A Misty Path (A Warrior Cats Fanfiction)

Chapter 35

"Who're you choosing?" Mistlefrost stiffened as she was bombarded with questions at the entrance to the den.

"Yeah! Mistlefrost, hurry up, the Gathering is starting soon!"

"Everyone, quiet!" Speckledleaf bounded to her mentor's side, casting her a reassuring glance. Mistlefrost smiled back. "Let her speak."

Mistlefrost straightened. "I've come to a decision," she announced. "On who should be given the first dose of a potential cure. The chosen cat is not guaranteed to live, and the remaining cats are not guaranteed to die. But I've thought about it, and I've decided..." She looked at Speckledleaf, her blue eyes warm. "Every cat deserves a father. A living one, a loving one. Especially kits. Or... kits-to-be." She found the one face she was looking for in the crowd, a sand-coloured calico she-cat with a belly getting more and more swollen with the promise of a new generation as time went on. "Jayclaw has been given the cure."

---

Mistflower entered the medicine den, fur raised. "Mistflower," Mistlefrost greeted her distractedly. She blinked, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't really expect you to..." She sighed, cursing herself under her breath, and turned away, though Mistflower noticed how her hackles raised very slightly and her muscles tensed. "Did you come to see C-Cloudpool?"

Mistflower decided to ignore the waver in the medicine cat's voice. "Yes," she meowed. "I just... need to tell her some things."

Mistlefrost nodded. "I'll... leave you two alone then." She gulped, twisting her tail around her legs, and padded out. The tabby warrior watched her go, eyes scrunched up in thought, but decided to let it go.

Mistflower frowned, but sat down beside her mother. "Cloudpool?" she meowed gently. "Cloudpool." Something stirred in the unconscious she-cat's glazed eyes, but she didn't respond. Barely even moved. Mistflower's heart panged, and she nudged her slightly with her tail. "Cloudpool. I... wanted to talk to you." But she still didn't respond. Mistflower felt panic rising, but she noted the rise and fall of her flank. She was alive. Barely. But perhaps it wasn't too late for her.

"Mistflower, wasn't it?"

Mistflower jumped slightly, fur rising, and turned. "Oh. Wilt." She exhaled shakily. "H-hello. How're you feeling?"

Wilt had sat up, though he was still hunched over, with drooping eyelids and matted fur. He shook his head. "Bad." His dim eyes travelled upwards to meet the younger cat's. "But still better than you."

Mistflower sniffed. "In case you can't tell, I'm not sick."

"I know. But you're still torn. You want your mother's opinion on what you should do, but do you really want her to tell you the truth, or are you hoping to hear only what you want to?" Wilt shifted into a more comfortable position. "But does it matter? Does it matter how you were born, who you were born to, why you were born?"

"Yes."

Wilt stretched. "Maybe it does. But you think too much on it. You need to take some time off and relax. You need to stop thinking about how you're alive, and focus more on living." He curled his tail around his paws. "Do you still want to get revenge on that other warrior?"

Mistflower frowned and twitched an ear. "I don't really know what I want."

The elderly cat nodded. "You want to belong," he meowed. "We all do. But you don't really feel like you belong here, do you?"

"I suppose not."

"Then find somewhere else to belong. Find someone to belong with." Wilt suddenly heaved over, coughing. Mistflower jumped to her paws in alarm, but when she was reaching him, asking if he was alright, the elderly tom had already recovered. "I'm surprised Cinder agreed to stay here," he croaked contemplatively, shrugging off the warrior. "Holly was always fascinated by Clans and their big families, but Cinder? He just wanted to travel. Holly was looking for a home. Cinder wanted to make the whole world his home."