The Simplest Mistakes

This is the second of the four most defining moments in Paleface's story, a cataclysmic event which would steer her onto a path that challenged the way of the clans and ultimately drive her to break the Warrior Code. She never turns 'evil' or insane like Hollyleaf or Tigerstar, and never loses her faith in the code or her love for her clan.

This is probably the most dramatic chapter, and the first part was only written for the sake of the image, there is no chapter from her POV, she's only a secondary character.


Prepare for text!


Soooooooo much text!

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Paleface crouched low to the ground, mindful of her soft belly-fur brushing close to the treacherously noisy forest floor of leaf-fall. Her bright green and amber eyes were wide as an owl’s as she stared at a clump of bushes just a few fox lengths ahead of her. Her ears twitched hopefully at the sound of something bigger than a mouse, and when she opened her mouth to confirm the scent of rabbit she had to swipe her tongue along her lips to stop herself from drooling. The warrior had no idea what a rabbit was doing so far from Windclan territory, but she was in no mood to question this gift from Starclan.

Her gaze flickered over the apprentices behind her before returning to her quarry. Now was no time for hunting practice, she thought with a twinge of guilt. The clan couldn’t afford to have this prey lost to the inexperienced claws of these newly appointed apprentices. In its weakened state they hardly had enough warriors fit to carry on the duties of hunting and patrolling, which was why she was out here, so near the border, with Redpaw and Maplepaw. It was only two sunrises since the attack on the Shadowclan camp and her naming ceremony, and Russetfur had sent her out with orders to check the Thunderclan border and hunt on her way back to camp, and that’s just what they had been doing.

Spending the morning with the two young cats had been exhausting. A prickle of apprehension scurried up her legs and flitted around in her empty belly at the thought of such responsibilities and her doubt about whether she was fit to carry them out. The whole clan knew her ceremony was hardly more than a sham. A show of power for the sake of the weakened clan, really. She had done nothing spectacular to deserve her warrior name so early, but her clan had needed her to be a warrior now, they didn’t have time or mentors to spend waiting for her to finish polishing her skills, and she could only pray that StarClan would understand that and recognize her as a true warrior in the end.

Narrowing her eyes, the white and dark ginger she-cat determinedly shoved these thought aside before panic could seize her and make her paws clumsy and slow. She signaled with a flick of her tail for Redpaw and Maplepaw to stay where they were and slowly crept foreword, her focus entirely on the prey, her paws, and the ground between them. All other thoughts and worries were shed like dried mud and left behind.

She drew steadily closer until her whiskers touched the leaves of the closest bush and she thought her very breath might disturb the leaves and the precious prey would flee. Slow and silent she bunched her hind legs under herself, rocking her weight back and calculating her attack.

A sudden shift in the wind warned the prey and the bush rattled as the rabbit darted away. With a yowl of surprise Paleface shot after it, desperation making her shove her way through the branches and shot down the hill after the hopeless quarry. The rabbit’s white tail led her on a chase for several heart-pounding moments, but when it rounded an oak and vanished down a burrow she had to fight to keep her footing without running straight into the trunk of another tree.

“Mouse dung!” She spat after it, lashing her tail and turning to stalk back to where she had left the two apprentices.

A sudden screech sounding from the direction she was headed sent her flying foreword, her tail bushing out to twice its size as the eerie wailing of battle grew louder. She burst through the undergrowth with a battle cry that was almost choked by a gasp of horror. Her amber and green eyes stretched wide as moons as she took in the scene before her. A brown and red long-haired tabby was battling with Redpaw who looked hardly the size of a kit under the toms massive size. The huge tom was sending a flurry of powerful swipes at the smaller cat with thorn-sharp claws. Redpaw was weaving about like a squirrel, barely managing to avoid the worst of the blows.

Between The battling toms and herself, a smaller, overweight black and white cat was gripping Maplepaw by the neck, the apprentice’s struggles appeared startlingly slow. A collar around the smaller cat’s neck and their sleek well-groomed fur marked them as kitty pets, but she knew better than to underestimate them, especially against the smaller untrained apprentices.

