Warriors: Crow's Carrion

Chapter Eleven

     Ospreypaw followed reluctantly, scuffing their paws in the sand as they walked. Inside the medicine den, they caught sight of Mudbreath resting in the same nest as before. Unlike before, he sat upright in his nest, fully awake. They noticed, however, a pained expression he hid as soon as they entered the den with Riverflower.

     "Sit there," Riverflower instructed and pointed at a spare nest.

     "Yes'm," Ospreypaw said and sat down.

     While Riverflower checked them over—inspecting the sound of their breathing, the tension in their chest—Ospreypaw nodded to Mudbreath in silent greeting. The old warrior mimicked the action, his eyes glittering as he watched Riverflower work.

     "She might be a scary healer now," Mudbreath said slowly, his voice scratchy and soft, "but Riverflower was once the most soft-spoken kit you'd ever see."

     "Father, please," Riverflower mumbled and shook her head. "Don't bore Ospreypaw with those old stories."

     "She followed the previous healer, Rosefall, around like a lost duckling," Mudbreath chuckled fondly and kept talking. "One moment, she'd be causing trouble with Webheart and Lilypetal; the next, she'd be hiding behind a reed to watch Rosefall pace around the camp."

     "I was a kit," was Riverflower's only response. "Rest for a while, Osprey. And pay no mind to my father's stories." She sounded embarrassed and shook her head before retreating to her herb store.

     "I liked your story," Ospreypaw whispered when she was out of earshot. They'd offered a polite chuckle that faded quickly; now that Riverflower was occupied, Mudbreath looked more serious.

     "You're passionate about your training, aren't you?" he said, angling his ears toward Ospreypaw.

     "O-Oh, um, I am," Ospreypaw mumbled, surprised by the sudden change in tone.

     "You young cats are always so eager to become warriors," Mudbreath wheezed and shook his head. "You never stop and live in the moment of your youth."

     "Is that a choice right now?" Ospreypaw responded flatly and flattened one ear. "It feels like we constantly have to worry about NightClan attacking or messing with the river; I hate not using every moment I can to train."

     "Don't be too excited to fight a battle, young one. You might end up like—" Mudbreath hesitated and wheezed again, looking briefly pained. "—like me."

     Ospreypaw's ears burned when they remembered how often they targeted Mudbreath in their skirmishes. "Are you . . . um . . . are you gonna be okay?"

     "Riverflower says so, doesn't she?" Mudbreath chuckled before looking toward her half-hidden form. "Normally, I'd agree with her, but something tells me I won't recover from this one."

     "Shouldn't you tell her that?" Ospreypaw said as worry coursed through them. Their fur spiked and they glanced at Riverflower.

     "No, no, don't do that," Mudbreath said before Ospreypaw could call the healer over. "If we tell her that, she'll just fret and use more herbs than she can spare. It's better she saves it for future injuries or illnesses."

     "But what if it helps you?" Ospreypaw pressed with a frown. "Riverflower is a skilled medic. She'll know what to do."

     "Osprey . . . ." Mudbreath shut his eyes slowly. "At some point in a warrior's life, they realize when their end is. Whether that means retirement to the elders' den, or retirement to the stars above; stuff that isn't up to us to try and control. Even healers."