed. She copied Rollerfall’s movements, trying to move her paw just like the older seer. “This shouldn’t be too difficult to teach Milkkit.”
“If Avocetcloud stays quiet,” Rollerfall sighed, whiskers bristling.
“Goldenshade promised to speak with her,” Saltfrost assured her, just as Palescar slipped into the den.
“Good evening, Palescar,” Lynxshine called with a nod.
“Lemmingstar’s called a meeting,” Palescar said, leaving just as fast as he arrived.
“I didn’t hear her call the Clan,” Saltfrost hummed as the others dropped what they were doing.
“This is a meeting of senior Clan members,” Lynxshine explained. “Seers and healers always attend.'' Would Lemmingstar really allow an ElkClan cat to sit in on a private meeting? She truly did trust Saltfrost. She walked beside Martenpaw as Palescar, Gooseleg, and Avocetcloud made their way up to Lemmingstar’s den. The seers and healers were right behind them.
Everyone sat in a circle, attention focused on Lemmingstar. There was an empty space next to Lemmingstar and one beside Martenpaw. Saltfrost played it safe and sat with her apprentice.
“I would have called a senior meeting yesterday to discuss Buzzardear’s performance,” Lemmingstar sighed, “but there was a lot to do with war reparations. We will be discussing both his and Sleettuft’s days as deputies. Who would like to share first?”
“I may be biased with Sleettuft as my half-brother,” Palescar said, “but he has all the skills and wisdom you would want in a deputy.”
“My concern is his age,” Lynxshine interrupted. “Do we want a future leader who gets as old as Whalestar?”
“I wouldn’t pick him with the idea of succeeding me,” Lemmingstar admitted. “If I do choose him, it would be to act as a stabilizing force for the Clan. Are there any current worries outside of his age?” Saltfrost wanted to say something, but was it her place? Her role in this meeting seemed honorary, a part of Martenpaw’s training. Should she be thinking of the best choice for ElkClan’s future?
“Buzzardear?” Rollerfall wondered.
“He’s motivated and young,” Gooseleg muttered, “but he was the most affected by Beaverstone’s death. If we want a deputy to calm the Clan, we shouldn’t pick someone struggling with their own shadows.”
“Avocetcloud, do you agree?” Lemmingstar asked. Avocetcloud said nothing, merely flicking
“We’ve raised questions about capability,” Lemmingstar pointed out, “but what do our healers think of this?” Saltfrost and Martenpaw were slow to answer. They looked at one another, each begging for the other to speak first.
“Shouldn’t we wait to make judgments until Goldenshade gets a turn?” Martenpaw gulped. “I mean, she’s a counselor. Her whole job is to calm cats. And she isn’t in grief like Buzzardear. Doesn’t that make her the best choice?”
“We have to see how she performs,” Lemmingstar cautioned. “Any advice from StarClan, Rollerfall? Lynxshine?” Both seers shook their heads. “There are concerns about every pick. If no one has any other strong opinions as of now, perhaps we wait until tomorrow night for an in-depth discussion.” Saltfrost should have said something about Sleettuft, but what could she say that would sway CliffClan’s mind? That his family disliked him? That was hardly a reason to deny him the position of deputy. One by one, each cat left the den. Martenpaw and Saltfrost said nothing, speaking only with their eyes. If Martenpaw, who ousted her own corrupt mentor, couldn’t speak against Sleettuft, how could Saltfrost?
Goldenshade didn’t speak with Saltfrost the next morning like the young healer expected. She had barely woken up before she spotted Goldenshade lead Briarspeck and Ashwhisker down the cliff face. Shouldn’t the deputy be in camp to handle problems? When Saltfrost stepped into camp, Martenpaw grabbed a bat from the fresh-kill pile.
“Did Goldenshade not come up with a plan for the day?” Saltfrost asked her apprentice as she carried the bat to Wigeonfur outside the elder’s den.