She hesitated hardly a heartbeat at the edge of the woods before leaping down the slope and barreling straight into the side of the cat who held Maplepaw. He gave a squeal of surprise and dropped the cream-furred apprentice who struggled feebly to move away toward the safety of the woods. Paleface ignored the teeth that twisted around to sink into her shoulder, kicking out with her powerful hind legs, tearing into the kitty-pets side until he wriggled himself free and shot for the twoleg fences, wailing like a kit the whole way. As soon as she was certain he was headed for the fences and not coming back she turned and sprang after the second cat. He had managed to catch the swift apprentice and was kicking at him with his hind legs while he shook the smaller cat by the scruff like a piece of prey.

With a screech of rage she bit down on Redpaw’s scruff, ripping him from the massive tom’s mouth with a sickening sound of ripped flesh and flinging him toward Maplepaw who had stopped dragging herself toward the trees and lay panting on her side. Redpaw stumbled back toward her for a moment, as though he meant to rejoin the battle, then seemed to think better and sunk down into a hunch by his den mate’s side, draping one paw over her possessively. His head was already bobbing with the struggle against unconsciousness, but his New-leaf green eyes were blazing with a ferocious light of battle. She had no doubt he would defend his friend to his last breath.

Pain shot up her spine as teeth sunk into her tail. Spinning around to face him she ripped her tail from his mouth and drew her lips back to bare her fangs in a his. He answered with a guttural screech and flung himself foreward. Bracing her hind feet she reared up to meet him with a strike across his cheek that sent him staggering backward.

Panic blinded her to the pain in her forepaws as she drove foreward, lashing out with her claws to drive him back. Suddenly he dove toward her exposed belly and the two cats rolled over through the grass in a screeching ball of fury, battering at each other with their unsheathed hing claws. His larger bulk crushed the air from her lungs and as she squirmed under him she thought for sure this was the end. With a triumphant yowl he opened his jaws to sink his fangs into her shoulder. Seizing the only chance she was likely to get she forced herself to relax in his grip, waiting until his head dropped down to deliver an agonizing blow. The moment he was within reach she struck out like an adder, seizing him by the throat in her jaws and pushing his abdomen up with a mighty heave of her paws. Paws scrabbled over her face and stung her eyes as he tried to find his balance, but in that moment she rolled her body around, planting her feet firmly on the ground and flipping the unbalanced enemy onto his back. She shook her head like a dog, feeling flesh rip under her fangs and feeling the hot liquid spilling over her tongue, while her forepaws battered him over the head until he, too, screeched in pain and hatred and fled for the safety of his own territory.

Panting and feeling her muscles scream in pain with each movement she turned back to where she had left the apprentices. Her heart sank like a stone when she saw them. One of Redpaw’s eyes was cracked open, but his head had sunk down, being held up only by Maplepaw’s flank, and the paler apprentice was struggling feebly, her paws digging small furrows in the dirt. A tiny hole in her throat was oozing out a startling amount of blood. Not knowing what to do, Paleface tried pressing against the wound to stop the bleeding. For a moment it seemed to work, then suddenly her body gave a spasm and she choked up more blood, parting her jaws and gasping for air like a fish. Jumping back in surprise, Paleface let out a low wail. “Oh, StarClan, no.” She had to find a medicine cat. Now.

She tore off in search of help, shooting down the slope and skirting around a thick stand of brush that would be quicker to go around than through. She was intending to head toward the camp, fearing that she might not be able to get there and back in time when a faint scent wafting from the direction of the Thunderclan Border made her veer in that direction instead.









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Jaypaw ran his nose over a soft leaf, breathing in the sickly sweet scent of catmint. Thunderclan’s supply was little more than a few soggy scraps, and with leaf-bare on its way it was best to have some fresh stocks on-paw. Jaypaw’s ears twitched at the sound of shifting bracken nearby, but when he opened his mouth he only drank in the scent of the cool forest and a stale scent of rabbit. With a soft huff he returned to the mint, neatly nipping off several stalks and silently chiding himself for being as jumpy as a squirrel.

Leafpool had sent him to gather the fragrant plant from a tiny bunch that grew down near the lake, but he had instead headed up the hill to the border nearer Shadowclan. Here, closer to the twoleg gardens a few runaway plants grew strong and healthy, making the set near the lake look like mere scraps. A patrol wasn’t due through here until sundown, but he still found himself keeping his ears pricked for the sound of any hunting patrols with poor timing. He was perfectly capable of collecting herbs, but the whole clan seemed intent on treating him like some hapless kit, and he did not look forward to whatever scolding he was sure Leafpool had saved up for just such an occasion.

