Chapter Text
Dustglade stared towards the Downyclan border. It was stupid to be afraid of it really. It’s nothing but scent separating the two clans. The war was over, there was no reason to be afraid anymore.
The patrol padded forward, paws pressing quietly into the brittle leaf-bare ground. Dustglade followed behind them, her eyes fixed on the trees beyond the border. The branches were bare, twisting against the pale sky like claws. Nothing moved. Nothing was wrong.
Her paws trembled as she stepped forward. The patrol stopped at the border and began renewing the scent marks like nothing was wrong. Shimmerroar brushed his cheek against a tree, Lavenderfern scraped her claws through the frozen earth. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, their voices calm and ordinary. Dustglade couldn't understand how they could be so calm.
She had seen the raids on the camp when she was just a kit. She remembered the shrieks, the chaos, warriors crashing into each other beneath the dark trees. She remembered hiding while paws thundered past her, wondering if the next pair would belong to a Downyclan warrior. She'd gotten into fights when she was an apprentice. Real fights. The kind that left blood in her fur and pain in her bones. She'd seen what they could do.
Lavenderfern knew too, didn't she? Dustglade glanced towards her patrolmate, surely she couldn’t have forgotten, not so soon? And Shimmerroar— Fawnpaw was his kit. His dearest daughter. She was killed by a Downyclan patrol.
The border was much closer than it was a moment ago. She could smell it now. The sharp, unfamiliar scent beyond the markers. It crawled into her nose and settled in the back of her throat. Her heartbeat quickened. No. She took a step backwards. No, no, no. She could see Lavenerfern’s mouth moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. For a heartbeat, she wasn't standing at the border anymore, she was a kit again. She could hear screaming. She could smell blood. She could see warriors fighting in the camp, fur flying as bodies slammed into one another. Somewhere nearby, someone was crying. Dustglade tried to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Her chest tightened, she couldn’t breathe.
Dustglade stumbled backwards, and her legs moved before she could think. She turned and ran. Branches whipped against her fur as she sprinted through the forest. Roots caught at her paws, stones rolled beneath her paw pads, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She had to get away. The scent of Downyclan clung to her fur. She could still smell it. She could still hear the fighting. Every shadow looked like a warrior. Every crack of a branch made her flinch.
By the time she reached camp, her lungs burned. She stumbled through the entrance, nearly crashing into another warrior. The camp spun around her. She stood for a moment before her legs gave out under her. Dustglade slammed into the hard leaf-bare ground, her breaths heaving as she dug her claws into the ground. She cried out as she shook, screwing her eyes shut.
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Tommy played piano like a kid out in the rain, then he lost his leg in Dallas he was dancing with a train, they were all in love with dyin’ they were drinking from a fountain that was pouring like an avalanche coming down the mountain.
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When Dustglade opened her eyes, a bunch of herbs were shoved into her nose, her ears filled with overlapping voices. Right, the medicine cats. She blinked blearily, trying to make sense of the den around her. The familiar scents of cobwebs, dried leaves, and bitter roots filled her nose, grounding her in the present.
She looked up, her gaze meeting Lynxdawn, Bluetail, Violetmuzzle and Quail. Juniper and Tumbledrizzle must have been on a patrol.
“Slowly,” Violetmuzzle murmured. “Don’t try to get up yet.”
Dustglade gave a weak nod. Her paws still trembled beneath her, and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs despite the fact that the danger was long gone.
Dustglade took a bite of the herbs, forcing down their leafy taste. They stuck unpleasantly to her tongue, but she swallowed them anyway. When she looked back up, Flamepaw limped into the den, mewling greetings to the medicine cats before sitting down beside her.
Dustglade's eyes flicked toward his missing front leg before she could stop herself.
Flamepaw noticed.
He always did
“Panicked again, huh?” He purred sympathetically, tilting his head to the side.
“Yeah, I…” Dustglade swallowed. “I just couldn’t handle going over there again… not after…”
Her voice caught.
“After the war,” Flamepaw finished quietly.
Dustglade nodded
“I get it,” Flamepaw murmured, gently licking over Dustglade’s ears. “I wouldn’t be able to either. I don’t think anyone really blames you for it.”
“But I’m the deputy!” She yowled, her voice cracking. “Goldstar trusted me enough to help lead the clan! What can I do for us if I can’t even patrol a border!”
She scratched at the ground, claws scraping through the moss. Her breathing quickened again.
“I’m supposed to be able to protect everyone. I’m supposed to be the one telling cats where to go and what to do, and now I can’t even walk up to a border without falling apart!”
“Dustglade.”
Flamepaw's voice was firm.
She looked at him, he stared back, his expression gentle but serious.
“You're not the only cat who was hurt by that war.”
Dustglade's ears flattened, and Flamepaw lifted his shoulders slightly, glancing down at the leg he'd lost.
“I used to think losing this meant I wasn't useful anymore.” He gave a humorless little laugh. “I thought I'd never hunt properly again. Never fight properly. I couldn't even walk without falling over for a while.”
Dustglade's eyes softened. “But you got better,” she whispered.
“Eventually.” Flamepaw flicked his ear. “Not because I stopped being afraid. Not because I forgot what happened. I just learned that being afraid didn't mean I was useless.”
Dustglade stared at him. “You think it's the same?”
“No,” Flamepaw said. “Not exactly. Losing a leg and having a panic attack aren't the same thing. But they both taught me something.”
“What?”
“That the things that hurt us don't get to decide what we're worth.”
For a moment, neither cat spoke.
Dustglade looked down at her paws. The trembling had finally begun to fade. She rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. The border still lingered in the back of her mind. She knew it wouldn't disappear just because Flamepaw had reassured her, but she let the words ease her fear for a while.