Chapter 1
Rustle, rustle...
Hiss!
What? I did nothing!
Oh, Ebonypaw. You scared me.
Oh, hey Silverpaw. I was just patrolling.
...Do you want to go walking?
Sure! Hey, here's an extra bird I caught. Do you want to share it? Nobody has to know that we didn't share it with the clan...
Silverpaw jolted awake from her dream, sweating through her fur. Or was it even a dream? Sometimes, with that night, she couldn't quite tell. It was too much like a nightmare than real life.
She glanced around the apprentices' den, making sure that nobody else was awake. Sure enough, there was Owlpaw, snoring in her nest like she owned the entire den. Ivypaw, curled up in a corner, and...Ebonypaw. In the nest farthest away from Silverpaw's, back turned away from her. That's how it had been every single night since summer.
She stood up to stretch, arching her back and twisting her neck around so far that she had been nicknamed "Little Owl" for her strange talent. Silverpaw snorted. It had been Runningpelt who had given her that honor. The prankster never seemed to let up with his jokes.
Turning to the entrance, she slipped out of the brambles and into the clearing, suddenly bathed in moonlight. Silverpaw did like the moon, mostly how the way it shimmered off of her silver pelt like she was made of starlight. Divine, her mother had once called it. Of course, Willowfur didn't have another kit to look after, so she was allowed to pile on the praise.
No cats other than herself were present in the hollow, or at least not that she could see. The rocky walls were only filled with the whistling of the wind and the hooting of owls unseen.
Remembering one of the many lessons that Embereye had taught her, Silverpaw hustled so that she was under an overhang in the rock. The one-eyed she-cat who was her mentor had demonstrated how easily an owl can carry off a small cat by letting one catch Silverpaw herself in only her second month of training. The experience only left the memory of talons, wind, and fear in the apprentice's mind, as well as the valuable lesson. She now vowed she would never be caught off guard like that again.
Making naught a noise, Silverpaw slipped over to the hollow's entrance like a pelt over stone. The newly appointed warrior, Spottedheart, was on duty for his first night by himself. Silverpaw wished she could go over and talk to him, cheer him up. She remembered when he would train with them, how he would always knock the younger apprentices over and then help them back on their feet only to barrel them over again. After a while, the pattern had set in and no one wanted to play with him anymore. But he was still a close friend, or at least Silverpaw hoped he wouldn't become to uptight for play now that he was a warrior.
As she passed behind Spottedheart, his ears didn't even flicker back. Silverpaw, despite her silvery pelt, was quite adept at sneaking around alone. Teamwork, however, was not exactly her specialty. Other cats puzzled her more than the tunnels below her feet. Like Ebonypaw.
She dashed back to the den, not wanting to think of that cat. Sure, something about him drew in every single she-cat for miles, but he was a foxbrained tom who didn't know the limits of himself. Why other cats, including herself, were attracted to him, Silverpaw didn't quite understand. She thought she did, before, but what was it? A kit-like crush.
A rustling from above caught her attention for a moment. She scented cat, but it was Thunderclan smell. Probably just a cat who, like her, needed some air. But, even still, she listened in out of curiosity. There was some slight hissing, but whatever cat was up there might have stepped on a thorn or something sharp. Uninterested, she trotted back to the entrance to the apprentices' den.
Glancing around her yet again, she wormed her way back into her den, into the scent of used moss. Silverpaw wrinkled her nose in disgust, silently retching. She'd have to clear out the den again, and fetch new moss. A day's work was a small price to pay to keep her sanity. Too bad Owlpaw and Ebonypaw were too lazy to help her, and Ivypaw was always so busy with her half-siblings.
She laid down in her fresh bedding, collapsing into it's softness. Maybe she could forget Ebonypaw. Eventually. All it needed was a good night's sleep, something she hadn't gotten since the last Gathering, and a new perspective. Tomorrow she would face whatever threats surrounded her recovery. But tonight she would rest, and rest well.
Silverpaw was asleep before she closed her eyes.
The screeching of a cat shook the apprentice awake.
"No! No!" Silverpaw leaped up from where she was laying, but almost immediately had to lay down again. She hadn't gotten enough sleep, not with her midnight excursion.