It was just as he was chewing through the final stalk of what he planned to carry back that the sound of thrumming paws made him freeze. For a heartbeat his mind was filled with thoughts of twoleg dogs escaping their fences and bearing down on him with their slavering jaws and reek of death, or of the pack of strays which had attacked Shadowclan returning. His muscles instinctually stiffened and his hair bristled up as he tried to pull himself from his terror to form a plan. He ripped his claws from the ground and swung his head around trying to remember where the closest tree had been when the ferns in front of him suddenly rattled as if a storm were raging through. With his pelt bushed out as far as it could go, he leaped back bearing his teeth and preparing to swipe out when the powerful reek of fear-scent swept over him so strong it nearly masked the scent of cat underneath and made his eyes water. The pounding paws slammed to a stop at once, nearly colliding into him anyways.

“YOU!” The cat yowled, scrabbling to keep their footing. Something in the back of his mind lit up and he thought he knew the voice, but it was so distorted by panic he couldn’t be sure, and when he drew in a sharp intake of breath to arch his back further he shuddered to find he couldn’t make out any scent for sure through the reek of fear and a sharp tang of blood.

Before he could even exhale the breath he had just sucked in he felt sharp teeth meet his scruff and haul him up from his crouch and half push half drag him through the ferns they had just come out from. The grey apprentice opened his jaws in a yowl of rage as his paws flailed, scrabbling at the fern leaves and earth, but he could find nothing solid enough to grab on to. The scent of fear was still pulsing off of the other cat, but this close he could make out the distinct odor of Shadowclan, and his fear vanished under a wave of indignation at the warrior of another clan hauling him through the forest like a kit.

“Let go!” He spat, swiping his claws across the enemy warrior’s muzzle. The cat flinched and he ripped his scruff from her jaws, lashing his tail angrily as he turned to release a slew of insults. He hardly had time to draw in a breath before her voice cut him off.

“Please,” She wailed breathlessly, “You have to help or they’re going to die!”

“Who?” He spat back, swatting at her with a hiss when she approached again.

“Please!” She repeated, ignoring his swipes and bundling him forward like a kit. Suddenly he picked up her scent under all the fear and blood and recognized Paleface, Shadowclan’s newest warrior, and wondered what could have happened to leave her in such a state. Surely the dogs hadn’t come back again! And they weren’t even headed in the direction of the Shadowclan camp.

“I can walk on my own.” He hissed back, his curiosity warring with his instinctual distrust of an enemy. The Shadowclan warrior paused for a moment as if unsure whether he would flee if she trusted him, but desperation won out and she gave a wordless grunt of acceptance before bounding into the forest ahead, flicking her tail over his shoulder for him to follow. He realized with a shudder that they must have crossed the border some ways back. But the fear scent the other cat had left in her wake cut an unwavering path through the strange undergrowth.

Panting and spattering blood on the trail, the warrior still managed to outpace him, stopping every time she got too far ahead of him and prancing like a spooked deer as she waited for him to catch up. The dense undergrowth was no help as he pushed through the maze of branches and leaves that stung his eyes and scratched his nose.

He was ready to turn back and leave when a strangled cry rose from the young warrior’s throat and she darted forward into what seemed to be a clearing from the sound of her footsteps. As he stepped out of the brambles and bushes he was hit by a reek so strong he felt the fur along his spine begin to rise again. From the powerful cloud of scents he could pick up the scent of several more cats, Shadowclan and kittypet mixed together. He padded cautiously over the springy grass in the clearing, shuddering when he felt sticky wet drops of blood under his paws. Following the sound of Paleface’s low strangled murmurs, he picked up the scent of two younger cats. Apprentices, he was guessing. Dread pooled in his paws, making them heavy as stones as his whiskers brushed over the closest, a she-cat who hardly seemed big enough to be this far from the camp. She lay ominously still under his muzzle, and her kit-soft fur was already growing cold.

“She, she has to be…..okay….” Paleface stuttered, her breath hot against his cheek. Finding no breath in his lungs, he could only shake his head slowly. He felt her flinch away as if he’d struck her. A low, agonized wail rose from her throat and pierced his ears. Pulling away from her he found the second apprentice slumped on the ground beside her, one paw draped over his companion’s shoulders as if he was still defending her lifeless body.

