Chapter Text
Another half-moon passed normally. Brambleclaw’s leg had recovered to the point where he no longer needed poultices, and he could walk without pain. Most of his leg was still host to horrible pink scars, but dark tabby fur was beginning to grow back in patches where his wounds weren’t as bad. He wasn’t allowed to join patrols yet, but he no longer needed to stay in the medicine den, allowed to use his regular nest in the warriors den. He was finally allowed out of camp by himself, a privilege he had been using to its full value. Determined to make up for the time he’d spent in the medicine den, Brambleclaw went out whenever Cinderpelt allowed it. Goldenflower was a lot more worried than Brambleclaw was about him going out; she fretted over him like he was a kit and insisted on accompanying him whenever she could. It was sweet, if a little overbearing.
Brambleclaw made sure to be extra cautious, determined that nobody would be able to sneak up on him. No dogs, no lying rogues. Even though he didn’t believe a thing the rogue had said, Brambleclaw couldn’t help but feel a prickle of unease, a sense that something was wrong. Recently, as the full moon drew closer the squeezing feeling had gotten worse, a faint buzzing noise in his head accompanying it. He blamed it on the herbs Cinderpelt had given him, but that excuse was running out. He was also ravenously hungry and was always starving even after he had just eaten. It’s because I’m recovering. No matter how many excuses he made, the unease remained. A tiny voice in his head that questioned whether the rogue had told him the truth. But that’s impossible, right?
Brambleclaw wished he had something to distract him from his worries and doubts. His clanmates stopped to talk to him frequently, but it was only a matter of time before they were summoned for their warrior duties. Brambleclaw watched the entrance of camp, jealous at all the warriors free to patrol. What good am I as a warrior who can’t even do my duties?
Hollykit tumbled out of the nursery, Birchkit chasing after her. Larchkit appeared last, carrying a moss ball that she threw to Hollykit. Brambleclaw felt his mood lift as he watched them play. If I want to be helpful, I can take care of the kits for a bit.
Brambleclaw watched the kits play, whiskers twitching in amusement at their overdramatic movements and the way they acted like nothing was more important than winning the game. Hollykit threw the moss ball as high as she could into the air. “Catch it, Birchkit!”
Birchkit scampered after the moss ball, eyes locked on the toy instead of his surroundings. He leapt towards it with stubby kitten legs and crashed into Brambleclaw. He stumbled from the impact, catching himself with his good leg at the last moment. “Sorry, Brambleclaw!” The tiny kit squeaked.
Brambleclaw grinned, hooking the toy under his claws. “I’ll forgive you, but only if you can beat me at moss ball!”
Birchkit let out a delighted squeal. “Larchkit! Hollykit! Let’s beat him!”
Brambleclaw hadn’t played like this since he was a kit. It was nice, to be able to be carefree once again. He lost track of time as he played with them, but it must have been at least an hour. He felt a tiny pinprick of remorse for the past, when he was a tiny kit playing with Snowkit and Tawnypelt. I wish they were still here.
“Brambleclaw? You look sad. Are you sad?” Hollykit stared at him with wide, worried eyes.
Brambleclaw shook his head reassuringly. “I’m not sad. It’s getting late, you should probably go back to Ferncloud now, okay?”
Hollykit nodded and scampered back to the nursery with her siblings. It was late, a lot later than Brambleclaw had realised. The sun was setting, casting the edges of the sky in a reddish-orange glow. Above Brambleclaw, the sky was inky black with stars speckled across it. It reminded Brambleclaw of the night he’d been attacked, and he shuddered at the memory.
Brambleclaw stared at the sky until the sun completely set, replaced by the silvery glow of the almost-full moon. It’s beautiful. As the warriors of ThunderClan slowly retreated to their dens and curled into their nests, Brambleclaw stayed outside and stared at the sky.
He had a sudden feeling that this was the last peace he’d see in a while. But what could possibly be coming? ThunderClan wasn’t at war, and the weather posed no threat at the moment. There was an abundance of prey, especially for this late in Greenleaf. Nothing is going to happen. I’m just being paranoid.
The tingling, squeezing feeling in his muscles almost seemed to grow stronger as he stared at the moon. He tensed as he made the connection, fur bristling slightly. I must be crazy. Do I seriously believe I have some sort of moon sickness? No way! I’m just imagining that the moon’s making me feel different. It’s all just paranoia.
Forcing himself to tear his gaze from the sky, Brambleclaw slunk into warriors den and tiptoed around the sleeping warriors to hide in his nest. Absolutely nothing is wrong.