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Inside the confinement of her den, Jaywing had been sorting out old, dried herbs from their piles. She wasn't exactly sure where Cedarpaw had scampered off to, but she didn't mind. He needed his freedom. Unfortunately she had spent the night out of camp, all night. It had been a lovely night with Lynxstar and she was glad she took the chance to speak with him alone, but as a consequence she lacked the sleep she needed. So as the time ticked on, her head had drooped forward. Jaywing thought she'd snapped herself awake, but apparently, she hadn't.

The light breeze of the outside world had found it's way into her den. It picked up some of her mint leaves and shoved them right into her sleeping face. Startled, a yelp escaped her jaws and she sprung up, her fur on end. One of the leaves had made it's way into her mouth and as soon as she worked out what was going on, she spit the herb out of her jaws. Her heart was drumming it's cadence in her ears and she found it hard to calm down. Sucking in deep breaths, the medicine cat looked around at her piles of supplies. The berries were fine but the wind had mixed up some of her leaves. A groan left her and she decided to just go get something to eat and calm down. Her claws flexed into the ground before she stalked out of her den.

Outside, the sun was high in the sky, boring down on the land below. There wasn't much snow left on the ground except for a few piles. The breeze was there but it wasn't bitter and harsh, and she found herself enjoying it despite the trouble it had caused her today. Jaywing let out a purr to herself before canting her head toward the fresh-kill pile. She wasn't overly hungry, but she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning. Opening her jaws, she scooped up a small rodent. She glanced around for a place to settle and decided to just go sit a few foxlengths from her den, as if she could guard it from the wind that could possibly turn it into more of a mess.

As she indulged in her meal, she dipped into her thoughts as well. She let her frustrated thoughts of her den ebb away. Both Brightpaw and Tanglepaw had been on her mind since last night. She couldn't shake them, not today. Maybe in time they will lose their intensity but today didn't seem like the day. She could hear their happy voices echo in her ears, and in turn, she felt happy as well. She felt as if they were snuggled up against her, and she let herself give a fleeting smile.

That is, until she turned her head enough to spot the mint leaves that still clung to her pelt. She growled and got to her paws before turning in a circle, trying to grasp a clingy leaf in her mouth. Oh, she was going to have to give her stock a lesson after this mess. She might rip her fur off if this ever happened, ever again.

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Lynxstar was exhausted, mentally and physically. That moon’s Gathering had drained him of life, and in some senses, of hope. Froststar had sucked away his joy, his love, left him with the throbbing emptiness of her loss. It was the worst kind of torture, being so close to her, hearing her even voice caress him. And yet he couldn’t glance, wouldn’t dare give her so much as a speck of his attention. It would be too obvious, too risky, played so obviously before the gathered clans. Each moon, he expected to see her kittens, parading proudly through the clearing. Her and Ospreyfoot’s kittens. The realization but a sour taste in his mouth. The night he had returned to camp, after first hearing of the kits, he’d thrown up. He’d lost every morsel that clung to his stomach. The idea of another tom with Froststar, loving her the way Lynxstar so desperately loved her. It had made him violently ill. And every time he remembered, the nausea came back with a vengeance. He pushed those thoughts away. Exhaustion was heavy on his paws, making his bones ache with every step. He felt every one of his near seventy moons. He approached Jaywing’s den slowly.

There was an obvious droop to his shoulders. He’d asked Fogstrike to take care of clan matters for the day. He begged ill. And of course the deputy had insisted he go and see Jaywing. Warriors always became frantic at the thought of illness plaguing their leaders. And Fogstrike was still young, still given to bouts of insecurity and self-doubt. To him, sickness meant death. And Lynxstar’s death meant his own resurrection as leader, a position he was not yet ready to take. No cat, but Jaywing, knew precisely how many lives Lynxstar had left. Though he knew it would be a long time yet before Starclan claimed him. Yet he had dutifully obeyed, happy to get the chance to rest, and perhaps seek solace in the only cat that gave him such restorative comfort. He ducked his head into her den, just in time to see her furiously chasing her own tail, snatching bits of herbs stuck to her pelt. A tired wan smile stretched on his lips as he chuckled hoarsely. “Would you like some assistance my dear?” He blinked, taking a seat. The Medicine Cat den seemed to shrink with his massive body filling the empty space.

