The Runagate was correct about sleep; little Greykit was afraid to shut his eyes because it would come. Every night – or at least almost every night – he’d wake up in a panic, unable to comprehend, unable to explain to his mother or brother. He never wanted to talk about it, anyway. He didn’t even want to talk about it now.

It haunted him, sometimes, when he was awake. He couldn’t do anything correctly the first time. He was always scared. His ribs strained against his skin underneath the fluff of his pelt because even looking at the prey with a white star on its head made him want to vomit. He shivered when tales were told of ghosts and ancestors. Nettlecloud and Mistpaw were supportive and gentle, but they didn’t understand. No one did. No one could.

To occupy his mind and block the fear in a corner where it couldn’t reach his eyes, he dove into his training when he became an apprentice. He wasn’t good at hunting or fighting, but he stayed focused and practiced all he could, to the point of avoiding sleep for more than just the nightmares. It wasn’t until Nettlecloud got sick and a healer named Finchberry dropped by that he found something that genuinely excited him.

In no time, he became a healer’s apprentice, and he knew that it wasn’t a glamorous position. That was fine. The less attention, the better. Besides, he could keep cats alive longer with his skills.  

He didn’t know precisely what he was seeing, all this time, but something terrified him about death, far more than any other cat.

Except one.

There was a night, halfway through Greypaw’s apprenticeship, where he finally could not keep his eyes open any longer and fell into an uneasy slumber. He saw it again, and prepared to run, like he always did. But some instinct stopped him, froze him in his tracks. Without knowing why, he looked to his left.

Something thin and dark hid in one of the few places with shadows. It looked like a cat, even if it was a bit too long and nearly see-through.

Greypaw opened his mouth, grateful to have someone to talk to at last, but the dark thing lifted a paw and held it, unseen pads out. Hush. Say nothing.

Greypaw looked around nervously. It wasn’t paying attention to him.

He slowly turned and moved for the shadows, his paws landing on semi-firm ground. His fur prickled with fear, as it always did. But this was much better than it.

You’re a hard one to reach, they whispered, when he had gotten close enough. You who sees through the veil. Seems barely anything can get to you.

“Who are you?” Greypaw whispered back. “Can- can you rescue me? Can you stop this? I see this so often, I just…”

I hold hardly any power here, Greypaw. The silhouette’s vaguely-there eyes shut. It’s a miracle I’m talking to you to begin with. Now hark. I have something to show you.

They turned and started off at a trot, tail beckoning. Greypaw spared another glance backwards – he was still safe – and followed. The shadows swallowed them, a temporary sanctuary. Greypaw sagged with relief at the sensation of cool air and soft ground under his paws.

“Where are we?” Greypaw kept his voice low, in case it could hear still. “Do you know what I’m seeing?”

You see StarClan as it truly is, they said. You see a hungry thing pretending to be your afterlife.

Greypaw stopped. “Then…then it’s eating what I thought it was eating?”

A single nod.

Greypaw knew that he shouldn’t believe a figment of his imagination proclaiming something as bold, as sacrilegious as this, but he knew it was the truth. Thousands of things he had seen throughout his life became clear as the blue sky – the wailing starry cats, the prey dangling lifelessly in front of him, the lighted forms cracking in pieces and being shoved into those bodies, everything. He understood with perfect clarity.

“Aspects help us,” he said, shaking.

They cannot help us as things are. Their words were flippant, but their voice was sympathetic. It falls on us to do something. To spread the word. To save the Clan.

Greypaw still trembled, but he looked up. “You and I?”

You and I, they said, and stepped aside. And her.

Greypaw paused his walking. Ahead of them was the faintest outline of a stone forest…or perhaps just many piles of rocks. The stars were gone, but the moon fought its way through the fog and lit the stone structures just enough for Greypaw to make out another form.

A tall, red-brown molly stood in the center of the structures.

Their eyes met and widened. The molly started walking forward, stiff and alarmed.

