A screamed resonated through Firin's ears. She looked around for the source, but saw nothing. "Hello?"

Another scream, louder this time.

Firin couldn't tell where it was coming from. It seemed to be all around her, everything. She tried to run to see if she could get any closer, but then realized that she couldn't feel anything beneath her paws.

"Help!" The voice again. "Help m-" the wail was cut off abruptly with a screech.

"I'm coming!" Firin yowled. She pumped her legs furiously, but couldn't tell if she was going anywhere. "I'll help you!"

Firin opened her eyes, heart pounding. She looked around her and the familiar walls of the orphanage came into view. "It was... a dream?" Firin blinked. All of the other kits were still sleeping. It must be nighttime still. I suppose I'll go back to sleep. Firin tried to shift into a more comfortable sleeping position, then yelped in pain. She looked down at herself. Blood was still dripping from the wounds that Durrog and his gang had inflicted on her. A particularly deep gash on her foreleg was swollen and bright red. Pus oozed from the cut. Firin wrinkled her nose. Disgusting. I should get something to stop the infection. Guess I'll have to go to the woods and get some herbs. She carefully picked herself up from her bed, wincing. She carefully tiptoed past the other sleeping kits and to the exit. She slowly opened the door, flinching at every creak.

When the opening in the door was wide enough, Firin slipped outside. The brisk night air hit her, and she shivered. She darted across the backyard and leapt over the short fence enclosing it into the forest. Quiet night sounds echoed softly in the trees; crickets chirping, frogs croaking. Firin padded through the trees to where she knew a patch of marigold grew, gazing up at the moons through the leaves. Looks like Aluka is full tonight.

Firin arrived at the marigold patch and drew in the scent of the plant. She had always enjoyed the aromas that herbs gave off, even though other cats found that strange. Not that it mattered. They already thought she was strange, and liking herbs wouldn't change that fact.

Firin bent over and carefully nipped off a few stalks of marigold. She chewed them into a paste, gagging at the bitter flavor. She spit it out onto the gash and spread it around onto to the other cuts. It stung at first, but felt better after a few heartbeats. Firin sighed with relief and trekked back to the orphanage. She noticed the first pink light of dawn when she arrived. Other kits were waking up, ready for a new day.

A/N: Sorry for short chappy. I just felt like that was a good place to end. In case this escaped your mind (which it probably didn't), Firin is good with herbs. This will be important as the story progresses. Anyways, á plus tard, mes amies!