Warriors: Silent

2

      Frostpaw and Littlepaw, a white-furred and grey-patched tom, sat in the clearing sharing a large mouse. They felt tired from cleaning out the nursery but proud of their days work. Buckpaw, a broad red-furred tom, who hadn't helped clean the nursery till sunhigh, was taking care of the finishing touches.

  The white she-cat watched the camp curiously. Crowfur, Mosspaw's mentor, and Warmheart sat in the shade of the medicine cats den, pressed tightly against eachother with their tails intertwined. Frostpaw could practically hear the two cats purr, despite being across camp.

  Mothstar, an old brown tom, was talking with Cricketlegs, Sunfur, and Needlepelt in front of his own den. The four looked tense, and Frostpaw guessed they were discussing this mornings embarrassing events. Whitefeet, Littlepaw's mentor and PineClan's deputy, was walking towards the group of warriors.

  Dawnheart, PineClan's medicine cat, was in the empty elders den. Doing what, Frostpaw would never be able to guess. She almost forgot the den was there at times, having never met an elder.

  Her green eyes focused in on the camps entrance. A hunting patrol was out, led by Riverpelt, Buckpaw's mentor and Frostpaw's own mother, led. With her was Mosspaw and Leafear, another PineClan she-cat.

  Littlepaw pushed the last of the mouse towards Frostpaw. "I'm full." He explained, wrapping his tail around himself. Frostpaw took the last greedy bite of the rodent.

  "Thanks." She beamed. Littlepaw was on the quiet side, and she always felt satisfied when he spoke to her. Sitting upright, Frostpaw groomed herself while Littlepaw kneaded the ground.

  Buckpaw trotted to the duo with a pigeon. He set the bird down and flicked his tail towards Needlepelt, "Mothstar is pretty upset with him." He said.

  Frostpaw pricked her ears in interest, "How do you know?" She asked, less focused on her fur now as guilt pricked at her skin. She should have been keeping up with the patrol, not playing with Mosspaw. Even if border Patrol was so boring- and pointless! Every cat stayed in their own territory for as long as she's been an apprentice. For as long as she's been alive, as far as she knows, there has never once been an intruder or a skirmish.

  "'Said he couldn't come to the Gathering in a few days." Buckpaw answered, looking over his shoulder. The group had disassembled, and now Mothstar talked with his deputy, Whitefeet, while they watched the camp.

  Frostpaw flicked her tail. Why did StoneClan have to catch dawn patrol bickering so near the full moon? PineClan didn't have any issues with the other Clans, there has only been peace in Frostpaws life, but to be caught arguing over something so small was just embarrassing. The other Clancats were sure to laugh and tease. The thought of being snickered at by another cat made Frostpaw's claws itch, and she suddenly wanted to hide in the shadows.

  Why did they have to be caught arguing at all? None of this would have been a problem if the patrols missed eachother!

  "Think any of us will go?" Littlepaw asked, snapping Frostpaw out of her thoughts.

  "One or two of us are bound to." Buckpaw replied, staring at his pigeon, strategizing his first bite. Frostpaw didn't blame him- pigeons didn't come in PineClan often, and their stinky feathers were difficult to work around.

  Leaning forward, Frostpaw sniffed the bird. She contorted her face at a rancid odor that stuck to it. It didn't reek like beetle-food did, but it made her nose burn. The smell was far worse than rotting food. It was something... unnatural.

  "Whitefeet said pigeons go to bearwalker nests a lot. That's what their territory smell like." Littlepaw said, practically reading Frostpaw's thoughts, "But it's safe to eat."

  It still stinks. Frostpaw thought as she rolled onto her back, the sky above her becoming a dull blue-grey as the sun set. The brightest of the stars were beginning to shine through and she turned her thoughts back towards the Gathering. What would it be like to go? She'd never been before, as Mosspaw, Littlepaw, and Buckpaw were all older than her, and she'd always managed to be injured or ill the night of a full-moon.

  "It'll be nice going to a Gathering not covered in snow." Buckpaw commented, having only gone to one Gathering in leaf-bare. Frostpaw blinked. Had she asked that out loud, what it'd be like to go? Littlepaw made a sound of agreement. It was new-leaf now, and the weather was warming and the snow was gone.

  It was then Mosspaw and the two other she-cats came back in camp, carrying two mice, a vole, and a sparrow. They brought their prey to the fresh-kill pile, tails high.

  Frostpaw purred as her friend approached the group. Eagerly, Mosspaw nabbed Buckpaw's pigeon and plucked away the feathers for him.

  Littlepaw greeted his sister with slow blink, and Buckpaw watched how she pulled the feathers off the bird attentively. Frostpaw observed her technique too, and took notice how Mosspaw was careful to avoid the feathers surely sour taste, using only her teeth to pull them off the bird.

  Listening to the indistint chatter of her Clanmates, Frostpaw tucked her paws beneath her, closing her eyes as the air around her cooled.