His eyes seemed sunken. He had lost a slight amount of weight, his anxiety often ruling his desire to eat. In a way, he truly was ill. A great weight had been placed on his shoulders, and he’d begun to wonder if his time was passing. Perhaps Starclan had never meant him to rule so long. Perhaps he was simply a placeholder, a temporary solution while the new leader grew to his full power, was able to rise and claim his rightful place. Lynxstar quickly pushed such thoughts away, looking instead to Jaywing. It was likely she was as exhausted as he, the poor young soul.

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The medicine cat allowed herself to grin when she caught one of the mint leaves that had stuck to her pelt. There were still more of the clingy herb in her pelt, but she would get those later. Jaywing turned to her still-messy piles and laid it there. When Cedarpaw came back, she'd have to ask him to help her with the sorting. It was a pain when there was only one set of paws to do it. She wondered how she ever managed to do it on her own, after Brackenheart had passed. Her eyes were distracted from the herbs when a looming form shadowed her den. A large smile graced the she-cats lips as she realized who this figure was. It was not hard to determine, after all. He was the fluffiest cat she knew.

“Would you like some assistance my dear?”

His voice is usually one thing that calms her frayed nerves, but the sight of him made the light in her eyes dull. Jaywing's stomach clenched, and she let out a little sigh. "Yes, I could--I could use some," she flicked her ears back, but didn't make a move toward him. Her calculating blue gaze was fixed on his form. It was clear he was exhausted beyond what he should be, and his muscular form had lost a bit of it's volume. Not by a lot, but enough that she could tell. Jaywing had to fight down the urge to shake the tom by his tail and yell at him. "Lynxstar," she began, but couldn't quite finish. She remembered Fogstrike had told her he had gotten sick, and she had been meaning to give him some watermint for his belly. With stiff limbs, she turned to sift through her piles to search for the leaves.

Once she had them grasped in her jaws, she set them down in front of him. Her gaze rarely took on a cold air, but she fixed him with one. It was her duty to assure the health of the Clan, and she would not stand for any cat to treat themselves like this. Especially not one she looked up to so much. Worry crawled up her legs from her toes and she feared it would be close to strangling her heart. Her eyes closed for a brief moment before fixing her leader with a hard stare once again. "I understand that you have many burdens. I understand that your heart is hurting, I understand. But I will not stand to see you skipping meals and getting sick from anxiety because of it," she barely contained a hiss. "You will take care of yourself, and I will shove a rabbit down your throat myself if I have to." Her harsh mask was slipping, and she felt her gaze flick away from him every now and then. "If you get yourself sick from all of this, and--and perhaps lose a life from this--this thing, this worry, that's taking up your world. . ." she tightened her tail against her paws, before standing up and pacing her den. The fur on the back of her neck would not stay down, no matter how hard she tried.

She was not angry at him. She was worried. Jaywing stopped her frantic movements when she realized he hasn't said anything yet. She avoided his gaze, but turned her head toward him.

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Lynxstar chuckled his deep bass chuckle. He appeared to have arrived just at Jaywing’s triumph as she eagerly snagged a stray leaf that had attached itself to her fur. He found himself watching her, affection in his eyes. She’d grown into a beautiful young creature. In quiet subtle ways, he found himself regretting her decision to pursue the life of a Medicine Cat. Many others her age had found love, some had kittens of their own. And he couldn’t help but believe that Jaywing would have been a mother unlike any other. And he couldn’t lie, he would have loved some kittens to run about under-paw. A child of Jaywing was as good as his own grandchild. After all, he would never have true genetic grandchildren, as his only child had passed while still an apprentice and he was far too old to take another mate – not after Froststar. Jaywing was his only remaining family, the sole cat he had left to lavish all his love and affection on. Of course, as many leaders often said, the clan was his family. But there was something special, something different about true family. And whether it made him corrupt, less pure than another leader, he definitely had his biases.

