The Shooting Star That Fell [UNFINISHED]

peace

"Make way, make way!"

Falcon attempted to leap out of the trail of medics sprinting in his direction, jostling him between two cats dragging a limp body, kicking up a trail of dust into his eyes. He grimaced, wincing, and stumbled out of the fray, coughing.

He had decided to take a nap in the sunny clearing, atop of a pile of leaves he'd gathered, when frantic paws started rushing into the campgrounds.

It was the beginning of fall, signaled by the treetops turning a bright, sunburnt orange, its leaves falling to the ground in its beautifully orchestrated procession of death. Falcon woke up to a fine sheen of frost on the ground every morning, and also another pile of leaves to clean out of the front of his den. His first autumn was beautiful, surrounded by the countless trees running up and down the gentle slopes and jagged rocks of the mountain.

"I need everyone to start making beds for at least five more cats," barked the head nurse, Birch, as another two cats came rushing in with the battered body of a Cliffside soldier.

"Two bundles of cobwebs immediately!" a voice cried out from across the clearing. "This one lost a toe."

"Birch, do we have any more blackberry leaves? We have to get the swelling to go down," another medic called out, rushing up to them.

Birch whipped his head around to address them. "Give River an inventory list of everything we're missing and she'll her friends fetch them." He padded away after that to tend to another cat appearing through the campground fern entrance.

This was how it was from time to time. The fighting had moved from the northern border, southwards, until it was practically outside Mist's campgrounds. Whenever there was a fight, Mist became the nursing colony for injured Cliffside soldiers (interestingly enough, no Hawk cats showed up in the camp, at least Falcon couldn't recall seeing any). Under the rule of Cliffside, Mist was obligated to tend to these soldiers, feed them, and send them on their way. The medic team had doubled in size since the first battle, with every cat becoming makeshift nursing apprentices while Birch whizzed in and out of camp, muttering that he had absolutely nobody to help him collect herbal plants. After the first few trips, he enlisted River, and eventually the rest of the kittens, to help him with his aging joints. River was more than happy to help, but the rest... Falcon could easily say he'd rather be hunting for mice than for plants. However, if it was what made his colony happy...

"Falcon, are you listening?!"

Falcon startled, snapping back to reality. Mouse was standing in front of him, baring his fangs at him, irritated.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Great stars, if it wasn't for me, you probably would've killed at least two patients by now," Mouse grumbled. "Come on, River needs more moss from downriver. There was a skirmish by the border and the wounded are pouring in. Quickly! I can't have her being cross with me again."

Falcon bit back a purr of amusement. "You care far too much about what River thinks of you," he commented as the two tomcats turned and started making their way down the hill towards the river snaking around the bottom of it.

Mouse lashed his tail. "I'm just trying to make her job less difficult." He didn't sound amused at all. "You know what she did last time this happened?"

"What?"

"She had to basically stitch up this one soldier whose eye got pierced with a branch."

"Ew." Falcon wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Without Birch's help," Mouse added insistently, nosing through a tall couple of bramble bushes. "There was blood everywhere by the time she returned to the den and I swear I was going to be sick..." He glanced up at the sky, shaking his head clear. "But she was fine. Like it was normal to have to remove an eye from a cat." He shuddered. "I'm just looking out for her," Mouse sighed.

Falcon's whiskers twitched. "I'm sure she appreciates it," was all he said in reply.

They reached the river promptly. Wading into the sparkling blue waters to wash off their paws, Falcon had to pause and allow himself to soak in the wonderful feeling of the cold current against his fur.

"There you are!" River appeared from the other side of the bank, leaping into the shallow sands of the river and splashing her way across. Her mouth was full of soaking green moss. "Mouse, take these to Birch," she ordered, shoving it into Mouse's jaws as he opened them to protest. "And if you come across Sand and Bat, tell them to get their lazy tails down here. I know how much they like to skip out on these things."

Mouse gave Falcon a bewildered look before bounding up the slopes again, his white-tipped tail waving goodbye.

River sighed. Falcon could see how gaunt and exhausted she looked. She glanced up at him with her blue-green eyes, reminiscent of the river water running under their paws. "Good morning, Falcon, how are you?" she asked tiredly.

"I'm... alright," Falcon replied, tipping his head. "The campgrounds got busy," he remarked, watching the last bit of Mouse's white tailtip disappear over the hills.

"It's ridiculous," River muttered, a dark bitterness seeping into her voice. "It's been a whole month, Falcon, and there are just more and more wounded cats each day. I know we're supposed to be a Cliffside colony but... We're just normal cats." She squeezed her eyes shut. "They can't keep forcing us to treat their soldiers like this. We'll barely be able to feed ourselves if this goes on for much longer."

Falcon rested his tail on her shoulder. "You're a good cat, River," he mewed sincerely, nodding at her. "I'm sure everyone knows how hard you're working."

"It's not like that," River replied, frowning, shaking her head. "I'm not doing it for attention. I just don't want anyone to die."

Falcon flicked his tail. "Well, nobody has died yet, right?"

"No," River admitted, curling her tail around her paws. "But that's what scares me. That I'll wake up one day and all my patients will be dead. That I couldn't save anyone." She shuddered. "I have nightmares about it a lot."

Falcon padded over and licked her ear in a soothing manner. "Trust me, you don't have to worry. The fighting will be over soon."

"River," a voice came from upstream. Falcon and River turned their heads to see Frost trotting down the sandy banks with a wad of bright yellow flowers in her mouth. "I got the marigold you wanted."

"Excellent, thank you, Frost," River mewed, turning away from Falcon and going to meet her in the middle. After exchanging friendly nods, Frost dropped the flowers and went to groom the yellow stains out of her white fur.

"We're down here collecting moss for beds," River explained after Falcon and Frost exchanged greetings as well. "Would you like to help? Actually, that'd be great. I really need to go back to the campgrounds and see if Birch needs help with the wounded."

"I can do that for you," Frost replied, her voice sweet like the flowers at her paws.

"You're a lifesaver, Frost," River mewed gratefully as she bent down to pick up the wad of marigold. "Don't stay out too long. Just carry as much as you can and that should be enough." She bounded up the slopes after that, her tortoiseshell fur disappearing into the undergrowth.