You woke up slowly, the grogginess of sleep still lingering in your mind as you stretched and shifted on your bed of soft moss. The warmth of the den surrounds you, but you can't shake the tension in the air. As you stretch out your sore muscles, you notice Cinderpelt sitting nearby, her pale fur gleaming softly in the dim light of the medicine den. She watches the Clan from the entrance, her gaze distant but thoughtful, as though she's weighing the decisions ahead.

You yawn, your body aching from the events of the day before, and as you shift to get more comfortable, Cinderpelt turns her head toward you. Her blue eyes meet yours with a gentle, almost motherly look. She limps over to your side, her movements slow but steady. There's a kindness in her gaze, a quiet understanding.

"How are you feeling?" she asks softly, her voice a soothing balm to your restless thoughts. "You've been through a lot, but you're safe now."

"I feel better," you murmur, the grogginess of sleep still clinging to you as you stretch carefully. You wince slightly at the sensation in your shoulder, where the wound from Blackfoot's attack still burns faintly beneath the cobwebs and poultices Cinderpelt had applied earlier. The coolness of the herbs offers some relief, but the soreness is still there.

Cinderpelt is by your side in an instant, her soft paws moving gently over the injury as she checks on the wound. Her eyes are focused, her expression calm but attentive. She leans her head down to sniff the area around your shoulder, her soft, melodic hum filling the air as she examines the healing process.

"Your infection's gone," she murmurs, her voice filled with a quiet satisfaction. The words settle in your chest like a weight lifting, and you let out a relieved breath. The pain that once consumed you now feels like it's fading into the background, replaced by the comfort of knowing you're healing.

You look up at Cinderpelt, your eyes filled with determination. "I'll be able to go on a patrol today," you say, though the thought of movement makes your shoulder throb.

Cinderpelt shakes her head firmly, her expression kind but resolute. "No," she says softly but with authority. "You'll stay here for now. Let the wound heal completely." She places a gentle paw on your shoulder, the warmth of her touch grounding you. "Once the infection clears and the wound begins to close, I'll send for Wildshadow or Dogspirit to bring you food and water, but you need to rest first."

Her gaze softens as she continues. "The Clan needs you strong, not pushing yourself too soon. You'll be on patrols again soon enough."

You let out a deep sigh and nod reluctantly. "Fine," you mutter, feeling the weight of your frustration. Cinderpelt, understanding but firm, flicks your head lightly with her tail, a gesture meant to calm you. "Rest," she murmurs, before turning and leaving the den, her steps purposeful but slow.

As she exits, the soft sounds of the camp bustle around you. Cats come in and out of the medicine den, moving about their daily tasks while you lie there, still and quiet, leaning against the wrong wall of the den, the coolness of the stone grounding you. The weight of the day's events settles heavily on your shoulders as you think about Bluestar—how ill she truly is now. It's hard to ignore the fact that she refuses to go into the medicine den herself, worried that she'll bring sickness to the rest of the Clan.

You can't help but wonder what this means for the future of ThunderClan. Bluestar, the once-strong leader, now showing the signs of both illness and doubt. It's a quiet fear, one that gnaws at your thoughts, and for a moment, you simply lay there, letting the day drift by as you try to make sense of everything that's happening.

As the day continues, Dogspirit and Wolfshadow come by with food and water, their expressions kind but practical. They place the fresh prey and water beside you, making sure you're comfortable without expecting too much in return. You nod in thanks, your body still aching from the strain of the past few days. It's clear they understand you won't be hunting or patrolling anytime soon.

"You don't need to hunt today," Wildshadow says softly, his tone reassuring. "Just eat and rest. You'll be back out there soon enough." Dogspirit nods in agreement, his quiet presence a comforting reminder of the Clan's support.

With the fresh food before you, you manage a few bites, your body grateful for the sustenance. As the moon begins to rise, casting its pale glow over the camp, exhaustion finally takes hold of you. Your eyes grow heavy, the events of the day and the pain in your body drifting to the back of your mind. Slowly, you drift off to sleep, the weight of the day melting away as the quiet of the night settles around you.