He approached when she didn’t move. He bent his head, gently picking the leaves out of her fur. He could feel the tension in her bones. There was a look on her face, a look he knew all too well. It was the stern no-nonsense expression she wore when she was about to lecture the leader. Other cats listened to her without question. But for some reason she always seemed to doubt that Lynxstar would obey her wisdom. He knew she only did what was best for him. He laid a stray leave to the side, raising his head. He smiled a wan smile at her, his eyes crinkling like they used to. He chuckled quietly. “Go on Jaywing, I know when a good talking to is coming my way.” She had turned away, sifting through her endless stores of herbs – most of which he couldn’t name. She returned with a bundle in her jaws which she set insistently before him. There was something cold in her eyes, but it was the coldness of necessity. He obediently fell silent, meeting her gaze evenly. Whatever it was she so desperately needed to say, he would listen.

A deep throb of guilt beat up in his chest. He hated to see Jaywing perturbed so. He rose, making a hushing sound in the back of his throat. He flicked his tail onto her shoulder, stilling her movements. He smiled reassuringly. “My dear, you are certainly right. And I will not force you to carry added burdens of my health.” He craned his neck over his shoulder, spotting Meadowlark. He called out to the young skittish she-cat, “Meadowlark, would you bring us a rabbit?” Meadowlark obeyed without question. She too had noticed Lynxstar’s weight loss. And while it was abnormal to be served in such a manner, she recognized the necessity. Lynxstar turned back to Meadowlark, a rabbit now at his feet between them. “My only request is that you join me. Give an old tom some comfort in his age.” He laid down, tucking his paws underneath him. He forced himself to lower his head, tear a hunk of meat from the animal and swallow. It tasted ashy on his lips, but he recognized the necessity.

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She felt guilt rush through her veins when he stopped her frantic talk. She hadn't meant to go off on him like that, she merely wanted to warm him about his health choices. And perhaps they weren't even his own choices. Perhaps they just happened. But whatever the cause, he needed to eat and needed to let loose a bit. Go watch the apprentices train in the long grasses of his beloved moors or, heck, even play a childish game with her. Something to lift his spirits, for stress and pressure were some of the worst, silent killers. She froze, physically and mentally, when her father figure placed his tail gently on her shoulder.

She watched numbly as he called for a rabbit from Meadowlark. The warrior was a curious cat, but Jaywing had always liked her because she looked much like herself. Sometimes she mistook her for Brightpaw, when she was a bit lost in her mind. The medicine cat blinked back to the present as the she-cat set the rabbit hesitantly in front of her leader. She left in one swift motion. Jaywing let her leaden limbs get the best of her and plopped to the ground beside him. Perhaps she was contradicting herself, but she wasn't very hungry. But when he asked her to join him she could not refuse for the life of her. She never wanted to disappoint him. Her nose nudged it gently before she sighed quietly. "Your health is not a burden, Lynxstar," she spoke in a hushed voice. "I am honored to care for you just as I am the rest of the Clan. I just fear that all this worry will be the death of you, and I don't want that to happen."

Jaywing took one swift bite of the rabbit and swallowed it. She hadn't realized how hungry she actually was, which was a motif, she realized, that came with being medicine cats. She ripped off another piece when she was content with the feeling of her stomach, she leaned her head to rest on her shoulder. It wasn't as taut as it usually was but she didn't mind. She could feel her eyelids drooping and soon her gaze was hooded. "Just, take care of yourself. I don't want you to slip away as many others have."

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He was not the least offended by the young she-cat. She had every right to go off, to feel anxious. How many times had it been illness, not wounds of battle, that had taken a leader’s life? In his near seventy moons, he had seen a number of leaders fall. And doubtless Jaywing remembered Fallowstar, the she-cat who had led Windclan before Lynxstar. The old she-cat’s death had grieved Lynxstar deeply. And in the end, it had been illness that had taken her too. Her fragile body just hadn’t held out. Granted she’d been a good twenty moons older than he was now, at least. If it hadn’t been illness, likely simple old age would have taken her. But nevertheless, Jaywing’s anxiety was well founded, logical. And he would have been imbecilic not to pay heed.

