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| - Episode Two, Season One, of Heartland. Enjoy <3 A week has passed. In slow, painful increments, seven days and nights have gone by since my mother's death. Some of the other villagers came to help me bury her and attend the vigil. Old Mae brought some flowers she'd clipped from the side of the village path and a warm embrace. Tudor and Tillie, two little village kits, gave me a pretty rock they found by the river. Everyone cried at the vigil, and everyone cried after the vigil, when it was time to go. I now realize why, sitting in my little den on the morning of the eighth day. They knew, even before I did, what I was going to do. What I am going to do, right now. Leave the village. I can't stay here anymore. There's nothing left for me. With her last breaths, my mother reminded me of my ability to heal. She told me not to give up. If I force myself to stay here, constantly reminded of my loneliness in the echo of my pawsteps in the once-small earthen cavern that now seems far too big for just me, I will lose that. I will lose my sanity, everything that makes me. I need to get out. I need to find a new purpose in life. I pack light. I eat breakfast, and take a quick drink from the brook that runs downhill through my village. I don't say any final good byes; the time for that has already passed. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can get to work forgetting this chapter of my life. When I was little, I used to run down the village path as fast as I would go, my eager eyes fixed on the thicker strip of flattened earth that was the main road off in the distance. "Do you dare me to hit the road, Mother?" I would cry. "I'll leave and never come back! I'll go and see the world!" I can still remember the look on her face, her eyes twinkling with humor and something else, a mother's need to hold her child close. I remember her saying, "Run away, little Elle," while at the same time drawing me so close that I couldn't breathe, smothering me in her warm fur and laughing as I thrashed in protest. A small hiss escapes my mouth. Don't do this to yourself. I stand with my forepaws on the road, the back half of me still on the village path. My mouth is dry as dust, my heart like a rock. I step forward. The world doesn't make a sound. It doesn't care; what is one lost, wayward she-cat in the grand scheme of things? I don't look back. NightClan's army base is visible from all directions: an enormous gray mountain that marks the core of Heartland, its top shadowed by gray clouds, its base girdled in a forest of deep green pine trees. It's easy to see why the Clan picked the mountain. It provides a good vantage point, and it's surrounded by forests and brooks that provide food and water for troops. Moreover, it looks imposing, a towering giant that tells all of us other cats exactly what NightClan wants to say: Live, but do not forget us, do not forget how big war is and how small your life is. I used to resent NightClan. Many non-Clan cats do. Now, I can't help but feel like I'm practically a beggar on their doorstep. I'm not here to enlist, of course. Not as a soldier. I can hardly take down mice to feed myself; there's no way I could do the army any good. I'd be trampled by the other recruits. But my mother told me not to forget myself. So I'm here to offer myself up as a medic for the army. There are perks to working for NightClan. The Clan is the foundation of Heartland, and hold most of the power. They can offer so much: land, ranking, prey. A place in this world. That's what I'm looking for. The road runs straight towards the mountain. A brigade of NightClan soldiers block the entrance, reinforced by the barricade of stacked branches piled several times taller than a cat's head behind them. I slow my pace. I can feel the soldiers' eyes on me, clearly wondering who I am and what I'm doing. Twilight has fallen, and my paws are sore and aching from a day's worth of walking. Soft purple light wraps the soldiers' faces and turns their features into a haze of eyes glinting in the sunset light and roughed-up pelts marked by silvery scars and indigo bruises. I have to fight to keep my sense and wit about me, to keep from swaying to the song of the crickets or simply collapsing and lying prone on the ground for a nap. "Who goes there?" barks a strong, deep voice. A broad-shouldered gray tom emerges from the rest of the indistinguishable soldiers, as sharp as the rest of them are blurry. He is obviously unaffected by the twilight. "State your name and business." "Noelle," I blurt, cringing as I hear the nervousness in my own voice. I take a deep breath and try for a steadier demeanor. "I wish to enter the NightClan army's services as a medic." Behind the gray tom, the soldiers erupt into jeers and boos. "Another one. I can't believe these locals; have they no pride?" one of them says, his gold eyes flashing in derision. I narrow my eyes. "Whatever do you mean?" "Give up the act, sweetheart. We get the picture," another tom chimes in. Gold Eyes steps forward so he's standing beside the gray tom, who I take for the captain of the brigade. "You're underage. You're poor. You're small and scrawny and incapable of hauling the weight it takes to truly fight a war, so your family is trying