This is all I can do, the silhouette said, as if in pain. For now, the rest is up to you. I’ve given you the link. Find-

A roar, a crash of boulders, a groan of trees, and Greypaw awoke.

His mentor, Finchberry, stood above him. She had a paw on his shoulder, like she had shaken him.

“You alright, lad?” she asked, gaunt face unusually concerned.

Greypaw wanted to curse her for waking him up, just as he wasn’t scared for his life for once. He instead blinked blearily at her. “I’m- I’m fine. Was I-?”

“You were twitching all over and mumbling,” Finchberry said. “I know you get the bad dreams, but I’ve never seen you like that. Looked like a seizure, almost.”

Greypaw’s eyes drifted to look at nothing. “Huh.”

He did not sleep again that night, as much as he wanted to. It surprised him, and amused him a little, that for once he looked forward to it.

He only saw that molly two times again – once more as an apprentice, and once after receiving his name and heading to work for the leaders. Both times started and ended the same: the stones, the meeting of eyes, the attempt to move forward, to speak, then being jerked back awake. Greyleaf hated it. He wanted to talk with this cat, whoever she was. He wanted to know someone else - someone physical and real - saw what he saw. He wanted whatever clarity he could get.

It took a while before he got it. That day, he was examining Cedarstar, who complained of a fever, cough, and shivers. Two other leaders sat nearby: Phoebestar of the Fleet and Fernstar of the Clast. They had wanted to stay nearby and observe their comrade in case it was something severe. Greyleaf half-listened to their conversation as they waited for him to be done.

“You don’t intend to replace Viceroyclaw, do you?” Phoebestar was saying. “With one as young as that?”

“Of course not.” Fernstar blinked slowly and dryly. “I just have enough confidence in her that if something happens, she’ll be ready to come here.”

“She’s only been deputy for a year, though-“ started Cedarstar, interrupted by a cough.

“Try not to speak,” Greyleaf said. “Let me see your throat, please.”

Cedarstar lifted her chin up. Greyleaf put his ear to her throat and listened for a wet sound.

“She’s an incredible molly, don’t get me wrong,” Phoebestar said. “But she’s barely out of the nursery. You already promoted her so early, and you haven’t heard from her about anyone that can replace her.”

“She still remains an option,” Fernstar said, in a clipped tone like she didn’t enjoy being questioned by her juniors. “You’ve met her, Cedarstar, haven’t you?”

“When we went down to that pile of stones you call a camp.” Cedarstar grinned.

Greyleaf paused. He quickly remembered himself and lifted his head, now sniffing along her body, ears perked.

“It serves its purpose as well as any other family settlement, and we protect all of you from stray bullies and rogues.” Fernstar made an exaggerated ‘so-there’ nod. “You could appreciate the houses, at least.”

“Just not quite a mountain forest,” Cedarstar replied, and coughed again. “Sorry, Greyleaf.”

It took Greyleaf a moment to realize he was being talked to. He cleared his throat. “You’re fine, ma’am.” He tried to sound natural as he added, “Who is this deputy you’re talking about?”

“She’s called Redheart,” Phoebestar said. “She serves the Clast. About your age, actually.”

Thank goodness that he was facing away from everyone, because his eyes were as round as the moon.

Red. Stones. His age.

But…no. Red- was for a regular ginger cat, not that roan color.

Still…

“Sounds familiar, actually,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Has she been here before? Some ginger tabby?”

“No,” Fernstar said. “You wouldn’t have met her. She’s red-brown and she never leaves the family for long, if she can help it.”

Hope flared in Greyleaf’s chest.

“She’s going to that Coterie, though, isn’t she?” Phoebestar asked, oblivious to Greyleaf’s fur fluffing out a little.

“It’s close by the camp.” Fernstar did not appear to notice either. “She’d be gone for half a day, maximum. That’s as much as she’ll tolerate.”

“Good for her to get out more. Help expand her horizons.”

Fernstar sighed. “StarClan knows she’ll need it in time.”

“Coterie?” Greyleaf winced at how loud his voice sounded in the hollow den. “Where?”

