Warriors: Poisoned Loyalty {COMPLETED}

Chapter 3

Poppypool jolted awake, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. Her nest was scattered on the floor, the fur along her spine standing on end. The den was quiet, other than the gasping breaths coming from the medicine cat. For a moment, she thought she could still feel Rowantail's presence, his icy breath on her fur, but when she looked around, only shadows lingered.

It was just a dream, she told herself, her heart racing. Just a dream.

But it didn't feel like a dream. His voice had been too real, too close. The words still echoed in her mind: You deserve more than what this weak, fragile Clan can offer.

She shivered, shaking her head to clear the fog. She had to focus, had to push the thoughts of Rowantail and the dream away. She was a healer, not some twisted puppet for her father to control to achieve his dark ambitions. Poppypool took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The Clan needed her, and there was no time to dwell on nightmares.

Rising to her paws, she stepped out of the den and into the early dawn light. The sky was painted with soft streaks of pink and orange, a peaceful contrast to the turmoil roiling inside her. She could hear the quiet murmurs of her Clanmates beginning their morning routines, but she felt a strange distance between herself and the rest of the world.

Newtflake was already awake, busy collecting long clumps of grass near the edge of the camp. His dark gray-and-white pelt glistened with dew as he worked methodically, a picture of calm focus. Poppypool's chest tightened with guilt. She had left him with the sole responsibility of Darkeyes' vigil, too caught up in her own thoughts and feelings to stay. But she couldn't avoid him forever.

She padded over to her apprentice, forcing her paws to move despite the stone-like feeling in her limbs. Newtflake glanced up at her, his eyes warm but questioning.

"You were moving in your sleep a lot last night," he said softly, his voice curious. "Are you feeling alright?"

Poppypool nodded stiffly. "I...I just needed to rest. I'm sorry for leaving you with the vigil."

Newtflake shook his head. "It's alright. You've been working so hard lately with the kits and sickness. Everyone needs time to recover."

The sincerity in his voice made her stomach twist. She wasn't just exhausted from her duties– but she couldn't begin to explain her dream from the night before. The weight of her father's words hung over her like a storm cloud.

Poppypool forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Newtflake. You're becoming a fine medicine cat."

But as she spoke, her mind flickered back to Rowantail's words. You could be so much more. She shook her head, trying to push the thought away, but it clung to her like a burr, prickling at the back of her mind.

"Poppypool?" Newtflake's voice broke into her thoughts, drawing her attention back to the present. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem...distracted."

She blinked, startled at his observation. Was it that obvious? She opened her mouth to reassure him, to give the same hollow answers she'd been giving him and Hawkflight, but something stopped her. The lie felt heavier today, harder to speak.

"I'm just...tired," she finally said, her voice quieter than she intended. "I didn't get much sleep last night and there's a lot on my mind."

Newtflake nodded, though the concern in his eyes still remained. "If you ever need to talk, you know I'm here, right?"

Poppypool's throat tightened, and she forced herself to nod. "I know. Thank you."

But she couldn't talk to him. Not about Rowantail and the dream she had. If he knew, he'd never look at her the same way again.