Bound

| Chapter Four |

The wind around MistClan's camp was a somewhat swiftly moving breeze, swirling around the area with a soft murmur sent to the grasses. The grasses passed the mutters off toward the skies, which passed it to the clouds, which passed it to the very ground of the camp.

Murmurs swirled upward from the ground and all around the camp, traveling with a slight edge. Despite this, it managed to reach many cats, including Dandelionpaw. Though, of course, he could never answer back. That was the world he was doomed to.

I don't think Dandelionpaw could ever be a healer.

Hawkspirit's words echoed in his head and he shivered momentarily. In a realistic world, there was no way in which he'd be able to know that the prime had ever said that. So he had to try and ignore the words pressing at the back of his head.

Dandelionpaw ducked into the healer's den, lemongrass in his mouth. The words that the prime had said pressed more and more at the back of his skull, but he only shoved them back further. He couldn't let her know that he'd heard what they'd been discussing. After all, that would only get him in more trouble, and that was the last thing he wanted.

The healer within the den didn't notice him for a bit. Her gaze was clouded with a far-off expression that he hadn't seen many times before. He could only assume that she was thinking about Yarrowpaw. Thinking about replacing him with Yarrowpaw. But he pretended to not see it, he pretended as if he didn't know. Nobody could know that he'd heard that conversation.

If he could speak, he would have called her name. But he couldn't. Instead, he lightly nudged her with his paw, carefully holding the lemongrass in his mouth. His eyes were slightly rounded and he shifted. The tabby dropped it in front of her and let his head dip momentarily.

The grey she-cat barely acknowledged him. From her muzzle escaped a soft thanks, and from there, her words were lost to the soft breeze that swirled around the den. At first, he doubted if she'd even heard what he'd said. Then she picked up the lemongrass and padded into the back of the den.

When she was done storing the herbs, Mintbranch glanced back at Dandelionpaw. Then she let out a sigh. She padded over and sat down in front of him. She appeared to be almost tired of his presence, as though being around him made her tired, and she wrapped her tail over her paws.

"I need to talk to you, Dandelionpaw," she began. The tom sat down, wrapping his tail over his paws. He knew what was coming. He just didn't want it to happen, now or ever.

She sighed once more, and she closed her pale orange eyes. She glanced away from him, reopening her eyes, and she started, "You're doing wonderfully with knowing herbs. You're an excellent apprentice, Dandelionpaw." She looked back to him before hurriedly glancing away again. "You're doing great, I promise... but I don't think you'll make it as a healer of MistClan."

No.

She looked back at him, and he could detect sparklings of worry within her pale orange gaze. "MistClan expects perfection," she explained in a soft tone, "only the perfect cats for their ranks can exist. MistClan has always been this way, and it isn't changing, and that's just how it is. I can't do anything about it, the prime can't, and nobody can. And you aren't the perfect healer."

It was as if someone had clawed his muzzle without a scrap of regret. That hurt. He'd tried so hard to be good, to be an excelling apprentice under the grey she-cat's mentorship, but it just wasn't working out. But he couldn't say that she was being rude. He couldn't ever say anything. He just kept it to himself. Like always.

Dandelionpaw shifted his position slightly, and she glanced away once more. Her pale orange eyes flickered with dark and light shades, mixing and swirling in an odd pattern that appeared to show that she was guarding her gaze. She seemed to focus on something random within the den, and he glanced toward it.