Crown of Ivy • A Warriors Story

C H A P T E R O N E

"It's your job to endure them," Brindleflank had mewed, grooming a young Sprucekit's fur carefully as the kit curled up tightly. "StarClan wouldn't give them to you if you couldn't handle them."

But Sprucepaw couldn't handle them, and even though she knew she was weak for asking-- no, begging for herbs, she couldn't help it. And when her head pounded and squeezed, her thoughts were squeezed out of her head, and she couldn't even try to concentrate on anything at all.

Today was the worst of all. She had an idea of where they came from-- though she couldn't know for sure as she was the only one she knew of that got headaches-- because they would appear whenever she hadn't eaten or was under stress or, sometimes, when it rained and thundered outside. Today, she thought, was probably the stress of the ceremony--

She froze.

The ceremony.

She opened her eyes suddenly before wincing and closing them; she couldn't remember what was different about having -paw after her name. She'd passed the test on history and politics and all the noble families, after much practice and many failed attempts, only yesterday. She'd passed it a little earlier than her cousins, Fawnpaw and Silkpaw, had: they'd passed at eight moons and her at seven-and-a-half. Maybe she should ask them what she was supposed to do? Her head was hurting too much for her to remember.

She opened her eyes, a sound reaching her. There were suddenly two sets of soft pawsteps outside of the entrance to her den. Their scents drifted towards her: Branch, of course, and Lamb, one of the healers.

The white she-cat approached Sprucepaw, cautious. "Princess?" she mewed. Her voice shook slightly, but Sprucepaw had become used to that by now. That was just how her meow sounded. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," Sprucepaw responded, with a snarl in her voice that she hadn't intended. She forced her eyes open to look at Lamb straight in the eyes.

Lamb shuffled back a half step. "Sorry, my Lady," she mewed. A cat that Sprucepaw vaguely recognized as a kit of one of the maids hurried up next to Lamb and neatly deposited a bundle of something. The white-furred healer unrolled it carefully, observed its contents carefully, and carefully dumped them onto a piece of moss, which she lifted and placed next to Sprucepaw.

Sprucepaw licked up the mixture hurriedly, wincing slightly at the strange taste of not just the individual herbs but all of them combined, before forcing herself to swallow them. Her head pounded violently, and Sprucepaw cried out in pain at the sudden increase in pressure.

"My Lady," mewed Lamb, "I apologize, but the medicine takes a little while before it starts working."

Sprucepaw nodded, somewhat annoyed; she remembered that.

The white she-cat cleared her throat nervously. "I-- this is the last dose that we have mixed up." She paused, hesitant to continue. "We've run out of chervil, so we'll have to get more from Sunny and-- oh, my pardons, Princess, you don't need to worry about that, but it might be awhile before we have more herbs."

The princess nodded absent-mindedly. "Thank you...for your service to MistClan," she mewed.

Sprucepaw saw Lamb bow through the sliver of her vision; her eyes were almost closed. "May I take my leave, my Lady?"

The grey tabby nodded, eyes shutting completely-- the herbs always made her sleepy. "You may."

There was the sound of footsteps echoing through the hallway softly, and Lamb's scent faded away. Sprucepaw exhaled, her head still throbbing but feeling relieved that she was, for all intents and purposes, alone now. The only sounds that her ears could pick up now was the sound of Branch's and her own breathing, which echoed around the room faintly. Then she heard a slight rustle as Branch sat down quietly next to her.