He smiled warmly at her, his eyes crinkling. He chuckled at her, dipping his head to tear into the hare. He swallowed the meat. It was tasteless to him, and his stomach gurgled in protest, but he knew it was a necessary discomfort. “My dear, you know as well as I that I will die many times.” He paused. Even in the privacy of the Medicine Cat den, he would not mention how many times he had died thus far. The need to guard his lives had been instilled in him, almost like an instinct. He cleared his throat. “But when the time comes, I promise you I will not let such a silly thing as stress take me away.” And he meant it, truly. When the time came for his lives to pass, he would ensure no blood was left on the paws of the only family he had remaining.

He looked up to her. He could see exhaustion in the way she held herself, the drooping of her eyelids. His instinct was the curl around her, to guard her in sleep so that nothing would ever touch her. Such a thing was impossible, of course. A quiet purr rumbled in his throat. He licked her ear affectionately. “I’ll always be here, that I promise.” He had no intention of slipping away from her. And even when the time came that his mortal body perished, he would visit her still. It was unspoken, a singular blessing of her connection with Starclan. He would truly never abandon her.

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She always marveled at how simply being around the large tom seemed to make most of her anxieties dull or even fade away. She says most because her job requires her to. Jaywing will never truly be totally relaxed. There was always a queen to check on, an elder to fret about, a warrior that needed patched up. Or in this case, a lonely leader. She hoped he never felt too alone, though, for he would always have her. The medicine cat hoped he knew that. For he had lost his beloved son, and his heart wants something that is just out of reach. He might not have any blood relation in the Clan, but she would always treat him as a father.

Indeed, she does know that the gift StarClan had given him moons ago allowed him to lose a few lives. That didn't mean she had not to worry when he lost one. The mere thought sent a raging shiver down her spine. She was glad to hear that stress, of all things, would not be an object that stole one of his lives. She watched the rabbit as he spoke, flicking her ears toward him every time his baritone voice reached them.

“I’ll always be here, that I promise.”

She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face when he gave her ear a quick rasp of his tongue. Jaywing gave a light purr in response. "I know. I know you won't leave me." The petite gray she-cat allowed herself a moment to close her eyes. Perhaps if she just--

A thought caused her to pick her head back up, and she angled her face toward Lynxstar. "The half-moon gathering is coming up soon," her eyes flashed with worry. "I don't know what to expect, Lynxstar. I am actually a little worried," she confessed, letting her blue gaze wander. StarClan was a mystery to her now, no matter how close she had felt to them in the past. Jaywing felt utterly alone in the spiritual world.

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Lynxstar rested his head gently on his paws, grooming in between his toes. Their shared meal had left a slight residue. He licked his lips clean, wiping all traces of the small meal away. He felt young again, nearly a child. He used to gorge himself, curl up happily at his parent’s side. He’d be lulled to sleep by his full belly, by the warmth and security provided by his parents and siblings. They were fond memories. But his parents had long since passed away. Old age had claimed them shortly before his became leader. They’d passed, in fact, under Jaywing’s reign as Medicine Cat. But he’d never blamed her, never wished she had done anything differently. His parents had been elderly, had been losing concept of time and place .And eventually they had succumbed. Lynxstar had mourned, but mourned with the knowledge that time was not a fickle mistress.

His eyes settled closed, though he popped one open at Jaywing’s words. He chuckled in response to her words, the light purr. He wanted nothing more than to see her at ease. Then again, Jaywing had never been the type to take the easy pathway. If she had, she would have become a warrior, perhaps would have settled down with Tanglepaw. Perhaps she would have had a litter of kittens by now. But it had never been her fate, her purpose. Just as fatherhood had never truly been his own future. He let his eyes fall closed again. Perhaps he would sleep again now, would finally find rest and oblivion in the blackness of unconsciousness.

But Jaywing’s words roused him. He didn’t open his eyes, but he listened carefully. He could feel her tension. It rolled from her bones. He breathed in deep, letting the breath whistle through his nose. They had both been perturbed, physically shaken, at Robinstar’s announcement at the Gathering. “Starclan will speak, they have a way of making themselves known when most necessary.” He lifted his head, blinking, “They spoke to us not a week past.”

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