“Near where you lived, actually,” Phoebestar said. She had a knowing look in her eye and Greyleaf prayed under his breath was just something surface-level.

“Huh,” he said. “That’s- that sounds nice.”

Phoebestar seemed a little amused. “I can tell you want to go, Greyleaf.”

Greyleaf held his breath.

“You’d like to see your family, I assume,” Fernstar said.

He quietly let go of the breath. “I would, yes. It’s been a while.” He remembered Cedarstar and hastened, “But if you’re sick, I shouldn’t-“

“We’ve got herbs here,” Cedarstar said. “You can take a couple days off, if you’d like. What plants do I eat for this?”

Greyleaf straightened up, calmer in familiar territory. “Well, feverfew and lavender are my recommendations. Both are good to stop the chills and fever. The cough should subside with that for a bit.” He dreaded the answer, but he still went with the polite question. “If you’re sure you’ll be alright…”

“I will,” Cedarstar promised. “And I know what to take. I’ll be fine until you come back.”

Greyleaf managed to not sigh in relief. “Is Beetlefoot here, then? I’d like to let my family know I’ll be there.”

“He’ll be happy for something to do.” Fernstar smiled a bit. “I’ve heard him muttering under his breath about restlessness and ‘lazing about’.”

“I’ll find him for you,” said Phoebestar, and she got up and trotted off into the tunnels.

Greyleaf continued his work, asking questions and giving advice, his mind totally separate from his body.

Laurelclaw and Darkpelt had wanted to stay longer. The former’s desire to do so was unsurprising, given his friendly nature. Meanwhile, Darkpelt had practically flaunted Mistface with her gleeful refusal to specify a reason.

Mistface and Beetlefoot chatted with some of the countless cats attending the Gathering for a little while longer. However, Beetlefoot quickly exhausted his desire to socialize and Mistface was happy to stop when the shorter tom decided to. After that, the pair mostly hung around together at an agreed meeting spot until the other two returned. 

Finally, Darkpelt returned, and Laurelclaw did as well soon after.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the large tom apologized sheepishly when he saw that everyone else had already gathered at the meeting spot near the bramble patch.

Darkpelt stood up with an exaggerated stretch and yawn, tilting her head towards the general direction of his voice with a wide grin afterwards. “In the time we waited for you to arrive, Redheart already took her rowdy bunch off to not-even-Starclan-knows-where. The mission is a failure thanks to you, Laurelclaw. Think of those poor, innocent Clast kits and apprentices we could’ve saved if you’d just shown up sooner.”

To Mistface’s surprise, Laurelclaw actually chuckled a little at that. He half-expected the tom to double down on his apologies.

Beetlefoot, meanwhile, seemed entirely unamused by the joke. With a flick of his tail, he stated,“We should get going. Fernstar told us to head back to where Mistface lives.”

The molly, still maintaining that grin of hers, asked teasingly,”My my, aren’t we in a hurry?”

The messenger narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, we are,” the tom stated curtly. Quickly and decisively, he turned towards the direction that he and Mistface came from to reach the Gathering. “This way,” Beetlefoot added as he briskly began to head off.

This reaction only seemed to serve to amuse Darkpelt. As Beetlefoot trotted off, the rest of the group followed. Mistface wondered to himself whether the messenger had determined the correct direction to head in while waiting or if he was just that fast at picking it out.

As the group escaped the large crowd of the Gathering, Mistface thought rather unenthusiastically about the fact that he had to introduce more cats to Nettlecloud when he got back. At least he’d met Laurelclaw before today and the tom was nice enough, but Mistface dreaded the idea of Darkpelt trying to get under Nettlecloud’s skin as soon as she could.

Breaking the group’s silence, Mistface spoke up,”While we’re headin’ over there, I want to mention that I’d like y’all to be nice to my mother. Especially with her bein’ sick, I’d rather her not be overwhelmed by anyone.”

Laurelclaw nodded agreeably. “I’ll do my best!” 

