Cinders to Flames

Chapter 11

When Cinderpaw woke up, she noticed two things. First, her whole body was aching with indescribable pain. Next, the musty smell of herbs filled her nose.

"You're finally awake," a soft, kind mew came from behind her. Cinderpaw raised her head slowly, trying not to wince in pain. Then everything came rushing back to her.

"Is Blizzardstar- "

Cinderpaw couldn't make herself finish her question.

"Yes. His burial will be tonight." Goldenstripe answering her question gently, licking a poultice into a wound on the side of her flank. The yellow tabby she-cat's golden eyes were filled with sadness and grief for her leader. Cinderpaw rested her head on the moss bedding, closing her eyes. I can't believe this. Maybe it's all a dream. Maybe I will wake up and he will still be alive. Cinderpaw thought, but the stinging of her wounds, and the mounting grief she felt was all real. It was my fault. Cinderpaw thought. I could have saved him if I wasn't so angry. I lost focus.

"Blackpaw has come to see you" Goldenstripe meowed, and Cinderpaw's eyes snapped open.

"He had been lying beside you all night until I told him to go to sleep," Aspenpaw added from the edge of the den where she was sorting herbs.

"Vinespring's wound is infected," Blackpaw meowed wearily as he entered the den.

"Come on Aspenpaw, bring those herbs" Goldenstripe meowed, leaving the den with Aspenpaw trotting behind her with a leaf wrap in jaws.

"I told you not to go!" Blackpaw snarled, his tail lashing back and forth with fury, "And now look what happened to you!"

"It was all my fault," Cinderpaw whispered, "I could have saved him, I could have."

Blackpaw sighed, forgetting his anger, "It wasn't your fault, Cinderpaw. He was on his last life, and he died fighting for his Clan." He meowed, settling down beside her.

Cinderpaw turned away from him, staring at the bark wall of the den.

"I just need some time alone, okay?" She said, and Blackpaw sighed.

"I'll be back." He promised, leaving Cinderpaw alone in her misery.

Cinderpaw was dreaming. She stood in a glittering forest, the air was warm and full of the scent of prey. Cinderpaw started walking, looking all around.

"Where am I? Is this StarClan?" She asked herself.

"Yes, Cinderpaw." Came an achingly familiar mew.

"Blizzardstar?" Cinderpaw turned in the direction of the voice. An elegant glittering tom sat on a rock; head held high. His body showed no signs of the bloody battle, and he seemed younger and stronger.

"Walk with me." Blizzardstar meowed, and Cinderpaw followed him through the shimmering forest, taking in the beautiful sight.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you." Cinderpaw meowed, her voice trembling with grief.

"Don't blame yourself. I had a good life, and I was going to die one day. My time is over," he paused, turning, and facing Cinderpaw, "I have come to your dreams so early to your dreams to warn you. There is a cat who will deceive you. Their plans may seem trustworthy, but do not listen to them! The future of FrostClan depends on you!"

Cinderpaw stared at him, surprised. The pressure he was putting on her shoulders felt almost unbearable.

"I will do my best." Cinderpaw replied, squaring her shoulders with determination.