Warriors AU: Fire and Ice

Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thank you to 4l3h_dr34m for the amazing cover again! They are my new cover artist so this book will be the last one where I ask for a book cover. Welcome to the team friend!

Sandstorm woke at dawn with the image of his sister still clear in his mind. He pushed his way out of the den, hoping the routine of the day would distract him. It was another cold, frosty morning. Brindleface and Longtail were waiting near the camp entrance, preparing to leave on patrol. Mousefur padded past on his way to join them and greeted Sandstorm with a cheery mew. Brindleface called for Firepaw, who came racing out of her den just in time to follow the patrol as it pounded out of the camp. It was a scene Sandstorm had watched many times, but for once he didn't yearn to join them as they thundered away into the morning-fresh forest.

He padded across the clearing, wondering if Cinderpaw was awake yet. Whitestorm was just squeezing out of the narrow nursery entrance. A speckled kit followed er, then one more. A third kit, a dark brown tabby, tumbled out and fell onto the ground.

Whitestorm picked it up by its scruff and placed it gently back on its paws. The tenderness of Whitestorm's action brought Sandstorm's dream flooding back. His mother had probably done the same for him. He knew that Whitestorm's fourth kit had died soon after it was born, and she seemed to love the remaining kits even more fiercely now.

Sandstorm was overwhelmed by a pang of envy at the thought that the other cats here all shared something he did not—they were all Clanborn. Sandstorm had always been proud of his loyalty to the Clan that had taken him in and given him a life he would never have known as a kittypet. He still felt that loyalty—he would die to protect Thunderclan—but no one in the Clan understood or even respected his kittypet roots. Sandstorm felt certain the she-cat he had seen yesterday would. With an ache in his heart, he wondered what memories they might share.

Sandstorm heard Silverstream's heavy pawsteps behind him. He turned to greet his friend, stretching his head to touch Silverstream's nose, and asked, "Could you take Cinderpaw for the day?"

Silverstream looked curiously at Sandstorm. "Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing important," replied Sandstorm as casually as he could. "I just wanted to check out something I saw yesterday. Watch out for Cinderpaw, though; he doesn't listen to orders very well. Don't take your eyes off him or he'll be charging off in every direction."

Silverstream's whiskers twitched with amusement. "He sounds like a pawful! Still, it'll be good for Sorrelpaw. He never charges off anywhere without thinking about it carefully first."

"Thanks, Silverstream!" Sandstorm bounded away toward the camp entrance before his friend could remember to ask him where he was going.

As the Twolegplace came into view through the trees, Sandstorm dropped into a crouch. He opened his mouth and breathed in the cold morning air. No sign of a Thunderclan patrol, and no Twoleg scents either. He relaxed a little.

Slowly he approached the Twoleg fence where he had seen the she-cat disappear. He hesitated at the bottom and looked around, sniffing the air once more. Then he leaped, landing on a fence post in one easy jump. No Twolegs to be seen—just an empty garden with its strongly scented plants.

Sandstorm felt exposed on the post. The branch of a tree hung low overhead. Its leaves had gone, but it would be easier to hide there. Silently he pulled himself up and lay down to wait, flattening himself against the rough bark.

Sandstorm could see a swinging flap in the entrance to the Twolegplace. He had used one just like it as a kit. He fixed his gaze on the flap, hoping his sister's face would appear at any moment. The sun rose slowly into the morning sky, but Sandstorm started to feel cold. The damp branch was drawing the heat from his body. Perhaps the Twolegs were keeping his sister shut in. After all, her kitting would be soon. Sandstorm licked a paw and wondered if he should go back to the camp.