Darkpelt, meanwhile, turned her gaze in Mistface’s direction and mentioned casually yet knowingly,”Oh, he didn’t mean you, Laurelclaw.”

Mistface said nothing. 

The molly continued, in a more serious tone,”Speaking of that, remember what Fernstar said before she left. It’s for the best if we don’t tell Nettlecloud about the mission.”

“Right,” Mistface responded. That was the other part he wasn’t looking forward to. He hated keeping secrets from his family, and now he had to with both Nettlecloud and Greyleaf. At least he didn’t feel as bad hiding things from Greyleaf now when his brother keeping secrets of his own. But that wasn’t so much the case with Nettlecloud.

After a brief pause in the discussion, Laurelclaw spoke up tentatively,”Is it just your mother that you live with, Mistface?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been livin’ with her. Greyleaf too, before he became a healer for the leaders.” Mistface glanced over to the larger tom as he walked. “Given you’re from Plage, you’re probably not so used to smaller groups, right?”

“Yeah,” Laurelclaw confirmed with a nod. “I knew that Scattered cats tended to live with less cats than in the major groups, but it’s easy to forget just how few.” He paused for a moment, and then something seemed to occur to him. “Oh! What groups are you from, Darkpelt and Beetlefoot? I know you’re probably both more focused on your respective jobs now, but I’m kind of curious.”

“Brae,” came Beetlefoot’s short and unenthusiastic response. Mistface could tell that Darkpelt would take note of the messenger’s apparent dislike of his own group, and it was only a matter of when she decided to bring it up.

However, the lanky molly didn’t comment on it yet. “I’m from Versant, myself.”

Mistface recalled that those two groups in particular had the most tension between them. Both of them claimed ties to Slopeclan from when there were multiple clans, though Brae members denounced Versant’s lack of adherence to tradition. He half-wondered if Darkpelt had only said she was from Versant to try and get on Beetlefoot’s nerves, or at least test if it would.

Beetlefoot, however, did not seem to care about her being from Versant, based on his lack of a reaction.

Eventually, the group reached Mistface’s home. At the sight of her son and the rest of the group, Nettlecloud seemed to perk up. Slowly, the older molly stood up and walked over, dipping her head in greeting.

Mistface greeted his mother,”Mama, I’m back from the Gathering. I brought a couple of friends with me.”

With a smile, Nettlecloud responded,”I’m glad that you’ve been makin’ a few friends, love! It’s been so long since the last time you’ve done that before Beetlefoot.”

Beetlefoot didn’t appear entirely sure about the statement that he and Mistface were friends, but didn’t protest it, either.

If he didn’t have more self control, Mistface’s ears would probably have been pressed back against his skull in embarrassment right about then. 

With a wide grin Darkpelt mentioned all too cheerfully,”Glad we could help get your son out of his shell.”

With more genuine friendliness, Laurelclaw spoke up,”It’s nice to meet you, Nettlecloud. I’m Laurelclaw, and this is Darkpelt.” He indicated the molly with his tail as he introduced her. “I met Mistface during the coterie gathering, and it was nice to see him again!” 

“I’m happy you two could stop by,” Nettlecloud replied. 

“Oh, that brings me to something important, Mama,” Mistface began to explain. “You see, the reason they’re here is more than just a visit.” He soon began to wish he’d thought more on what exactly to tell her, but did his best to improvise. “They’d both been meanin’ to head over to Clast, and I learned at the Gathering that Greyleaf is over in that area.”

Nettlecloud thoughtfully tilted her head a little. With some concern in her tone, she asked,“Did you learn why he’s gone over there, dear? It’s not the safest of places.”

Mistface shifted into a sitting position, mostly to give himself a moment to figure out a reply without letting the pause seem unnatural. “I’m not sure,” he answered. “Phoebestar only knew what happened, not why. The reason she called us over to the Gathering was to let us know what was goin’ on and request we check in on him. Make sure there’s nothing he’s too nervous to tell the leaders or anything.”

