Warriors: Silent

42

      "Silver gorse!" Duskpaw cried suddenly, startling Frostcloud. It was almost dusk, and just several moments ago the cats agreed they should start searching for shelter. Frostcloud had been considering their options, but now found her wide eyes staring ahead.

  The peculiar, cold, silver bramble that entombed their home was peeking over the horizon. "PineClan!" Frostcloud said to herself, excitement picking at her paws. "We're home!" She almost gasped, swinging her head to Buckheart.

  "Forget finding shelter," he said, "let's sleep in our own dens tonight!"

  Picking up their sluggish pace, the cats ducked under silver gorse. Frostcloud breathed in the familiar PineClan scent, ecstatic to be back in a territory she recognized.

  The cats kept their pace brisk, walking with a sense of urgency brought on by legs too sore to bound. Frostcloud cracked open her jaws, eager to taste something she knew: the pines, the leaf-mold, faint traces of cats and prey, mud, flora, dampness that still clung to the undergrowth from the rain just some days ago- everything wonderful.

  I couldn't go with Smudge. She knew, a bittersweet feeling welling in her chest, This is my home.

  Soon, the brambles that surrounded camp came into view. Frostcloud stopped briefly, Buckheart next to her catching his breath, and Duskpaw just at his side.

  From high ground, Frostcloud could see the cats in camp shamble around. Dusk patrol; Leafear, Shalepaw, and Sunfur, she could see, began to shimmy through the camps entrance. Behind them, a hunting patrol of Riverpelt, Crowfur, Doepaw, and Dustpaw followed with squirrels and mice.

  Mosspool laid outside of the warriors den, staring ahead numbly at something Frostcloud couldn't find, and Slatepaw and Featherpaw padded in her direction with a bird.

  Warmheart, Cricketlegs, and Needlepelt sat together as they ate various forms of fresh-kill. Whitestar and Dawnheart shared tongues outside of the formers den.

  "Ready?" Duskpaw asked, his tail higher than the stars.

  The patrol began to run a half-circle around camp to reach the entrance, and Frostcloud almost felt tempted to run downhill through the brambles just to get inside faster. The sun was setting, and with the sky growing cloudless, she knew she would see the stars.

  First Duskpaw, then Frostcloud, and finally Buckheart weaved through the brambles that protected their dens. Frostcloud's sides touched either wall, leaving gentle streaks in her fur from the thorns. The lines were wavy, as they molded to the pattern of her ribcage.

  "Sunfur! Whitestar!" Duskpaw called when he broke through the other side. Not only his parents, but every Clancat shot their heads around with wide eyes; various glowing shades of yellows, greens, ambers, browns, all landed on the small patrol in shock. The apprentice bounded towards his kin, and Doepaw erupted through the apprentice den.

  "They're back!" Shalepaw yowled as Leafear nearly tackled Buckheart, who was just emerging from the bramble. Frostcloud registered a cat cuffing her before she could recognize who; Mosspool had run to her and she roughly headbutted her friends cheek. "You're alive!" Mosspool said with a voice just hardly above a waver.

  Riverpelt had reached Frostcloud next and she erratically rasped her tongue over her daughters face. "We expected you back days ago!" She said, "We- we thought-"

  "We're okay." Frostcloud purred, cutting her mother away from a sentence that clearly scared her so much. "The storm slowed us down."

  "It was the storm we were afraid of." Mosspool explained.

  Frostcloud almost felt tempted to explain the trouble the storm had caused, but suddenly felt like the story would cause too much stress. A story for another time, she decided as nuzzled Mosspool and Riverpelt.

  Cricketlegs set a plump squirrel at his former apprentice's paws, "You look hungry." He said with a sparkle in his eye. Frostcloud gave a grateful dip in her head before taking a large bite of the prey, enamoured by the sweet taste.

  Behind her, Leafear went on, "It must have been hard watching over three cats over such a journey!"

  "I- I didn't really." Buckheart said, "Frostcloud watched Bailey, and I only really kept an eye on Duskpaw- since he's my apprentice."

  That's not what you said at Red Barn. Frostcloud thought with a roll in her eye, though she couldn't help but appreciate the toms modesty. "Bailey?" Crowfur asked.

  "Whitef- uh, the kittypet. Her name was Bailey." Buckheart elaborated.

  "Well, we're glad your back. Safe." Warmheart said to her son, followed by the sound of a tongue rasping over ears.

  Frostcloud eyed the camp. Duskpaw's kin and denmates had completely surrounded him. And though he seemed shy under all their attention, he was eager to tell his story.

  The remaining Clancats had approached Buckheart and Frostcloud- Needlepelt on his way. Only one was missing. "Where's Littlefern?" The she-cat asked. He wouldn't be hunting in the river so late, would he? The sun had almost set and it was getting colder by the moment.

  Mosspool flinched and looked away and her Clanmates fell quiet. "What's the matter?" Buckheart asked, and Frostcloud wondered if he felt the same cold thorn pierce his stomach.

  "Littlefern-" Cricketlegs started, his eyes darting from cat to cat like he wasn't sure what to say, "-Littlefern's dead."

  Frostcloud's heart all but fell out of her chest. "What?" She asked, hoping somehow she misheard. He was young and healthy, and she'd only been gone for a half-moon! It couldn't be possible for him to die so quickly, could it? She couldn't just leave camp one dawn and come back to one less Clanmate, could she?

  "He got caught in the white stone, in Bearwalkers Den." Riverpelt explained gently, "Whitestar lost two of his lives trying to get him out."

  "And Warmheart got hurt pretty bad too- strained a muscle." Crowfur added, using his nose to touch his mate's cheek. Her eyes were closed, and it almost felt like the color drained from her fur as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

  "We couldn't get him out." She said after a pause, her voice a whisper.

  "Mosspool-" Frostcloud started, but couldn't manage to find any comforting word. I can't bring back your dead brother.

  "How- how long ago?" Buckheart asked, stunned.

  "Just before the storm." Mosspool answered, her brown eyes refusing to meet any others.

  Riverpelt lightly pressed her flank into the young warriors. "He's guarding us from StarClan now." She said.

  Mosspool gave a small nod, though there was no shine in her eyes.