She felt her denmates rush outside to face whatever new threat to the clan there was, while one paused to help Silverpaw.
"Hey, Silverpaw. You okay?" Ebonypaw's deep meow resonated in her ears like the death cry of kits.
She raised her head to meet the black tom face to face. "I'm fine, Ebonypaw." Silverpaw growled, desperately wishing the tom would get the message.
"Really? because-"
"I'm fine, like I said. Get away from me." The she-cat hissed with all her cooped up malice inside suddenly spilling out. She stood up quickly, unsheathing her claws.
Ebonypaw glanced down at them and recoiled. "Starclan, I'm sorry. What did I do?"
Well, to start, you made me accidentally murder some kits. Is that reason good enough for you? Silverpaw's mew softened slightly, but her gaze didn't. She wanted Ebonypaw to be just as uncomfortable as she was, if not more. "I'm just cranky. I had a bad dream."
"Oh."
It took Silverpaw a few moments to realize why she had even woken up in the first place. Remembering the screeching cat, she dashed outside in panic.
The sudden splash of light blinded her, but after a few heartbeats she was able to see what the cat had been screeching about.
Rosepelt and Daisy were laying in the middle of the hollow, still as fresh-kill. Huddled around them were legions of cats, Silverpaw noticed Embereye and Moonstar herself in the front with Oakfire, the clan deputy. At first, she couldn't tell what everyone was so worked up about, the elders just decided to sleep outside for one night. They might catch a cold, but nothing fatal. But when the sun began to rise over the crest of the stone ravine, the issue with the unmoving forms was immediately apparent. Because the red blood covering the elders' pelts reflected off the sun's warm glow.
"Starclan..." Silverpaw whispered, dropping into a crouch and sneaking forward. Hopefully she might get a good idea of what the senior warriors thought of this horror before she was sent off to protect the kits. Unfortunately, she only caught a glimpse of the corpses before Rainflame, one of the younger warriors, dragged her back to the other apprentices.
"Oh no." The dark gray she-cat turned to the four of them. Her eyes were filled with sorrow as she began to explain to them. "Believe me, you don't want to go over there. Once we know more, we'll tell you. But, right now, you head straight off to the nursery and keep the kits busy while we break the news to the queens." Rainflame glanced behind her shoulder at the huddled mass of cats, "And if I see you trying to sneak a peek of them again, Silverpaw, all of you will be confined to camp for two moons."
Silverpaw ducked her head in shame as the four apprentices turned to the brambles that concealed the nursery. She looked behind them and noticed that Rainflame was still sitting there, watching them until all of the apprentices had made it into the thicket.
Once they were in the concealing bush, however, the others nearly pounced on her with questions.
"What did the bodies look like?" Owlpaw's eyes were shining with curiosity. "No, really, what did you see?"
Ivypaw was a bit more hesitant but still mewed, "Do you think...there's any chance...?"
Understanding what she meant, Silverpaw shook her head silently, as if already in vigil for the elders. Ivypaw's jaw trembled and she looked away, down at her kit siblings who were now tumbling around her feet, asking questions of their own.
How she could be so certain that there was no hope for the lives of the elders was troubling at best, but what Silverpaw saw shook her much more badly than any autumn chill could.
The bodies of Rosepetal and Daisy had been torn to pieces. Bits of fur, ripped off the muscle and thrown to the ground, and blood everywhere. Some of it might have even been fresh. Whomever did this, wanted not only the elders to suffer, but their lifeless corpses to feel pain as well. Silverpaw felt like she had to vomit at the memory of the mutilation.
She looked up at her denmates. Ivypaw was leaning against her, a soft pelt to rub against. Owlpaw was sitting in a corner, as silent as a stone as Lilykit and Ironkit toppled over her, playing their little game of "Toss the Moss". But Ebonypaw was sitting, still as a tree trunk, by the exit to the hollow, staring at Silverpaw with the intensity of a hunter and his prey. She shuddered slightly, pressing up against Ivypaw's warm red fur. Forget him. Forget him. But, suddenly, Silverpaw wasn't sure how.