to weasel some prey or free land out of NightClan by passing you off as a pathetic excuse for a medic." I open my mouth. And shut it. I don't even know what to say. Am I hurt? Maybe, but I can't even feel it under the shock. I am not here to 'weasel' my way up. You talk the talk easily now, but all you are doing is demeaning yourself. It's the height of ignorance and foolishness to pretend that war doesn't cost, and your soldiers won't be able to talk the talk with their mouths full of blood. I don't say any of what I think. It wouldn't do any good. The only thing greater than NightClan's power in Heartland is its arrogance. "Cap! Captain Thrushclaw!" There's an oddly misshapen figure hobbling towards us, stumbling its way up the road the same way I came. I squint and realize it's a cat, a ginger tom, carrying another cat on his shoulders. "It's Tiny, Cap. She got hurt real bad-" "How did this happen?" The gray tom moves forward so he can help the cat lower Tiny to the ground. She is tiny, the smallest cat I've ever seen, and her size makes the wound she's sporting even more horrifying. "Honor, what the blazes? How could you let this happen?" The wounded cat, Tiny, gives a low moan of pain. Blood is spurting from a deep hole between the barrel of her chest and her right foreleg, staining the ground as it pools around her. The ginger tom, Honor, looks like he's on the verge of hysteria. "She fell! It was my fault, I warned her that the ground was trapped but I didn't tell her all the locations--she stepped right on top of one of the spikes and went down." Tiny has fallen silent. I can hear the soft rush of blood still, a miniature river. "We've got to carry her up. Toms, open up the barricade," Captain Thrushclaw orders. I can't stop myself. "It's useless," I snap. "You can't carry her like this. She's bleeding out, right here, right now. She has minutes, maybe seconds." I step forward and place a paw on the wound, pushing down as hard as I can. "Get a medic," I hiss through gritted teeth, looking intently at Honor. When he only stares at me, bug-eyed, I add urgently, "Now!" He takes off up the road, scrambling up the barricade instead of waiting for it to be moved. Gold Eyes scowls. "He shouldn't have done that. Made it look too easy to get in." He throws me a suspicious glance, as if I'm going to turn around and announce this newfound vulnerability. To my surprise, Captain Thrushclaw only says, "Shut up, Goldgaze." A fitting warrior name, though I can't quite bring myself to meet its bearer's eyes. Instead, I throw a curious look at Captain. He scowls blackly. "You let my soldier die, little cat, and you'll never see this mountain again." "Yes, sir." Of course I'll do my best to save Tiny. But until the medics arrive with supplies, there isn't much I can do except try to stop the bleeding. "Hey! What are you doing?" The soldiers have managed to open the blockade by now; Honor comes barreling back with a long-furred white she-cat at his heels. She's obviously a medic, with a vine lashed around her neck that holds various herbs, cobwebs, and materials for binding wounds. "Applying pressure to the wound," I tell her. "She's barely conscious. Lift up her head and make sure her airway is clear. Do you have comfrey and cobwebs?" "Don't tell me how to do my job," the medic says tersely, but she's already on it, chewing up comfrey root while she gently lifts Tiny's head and slides open her mouth. She mutters a curse, then reaches in with a paw wrapped in a soft leaf and dabs away gently. Tiny coughs blood and mucus, and I hear her suck in a deep breath of air. Captain Thrushclaw and the rest of the soldiers, including Goldgaze, are hovering behind us. "Is she impeding you from doing your job, Skylar?" asks the captain. The white she-cat glances up. Our eyes meet, and though we are perfect strangers, we are also in perfect agreement. We have to save Tiny's life. "She's not bothering me. But the rest of you are. Back up. Give us some space." Skylar works like lightning, clearly well trained and experienced. "I'm preparing a poultice. Start cleaning the wound. Use cobwebs to stop the bleeding." Gingerly, I take the cobwebs and lift my blood-drenched paw from the wound. Once I've cleaned the wound as best as I can, I take the mix of comfrey, goldenrod, marigold, and other herbs that Skylar has prepared and carefully dress it. Tiny whimpers, but there's no further bleeding or discharge visible. I swallow, realizing how dry my mouth is, and let out a breath of relief. My knees feel weak and unsteady. I don't know what I would've done if the little she-cat died. "Do you have anything for pain?" My voice shakes no matter how hard I try to appear steady. Something close to respect flashes in Skylar's eyes. Saving a life together is one way to make a new friend. "Yeah. Hang on." She gives Tiny a few poppy seeds, then straightens. "Goldgaze. Take a few soldiers and carry him to the Infirmary for me." "Yes, ma'am." Goldgaze gives her a sarcastic salute. "Cut the dirt. Just do what I said." Skylar might be a medic, but she's as scary as any soldier I've seen so far. I walk over to her as she begins to pack up her supplies. "How did you get your position?" I ask softly. "I asked about joining up as a medic, but he said I was just here to live off the army's