Thornpaw woke up immediately, excited to see StarClan. She wouldn't have to suffer anymore. She would be free from all her worries, free from Applepaw.

But Lilyfur? And Olivestem? What about Cocoakit?

She knew she could never see them now.

Perhaps I could have had a future with Cocoakit. She sighed wistfully, her mind filling with possibilities.

Then Thornpaw opened her eyes, and realised she was not in StarClan at all.

She lay in the medicine den, Thriftberry by her side. The white she-cat purred.

"You're awake." Her eyes gleamed with relief. "I knew you would be okay."

"What happened?" Thornpaw croaked, confused. "Shouldn't I be in StarClan?"

"You fainted," Thriftberry mewed, then added silently, "You shouldn't be in StarClan. You'll live long, I promise."

"Thank you." Thornpaw sighed. She felt like most of her life would be spent in the medicine den rather than out hunting and patrolling. What if Duckstar or Thriftberry banned her from going out of camp?

"It'll all be okay in the end," the medicine cat murmured softly, crouching down next to her. "It'll be okay."

Thornpaw put a brave smile on her face and nodded. "I'll be an amazing apprentice."

Thriftberry purred weakly. "That's the spirit."

Olivestem padded in, her kits by her side. "Is she okay now?" The black queen's eyes glittered with worry.

"Yep," Thriftberry croaked. She glanced at the kits. "She can play as well."

The white she-cat turned to Thornpaw. "I'd like you to stay in camp for today," she announced. "Just so I can keep an eye on you."

"Alright." Thornpaw agreed with a nod and heaved herself up. Cocoakit scurried immediately towards her, his eyes shining.

"Let's go play!" he squealed. "Please?"

Thornpaw nodded, though sleep was settling in in her eyes, and exhaustion clouded her thoughts.

The apprentice trotted out with the three kits, her head lowered.

She looked around camp as she walked. HollyClan was well and thriving, full of strong and healthy cats.

Bouncepaw sat with his littermates, Sandpaw and Skypaw, sharing a piece of fresh-kill. Ferncreek lay with her paws rested on her muzzle in the leaf-fall sunshine, her belly bulging, as Lilyfur and Yellowstorm groomed each other. A hunting patrol trotted into camp, Bitternblaze in the lead, and Cranberryear, Ruffledstone and Greynose following him. They all held prey in their jaws. Garlicpelt gave out orders, Duckstar sitting patiently at her side.

Thornpaw sighed. Her life was a mess of ifs and maybes and perhapses.

She summoned all her energy, and began to play with the kits.