He felt relieved when Nettlecloud seemed to believe him. “I’d certainly want to make sure he’s alright. Though, I’m afraid I may not be up to it, physically speaking.”

Mistface responded,”I was worried about that as well, Mama.” That much was true, at least. “Luckily, it sounds like the Vultures are stayin’ in an area between here and Clast. If you think you’re up for travellin’ there, I could go all the way and check in on Greyleaf, and if he’s stayin’ around Clast, you’d be close by.”

Laurelclaw offered,”And I could help you out with getting there, if you’d like.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nettlecloud said to Laurelclaw with a grateful smile. Turning back to Mistface, she added,”I think I’d be up for that.”

“We can set out tomorrow,” Darkpelt stated. “Starting to go somewhere else after a full day at the Gathering would be unwise.”

Nettlecloud nodded, and then a thought seemed to occur to her. “Mistface, would you be up to hunt a bite to eat for our guests to have?”

“Of course, Mama.” The blue-gray tom was grateful for a reason to get a moment to himself. With a dip of his head, he headed off to hunt.

As Mistface trotted through the grass, paying careful attention to the scents and sounds around him, he wondered what exactly Greyleaf was hiding from him. Well, not just him. From everyone, it seemed. Beetlefoot, Nettlecloud, and even the leaders weren’t sure about what was going on, either. It was troubling. Greyleaf was normally much more open with his family, at least. 

After a meal with Nettlecloud that he had hunted down, Mistface padded over to a spot facing the direction that Beetlefoot always arrived from. Sitting down, the blue-grey tom silently watched the horizon, as if doing so would make the messenger more likely to appear. Similar to the past couple days, though, there was no luck. Eventually, Mistface’s tail swished in frustration as he thought about how long it had been since he last saw Beetlefoot.

Nettlecloud, seeing this, broke the silence. “I know waitin’ is hard, but there’s not much we can do, love.”

Mistface stood up once again, turning around and walking over to talk to his mother. “I know, Mama. It’s just been longer than it should be, the sittin’ around for a response. It was Eld when Beetlefoot last came around with Greyleaf, and it passed by last week with nothin’ and now it’s Eld again. Two weeks exactly.”

“Hoped Eld would live up to its purpose of resolvin’ things?” Nettlecloud asked with a hint of an amused smile. She paused to gaze in the same direction as Mistface had been a moment ago. The amusement faded as she added,”I get bein’ worried about the silence. Hopefully things are alright.”

Mistface regarded her for a moment wordlessly. Things weren’t alright, because she was dying. That thought was at the tip of his tongue, even though he knew she wasn’t talking about herself. It has crossed his mind countless times ever since Shinerpelt’s diagnosis, and gotten louder, almost deafening, when Greyleaf confirmed it to be true. 

And yet his mother was acting like it was fine throughout all of this. Was she just putting on a brave face and taking it to her grave, or did she really think it was okay? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps being unable to tell was what hurt the most.

“...Hopefully,” Mistface finally stated. “It’s hard to guess why we’ve been hearin’ nothing.”

Nettlecloud nodded. Then, the two fell into silence once more. The rest of Eld went by uneventfully.

Five more days passed with nothing.

Then, on Rume, Mistface saw a dot on the horizon as he and Nettlecloud looked out into the distance once again.

Soon, Beetlefoot arrived, pausing to catch his breath. It seemed that he had went into a full-on sprint for the last leg of his journey.

Mistface kept a neutral expression as he waited for Beetlefoot to say something. As much as the long silence had bothered him, he knew the tom well enough by now to doubt he was at fault for the delay. Nettlecloud waited with mild concern on her face, seeming worried about his breathless state.

As soon as he caught his breath, Beetlefoot spoke up, looking uneasy as he did so. “I do not have a message from Greyleaf. Something’s been up with him lately.”

Up with him? At first, Mistface was taken by surprise with this statement. However, he then recalled how something had seemed off about Greyleaf’s behavior during his most recent visit. 

Of course, he was still perplexed by the fact that his brother hadn’t even sent Nettlecloud a message. Slowly, he replied,”What’s been goin’ on?”

