Warriors: Shattered Blossom

Chapter Ten

 Cragpaw watched Smokebird race back into the clearing. She doesn't seem too happy about the news, he noted. Could it be that she doesn't want kits? He tried to place a paw on any toms who may be the father, but as he dug into his thoughts, he realized that he hardly saw the warrior around camp at all.

"With that handled," Stumpwhisker mewed curtly, "the two of you had better get your borage sorted on the shelves. We'll need as much as possible for when her kits come."

Nodding, Cragpaw returned to the leaves he'd dropped near the entrance. They had scattered from Smokebird's exit, and he moved as swiftly as he could, scooping them back into a pile from where they had flitted off to. Once they were gathered, he brought them over to the shelf and neatly sorted them with the rest of the borage leaves he could find.

He glossed a paw over them, intently studying their features. They were oval-shaped, had a small coating of fuzz over them, and had wavy edges. He inhaled deeply; their smell reminded him of a fresh, cool breeze.

"Borage. This is borage," he whispered to himself in an attempt to engrave it into his mind.

"Are you two done yet?" Stumpwhisker snapped over Cragpaw's shoulder.

The apprentice jumped in alarm. "Y-Yes, sorry," he mumbled.

"Good. Do you know what we use for skin irritation?" The medicine cat abruptly demanded. Cragpaw glanced to his side to see Nightpaw nibbling at his paw pad. His stomach plummeted.

"No," he glanced at the floor, scuffing his paws against the earth.

"Good," Stumpwhisker mewed, much to the apprentice's surprise. "I haven't told you yet. I'd be confused if you somehow already knew."

Relief poured over Cragpaw, and he smiled slightly. "Oh." He watched as Stumpwhisker began probing through the shelves. "I know the stem of borage causes irritation, but why don't the leaves?"

"The hairs are too small to penetrate the skin," Stumpwhisker explained. "The stems have long hairs that cause itchiness after too much exposure. Considering how Nightpaw held the stem for so long," the black tom lowered his head, "there's no doubt in my mind that it's itching up a storm. Am I correct?"

Nightpaw meekly nodded. "Yes."

"Here," Stumpwhisker pulled a leaf from the shelf. He passed it to Cragpaw.

He blinked at it. It had serrated leaves and was slightly crushed. "What is it?"

"It's stinging nettle."

"Won't it... sting?" Cragpaw gave it a tentative sniff, but no bristles poked at him.

"When we harvest stinging nettle, we carve off the needles with either a piece of bark or stone. It can cause severe irritation, but when chewed into a pulp, it's excellent for curing such ailments." He blinked calmly. "Treat his paws."

Cragpaw froze for a moment. Tentatively, he took the herb into his mouth. His thoughts, weighted beneath a blanket of anxiety, moved slowly. He said to chew it into a pulp, didn't he? His eyes flitted to Stumpwhisker, and he dug his teeth lightly into the herb. The older medicine cat watched calmly. Taking this as a confirmation, Cragpaw began to slowly chew.

The flavor was rich and earthy with almost a bitter tang, but the tang wasn't strong enough to bother him. He chewed until the leaf had grown into a sticky mush, and he turned a paw over and spat onto the pads. The sticky green juice glittered up at him. He turned to his brother.

"Give me your paws," he instructed. Nightpaw tilted one paw up. Cragpaw took the sticky mess and scrubbed it gently between his brother's pads, and the black tom noticeably relaxed. "Show me your next one." Nightpaw did just that, and once Cragpaw was finished, they shared a sigh of relief.