Dewpaw tried to put the image of Killian and Gannet out of his mind in the following days by pushing himself even harder during training. With Quartz still sick, Jaystrike and Beaver continued to oversee their progress; Sprucetail and Roxanne stopped by once in a while, fixing a hunter's crouch or frontal attack where they could. Tensions still ran high between Jaystrike and Crowpaw, to the point where the black trainee and Oats had agreed to switch groups.

"Why are the junkyard cats not training with us?" Hazel asked Jaystrike as their training group arrived back in camp. Sure enough, the former members of the Junkyard Gang sat lounging about the premises, licking their fur clean. Only Pixie and Flea were missing from their measly number – both had been forced to move into the medic's den because of greencough. With a slight twist of his stomach, Dewpaw remembered that Cinderblossom had been coughing as well and, at the urging of Killian, had moved into the sick den too.

"They know how to fight, for the most part," Jaystrike replied. "Though not as well as is needed if we are to fight DarkClan." Dewpaw's fur rose slightly. Across the camp, his eyes briefly met Gannet's and he looked away quickly.

"Think I can take you up on that climbing and jumping lesson?" he asked Oats.

The cream tom beamed. "Sprucetail assigned me to a hunting patrol earlier but we can do it right after! Maybe you'd like to come hunting too?"

Dewpaw considered this for a moment but his thoughts were interrupted by an approaching figure.

"More hunters means more freshkill. I think that's a great idea." Killian's shadow fell over the two trainees, Roxanne and Sprucetail on either side.

"I had wanted Cinderblossom to join us but it appears she is ill," Sprucetail confirmed. "You'll make a nice addition to our hunting patrol." They set out without another word.

Dewpaw found himself shadowing Killian, though he made sure to focus on finding prey. Since eating the herbs Crowpaw had given him he found his senses were back to normal, no longer obstructing his ability to hunt. He caught a flightless sparrow and, burying it, continued to follow Killian's scent.

He came upon him as the older tom was burying a small mouse.

"Successful hunting so far?" Killian asked, picking up on Dewpaw's scent.

"Just a sparrow," Dewpaw replied, seating himself in front of the former loner. "How about yours?"

The tabby flicked his tail at the mound. "One mouse. Left a shrew somewhere back there." He spoke nonchalantly and Dewpaw wondered if Killian knew he had overheard him. Drawing a breath, he resolved to ask the tom about DarkClan and if he knew anything.

"I know why you're here," Killian said before Dewpaw could speak.

The grey trainee started. "You do?"

"Of course. I've been spending a lot of time with your mother. You haven't."

Dewpaw cocked his head. "Is that a problem?"

Killian twitched his whiskers in amusement. "I don't know, is it?"

The trainee kept quiet for a moment. "I've been busy with training lately."

"Ah," the tabby replied slowly, a strange glimmer in his eye. "Want to be ready for the big moment, don't we?"

Dewpaw knew he could continue this conversation, let Killian know he'd overheard him and hopefully get some answers about DarkClan. It would go one of two ways: he would get the answers he sought or the tabby would pounce, unwilling to give up his secrets. But, somehow, words failed him.

"Yeah, we do." His voice sounded faint in his own ears. "Anyway, I should get back to hunting. Wouldn't want to disappoint Sprucetail." Dewpaw bowed out of the clearing, walking backwards towards the nearest bushes.

"No, we really wouldn't want to disappoint Sprucetail." Killian sat and watched him the whole while, that curious gleam still in his eyes.

//

"Really use your forepaws! Don't let yourself slide back!"

Oats' calls reached Dewpaw from below but, try as the grey tom might, he still found himself on the ground heartbeats later. The birch before him was scored with clawmarks and his shoulders screamed from the effort of holding himself up.

"I don't think I can do much more today," Dewpaw breathed out, taking a look at one of his paws. If he wasn't careful, he might wrench a claw.

"One more time!" Oats pleaded. "Last one, I promise."

