ωαяяισя ¢αтѕ // Mintpool's Promise

Chapter 4

Mintpaw padded out of the medicine den, her gray fur fluffed as the early morning sun greeted her. She watched as Spottedstar padded out of the leader's den, her green eyes heavy with sleep as she padded to the fresh-kill pile, waiting for the other members of the dawn patrol to join her. Ivyfoot and Falconstrike hurried out of the warriors den as Adderpaw padded from the apprentices den. 

Time had flown by. It was almost time for Mintpaw's first Gathering! She couldn't believe that she'd been an apprentice for almost a moon. She'd learned so much! As Adderpaw trotted by to join the patrol beside the fresh-kill pile, she flicked her tail in greeting, her jaws carrying a stick with mouse bile, preventing her from speaking. Her brother twitched his ears in response. 

The gray tabby turned away, making her way to the elders den. The elders wouldn't like to be woken up this early, but Echoleaf had told her that she had to check up on Graywhisker, who had caught a fever, at dawn each morning, and that she should just take the mouse bile with her. 

Mintpaw stuck her head into the den, her pelt fluffed. "Good morning." Her mew was muffled.

Inside the den, three shapes were curled up, asleep, their bellies rising and falling softly. At her mew, a brown she-cat lifted her head, her eyes sleepy and annoyed as she blinked at the apprentice.

"Why are you here so early?" the brown she-cat meowed, huffing. "I was having a wonderful dream!"

Her much clearer voice woke up her denmates. Graywhisker, a gray tom, lifted his head from his paws as well, his blue eyes flickering. From beside him, a light gray she-cat yawned, awoken.

"Sorry, Mousepelt," Mintpaw meowed, addressing the brown she-cat, "but Echoleaf told me to check on Graywhisker's fever. She said I should just do the tick checks at the same time."

"The silly old tom's the reason we're being woken up early," the light gray she-cat purred affectionately. "At least I get the ticks off early as well."

Graywhisker grunted, his voice cracked slightly with the fever. "You should be thanking me, then!"

Mousepelt was the only one who hadn't caught onto their jokes, and flicked her tail irritably. "Well, hurry up, then."

Mintpaw bowed her head, slipping into the den, setting the stick down gently. She pressed her nose to Graywhisker's pelt. Thankfully, it felt a lot cooler than it did the day before, showing that he was healing. "Looks like the feverfew is working!" she mewed cheerfully. "You probably just need some water, then." Turning around, she grabbed the stick, and gently began dabbing it on the tom's pelt. 

"Remember when we were apprentices?" Graywhisker grunted. "I remember having to take out Whitefoot's ticks. I hated that!"

"Me, too," the light gray she-cat agreed. 

"We all did, Windstrike," Mousepelt meowed. "Tick duty was definitely the worst job. But, now, we can just relax." She blinked wistfully, and Mintpaw knew that if she could, she would go back, even if it meant having to do apprentice duties. 

"I would still rather be an apprentice," Windstrike mused. "There were other things than apprentice duties. Remember fighting off FireClan?"

Mintpaw pricked her ears. They didn't share a border with FireClan, so why would there be much fighting?

Graywhisker nodded. "FireClan was the worst! That Clan gets angry too easily! You do one wrong thing and they decide that you're enemies!" He shuddered. "Thank StarClan we don't share a border with them."

Mousepelt flicked her tail, agreeing, as Mintpaw moved on to Windstrike's ticks. "That Clan has too much spirit, I tell you," she meowed. "There's nothing wrong with spirit, but too much of it can lead you down the wrong path! Sometimes you just need to calm down."