Warriors: Beetlestar's Path

Chapter Six

     Beetlewing strolled into camp with a hint of pride as he dug his teeth into the back of a long trout. His fishing trip with Poppywings and Piketooth had been successful, the other two warriors hauling their own catches. He had always been a decent swimmer, and the Clan would be well fed. 

     "That's a great catch!" Troutpaw trilled, scurrying up to his mentor and looking between the group. Beetlewing couldn't speak with his mouth full, so he simply purred at his apprentice and started towards the prey pile. He watched through the corner of his eye as Piketooth trotted towards the nursery where Brownspots sat grooming her brown and black pelt. He presented the fish and the two rubbed cheeks.  

     "Why's Brownspots hanging out by the nursery?" Troutpaw had followed Beetlewing. His jaw dropped. "Is she going to have kits! Imagine her being a queen." 

     Beetlewing dropped his trout and watched the two. "She has gotten a bit round. If she's in the nursery now, it'll be about a moon, I think." I'll have to congratulate them. 

     "Excuse me," Poppywings mewed, nudging Beetlewing to the side to deposit her pair of fish. "But yes, she's expecting. It's exciting to see some new life come into the Clan." 

     Troutpaw's expression grew stormy. "I'm gonna have to clean so many more nests. That kind of sucks." 

     Poppywings prodded Troutpaw. "It's good for you. Builds character," she teased, starting off towards the warriors den. Troutpaw rolled his eyes. 

     "I have plenty of character already." 

     "You sure do." Beetlewing stretched, arching his back in the air. "Get something to eat, okay? You might have a patrol or something later." 

     Troutpaw gave him a pout, tail swishing for a moment, but he wouldn't argue. So he swiftly snatched up a vole from the corner of the pile and made his way to the corner of the camp. Beetlewing watched him for a moment before turning his attention to the medicine den, a loud cry erupting from inside. His fur stood on edge. That sounds like a kit!  

     The whole Clan turned its attention to the den, and Acornpelt emerged, a look of embarrassment clear on her muzzle. "It's okay!" She announced as she let out a small, awkward chuckle. Flutterkit ran out after her. 

     "Ripplekit's gravely hurt!" 

     "Hush! It's just a thorn." Acornpelt pressed her tail against her kit's mouth. "Sorry . . ." 

     Everyone resumed their activities, preparing for patrols or sharing prey, but Beetlewing kept his eye on the medicine den as Ripplekit limped out with his paw drawn up to his chest. Yellowfoot followed and tried to encourage the kit, who only pressed against his mother by the Flat Rock for comfort. Dustfoot poked her head out of the den and looked straight at Beetlewing. They matched gazes. She wants to talk to me. 

     Beetlewing took a deep breath and made his way to the medicine den, following Dustfoot inside and sitting down in the center. Dustfoot had begun sorting through her herbs again, pulling leaves from a pile and placing them in new groups. They all looked the same to the deputy. "What did you want to talk about?" 

     "A couple things," she answered. A strained silence fell over them. Beetlewing could almost feel the stress on his littermate's shoulders. Her paws moved so slow and her eyes hardly moved with them. "Brookstar's only gotten worse. The Wasting Disease is still going strong. And she . . ." Dustfoot stopped her work and her entire body shuddered as she hung her head. "She lost another life this morning. And wouldn't even wake up afterwards. She just kept sleeping."