Dewpaw wanted to claw the cream tom's ears off – did he not understand how hard it was to climb a tree with only three working legs instead of four? – but the younger cat's excitement was infectious. Rolling his shoulders back, the grey trainee prepared to climb the tree.

He had not even climbed a foxlength up the tree when he was once again on the ground.

"Oh well, next time," Oats said with the same excitement. "We should head back anyway, I'm getting hungry and the trainee's get first pick of freshkill tonight!"

Dewpaw's own stomach growled at the thought.

However, the closer they came to the camp the more his appetite waned until, at the camp entrance, he found he was not hungry at all. A heavy gloom hung over the camp, centred around a singular body in the centre of the camp.

"Fiero," Oats said out loud, stopping short. Dewpaw had not had much to do with the alley cat provider, but the sight of his ginger body lying completely still made his heart sink. Next to the dead cat sat a nearly identical one. Leo, his littermate. Webpaw sat beside him, attempting to support him.

"He died around sunhigh." Crowpaw's voice was low but, strangely, untinged with grief. To Dewpaw, it sounded almost too matter-of-fact.

"Fiero," Oats said again, clearly shocked. It was not even dusk yet.

"There will be a vigil tonight," Crowpaw continued, wrapping his tail around the younger tom. "So we can say our goodbyes."

Dewpaw twitched his whiskers sadly. "I hope the greencough doesn't take anyone else."

Crowpaw looked troubled as he replied, "I hope so too. But there isn't enough catmint to go around, especially if more of us get sick."

"Maybe we should clear the camp for now," Dewpaw said to the black tom. "Let those closer to him mourn first." Crowpaw nodded, pushing Oats towards the already gathering alley cats. The cream tom went without protest.

As the two trainees moved away from the vigil, Dewpaw stole glances at Crowpaw out of the corner of his eye. The tom looked exhausted by training and the fighting he continued to be unsuccessful at. The look of worry on Crowpaw's face and the matter-of-factness he possessed in the face of death confused Dewpaw too. And there was the tom's knowledge of herbs to contend with; after all, it could have been Dewpaw lying there had Crowpaw not given him the catmint in secret.

All of a sudden it hit him.

"Crowpaw, why aren't you a medic?"

The black tom stopped in his tracks.

"Think about it," Dewpaw said quickly before Crowpaw could protest. "Your fighting skills are still weak after moons of practice, yet you were able to heal me within a quarter moon."

The light in Crowpaw's golden eyes shifted back and forth, as if warring with itself. He looked uncertain but as if he already knew the answer at the same time.

He took a deep breath. "I had a dream from StarClan. Finchwatcher, a medicine cat of the Old Life told me that that was my destiny."

Dewpaw felt his eyes widen of their own accord. "Have you told anyone?"

Crowpaw shifted uncomfortably. "No. Just you."

"Why not?!" His voice, unintentionally loud, caught the attention of a couple cats nearby.

The black trainee scowled at him. "Because we don't need medics right now. We already have two. What we need are warriors to fight DarkClan."

"Yes, but what's the point of fighting if you're not good at it?" Dewpaw said, only realizing how harsh he sounded when the words were out of his mouth. Crowpaw seemed resigned, however, as if he already knew it was the truth.

"You're right," the tom said, and Dewpaw felt a surge of pride. "But I'm not doing this alone." He gave the younger tom a pointed look.

"You want me to come with you?"

"While I'm sure Mothpelt and Lily will be delighted to have an apprentice, I'm kind of wary of Nightchaser," Crowpaw admitted. Dewpaw shivered. He too was wary of the tom.

"Tomorrow," Crowpaw said decisively. "Once the vigil is over." Dewpaw nodded in agreement. Already, his friend looked happier, a slight bounce in his step as they returned to the grieving camp. Leo continued to sit next to his deceased littermate, other alley cats surrounding him. Bronco and Roxanne sat across from him, while Soren and Hazel sat on either side of the ginger tom, pressed close for comfort.