At first he thought the Tom must be dead as well, every hair on his pelt seemed to be growing hard with drying blood, but as he pressed his nose to a bloodless spot on his shoulder he caught the faintest hints of a heart still beating. “PALEFACE!” He snapped, whirling toward the grieving cat. “He’s breathing!” In an instant she was at his side, hope exploding in her chest. He knew the apprentice was on the verge, he was breathing now, but that was no guarantee that he would recover. “Fetch me some cobwebs.” He ordered and she shot off into the undergrowth before the words were completely out of his mouth. “And some yarrow!” He called after her as an afterthought.

As the footsteps faded into the bushes he crouched down and began running his nose carefully over the apprentice’s matted pelt, searching out the worst wounds. Tufts of fur were missing all over his pelt, and scratches were scored down his flanks from what must have been a massive cat’s hind feet. The wounds that concerned Jaypaw the most however, were a deep bite on the young tom’s shoulder which appeared to be a killing strike that had missed its mark, and a vicious gash across his chest and belly that had bled profusely. When he ran his paws over the gash he could feel a small amount of fresh blood still oozing from the cut.

Doubt, dark and heavy, bubbled up from within. He was only an apprentice, what if he failed, if he messed up and a cat died? For the first time the true weight of the responsibility he was taking on pressed down on him, and he understood what it was to hold the power of other cat’s lives in his paws. A part of him wanted to turn and flee all the way back to the camp - to hide under his father’s paws like a kit and send a real medicine cat to deal with this. But mostly he felt oddly calm, as he placed one paw just above the cut, easing it closed with gentle pressure to slow the bleeding. Gingerly, he began rasping his tongue around the edges of the wound, cleaning away the dirt and matted fur which could lead to infection, and stimulating his weak heart to keep beating.

He was beginning to wonder if Paleface was running all the way back to her camp to fetch Littlecloud after all when the sound of hurried footsteps alerted him to her return. She was hobbling as quickly as she could on three legs, thrusting the cobwebs toward him with one forepaw and panting heavily as she settled down at his side.

“Here.” He murmured, scooting sideways to make room for her. “Place your other paw over the wound here like mine is. Good, now press lightly- Lightly! Okay. Hold it there while I dress it.”

“I couldn’t find the yarrow.” She whispered, wriggling uncomfortably. “I didn’t know….. What it looked like.” Even with her voice lowered to a barely audible level he could hear the guilt and misery that threatened to crack it.

“Nevermind.” He meowed briskly. There was no point wasting his concentration on worrying about all the things he couldn’t do, and they certainly didn’t have time for him to send the warrior back in a vague hope of her stumbling across a plant she wasn’t likely to find, especially now when the telltale flower heads were long since wilted and blown away. “Just hold it like that and I’ll do what I can.”

Layer by layer her pulled the sticky cobwebs from her outstretched paw and arranged them over the gash, carefully pressing and weaving until it was strong enough to hold its own. “You can move your paw now.” He grumbled, taking the last clump into his own. “Get that blood off of his coat, and the dirt from his wounds. Start with that bite on his shoulder. Infection might have already set in, so clean him up as best you can.” It felt odd ordering around a warrior of another clan, but she obeyed without question, the soft noises of her tongue rasping over the apprentice’s pelt soon filled the hollow.

Tucking the last strands into place, Jaypaw gave the bandage a final once-over with his nose. He noted with a spark of hope that the small cat’s heart was beating with more vigor under the steady swipes of Paleface’s tongue. “That’s right.” He meowed, threading around to the wounded apprentice’s other side. “Keep that up. I need to check on his shoulder.”

She had managed to get the wound suitably clean. After a brief inspection he confirmed that the blow had missed the spine, but just barely, and it was terribly deep, a perfect place for infection to set in. His lips curled when he felt the raw and swollen flesh around the punctures. His spine may not be broken, but it would be many long nights in the medicine den before the young cat would be able to move about freely.

Rocking back on his haunches he flicked his ears toward the shadow clan warrior who crouched beside him so close he could feel the exhaustion rolling from her pelt. He knew she was bleeding from her scent, but she seemed well enough that her own medicine cat could take care of her. Not like he had any supplies to do anything for her anyways.

