It was hard for Bluepetal to discern omens from what was mere fantasy when it came to Harvestmask. The calico she-cat strode the woods of her dreams, the oversaturated bark of the birch trees bearing her colors. The leaves rustled with the sound of her name, whispering and pining for her as she crushed them beneath her paws. Once or twice, she would turn, and the straight line that cleaved her face in two would be illuminated by the haunting light of the heavens above. Her yellow eyes would glare like the crossbeams of twin moons back to Bluepetal, waiting silently in the shadows.

Bluepetal could feel the kittypet collar clench tight around her neck, and for once in her life she cursed the fleeting brushes she had with the gift of vision. Why, if not by the will of the divine, did she return here so often? If it was the will of the divine that she look upon Harvestmask, strikingly beautiful and strikingly sad, then tremble in the dark as the she-cat strode into the mists alone, then...

Bluepetal awoke and took in a deep breath, as if ascending from beneath the waters of the river. Her head turned in the early dawn, which she recognized by the scent of her newly awoken clanmates mingling with the flavor of fresh herbs, but she could see nothing. The afterimage of Harvestmask's sharp gaze ran through her mind, and begrudgingly, she pushed the image away.

The she-cat tasted one of the scents growing stronger than the others, refocusing her attention, and Martentuft padded into the medicine den. "Ah, Martentuft... it's always great to see you, really..." Bluepetal purred. She wished, not for the first time, that she could see him, but she'd taken to using the word out of sheer habit, the same way she tilted her head as others spoke, using the cues in their tone of voice to shift her expression. Already, her kittypet heritage made them uncomfortable, and increasing the difficulty it took to approach her would only exacerbate the issue. "Well, what do you need?"

"There's an apprentice ceremony today," Martentuft responded. "I don't know if you heard the commotion, but..."

"Oh!" Bluepetal started forwards, feeling sheepish. "I may have overslept a little." She grew even more frustrated when she stepped right into Martentuft's fur, backed up to try again, and promptly walked into him a second time. She could hardly walk through her own den without bumping into him. Every time he entered the medicine den, Bluepetal swore, the once-apprentice got larger... soon, with all that fur and bulk, he would be more of a pine tree than a cat.

"Let me back out." Martentuft mewed, escorting himself out of the den, and Bluepetal followed. Her ears swivelled to catch all the noise of the clan, though Poppykit's excited screeching rose above the rest. Bluepetal purred, a faint warmth spreading throughout her. While she was by no means a proper mother to the kit, she felt at least a little responsible for the event.

"I'm going to be the very, very best warrior! Watch out, Dewstar, 'cause I'm coming for you." Poppykit yelled to no one in particular. "I'm gonna be leader, Birchkit. Just you watch me."

Well... perhaps not entirely responsible. After all, Bluepetal couldn't claim all the credit for how the rambunctious she-cat had turned out.

Birchkit mewed back, "Quiet, Poppykit! All the warriors are looking at us..."

Bluepetal approached from behind and gave Poppykit a lickdown. The she-kit screeched in confusion, turning around to see Bluepetal, and her shock turned into a high, irritated whine. "Bluepetal, I'm not dirty! Bluepetaaaaaaaaaaaal-"

"You're not dirty anymore," Bluepetal purred. "Now, what do you say?"
"Thanks, I guess," mumbled Poppykit.

"Thank you, Bluepetal." Birchkit said as he got the same treatment as his sister. When the she-cat was done, Birchkit pressed his paws against her fur and touched his tiny nose to Bluepetal's. "We love you."

Bluepetal's purr almost choked itself out in her throat. "You're going to do great, kits. I love you too."

The scent of the two kits faded and she could hear their paws against the ground like a heartbeat, a pumf, pumf, pumf that slowly became another part of the tumult surrounding them. Bluepetal settled into the group of assembled cats uneasily, and, seeking distraction, listened to the idle conversation around her.

"Ah, we'll have no kits in the nursery now..." Hazelpool said. "Not surprising, heading into leafbare, but it's a shame."

"Swanfeather's having kits." mewed Leapingbranch. "What do you think about that, Almondscratch?"

The warrior replied, "What do I think about it? New warriors are always a boon to the clan. On a more personal level, I suppose it's nice to be the older brother, finally, seeing as Chicoryfur never stops meowing about how she's the eldest."

"By what, heartbeats?"
"That's what I said!" Almondscratch replied. "Siblings."

