Bearstrike sneezed, the sharp tickle of a marigold leaf catching in her nose. She snorted, trying to shake off the irritation, but the leaf stubbornly remained, teasing her with its scent. Beside her, her brother Snowdrop sniffed the air and gave her a knowing glance.

"You're not fond of leaves, I see," he teased, his tone light but amused.

Bearstrike flicked her tail in a dismissive gesture, sending a playful swipe toward him. "Shut it," she muttered, her voice laced with both affection and annoyance.

With a grunt, she turned back to her task. Carefully, she gathered the marigold leaves into a tidy pile, her movements deliberate and precise. She placed a few layers of cobwebs over the pile to bind it, ensuring the herbs would hold together for the journey ahead.

"There," she said with quiet satisfaction, her amber eyes scanning the neat bundle. "The marigold's sealed in. That should hold them together just fine."

Snowdrop nodded, his eyes softening as he watched her work. Bearstrike's skill and determination always impressed him, even in the simplest of tasks.

Bearstrike stretched her limbs, feeling the tension in her muscles loosen as she gave a soft sigh. "Is Cinderpelt coming back soon? She's been gone a while," she asked, her gaze flicking toward the medicine den.

Snowdrop snorted, shaking his head as he sniffed the air with an irritated twitch of his whiskers. "Oh, not again," he muttered, his paws carrying him idly toward the medicine den. "She's always out gathering herbs or checking on someone."

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," Bearstrike called after him, her voice raised in frustration as she followed him quickly. She nearly collided with Bluestar, who was sitting quietly nearby, purring softly as she gazed into the distance.

Bluestar raised an eyebrow, her calm expression shifting into a gentle smile as she looked up at the younger warrior. "What's got you so irate, then, Bearstrike?" she asked, her voice as soft and steady as ever.

Bearstrike sighed deeply, flicking her tail in agitation. "My brother's just a big floof ball," she grumbled, "Cinderpelt's out hunting for herbs, and he suddenly just bolts off like he's scared. I think he's worried about what happened with Tigerstar, like it's going to happen again."

Bluestar studied her for a moment, her eyes wise and knowing. "Fear can make a cat act strange," she said, her voice quiet but filled with understanding. "But it is how we face those fears that shows who we truly are."

Bearstrike nodded slowly, the frustration in her chest easing as Bluestar's words sank in.

Bearstrike glanced around, her eyes scanning the camp until she spotted Snowdrop, pacing restlessly near Cinderpelt. The gray she-cat had a bundle of leaves clutched in her jaws, her tail lashing in that familiar sign of focus.

"I'd better go help her," Bearstrike muttered to herself, feeling a tug of concern. She padded quickly toward them, her steps light and purposeful.

As she reached Cinderpelt, she gently nudged her, careful not to startle her. With a soft flick of her paw, Bearstrike carefully removed the leaf wrap from the gray medicine cat's jaws. "Thanks," Cinderpelt panted, the usual calm in her voice replaced by the strain of the journey. She pushed her mate, Snowdrop, away with a gentle nudge. "I'm fine, Snowdrop. Don't worry."

Snowdrop huffed, his fur bristling with worry, but he backed away, his gaze still lingering on Cinderpelt as if ready to spring into action should she need him. Bearstrike looked at him with a roll of her eyes. "She's fine, you know," she teased, though there was a softness in her tone that showed her affection for her family.

Cinderpelt gave a tired but grateful smile. "I'll be fine," she reassured them both. "I've just been out longer than I planned."

Snowdrop huffed again, his whiskers twitching in frustration as he turned and walked back to the medicine den. Bearstrike followed, her tail brushing against his, with Cinderpelt padding silently at her side. They entered the den, and Bearstrike carefully placed the bundle of leaves down on the designated spot, her paws brushing the herbs into place with practiced care.

She settled down beside the pile, stretching her muscles with a soft grunt. Snowdrop immediately began to groom Cinderpelt's fur, his motions quick but tender as he tried to rid her of the twigs and leaves that clung to her pelt from her herb-gathering trip.

"You worried me," Snowdrop muttered, his voice low and soft. "I was afraid... that Tigerstar got to you again."

Cinderpelt sighed, her golden eyes softening as she nudged him gently with her paw. "Tigerstar is dead, Snowdrop," she said with a quiet, reassuring tone. "You killed him. He can't hurt us anymore."

Snowdrop paused for a moment, his claws sheathing and unsheathing as if he wasn't fully ready to believe it, but the weight of her words seemed to ease his worry. With a deep breath, he resumed grooming her fur, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away.

Bearstrike watched them both, her heart softening at the sight of her brother and Cinderpelt—so strong, yet so deeply connected, bound together by shared memories and love. The storm that had raged in Snowdrop's heart was settling, and that, for Bearstrike, was enough.

"I'll go out and see to Stormstorm," Bearstrike said, her voice firm but caring. "Nursing three kits after a litter again isn't good for her." She glanced at Snowdrop, who gave a slight nod, his tail drooping with concern.

Snowdrop looked up at her, his eyes softening. "Don't forget to bring some seeds with you, too," he murmured, the familiar hint of worry in his tone. "She might need them."

Bearstrike flicked her tail in acknowledgment. "I will," she replied, giving a small reassuring smile. With that, she turned and padded toward the entrance of the den, her paws swift and sure as she headed to check on Stormstorm, her thoughts already focused on what might help her sister.

As Bearstrike disappeared into the shadows of the forest, Snowdrop and Cinderpelt shared a quiet glance, their bond steady despite the undercurrent of concern that rippled through the air.

Bearstrike padded into the nursery, her eyes softening at the sight of Sandstorm resting with her kits curled around her. Dawnkit, the eldest of the litter, was playing nearby, her small paws batting at a stick. The sight of the young kits warmed Bearstrike's heart, but her concern for Sandstorm overshadowed that warmth.

"Here," Bearstrike murmured, setting down a carefully prepared bundle of herbs. She laid out borage leaves, raspberry leaves, chamomile, and fennel, their earthy scents mixing in the air. "These should help you get a bit stronger," she added, glancing at Sandstorm with a touch of reproach. "You shouldn't have had two litters in one season, Sandstorm. You need to tell Oaksong to calm down."

Sandstorm sighed, her amber eyes flickering with both gratitude and exhaustion. "I didn't have a choice," she replied softly, glancing down at her kits with a weary smile. "But I'll take the herbs. I know I need to rest." Her tail flicked gently over her youngest kits, who nuzzled against her.

Bearstrike nodded, her voice firm but caring. "You're not invincible, Sandstorm," she said. "You need to take care of yourself, for the sake of your kits. Oaksong will understand." She gave a final glance at the bundles of herbs, ensuring they were settled where Sandstorm could reach them, before turning to leave the nursery.

As she padded away, Bearstrike hoped Sandstorm would heed her words. The warrior's strength was something to be admired, but even the strongest needed rest.