“I don’t know everything about the situation,” Beetlefoot began,”But I had been waiting on standby to be sent back here with a message for some time. I found out that Greyleaf started sending messages with Grousewind, another member of the Fleet instead.” He paused and gave Mistface a questioning look. “Have you received any messages?”

Mistface can feel increasing bafflement threatening to reach his expression. “No, it’s been silence ever since he came by with you.”

The messenger flicked his ear in acknowledgement, and then continued. “I asked Phoebestar if there had been a reassignment, but she was also confused by this. And a few days after that, she sent me here to give you a message.”

Nettlecloud gently prompted, “What’s the message?” There was mild confusion and worry evident on her face.

Beetlefoot relayed,”I would like to personally invite Mistface and Nettlecloud to the Gathering on Sel.” 

“Nothin’ else?” Mistface tilted his head curiously. 

The smaller tom shook his head.

“Thank you for relayin’ her message to us, dear,” Nettlecloud said to Beetlefoot with a nod. 

Mistface adjusted his position in the grass as he thought on the message. “So there’s no reason given by Phoebestar, then. I’m guessin’ it’s probably related to what’s going on with Greyleaf, but I don’t know how.”

“Probably.” Beetlefoot echoed that word with some uncertainty. “I was also invited by her to go.”

“Given the Gathering can be attended by anyone, it’s more of a request we show up than an invitation,” Mistface stated.

Nettlecloud looked over to Beetlefoot. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to attend with with my illness.” She then turned her attention back to Mistface and added,”You should probably be headin’ there on Sel, though.”

Mistface hummed in agreement. “I suppose I should. Especially if this really has got to do with Greyleaf.” He paused, taking more time to consider something, before adding,”I still have no idea how he could be involved in somethin’ so serious.”

Beetlefoot shuffled his paws before replying,”He does seem too anxious to want to cause any trouble.”

”He might not be gettin’ in any trouble,” Nettlecloud offered. “It may be another sort of involvement.”

“Maybe. Though the possibility can’t be denied, with how he’s been sending another messenger for something, and leaving the both of you without a message,” Beetlefoot stated matter-of-factly.

Mistface opened his jaws to say something, but Nettlecloud was faster. “There’s no use in speculating for now. You boys will learn what’s goin’ on during the Gathering.”

“Guess we will,” Mistface simply responded. “Been a while since I went to one, when I think about it.”

Beetlefoot nodded. “I don’t go too frequently, either.”

“Seems it takes a leader’s intervention to get you two to be social,” Nettlecloud gently teased with a smile. “If you can, the both of you try and participate besides seein’ what Phoebestar called you there for, alright? I think it’d do you both some good.”

Mistface hesitated slightly, but dipped his head. “Alright. Course, the invitation is gonna be our main focus, but it wouldn’t hurt to chat with some other cats.” Maybe he could talk to Laurelclaw if he was there, at least. He was pleasant enough to be around last time.

“Glad to hear it,” Nettlecloud purred.

There was a pause in the conversation before Beetlefoot spoke up again. “I should get going. It would be a good idea to check if I’m to do another route until this is sorted out.”

“We won’t hold you up, then,” replied Nettlecloud. With a smile, she added,”Safe travels, dear.”

Once he arrived home, Mistface headed over to his mother. Though the sun had set by now, she was laying down but awake, stargazing.

“I’m back, Mama,” Mistface greeted her, setting down the sparkling rock. “Surprised you’re up, though. I’d’ve thought you’d be gettin’ rest about now.”

With an amused purr, Nettlecloud responded,”I’ve been restin’ all day, love.” Her voice still sounded a bit weak from illness, Mistface noticed. She looked over at the halo piece that was now sitting in the grass. “No need to dwell on that, though. Looks like you got yourself a deal with the Magpies?”

Mistface nodded, before sitting down next to her. “Thought I’d bring you somethin’ from that coterie. They’d been talkin’ about the moon aspect’s halo pieces durin’ the Margays’ tale.”

