Signs Of The Moon Book 2: Moon High

Chapter 9

Sunlight trickled through the Newleaf thin branches of the trees overhead, right into Hazepaw's eyes. The moisture from the ground seeped into his fur as consciousness returned to him. And a sense of irritation settled into his belly once he greeted the world with his presence. After parting his jaws in a yawn, Hazepaw turned, beginning to groom the mud and leaf matter off his dense coat. Sleeping outside had never felt so uncomfortable. But with no dens to provide shelter, cats had to make due with what they had.
The clan would be working on building the camp today, no doubt. With the weather calming down, if only temporarily, there was a perfect opportunity to gather materials. Hazepaw hoped the dens would be constructed soon. He didn't know if he could handle sleeping in the forest again without one.

"Hazepaaaw!" Sandybreeze called from across the way. Hazepaw narrowed his eyes as he turned to meet his mentor's chipper smile. How was Sandybreeze so happy and energetic, after everything that occurred yesterday? Hazepaw took his time rising to his paws, padding lazily over to where his mentor waited.
"Glad to see you're awake," she commented, her good mood spoiled by his lack of enthusiasm. "You'll accompany Puddlefur, Dimpath, Seaweedfang, Samson, and Otterpaw on the collecting patrol." Sandybreeze pointed her muzzle towards the awaiting warriors, as if to show how serious she was. Hazepaw resisted the urge to groan, being shot a warning glare by the Oceanclan deputy before he could. Still, he parted his jaws, ready to argue. Then, Otterpaw came trotting over; prompting him to give up the argument before it'd even begun. The last thing he wanted to do was give Otterpaw ammunition to tease him with. Igoring orders would certainly garner the brown molly's commentary. Sandybreeze gave a smug smirk, turning to speak with another group of cats waiting behind her. Hazepaw lowered his head, stalking over to his patrol wordlessly.

"Hey!" Otterpaw called after him, rushing to catch up. But Hazepaw kept moving, ignoring the annoying she-cat for as long as possible.

"Perfect, looks like we're all here," Seaweedfang pointed out as the younger apprentices came to stand at her side.

"Good. Let's not waste any time with chit-chat. We need to start collecting materials as soon as possible," Puddlefur meowed, leading the patrol into the forest with a jerk of his head. Hazepaw was relieved by the silence that had fallen over them, following his superiors into the undergrowth with apathy swirling in his mind. All he wanted to do was complete the mission and go back to camp. Then, perhaps, he could get some training from his mentor. Or some better sleep. Grunt work like den keeping and collecting were the last jobs Hazepaw held interest in. He wanted to use his claws, sink his teeth into something warm and fleshy. He wanted to hunt and fight, like a warrior. An assignment like this was dreadfully boring in compare.

"Where are we headed?" Otterpaw broke the silence, speaking to Samson with a hushed voice.

"To Rubble Path, I believe. Wavestar wants us to do some work there," the older tabby apprentice answered, his gaze trained on the path ahead.

"Work? But aren't we gathering stuff to build our new dens?"

"Well, yeah. But that's only half the mission. We're meant to mark the border, too. I'll explain a little more once we get there."
Otterpaw let out a confused hum, but made no effort to pry more information from the older apprentice. Yet a curiosity sparkled in her yellow eyes that even got Hazepaw interested. As much as he was relieved by the returning silence, Hazepaw also found himself growing curious. What exactly did Samson mean by "work"? Was there more to the mission than collecting materials and leaving fresh scent marks? Anticipation began to build in Hazepaw's chest at the idea of a more eventful day ahead.
The squishy mud underpaw eventually shifted into soft cakey sand, welcoming the Oceanclan cats back onto the beach. Hazepaw cast his gaze in the direction of their original home, shocked to see the ruins of yesterday's storm. Debris littered the sand; branches, leaves, and fragments of rock were scattered everywhere. There were even bits of Twoleg trash scattered about. The shore, which had once been smooth and sunbleached, was now soaked, with new craters and dunes sculpted in the oddest of places. A lot of cleanup would need to be done, once the stormy season had come to an end. For now, Hazepaw turned away from the land of his birth, following his clanmates towards the rocky cliffside bordering their neighbor's territory. The ground began to slope the closer they drew to Rubble Path, and soon the rocky terrain came into clear view. Puddlefur then turned, blocking the patrol's path.