“So long as we pick up PuffinClan’s herbs at sunhigh, we can do what we need,” Martenpaw explained, voice dragging as Wigeonfur thanked her. “She said she’s known how to schedule everyone’s days since she was picked as a potential deputy. I haven’t heard anyone complain, so she must have put them in patrols they enjoy.”
“Did you sleep well?” Saltfrost wondered.
“Brownleap’s trial is today,” Martenpaw groaned, trudging back to the holy den. “I’m sick of explaining what happened.” She sat in her nest, watching the lichen over the secret tunnel gently sway.
“You’ll at least see Brownleap again,” Saltfrost pointed out. “See how she’s doing. She likely misses you.” Martenpaw stared at Saltfrost, pupils shrinking.
“Did Spottedfoot tell you to do this?” she muttered.
“I don’t understand,” Saltfrost gulped.
“You’ve been putting off my studies so I can spend time with my sisters,” Martenpaw grumbled, fur fluffing. “You’re trying to get me to be social, aren’t you? Spottedfoot told you to keep me out of my head.”
“Even if he did, it’s for the best,” Saltfrost huffed, shifting closer to her herbs.
“I don’t want you meddling with my life. You’re just here to train me. I don’t need anyone to fix me.”
“You can’t be an effective healer if you let Hailbranch’s betrayal isolate you.”
“Thanks for the help, but you aren’t my mom. I know what I need and it’s not your advice.”
“That’s what I thought too, before I came here. I didn’t speak to cats unless they needed healing. I didn’t know how to. I don’t want you to become like me.”
“I’m not like you!” Martenpaw’s tail fluffed up, ears darting back before she groaned and turned her back. “StarClan, you showed up the day my whole world fell apart! Now Spottedfoot thinks I don’t have any friends because I’m not a social butterfly. Can’t you trust me to take care of myself?” Saltfrost’s pelt grew hot.
“I should have,” she admitted, fur sagging. “I only want you to be a great healer.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Martenpaw groaned, turning back to Saltfrost. “Really. But… you don’t have to do all this. I’ll be alright.”
“If you’re sure,” Saltfrost sighed.
“Martenpaw!” Ottersnout called from the warrior’s den. “Come over here! I need to run through your statement!” Martenpaw and Saltfrost rolled their eyes.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Saltfrost hummed as Martenpaw stomped back out. “Good luck today.”
“Thanks,” Martenpaw sighed, glancing over her shoulder before continuing on.
“How did Cranefeather do it,” Saltfrost mumbled, heart lighter. She took a few herbs and trotted over to Grebeshine, grooming herself in the corner of camp.
Saltfrost accompanied Ottersnout, Martenpaw, and Lynxshine to the PuffinClan border at sunhigh with a vole for reparations. She took the yarrow and alder leaves Shimmerblaze had carefully placed in a large ivy leaf, wished her apprentice farewell, and hurried back to CliffClan. She finally memorized some of the directions through the territory and returned in time for Rollerfall to read her mouse for signs and enjoy fresh-kill with Buzzardear and Grebeshine.
Goldenshade was rarely in camp, leading border patrols and hunting patrols as soon as she returned from the last. Saltfrost, meanwhile, had her first chance to breathe in ages. With the PuffinClan raid, Patchkit, and moving to CliffClan, she couldn’t remember the last time she went for a walk. She was so confident in the health of CliffClan, she found an aspen tree and napped in its branches.
When she woke up, she made her rounds through camp, stretching Firestripe’s legs, checking Palescar and Grebeshine’s wounds, and making sure Avocetcloud and the kits didn’t need her. In that entire time, Saltfrost never saw Goldenshade.
She stayed up late that night, waiting for Martenpaw to return. Rollerfall and Harriershade joined her vigil, giving her a great chance to see how Harriershade’s scratches had healed. Her ears pricked up when she heard pawsteps behind her. Lynxshine and Martenpaw slunk into the holy den, alert with that unique CliffClan energy Saltfrost tried to learn.
“Where’s Brownleap?” Harriershade asked, scurrying to her brother. “Did you bring her home?” Lynxshine’s silence provided the answer. Harriershade’s ears went flat. She shoved past Lynxshine and marched out of sight.