“Awful nice of you to do that,” Nettlecloud said with a smile. With a gently teasing tone, she added,”Perhaps you could join the Magpies yourself, with that charisma of yours.”

He rolled his eyes, but smiled back. “Mama, you know I’d be caught halfway to Starclan before you’d find me runnin’ off to try and sell everything I find.”

Nettlecloud chuckled at that. “Alright, you needn’t be so dramatic about it.” She paused, looking him over before adding,”Anyways, you should be gettin’ some rest, now. You’ve been up all day, after all. I’d love to hear more ‘bout the coterie in the morning, though.”

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure to tell you more later.” Mistface began to head over to his usual resting spot, before throwing over a glance to add one last thing. “Make sure you try and get some more rest too though, Mama. I don’t want you gettin’ sicker, alright?”

With some amusement, Nettlecloud agreed, “I will, don’t you worry. I’ll get back to restin’ off this illness soon enough.”

As the week passed, however, and Nettlecloud only seemed to be getting worse. Mistface’s concern grew as time went by. 

Beetlefoot stopped by one afternoon near the end of the week. Swiftly, he headed over to Mistface. “I have another message for you and Nettlecloud from Greyleaf,” he stated promptly once he reached the tom. “Is she around?”

“Are you goin’ to insist she’s gotta be around for it?” Mistface asked with just a hint of annoyance. His tail swished a bit.

“No. I was simply asking,” Beetlefoot replied with a frown.

“Oh.” Realizing that he might’ve jumped to conclusions too quickly there, he gave as close to an apology as he could. “I’ve been a mite antsy about her. She’s restin’, at the moment. Still sick.”

“I see.” Beetlefoot shuffled his paws slightly. It occurred to Mistface that the tom actually seemed worried about Nettlecloud.

The messenger cleared his throat. “Well, Greyleaf’s message is that ‘I had a safe trip back from the coterie gathering. Thank you for coming to see me there. Thornstar’s still sick, so I’ve been busy with that, but he seems to be recovering now.’”

“That’s good,” Mistface said, but it was somewhat half-hearted. There was a brief silence between the two cats.

Beetlefoot was the one to speak up again. “Is Nettlecloud… getting better, at least?”

Mistface shook his head. “‘Fraid not. She’s only been gettin’ worse.” Another pause. “If only Greyleaf were here to check it out.”

“I could take a message to him to come back,” Beetlefoot offered, though he looked uncertain. “If she’s getting worse like you say, though, that might not be prompt enough. Even with my speed.”

The blue-grey tom, though disappointed, hummed in agreement. 

“Or I could fetch a wandering healer. I know of one called Shinerpelt that should be in the area.”

This wasn’t all too comforting to him. “Pelt, you say?” Based on the suffix, it sounded like this cat didn’t have the same skill level as Greyleaf. Sure, of the options Mistface was given by a Scattered deputy, he had chosen one that wasn’t talent related, but most cats wouldn’t do that.

“Pelt,” Beetlefoot affirmed. “From what I know, he’s still quite competent, just not exceptional.”

“Right,” Mistface stated. He didn’t feel entirely convinced, but he knew it wasn’t really rational to doubt this Shinerpelt.  “I’m just used to the best, I suppose. Gettin’ Shinerpelt makes the most sense. So you’re allowed to deviate from your route like that?”

The smaller tom looked a little uncomfortable. “I- Technically, Phoebestar wants messengers to stick strictly to their routes. Easier to keep track and make sure nobody’s missing, that way. She focuses a lot on safety, more so than previous Fleet leaders. But I’ll make an exception. I doubt anyone will get too upset, even if they notice at all.”

Mistface was surprised, with how dedicated to his work Beetlefoot seemed in past encounters. “I appreciate it,” he responded, with a nod. “After you send word to Shinerpelt, could you get a message to Greyleaf? Tell him our Mama has been gettin’ sicker and he should really come over for a visit, if he can.”

Beetlefoot dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I can do that. I should get going, then.”