"Oh, if you think yours are bad, you should talk to Cranewing. He's working himself into a fit about training Carppaw. It's a miracle that he learns anything at all."

A long, feathery tail ran down Bluepetal's back, distracting her from the two young warriors. The scent of this new cat, like the day after a rainstorm and damp fur, wafted up to her nose, but not before the she-cat had already made herself clear: "Bluepetal."

"Drizzlemist." replied Bluepetal, matching the dismissive tone of the elder warrior.

"You're quite interested in the two kits becoming apprentices today, aren't you?" asked Drizzlemist.

"Very much so," Bluepetal said, "I'm happy to think I've been an influence on their lives at all. They're incredible young cats, and they'll be incredible warriors."

"You've been good to those two," Drizzlemist assured Bluepetal, "but now that they're apprentices, you'd best back off. They're not yours, now are they?" She phrased it much like her last question, but there was an uptilt to her voice bitterer than yarrow at the end of the sentence.

"No."

"You have cats to tend to. The sick. The injured. Whether you'll admit it or not, they're getting in your way."

Bitterness struck through Bluepetal's heart like a thorn, but she dipped her head. "I hadn't thought of that. Thank you-" she spit the words out, "-for informing me. I don't know what I'd do without you telling me how to do my job."

A low rumble sounded up from the backs of Drizzlemist's throat, though it was hard to discern if it was a forced purr or a warning. The queen disappeared like the morning dew, without much fanfare or so much as a goodbye. Bluepetal knew she was off to sit by her own brood, who in spite of being apprentices, still spent a good amount of their time talking or complaining to their mother.

Not that it distracted Drizzlemist from her warrior duties, of course.

"We gather here today to announce that for the second time this season, we have kits ready to partake on the most extraordinary journey- that of becoming a warrior. Poppykit, Birchkit, step forwards, please."

Bluepetal tried to imagine how the two kits would look as they approached the Highstep, the highest point of the hill from which the leader would still be visible. Despite the time she'd spent with them, she couldn't quite place the details of her face, and she was unsure which characteristics of their mother they would carry. Did they have her glaring eyes, or the dark mask that shrouded half of their mother's face?

"Birchkit, Poppykit, from this moment on, you will be known as Birchpaw and Poppypaw. Chicoryfur and Martentuft- though you are young warriors, both of you have proved your patience and valiance to the clan, and you are more than ready to take on an apprentice. Chicoryfur, you will train young Birchpaw, and Martentuft will train Poppypaw."

Oh, they'll be excellent. And I was so worried...

A great stillness filled the camp, and then, in a rising caterwaul, the clan burst out into the names of the two new apprentices. Bluepetal lifted her voice to theirs, the pride now too great to contain. "Poppypaw! Birchpaw! Poppypaw! Birchpaw!" The cheering could've gone on forever, and Bluepetal wouldn't have tired for a heartbeat, but a crushing of leaves in the crowd jerked her jaw shut. She tasted a familiar scent and dread raked her heart.

Harvestmask was leaving the ceremony.

"Wait, don't go!" Bluepetal hissed beneath her breath. Knowing no other cat would notice the departure of the capricious calico (what good were their eyes for, anyways?), she wove through the cheering crowd and ran headlong into the side of Harvestmask, just outside of camp. The scent of her, tantalizing as ever, wreathed its way around Bluepetal. "You can't go now, this is your kits' apprentice ceremony! Aren't you happy for them?"

"Of course I am." Harvestmask replied, so coolly that it made Bluepetal's heart blaze with frustration and anger. "They don't need me. My departure will be of no concern to them."

How could you even think that? Bluepetal mewed, "Of course they still love you. They just need to know that you love them too."

The crowd was dispersing now, and sure enough the two lucky apprentices came bounding their way. "Mom!" Poppypaw yowled, and for a split second Bluepetal almost believed the she-cat was about to leap on top of Bluepetal, as was her prerogative whenever Bluepetal was busy. Instead, she listened as Poppypaw hopped up and down, stirring leaves beneath her. "I'm an apprentice! I'm a real apprentice!"

Birchpaw entered behind her. "We're going to miss you so much."

"I'm not going anywhere," Harvestmask responded, though she sounded more confused than convinced. Bluepetal cast her best death glare in the she-cat's general direction.

"Bluepetal?" meowed Almondscratch, concerned. Bluepetal's ears fell, knowing her duties had once again kicked in even though she yearned to celebrate her- no, Harvestmask's family. "Swanfeather is kitting. Now."