The Tom’s breathing was strong enough now that he could leave the she-cat to continue cleaning the blood from the young cat’s coat while he skirted around the other apprentice, careful not to accidentally tread on her still form. Now that he could examine her more closely he found that her kit-soft pelt was relatively free of blood. Paw-fulls of fur had been ripped from her side, and whisker-thin scratches scored across the exposed bits of skin, and Jaypaw could not figure out what had happened to end her life.

A pelt brushed against his and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His dark ears twitched in embarrassment when he realized it was only paleface again. He’d been so focused on his scrutiny of the young cat’s coat that he hadn’t even noticed the rasping of her tongue had stopped. “I tried to stop the bleeding.” She mewed. “It was such a small hole. But the blood just kept coming and she started… She started choking on it. I think I only made it worse.” Grass crinkled under her paws as she kneaded them against the ground, lost more in her own memory than the present.

With a better idea of what had caused her death he bent down and nosed along her throat. Just under her jaw was a tiny hole, hardly any larger than a fang. It was obviously a clean blow, cutting straight into her throat. She hadn’t stood a chance against whoever had attacked her. Underneath the wound a pool of blood had soaked into the dirt, turning it into a patch of gruesome mud.

“It… probably wouldn’t have mattered.” He muttered, trying to sound convincing, and shoving down a prick of frustration that he hadn‘t been able to attend to the wound sooner. She only stared at him for a few endless heartbeats. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could feel the intensity of her gaze like a beam of green-leaf light against his pelt. She opened her mouth with a sharp intake of breath, as if she were about to say something, but no words came out, and instead she stood to move back to the body of the still-breathing apprentice.

“Do you think he could make it back to the camp?” She asked wearily, exhaustion dulling her voice.

“His breathing stronger now.” Jaypaw answered with a flick of his tail, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “As long as that wound doesn’t get reopened.”

“Should we patch up his shoulder, too?”

Jaypaw shook his head. “No. It’s not bleeding right now. Just keep it clean. Er, Littlecloud can take care of it when he gets there.” his paws prickled nervously as he wondered what the older medicine cat would say about all this. “Would you like me to help carry him?”

“No, I can take care of him.” She mewed briskly, then lowered her voice and added “That’s a lie, isn’t it? I can’t take care of anyone. This is all my fault; I should have died here, not Maplepaw!” The bitterness dripped like poison in her words and for a moment Jaypaw almost wanted to reach out and comfort the heart-broken warrior from another clan. Instead he curled his tail around his paws and they sat together in awkward silence.

“Do you want me to escort you to the border?” Paleface asked in a voice that was rough, but oddly hollow, as if she had used up all of her emotions, and simply lacked the capacity to feel anything more.

“I’ll find my way.” He sniffed with a hint of his usual stubborn refusal to be treated as though he were helpless. He was prepared to argue, but the she-cat only dipped her head to gently take up the apprentice, hardly remembering to call back a muffled thanks as she faded into the undergrowth, her feet and tail dragging miserably through the dirt.

Jaypaw stood awkwardly in the clearing, shuddering slightly at the thought of being left alone with the rapidly cooling body of Maplepaw. With his ears pricked he thought he could almost make out the sighing of countless warriors weaving through the trees. It felt somehow wrong to just leave her there, but what else could he do? Her own clan would soon come to bring her back to camp where they would sit a proper vigil, so with a hasty bow in her direction he turned and began picking his way back towards the Thunderclan boundary, following the scent of their earlier mad dash through the trees.

He stalked confidently, reminding himself that he wasn’t a helpless new apprentice, he knew how to defend himself, and anyways whatever cat had done that to the two inexperienced cats was probably holed up somewhere licking its wounds. But still his pelt bristled with unease, and he nearly jumped off of his own paws when a squirrel landed on a branch above his head.

Finally, he crossed the scent-line back into Thunderclan and he began to relax again. Reaching the patch of Catmint the found his pile of leaves just as he had left it. Here he forced himself to stop and give his coat a through wash, as though he could wash away the horrid memories of what had just happened as well. When the last traces of shadow clan was so weak even he could hardly make out it’s tang on his pelt he flopped over and rolled in the mint for good measure, but nothing could get rid of the smell of death that clung to the back of his throat, and he wondered if he‘d manage to eat at all tonight.

With nothing left to do, he gathered up the catmit in his jaws, took a steadying breath and struck off toward the welcoming safety of his own camp.





Warriors, Jaypaw and Redpaw belong to Erin hunter
Paleface and the image are mine.