Leopardkit gasped as she took a step out of the nest, nearly crumpling under her own weight. Her entire body felt like water, and her legs were incredibly weak. But a fierce fire burned in her eyes. She would walk, even it took all her strength.

    A bright, fluffy figure stood nearby. "You're doing great, Leopardkit!" Redpaw meowed cheerfully. He sounded genuinely proud of her. The tom walked alongside her, watching her every move carefully with vibrant green eyes.

    Leopardkit didn't quite trust the tom yet. She ignored him, staring ahead. She would do this on her own.

    Sunlight beamed through the twisted bramble tendrils and on to the stony floor of the medicine den, illuminating Leopardkit's disheveled spotted pelt as she hobbled through it. The she-kit wondered how many days she had gone without feeling the familiar warm glow on her fur.

    The she-kit took another shaky pawstep, wobbling precariously. Her vision was beginning to blur around the edges and black spots bloomed in her path. She tried to focus on the bare wall of the medicine den, her stomach rolling over.

    Another step. Leopardkit balanced for a second, and then her legs buckled. Redpaw quickly rushed to her side, propping her up. "Here, I'll help you walk back to the nest. Is that okay?"

     Leopardkit reluctantly nodded, fighting the dizziness swarming around her head. Leaning on the tom for support, the pair carefully made their way back to the she-kit's nest. She felt his hard shoulder shifting under his long fluffy fur as they walked.

    Redpaw's constant presence annoyed Leopardkit, but deep down, she was grateful that he was there for her. The apprentice was always positive, encouraging, and eager to help. Redpaw never taunted her when she was too weak to walk. He was far different than her brothers, and even from his own arrogant brother, Fogpaw.

    Once Leopardkit was settled back in her bed, she sighed and relaxed, her body thankful to be at rest again. Redpaw circled the nest, pushing it up with his nose to make it more fluffy and comfortable for her. Leopardkit awkwardly murmured her thanks.

    "No problem!" Redpaw chirped. "Now, I have to go to check if Firetail needs help collecting that bindw—"

The old medicine cat interrupted him with a cracked voice as she stepped through the entrance. "No need, Redpaw. I'm finished now." She made her way to the herb storage and dropped the bundle of white flowered stalks. Her amber eyes gazed over the pair, careful not to let any emotion through. "I assume you finished the physical work?"

Redpaw nodded enthusiastically. "She was up and nearly walking on her own!" he exclaimed, beaming at Leopardkit.

The spotted she-kit felt that it was an empty, worthless achievement. She forced a meek smile up at the medicine cats. It had been a full day since she had woken up. When would she be able to walk, run, and play again? Would she ever?

The hours since she had woken up had dragged on sluggishly. As each one passed, Leopardkit grew more frustrated with the immense struggle required to do so little. A part of her was terrified that she would be like this forever. How would she become a warrior then?

Firetail nodded firmly at her apprentice, oblivious to the grim look on Leopardkit's face. "Very good." The gray she-cat glanced over her bony shoulder toward the den's entrance. Her voice dropped. "And... you have a visitor, Leopardkit."

Leopardkit perked her ears in interest as a shadow appeared at the bramble tendrils. Slowly, nervously, a tiny black tom-kit crept inside. Firetail locked her stony amber gaze on Mousekit. The gray medicine cat sat like a guard in the center of the den. He glanced tentatively up at Firetail, then quickly down at his paws. The black tom slowly approached Leopardkit, tail dragging.

A flash of red fur in the corner of her vision told Leopardkit that Redpaw was close by her side. The tom green eyes followed Mousekit's every move carefully.

The little tom was clearly not welcome here.

Leopardkit felt a swirl of emotions all at once as she stared at her brother. Hot anger filled her belly, yet a part of her was overjoyed to see her best friend. Why hadn't he known better? Why hadn't she known better?

"Hello, Leopardkit," the little tom mewed, his green eyes focused on his paws.

She didn't respond.

Mousekit swallowed. His kept his body low to the ground, as if cowering. His words tumbled out in a rush. "I don't know what I was thinking. This is all my fault. I wanted to apologize."

Leopardkit's fur bristled. You fed me a deathberry! Why should I ever forgive you?

The she-kit felt a windstorm of emotion inside her. He nearly killed her. He didn't understand what he was doing. He was impulsive and ignorant. She was the one who agreed to it. He was the reason she was immobile. He only wanted to help her feel better.

  She pinched her eyes shut, breathing deeply. It was hard to think clearly when her mind was being overwhelmed with a storm of battling thoughts and a fog of confusion. She wanted so badly to spit at her brother, to ask him how he could be so stupid.

Then, a strange thought prodded at her mind. That's how Sandstreak speaks to you.

Leopardkit suddenly felt a sharp pang
and she cringed. She would never become her mother. Never. The she-kit looked up and met her brother's timid green eyes. They were filled with pain, regret, shame. And much more.

Leopardkit would not add to that by treating him cruelly. She took a deep breath to steady herself, willing the anger in her belly to cool. She imagined Darkstar, his calm demeanor, and his kind eyes. Yes, she would treat others as he did.