favors." "He? You mean Captain Thrushclaw?" A scowl creases Skylar's forehead, and she marches over to the gray tom. "Yo, Cap. What's with it?" I can't help but be taken aback by the bold way she addresses him. Some of the soldiers wince, as if in sympathy, but Captain Thrushclaw doesn't yell at her. In fact, he looks half apologetic as he says, "We can't take everyone in, Skylar. We have to make quick decisions, and sometimes we misjudge. Sorry." "What are you apologizing to me for?" she demands, pulling me up. "This kid just helped me save Tiny's life. She deserves a medic position. Maybe one day she'll save your sorry life." Captain Thrushclaw just shakes his head. "Get up there. Check on Tiny. Do your job and quit whining." But there is a steady familiarity in his eyes that belies his rough words. For all her sharpness, he trusts Skylar. Her vouching for me is a great gift. "Come on, kid," says Skylar. Part of me bristles at being called "kid"; she might be taller than me, but she doesn't look much older at all. But the other part of me is grateful for her protection, however condescending, as she stays close by my side while we walk through the open gate, staring down any soldier who looks at me the wrong way. "What's your name?" "Noelle." "Noelle. Anyone ever call you Elle?" My mother's face flashes before my eyes. Would she be proud of me for what I've just done? Or would she disapprove of me joining NightClan's war effort. "No. Never." It comes out a little tense. "What are the other medics like?" "Blood sucking psychotics." Skylar laughs at the look on my face. "I'll take you to the head medic, Dovefur, first. She's amazing, one of the best cats I know, but don't get on her bad side. Just because she looks like an angel doesn't mean she can't pack a punch. And she's smart too--except for the fact that she was once with Cap." "Captain Thrushclaw?" I ask. "The one and only. They broke up moons ago, though." "Why?" "Don't be nosy, Noelle. Or I'll have to come up with another nickname for you: Noselle." "Ha-ha," I say, rolling my eyes. A smile curves across her face. "Was that sarcasm I just heard? I was beginning to think that all you had were polite words spoken in that young-daisy voice of yours. Don't get me wrong, you're very cute, but you won't last two minutes inside the mountain. Place is filled with crass, unwashed soldiers and cantankerous generals. And of course, there's the queen herself, Commander Tigerstripe." Seeing the worried look I give her, she says, "Don't worry. She doesn't deal with new recruits. You only need to impress Dovefur, which will be no sweat, once I tell her what you did for Tiny." "Thanks," I say. "No problem..." "Noelle." I give her a small smile. Just because I can't bear the thought of her calling me Elle doesn't mean I haven't taken a liking to Skylar. I think I've made my first friend on the army base. Speaking of which. "Here's the grand entrance." Skylar gestures to a small tunnel opening. "Or the one we take, anyway. It's got a direct route to the Infirmary. Tiny's already in there, and I should go check on her. But first, I'll take you to Dovefur." We duck into the tunnel, whose ceiling slopes upwards till it allows a surprising amount of room. I hear the echo of voices up ahead, and suddenly we're standing in a large cave. The fading light is still trickling through openings in the roof of the cave, skylights. Wounded cats are stretched out on pallets of grass while medics, wearing the same vine-belt of herbs that Skylar does, weave between them. I spot Tiny in a corner of the room and nudge Skylar. "In a sec." She strides towards a beautiful silver she-cat standing in the middle of the room, talking soothingly to a small tom with a splinted leg. "Dovefur? May I speak to you?" The silver she-cat looks between Skylar and I. "Who's this?" "I'm Noelle. It's a pleasure to meet you." "Likewise, Noelle. You have a beautiful name," she says in a lilting voice. Though she is surrounded by blood and weakness, Dovefur manages to shine like a beacon. Her posture is regal and authoritative, but also graceful and serene. I instantly recognize that she is someone I can respect and obey. I remain silent while Skylar tells Dovefur what happened with Tiny, though I can feel my face growing warm. Dovefur studies me keenly. "How very heroic." "Not really," I say honestly, focused on the floor. "Anyone would if they could. I could, so I did." Nodding approvingly, Dovefur says, "Life is precious. That's the right kind of response, Noelle. Medics cannot afford to think about the same things soldiers do--glory, honor, all these ulterior motives. We seek to preserve and protect and save lives." "She can do it, Dovefur. She'll need training about working on the field, and dealing with the soldiers, but she's already got the medicinal knowledge," says Skylar. "You can train her," Dovefur says. "She starts here, not on the field." The look she gives Skylar is strangely intense, as if it carries a hidden meaning. "We can't send untrained, inexperienced cats out onto the field. The risk is too high." Skylar swallows. "Understood. You can trust me with her training." Relaxing, Dovefur says, "I know I can." To me, she adds, "You're with the best." Once she leaves to tend to another patient, I turn to Skylar. "I