WITHERING HERBS || A Warriors Fanfiction

|| chapter twenty four

The voices were raspy and concerned, quiet and nervous, soft and anxious. One was sharp and furious, accented and punctual, swift and strong. There was four of them. One sounded farther away than the others, and therefore quieter, though that did not diminish the fact that each had a special quality to it.

One of them was quiet. Its sounds were often barely audible above the other timbres, though none of the closer three were loud in the first place. It made good points and reasonable arguments, though its ideas were often blinded by feeling and instinct.

A different voice was raspy. It often shook when it rose above the other tones. The voice was often a reasoning tone in the two other voices, though occasionally it would snap and crumble, falling prey to the anxiety and softness of the other two voices. This timbre would also occasionally disappear for a time and return even more perturbed than before.

The third voice was always nervous. Before it had been serene and collected, though now it wobbled uncertainly on the tones of itself. The voice was not unconfident or shy - never, ever unconfident or shy - simply just anxious. It was weary and afraid it would make a mistake, though it was reasonable and would often join, agreeably, with the quiet voice.

The last voice was sharp. It always had a furious, though faint, reply to the quieter, more anxious, tones. It was farther away than the original three, though this did not deter it from making an irritated comment or a loud shout in reply to the other three. It often controlled the raspier voice, who would crumble underneath the sharp tone and neither of the other voices would say too much about it.

Owlpaw could not tell who was saying what, or who each tone belonged to, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Everything was just gone. There was nothing. Everything, everyone... All gone. Except for the voices. They stayed.

He could not feel anything or understand anything that was going on. It was just gone; he simply was in a place where there was nothing. It was not black or white or gray. It was not fathomable to explain where he was because he could not understand it. It was impossible to describe where he was.

The apprentice could not explain it. There was just nothing. All he could sense was himself.

Every now and then he could feel a small poke or nudge from somewhere. It was impossible to explain where that came from. He could just feel a tugging from somewhere that was urging him to get out and whenever he tried, he would just end up more exhausted than he already was.

The voices often grew clear when he tried to get out, no longer a strange slur of words. He could often hear his own name highlighted when he tried to escape the world of nothingness but he would always fall back to the emptiness.

After a while, it just grew boring. There was simply nothing. He could not feel anything around him or interact with his empty environment. Once, he had questioned if this was just made up in his mind and everything instantly just swirled around him. Colors, cats, prey, scents, blood, light, darkness, different voices, loud noises, quiet noises, nudges from his left, a shove from his right... Everything from every direction.

Instantly, he stopped thinking about it and everything went back to, dare he say it, normal.

He wanted to know how long he had been in this... place for. It felt like he had spent fifty cycles of the world here, each cycle slower and more empty and boring than the last.

No matter how long it seemed, the voices never left. The voices did not change over time or alter their slurred ideas. It was the same four voices.

One day, Owlpaw felt and smelled something strange. It was indescribable. He could not feel or smell in the first place, so it was already intriguing.

His chest heaving, he opened his eyes and shot up from wherever he was.

Instantly, he recognized where he was.

The medicine cat's den.

In the air, he could detect the fresh smells of his Clanmates; Stonestar, Sedgestorm, Flintpath, and Hazelberry, the last accompanied by sharp and sweet smells. A thick smell filled the air and the apprentice found it difficult to breathe. The apprentice's golden gaze swept the den, the branches and grasses making up the walls he remembered building.

Putting his head on his paws, he realized that he was in the sick-cat part of the den. The herbs were not near him and the nest he was sitting in was made of dry moss, soft grasses, and some extra little flowers and leaves. A few feathers poked out of the nest, cuddling close to Owlpaw.

I don't want to close my eyes... What if I'm sucked back into the world I was in before?

He waited for the familiar exhaustion to return, but the feeling did not slosh back into his paws.

Stretching, he gazed around the den again, his golden gaze critical. Maybe I can go hunt. He thought and flattened his ears, twitching his whiskers and flicking his tail. Stretching his paws and moving around a bit, he glanced at the entrance, where moonlight filtered into the entrance. He stood up and unsteadily padded out.

His Clanmates were standing in the center of the camp, their fur slightly bristling. He recognized Stonestar's plain gray pelt next to Hazelberry's tortoiseshell fur. Anxiously, he padded up to them, standing to the left of Sedgestorm and observing Flintpath and Sedgestorm.

Both warriors seemed upset. Owlpaw had already guessed what it was about, but he wasn't about to reveal himself. He was surprised that they hadn't seen him yet. Then, as he shifted, he realized Sedgestorm's gaze had focused on him.

"Owlpaw!" Sedgestorm screeched, "Oh my StarClan, Owlpaw, I was so... worried... Owlpaw, Owlpaw... oh my StarClan..." His voice instantly grew quieter and softer as he approached the apprentice, his gaze studying Owlpaw's expression.

"We were all worried..." whispered Flintpath, who was now standing next to his mentor. His gaze was trained carefully on Owlpaw as if he expected the tom to dissipate into thin air.

Owlpaw felt his fur grow warm at the feeling of pairs of eyes on his dark brown pelt. The stars above his head seemed to stare at him, too, and the moon seemed to glance in his direction as he murmured, "I'm sorry."