"They can't be- they're almost a quarter moon early-" Bluepetal said, mind locking into the technicalities of the birth in heartbeats. In her mind, she went through everything she'd need, and decided, "Get me a stick, poppy seeds, and all the raspberry leaves in my den. They're the ridged leaves next to the red berries, rounded teeth, can't miss them."

Almondscratch gave her an affirmative nod before dashing off, and Bluepetal snagged a back up stick off the ground and dove into action. The nursery, which was nearly vacant just this morning, was now crowded with Chicoryfur, several warriors, and Swanfeather herself, who was yowling with pain.

"Breathe," Bluepetal instructed the queen, weaving through the concerned assembly, "and bite down on this."
"I amth breathin." Swanfeather said beneath the stick, but her eyes closed and she stopped talking as another round of contractions came on.

Bluepetal got to kneading the queen's stomach at once, and when the first kit emerged, she bit the sac and hissed, "Someone lick that kit. We need to get him breathing. Husksong?" The tom, Swanfeather's startled mate, stepped forwards. "Gently. Everyone else, out of the way! Stars' sake, out of the way!"

Another kit slid out not long after, and let out a piercing cry after drawing her first breath. It was a good sign, and soon both the kits were suckling away.

They were small, even smaller than usual, but they were both breathing and neither showed signs of obvious deformity. Was it likely that Swanfeather just moved into the nursery late, or that the low number of kits had caused her stomach to swell less than average? Neither seemed all that likely, since there had been other two-kit litters in the clan. Silently, Bluepetal thanked the stars for the safety of the kits. "They'll be okay." she told
"Course they will. They're my kits," Swanfeather boasted.

I wish I had your confidence, Bluepetal thought. Instead, she merely asked, "Have you thought of names?"

"That's Cricketkit and that's Reedkit." Swanfeather said, enormously pleased, indicating first the tan she-cat and then the striped tom.

"You couldn't even let me name one?" joked Husksong.

"You didn't have to carry them in your stomach for two months," Swanfeather snapped back, lifting up one paw lazily to flick her mate's ear. "Ack, and the kitting... stars, this was even worse than when I had you two..." she said, looking at her older litter. "Aging is terrible. I highly recommend all of you avoid it."

"Better than the alternative," ventured Almondscratch. The happy family continued to poke fun at each other, moving from the cheery subject of death to the potential futures of the kits.

Bluepetal passed Swanfeather the herbs Almondscratch had laid by her side. "If the pain rears up again, take one raspberry leaf. After that, you can use poppy seeds, but be conservative. Make sure you sleep with a warrior to watch you, so that they can inform you if anything goes wrong... I'm still worried about those kits."

"Worried? You heard Cricketkit yowl. She's a warrior already." Swanfeather said, but there was an edge of concern to her mew.

Bluepetal replied, "Oh, she will be."

Birchpaw was waiting outside. He said, "I followed you, since Chicoryfur is my mentor. I hope you don't mind- I just wanted to say you were incredible."

Bluepetal, taken aback, felt a purr shake her throat. "That's very kind of you, but I'm only doing my job. I was lucky to have a good mentor, and you're lucky to have one as well- just think of how much you'll accomplish once you begin your training."

Birchpaw brushed the compliment aside, continuing, "I'm not sure... Bluepetal, when did you know you wanted to be a medicine cat?"

"I learned I was destined to be a medicine cat at a young age. It was how I found your clan... late one night, in the dead of leafbare, I heard the pawsteps of cats and followed them out into the woods. I was found by one of your patrols, who told me that no cat had passed that way. It was then that I believed I might have brushed pelts with spirits, and when I went with the old medicine cat to meet with your ancestors at the place where the stars fall down, they told me that I had been chosen for the job."

"Okay." Birchpaw said, mulling this over. "One more question?"
"Yes."

"Are you sure you don't know that much about our mom?"

"W-why do you ask?"

"Because you sure talk to her a lot, for someone who doesn't know her very well."

Bluepetal didn't respond to this. She was sure the warrior was somewhere around here, lurking, and the rest of the day, while uneventful, was filled with the thought of her. Had she really been so obvious? Was it really impairing her ability to do her job?

She only found solace in sleep: when her dreams weren't filled with dark, smoky forests or murmuring starry cats with unfamiliar faces, she dared to imagine worlds where Harvestmask and she had raised Birchkit and Poppykit together.

(A/N: I had way too much fun with this chapter. Originally the BlueMask was supposed to be very subtle but bluepetal is.

not very subtle.)