don't even know you," I whisper. "That's true," Skylar says unconcernedly as we begin to make our way towards Tiny's pallet. "I could be a blood sucking psycho." "Thank you. You didn't have to do what you did." "I could, so I did." She gives me a true smile, and I return it immediately. And just like that, I'm in. I've found a place. I'm a medic for NightClan's army. The water makes me face look contorted and disfigured. I can almost hear Camille telling me this is exactly what I look like all the time, with a scowl on my face, water ripples ruining my image. I sigh and rock back on my heels and turn away from the stream. Coolness comes from my shoulder, where the tiny black she-cat had treated my wound. I know I should have thanked her but I think I’m past being polite with everyone. Chances are I’ll never see her again anyways. As I step back to the stream and stare at my reflection, I wonder what Camille saw in me in the first place. Perhaps I wasn’t always jaded, but surely… I give a shrug and then hiss in pain. Patched or not, it was still a wound. I dab my paw ruefully into the stream and let my mind wander. Words fill my head and before I can stop it, Camille’s last words come back to me. “Great memories,” I grumble, dunking my paw in the stream before retracting it with a yelp as it was freezing cold. I push myself off my paws and head towards my usual hangout. I’m still itching for a fight, but after my encounter with the NightClan tom, I’m not interested in getting beat up again. Reckless. Just what Camille would tell me. Shaking my head, I bend down to the stream I’m walking next to and take a drink. The clear water helps refresh my brain and I’m struck by the fact that this is exactly how I had met Camille in the first place. She was definitely a beautiful sight, something I won’t ever forget. After that had been two happy moons of dating until just yesterday when she told me I was an ungrateful brat who cared about nobody but me. It’s true I guess, but I haven’t needed to care about anyone else. It’s not like I had a dungload of friends to hang out with. My friends are me, myself, and I. I like them as company. Peaceful cats, you know? I let myself wallow in my own and pain and whatever is in my heart when I hear voices just past the hill. “Did you hear? NightClan is advertising for anyone who wants to fight in their army. I get they’re getting past their distaste for locals and they want to see what we’re good at.” “Really? Are you going to do it?” “If I can; I’m not sure how strict they are with protocol and accepting rogues and loners, you know?” “You’ll do fine. I think I’m going to stay in the village, it’s peaceful there after all.” I don’t hear the rest of what they say, but I have what I need. I push myself up and stare down at the stream one last time before setting out. Time to find out how good I am compared to other recruits. ~ It takes some wandering to find the stronghold and ask to enroll as a recruit. They size me up and decide I’m worth the attention and tell some skinny black tom to lead me in and inform Commander Tigerstripe of my arrival. I don’t speak to the tom as we’re walking, but he decides to make conversation. “So, you’re new?” “No, I’ve been here for five moons and I need a tour of the place anyways,” I roll my eyes, “of course I’m new.” “A yes would have been appropriate,” the black tom casts me a look, “Commander Tigerstripe won’t like your sass.” “I’ll let her decide that, thank you.” “I’m Raymond,” the tom continues, “I’ve been here for three days to be honest.” “Three days,” I echo, “what are you now? Protector of all?” “I’m a recruit,” Raymond doesn’t catch me drift. “What’s your name?” “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to tear out your throat.” “Long name,” Raymond twitches his whiskers, “You must have been a violent kid for your mother to name you that.” I growl but I don’t reply to him. “We’re here, ‘if you don’t shut up, I’m going to tear out your throat’. I suggest you shorten that for the commander.” I glower at him but he calls out and someone from inside tells us to come in. We step instead. Fierce amber eyes greet me and I blink in surprise. A dark brown tabby is glaring at me from the back of the den. Large leaves are scattered around her, presumable for plans. “Recruit Raymond, reporting a new recruit.” “What’s his name?” Raymond opens his mouth to introduce me as stars knows what, so I interrupt. “I’m Hunter.” “Hunter,” Tigerstripe nods, “Raymond will show you to the recruit quarters and I’ll assign you a training squad tomorrow. We’ll see how fast you pull yourself out of training and into a real squad. The record is one moon, do you think you can beat that?” I eye her and the leaves on the floor. “A moon? I’ll beat that.” I think she curls her lip into a smile. “A brave tom.” She dismisses us and Raymond leads me to our sleeping quarters. “You think you can beat her challenge?” “Beat it,” I arch an eyebrow, “I’ll crush it.” Raymond gives a small chuckle, “It’ll be interesting to see you try that.” I roll my eyes and curl up in my new nest. Tomorrow will bring new promises and no longer will I have to mope over whether or not I’m good for anyone. I’ll find something here instead. Ready or not here I come.
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