“Fireheart asked anxiously. Cinderpelt let out a weary sigh. She had come to Snakerocks as fast as her uneven legs could run and done her best to patch up the worst of Brightpaw’s injuries with cobwebs to stop the bleeding and poppy seeds for the pain. At last the apprentice had recovered enough to be dragged back through the forest to the camp, and now she lay unconscious in a nest among the ferns near Cinderpelt’s den. “I don’t know,” Cinderpelt admitted. “I’ve done the best I can. She’s in th...e paws of StarClan now.” “She’s a strong cat,” Fireheart meowed, trying to reassure himself. When he looked at Brightpaw now, curled among the ferns, she looked anything but strong. She seemed smaller than a kit, no more than a scrap of fur. Fireheart half expected each shallow breath to be her last. “Even if she recovers, she’ll be hideously scarred,” Cinderpelt warned him. “I couldn’t save her ear or eye. I don’t know that she’ll ever be a warrior.” Fireheart nodded.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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