“I think it’s for the best,” Martenpaw whispered into Saltfrost’s ear. “Brownleap seems happy in PuffinClan.”
“You’re back, good,” Lemmingstar sighed, trotting into the den. “Moonhigh is almost upon us, and I need the counsel of my seniors. Palescar, Avocetcloud, and Gooseleg are waiting for you. I’m sorry about the trial’s outcome, Lynxshine.” Rollerfall licked Lynxshine’s shoulder as Lemmingstar returned to her den.
“Let’s not keep her waiting,” Saltfrost hummed. She led everyone in a silent procession to Lemmingstar’s den. They all took their spots in the circle.
“I won’t waste time asking for thoughts on Goldenshade’s performance,” Lemmingstar decreed. “I need the time to make my decision, so we will go straight into voting. All in favor of Buzzardear becoming deputy of CliffClan?” Avocetcloud was the only one to raise her tail. “I see. All in favor of Sleettuft?” Palescar, Gooseleg, and oddly enough, Rollerfall, cast their votes in the old tom’s favor. “Then Saltfrost, Lynxshine, and Martenpaw vote for Goldenshade by process of elimination. We are in a unique situation with an ElkClan cat as part of our circle. Yet for the time being, she is our healer, and her opinion will be respected. Saltfrost, I would like to know why you voted for Goldenshade over Buzzardear and Sleettuft. The views of an outsider will be helpful.”
“She’s only picked Goldenshade because she thinks she’ll be nice to ElkClan as a leader,” Avocetcloud scoffed.
“My decision is based on ability, not what my home Clan would wish for,” Saltfrost huffed. “Cats change over time and I cannot say whether one cat would be kinder to ElkClan over another when they rise to leadership. While Buzzardear is strong and motivated, if our current goal is to help CliffClan heal from the war, we cannot choose a deputy so wounded by it.” Most of the circle nodded along or hummed an agreement. Avocetcloud thrashed her tail.
“Why not Sleettuft then?” Gooseleg asked.
“Truthfully?” Saltfrost sighed. “He’s old. I understand the desire to want someone wise, but surely you want someone who could lead the Clan for many moons.”
“And he’s the one who brought up the idea for the battle,” Martenpaw pointed out.
“How is Goldenshade better than him?” Palescar wondered. “She would have to be trained to fight.”
“She knows her Clan,” Saltfrost said simply. “She knows what they need and what they’re good at.”
“I see,” Lemmingstar muttered. “Does anyone have anything of dire importance to say?”
“Just that no one in the warrior’s den is sleeping tonight,” Palescar said. “We’re all waiting for you.”
“I’ll have my decision in a moment,” Lemmingstar declared. “You’re all dismissed. Saltfrost, please linger.” Saltfrost smoothed her fur as the senior members of CliffClan filed outside.
“Is there anything you need?” Saltfrost asked.
“I wanted to know how you’ve adjusted to CliffClan,” Lemmingstar explained. “I would assume the change has been difficult.”
“It was needed,” Saltfrost admitted. “My time so far has opened my eyes to a few things… which is why I must admit something to you. I have many reasons as to why Sleettuft would be a poor decision, but one of those is that Avocetcloud would not be a fit replacement for his role within your counsel.”
“Explain,” Lemmingstar mumbled.
“Sometimes, when a queen gives birth, it leaves her soul scarred. I saw it occur with Stoatpool in the first moon of her kits’ life. I believe Avocetcloud has fallen victim to something similar. It leaves her disoriented and as of right now, unfit for counsel. She needs her mother’s support.” Lemmingstar’s eyes grew, head tilted to better examine the young healer.
“Huh,” she hummed. “I knew you were infamous for your frankness, but rarely does anyone order me around like this. I can respect that. I’ll take care of my daughter. You take care of Martenpaw.” Saltfrost bowed to the calico leader and left the den.
“May all cats old enough to climb the cliffs gather below me!”