Warriors AU: Fire and Ice

Chapter 4

As they headed out of the camp, the two young warriors nearly crashed into Brindleface, who was leading Firepaw and Dappletail into the forest for the dawn patrol.

"Sorry!" panted Sandstorm. He stopped, and Silverstream skidded to a halt beside him.

Brindleface dipped his head. "I hear you two are going on a mission," he meowed.

"Yes," Sandstorm replied.

"Then may you have Starclan's protection," meowed Brindleface gravely.

"What for?" Firepaw sneered. "You off to catch voles?"

Dappletail, a dappled tortoiseshell and white tom, turned and whispered something into Firepaw's ear. Her expression changed and the contempt in her green eyes switched to guarded curiosity.

The patrol stepped aside to let Sandstorm and Silverstream pass. The pair raced on and scrambled up the side of the ravine.

Sandstorm and Silverstream shared a few words as they followed the route through the forest to Fourtrees, saving their breath for the long journey ahead. They paused at the top of the steep slope on the far side of the oak-shaded clearing, their sides heaving from the climb.

"Is it always windy up here?" grumbled Silverstream, fluffing out his thick fur against the blast of cold air that swept across the uplands.

"I suppose there aren't any trees to block it," Sandstorm pointed out, screwing up his eyes. This was Windclan's territory. As Sandstorm sniffed the air, he detected a scent that all of his senses told him should not be there. "Do you smell Riverclan warriors?" he murmured uneasily.

Silverstream lifted his nose. "No. Do you think there might be some here?"

"Maybe. They might want to make the most of Windclan's absence, especially since they know Windclan will be back soon," Sandstorm warned.

"Well, I can't smell anything now," whispered Silverstream.

The two friends padded watchfully along a frozen turf trail sheltered by heather.

A fresh scent stopped Sandstorm in his tracks. "Can you smell that?" he hissed to Silverstream.

"Yes," whispered Silverstream, flattening himself against the ground. "Riverclan!"

Sandstorm dropped into a crouch, keeping his ears below the heather. Beside him, Silverstream lifted his silver tabby head to peer over the bushes. "I can see them," he murmured. "They're hunting."

Sandstorm stretched up cautiously to look.

Four Riverclan warriors were chasing a rabbit through a patch of gorse. Sandstorm recognized Mistyfoot from the Gathering. The blue-gray warrior pounced, his claws unsheathed, but sat up again with nothing to show for the chase. The rabbit must have made it to the safety of her warren.

Sandstorm and Silverstream dropped down again and pressed their bellies against the cold turf.

"They're not good rabbit hunters," Silverstream hissed scornfully.

"I guess Riverclan is more used to catching fish," Sandstorm whispered back. His nose twitched as he smelled the scent of a terrified rabbit coming nearer. With a pang of dread, Sandstorm heard the pawsteps of the Riverclan warriors fast approaching after it. "They're coming this way! We'll have to hide!"

"Follow me," whispered Silverstream. "I smell badgers this way."

"Badgers?" Sandstorm echoed. "Is that safe?" He'd heard the story of how Halftail had lost her tail in a fight with a bad-tempered old badger.