Dewpaw padded over, unsure of whether he was welcome to participate. He had not known the tom very well and they had spoken in passing only a couple of times. The trainee pressed his nose to Fiero's cold pelt and closed his eyes, hoping that, wherever he was now, there was no threat of DarkClan looming over him.

No sooner had he walked away from the vigil when a tabby she-cat appeared before him.

"Robin," Dewpaw greeted. He hadn't really spoken to her since their training session, when Jaystrike first blew up at Crowpaw.

"Dewpaw," she acknowledged. Her tone was slightly clipped and Dewpaw cocked his head.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Robin narrowed her eyes. "Why are you so uncaring right now?"

The tom took a step back, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Someone just died of greencough. It's a real danger. And you're parading around like it's no big deal."

"What are you talking about? I just paid my respects to Fiero and was heading over to grab some freshkill."

Robin sniffed, lowering her voice to a low hiss. "That dead body in the centre of camp could be anyone! It could be Cinderblossom. What would you do then? You haven't even spoken to her. Not since she got sick, not for a long while before. Why?"

"That's none of your business," Dewpaw hissed back, resentment boiling in his stomach as he remembered Cinderblossom's words. The idea of saying out loud that she didn't want him made him see red.

"Well, whatever it is, you should just be thankful that you still have your mother," Robin snarled.

Before she could say anything more, Dewpaw cut her off. "I've had enough of confrontations today." Without even glancing back, he went straight for his nest, ignoring the freshkill pile.

//

He regretted not eating the next morning as he struggled to keep his stomach from growling. He felt very small, even beside Crowpaw who, though older than him, was only slightly larger. The two of them stood before Mothpelt, Lily, Bronco, and Nightchaser. Just behind them sat Beaver and Jaystrike, the latter looking rather agitated.

"No," Jaystrike said immediately after Crowpaw's proposal. "You're throwing away your training."

Nightchaser seemed to agree. "You're over a full season cycle old. By the time you're a full medic it'll be another season cycle at least."

"I already know some things," Crowpaw pointed out, his voice quieter than usual as so many pairs of eyes regarded him. Dewpaw felt like he wanted to sink into the ground beside him.

"There is still much to learn," Mothpelt chimed in. "But I suppose it's doable, if you're willing to learn."

"We need warriors, not medics!" Jaystrike snarled. Mothpelt growled back, clearly offended.

"I had a dream from StarClan," Crowpaw added quietly.

"Who?" Nightchaser's question silenced everyone.

"She called herself Finchwatcher of MoorClan," the trainee replied. He was shaking under their stares now. "She told me I needed to choose to be a medic. And that's what I would like to choose."

Nightchaser's expression had changed significantly. Still, portions of their makeshift jury seemed unconvinced.

Softly, Dewpaw said, "I was supposed to be a medic."

"You have a physical deformity," Jaystrike said rather unkindly, eliciting another snarl from Mothpelt. "Crowpaw doesn't have that to lean on."

Undeterred, Dewpaw continued. "If that was fine then why shouldn't it be fine for Crowpaw? We're just switching places. If I hadn't chosen to become a trainee there would be one less trainee anyways. Who really cares which one of us it is? And, besides, wouldn't a medic be more important in battle? Who is going to take care of all of our injured warriors once this is all over?"

He was met with silence. Watching the faces of their jurors, however, he found his words had struck a chord.

"I accept you as a medic's apprentice," Mothpelt said finally. "And don't you dare say anything about Crowpaw's decision," she hissed at Jaystrike. The grey tom narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth closed.

Everyone cleared out of their leafy meeting place quickly, Mothpelt and Lily congratulating Crowpaw on his new position as they padded by. As Dewpaw turned to leave only Nightchaser remained, still sitting in his original position. He looked removed, as if in a completely different place.

"Wouldn't a medic be more important in battle," the black tom mused. His eyes suddenly snapped to Dewpaw's, almost feverish in their depths. "Injure warriors and it will all be over."

Dewpaw left quickly, his fur not quite flat.