Chapter Four

The clan rushes over, mews of shock and worry filling the air. Bramblepaw's heart sinks as she counts the kits. Only two. "Where's the other one?" Sootypaw whispers, his voice tight with concern.

Fernclaw's paws skid to a stop beside Tawnyclaw, his eyes wide with alarm. "What happened?" he demands, his voice gruff.

Tawnyclaw's tail swishes agitatedly. "Dustytail and her kits were found near the Deer-Path. We think it was a fox attack."

The clan gathers around, their whispers a cacophony of concern. The two rescued kits are brought to the nursery, shaking and mewling for their mother. The clan's attention turns to the medicine den, where Gingerpelt's voice rises in a series of sharp commands. Sootypaw and Bramblepaw exchange a look of horror, realizing the urgency of the situation.

They sprint to the medicine den, their paws barely touching the ground. The scent of fear and blood hangs heavy in the air as they push aside the ferns that shroud the entrance. Inside, Gingerpelt is already at work, her eyes a focused green as she assesses Dustytail's wounds. The queen's breaths come in shallow gasps, and her eyes are glazed with pain.

"Pebblepaw," Gingerpelt calls out without looking up from her patient. "Bring me some poppy seeds and marigold. Quickly."

Pebblepaw nods, her tail flicking in a blur as she bolts into the storage hollow. The shadows seem to stretch and pulse with the urgency of the situation. She grabs the herbs, her paws trembling slightly with the gravity of what's happening. As she turns back to the main chamber, she spots Bramblepaw and Sootypaw, their eyes wide with shock at the sight of Dustytail's condition.

"I need your help," she pants, her eyes shining with determination. "Her kits are in the nursery. They've been through a fright. We need to give them something to calm them down."

Her friends nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. Without a second's hesitation, they dash off towards the nursery, their paws moving swiftly and surely over the familiar ground. The nursery is a warm, safe haven, filled with the soft coos of the queens and the gentle mewling of kits. The scent of milk and warm fur fills the air, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the medicine den.

Sootypaw and Bramblepaw enter, their eyes searching for the two tiny forms huddled in a corner. The sight of them, trembling with fear, tugs at their hearts. They know the comfort that comes from the warmth of their mother's embrace, and these poor kits had been denied that in their time of need.

Without a word, they each approach a kit, their movements slow and deliberate. The kits, recognizing the scent of their clanmates, whimper but do not resist. Bramblepaw's paws feel shaky as she gently lifts the first kit by the scruff, feeling its tiny, fragile body quiver in her grasp. Sootypaw does the same with the second, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness.

They make their way back to the medicine den, the weight of the kits seemingly heavier than the day's catch. The tension in the air thickens as they enter, Gingerpelt's voice calm but urgent as she instructs Pebblepaw. They lay the kits down beside their mother, who can barely lift her head to look at them. The kits mewl, their cries echoing in the small space.

Dustytail tries to say something, her mouth moving feebly. The effort costs her, and she gasps for air. Bramblepaw leans in, her ears pricking forward, trying to catch the words. But the queen's voice is a mere whisper, lost to the pain. "Hold her down," Gingerpelt orders, her eyes never leaving her patient's wounds.

Fernclaw and Redfang rush over, their eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. They each take a paw and hold Dustytail in place as Gingerpelt starts to clean the deep gash that runs along her side. The queen's body tenses, and she lets out a low, pained mew. Bramblepaw's heart aches for her, but she knows this must be done. With a final attempt, Dustytail lays her head back down on the mossy bed, her eyes squeezed shut.

While Gingerpelt works, Pebblepaw whispers to the kits, her voice soft and comforting. "Shh, little ones. It's okay. Your mother's going to be okay." Bramblepaw watches in awe as Pebblepaw's gentle nature soothes the trembling bundles of fur. Sootypaw nods at Bramblepaw, his expression serious. They know they must help.

"Where's Reedkit?" Goldkit, the tiniest of the two, asks in a tremulous voice. Bramblepaw's heart clenches.

 "We don't know," she admits, her eyes filling with sadness. "But we're going to do everything we can to help your mother."

Gingerpelt continues her work, her paws deft and sure. She applies the poppy seeds to Dustytail's wound, and the cat's breathing gradually slows. The clan watches in silent vigil, each one feeling the weight of the moment. Even the whispers of the forest seem to hush in respect.

Bramblepaw's tail flicks nervously, her eyes darting from the medicine cat to Dustytail. "What can we do?" She asks, her voice thick with concern.

Gingerpelt's gaze meets Bramblepaw's, a silent understanding passing between them. "Pray," she whispers. "Pray to StarClan to guide her spirit and grant her peace."

The room is suffused with the scent of marigold and the faint sweetness of poppy seeds as the herbs take effect. Dustytail's breathing evens out, the tension in her body slowly subsiding. Bramblepaw and Sootypaw watch as Pebblepaw, still trembling, wets a paw with water and gently wipes the blood from the kits' tiny faces. Their eyes, round with fear, finally begin to droop with exhaustion.

A sudden cough rips through the air, and Dustytail's body jerks. She opens her mouth to speak, but the word that comes out is chilling: "Dog." The clan freezes, their eyes wide with horror. Her voice is a mere thread, but the weight of the word is like a stone dropping into the still pool of the medicine den. The kits' mewling stops abruptly, and even Gingerpelt's paws still.

"Dog," Dustytail repeats, her breaths shallow and pained. "The dog killed Reedkit."