Warriors: Fallowstep's Anguish

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"Marigold. Horsetail. Catmint."

She swiftly passed the herbs to the side, identifying each item as it moved out of reach.

"Goldenrod. Chamomile. Juniper."

Fallowpaw's paws moved methodically—she sorted each herb with a newly developed prowess, her confidence blooming with each moment that passed without criticism. She was learning quickly under Heronwing's guidance, "a prodigy," as he'd say to the other medicine cats.

"Daisies—"

"No. That's yarrow."

Fallowpaw faltered, her words dying on her lips as a paw hovered over a cluster of burdock roots. She turned her green eyes to the white flower, studying it closely.

"Right," she mewed, embarrassment burning her ears. "Daisies have more petals, and they're thinner."

"That's correct, but I think we're done for today." Before Fallowpaw could allow her disappointment to show, Heronwing continued, "as usual, you've proven to me that I made the right decision in accepting you as my apprentice. Well done."

Awkwardly, Fallowpaw glanced at the older gray tom. His muzzle was whiskered with silver hairs, and his wise yellow eyes were softened with pride. The other medicine cats had been shellshocked when she was introduced at her first half-moon Gathering. None expected the stubborn old tom to ever take on an apprentice, least of all a cat who'd initially aimed to become a warrior. Yet, here she was, thriving under his guidance.

Dipping her head in farewell, she trotted eagerly into the clearing. The soft new-leaf air met her nostrils in its full, unadulterated glory, flourishing the scents of newly blossoming flowers and herbs. Out of all the seasons she'd witnessed, this had to be her favorite of them all—the season of new life, new beginnings.

She stretched languidly and strolled to the fresh-kill pile. Not many cats were about at this time of day, her parents and sister included. They were all out patrolling, fetching food or marking boundaries, routines engraved into the very roots of their life, just like the cypresses that held the marsh together.

Curiously, she selected a mudcrab. The crustacean always possessed a unique taste, nothing typical for a ShadowClan cat's palette, but the subtle earthy tones and faint fish-like stain to its flavor held its appeal to the ginger apprentice.

She found a corner with some shade from the warm sun and sat down to eat, picking at the crab's legs first, and crunching through its exoskeleton into the juicy meat beneath. As she enjoyed her meal, a brown patched tom padded over. Adderspring, her former mentor.

"How are things holding up?" The tom asked warmly, settling down beside her with his own food at his feet.

"It's going well," Fallowpaw mewed cheerily, her tail twitching back and forth. "I'm doing good at memorizing my herbs, and everybody I've treated so far has healed nicely."

"That's wonderful to hear." Adderspring smiled. His expression was contagious, spreading a grin across Fallowpaw's face, too. "Your sister's assessment was today," he commented idly, his hazel eyes flicking to study the ginger she-cat's face. "Do you think she'll pass?"

Fallowpaw tilted her head. Though many of the Clan expected her to be bitter about her sister's coming warriorship, she found herself nothing but proud. Even if she was still training alongside her, she would've failed her assessment time and time again before finally catching up with Frecklepaw. It's just how she was.

"Of course she'll pass," she mewed confidently. "She's a hothead sometimes, but she knows what she's doing."

Adderspring nodded sagely. "Spoken like a true medicine cat. You'll get your name too, soon enough."