Chapter Twenty‑Three — Running From the Hurt Stormpaw’s words hung in the air like mist. “I’ll help you put it back together.” Jadepaw’s chest tightened. She wanted to lean into him. She wanted to let him hold her steady. But the moment Cloudpaw’s shattered expression flashed through her mind, everything inside her twisted painfully. She pulled away. Stormpaw blinked, startled. “Jadepaw…?” “I can’t,” she whispered, stepping back. “Not right now.” Stormpaw rose to his paws, worry flickering across his face. “I didn’t mean to push you. I just—” “I know,” she said quickly. “I know you didn’t.” But her paws were already moving. She couldn’t stay here. Not with Stormpaw’s eyes on her. Not with Cloudpaw’s voice echoing in her head. Not with the weight of everything crushing her chest. She turned and ran. Stormpaw called her name once — soft, confused — but she didn’t stop. She darted across the clearing, weaving between warriors, ignoring the stares and whispers. She needed someone who wasn’t tangled in this mess. Someone steady. Someone safe. She needed Willowstep. --- Finding Her Mentor Willowstep was sorting herbs near the fresh‑kill pile, her silver fur glowing in the fading light. She looked up the moment Jadepaw skidded to a stop in front of her. “Jadepaw?” Willowstep’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?” Everything. Everything was wrong. Jadepaw’s breath shook. “I— I need to do something.” Willowstep blinked. “Something?” “Anything,” Jadepaw said, voice cracking. “Please. I can’t sit still. I can’t think. I don’t want to do chores. I don’t want to talk. I just— I need something to take my mind off all of this.” Willowstep’s expression softened with understanding. She stepped closer, brushing her tail gently along Jadepaw’s flank. “You’ve had a hard day.” Jadepaw swallowed hard. “I can’t breathe when I’m not doing something.” Willowstep studied her for a long moment — calm, steady, thoughtful. Then she nodded. “All right,” she said softly. “No chores. No camp duties. I’ll give you something better.” Jadepaw’s heart thudded. “What?” Willowstep’s eyes gleamed with quiet purpose. “A task only an apprentice I trust can handle.” Jadepaw’s breath caught. “Really?” “Really,” Willowstep said. “Follow me.” Jadepaw hesitated, glancing back toward the medicine den — toward the place where Cloudpaw was bleeding and hurting and angry. Stormpaw stood at the edge of camp, watching her with a look she couldn’t read. Jadepaw tore her gaze away. She followed Willowstep. She needed this. She needed something that wasn’t Cloudpaw or Stormpaw or the ache twisting inside her. She needed to feel like herself again.