Firetail must've noticed her inner turmoil, and she abruptly stood. "Alright, time's up," she said curtly. Her ginger tail flicked at Mousekit, causing him to jump up. Appearing more despaired than when he had entered, the black tom trudged toward the exit.

"No, wait!" Leopardkit mewed, rising shakily in her nest. Redpaw dashed to her side, wrapping his steady tail around her.

Mousekit looked over his shoulder, his green eyes shadowed. Firetail stood waiting impatiently, her ginger tail flicking.

"I forgive you," Leopardkit murmured. She genuinely meant it.

Mousekit's green eyes widened. A flash of relief crossed his vision, and then he was gone.

    Suddenly feeling very weak in the legs, Leopardkit laid back down in a heap, her bedding rustling beneath her. Redpaw ran a swift lick over her ear. "Are you okay?" he asked, standing over her.

    Leopardkit nodded. She was. A strange glow seemed to fill her and make her light. She felt as if a weight had lifted off her shoulders.

    Firetail strode toward the she-kit, waving Redpaw away with her ginger tail. The old she-cat sat beside her, staring down at her with an unknown gleam in her eye. Leopardkit met her gaze, confused.

    "You are strong," Firetail said when she finally spoke. Her croaking voice was soft. She gazed at Leopardkit with something akin to admiration. "Few cats would ever forgive. I'm proud of you."

     Leopardkit felt warmth rise in her chest at Firetail's praise, and she purred her thanks.

     The old gray medicine cat leaned down and ran her rough tongue over Leopardkit's head. The she-kit wasn't accustomed to shows of affection from Firetail, and she squirmed uneasily under her touch.

    The medicine cat's amber eyes gleamed. "Perhaps the stars have chosen right."

    •••

    Later that night, Leopardkit awoke in the cool air. She laid in the darkness of the medicine den, moonlight filtering through the entrance. What had awoken her? She gazed around with bleary amber eyes. The wall of shelves remained untouched and shadowed. The medicine den appeared empty save for Firetail's sleeping form near the back of the den. The ancient medicine cat's breathing rattled in her chest as she slept. Water trickled quietly to the underground pool, quietly plopping every few heartbeats.

    Leopardkit stretched her little jaws in a yawn and shifted in her nest. The bedding seemed to mold to her position. Redpaw changed it so often that it felt as if she was sleeping on a cloud.

     As the heavy blackness of sleep lulled her in, she heard it.

    A soft crunch. A pawstep.

    Leopardkit's head shot up. She glanced back to Firetail, but the old she-cat hadn't moved a mouse-length. Uneasiness began to stir in her belly. She averted her gaze to the den's entrance.

The moonlight filtering in appeared the same as before, the bramble tendrils at the den's entrance gently quivering in the breeze.

Leopardkit rose to her paws. She forgot about her weakness for a moment and stumbled forward, nearly falling. Breathing hitched, she carefully staggered toward the exit.

Every pawstep was an effort, but the she-kit gritted her teeth and pushed through it. Before she knew it, she had reached the brambles. Leopardkit cautiously stuck her head out and gazed around the camp. The stone walls were bathed in silvery moonlight. A wide, deeper indigo sky blinked silently overhead. The forest surrounding camp whispered with the gentle wind, but there was no sound other than that. There wasn't a cat to be seen in the bare stone hollow.

Relief flooding through her, Leopardkit sighed and backed into the medicine den.

"Leopardkit."

The she-kit nearly jumped out of her skin at the whisper. Fear exploded in her, and her entire pelt bristled. She carefully peered outside again, amber eyes round. This time, she could make out a pair of eyes from a dark shadow near the den. Green eyes.

"Mousekit!" Leopardkit hissed. "What in StarClan's name you doing here?" She had been caught off guard and her ears burned with the realization.

But her temper dissipated when she heard her brother speak. The black tom-kit sounded breathless. "Listen, there's something I couldn't tell you in front of the medicine cats," he whispered rapidly. There was a pleading look in his green eyes.

Leopardkit's curiosity was sparked. "What do you mean?" What could he possibly have to say that Firetail or Redpaw couldn't know?

Emotion flashed in Mousekit's eyes. Fear. "Something happened, Leopardkit, when I gave you the berry. I don't know what, but something overcame me. I couldn't control anything. The words I said—they weren't mine."

Leopardkit narrowed her eyes warily. "What are you talking about?" Yet, even as she spoke, the memories of that day came flooding back. The remembered the odd way he was acting, the slight nuances in his behavior. He wasn't at all like himself.

"I don't know!" Mousekit said, a note of helplessness in his voice. "But please, if you ever notice that something is off, then stay away from me. I don't want you to get hurt again."

Leopardkit stared at him, dumbfounded. Before she could reply, the little tom-kit rushed back to the nursery, his black pelt bouncing in the moonlight.

Leopardkit watched him go solemnly. She loved her brother; there was no doubt about that. But she couldn't help the dread that twisted her insides and the fear trickling down her spine when she looked at him.

There seemed to be something very dark behind Mousekit's innocent green eyes.