11.1.18: okay so I deleted a whole-ass chapter and combined it with the previous one and this one to make them longer because I'd rather have two long chapters than three short ones.
Pacing out into the damp grass, Skypaw headed towards the babbling creek that fed into the lake. A flock of late butterflies spiraled away from her paws. She found a sun-warmed, flat rock overlooking a shallow pool. She padded onto the rock and sat down with her paws at the edge. Craning her neck, she leaned over the water. Tiny minnows flitted away from her shadow. A frog jumped away, stirring up mud.
Skypaw didn't understand toms. Flamepaw wouldn't talk to her anymore; instead, he was all eyes on Amberpaw, which made her mad. Amberpaw was uppity and very bossy, and as the oldest apprentice Amberpaw was sure she was the best. Skypaw was upset. She and her brother had always been close as kits—why did that have to change now?
Then there was Salmonpaw, who got his tail in a twist when Featherpaw was worried about her mentor. And then he was extremely rude to Skypaw, with no reason behind it!
And what about Snake? a voice in her head whispered.
And what about Snake? Skypaw's back stiffened. She had seen the kittypet many times on some of her patrols, a faint blur of gray and blue in the distance, but had not ever called it out to any of the rest of the patrol. Ever since that day as a kit when she had gone herb-gathering, the tom's eyes and the shadows in them had always bothered her. What business did he have with a Clan cat anyway? He was just a fat, lazy kittypet, nothing more.
With a sigh, she laid down on the rock, letting the warmth seep into her tired muscles and bones. Snake was a mystery she would have to save for another day. Right now, she was exhausted. She closed her eyes…
…and woke up standing in a clearing with four large, towering oaks brushing the midnight sky. A full moon shone overhead, unobscured by anything in the sky. It was warm and the trees were thick with leaves in the height of greenleaf. A massive rock, scored with countless seasons of pawsteps and claw marks, stood between two of the oaks. Skypaw stood up and glanced around. This looked like the Fourtrees that the elders had described to her from the old forest. But why was she here? She had never been here; how was she able to dream of it?
"Well, if it isn't young Skypaw. I've been waiting to meet you."
Skypaw turned. A huge, long-furred tomcat was padding out of the underbrush. He had a nick in one ear, and his lower jaw was twisted so one of his bottom teeth stuck out over his top lip. His thick fur was a mixture of several shades of brown, and was sleekly groomed. His paws and fur swirled with starlight. His sharp, nicked ears were angled forward alertly, but his eyes were kind.
"Who are you?" Skypaw asked, taking a nervous step back.
"My name is Crookedstar," the starry tomcat said. "And I have come to speak to you."
"About what?"
"The world is much larger than you know, little one," he said. With a purr, he sat down and tucked his tail over his paws. "Many, many, many seasons ago, this was where the Clans held their Gathering. This is the forest where the four Clans used to live. Then Twolegs came and destroyed it, and the Clans had to move."
Skypaw looked up at the trees. She couldn't imagine these huge trees and that imposing stone being torn apart.
He blinked at her wondering expression, and continued softly. "I was born in this old forest, and I led RiverClan in this forest."
Skypaw's head spun. This was such an ancient cat from an ancient place. Weren't StarClan visits reserved to leaders and medicine cats?
"I can't reveal all right now." As soon as he had come, his outline started to fade. Skypaw's eyes widened, and she tried to call out. But her jaw was suddenly glued shut and her paws were frozen in place.
No! she yowled in her head. Don't go! Please!
As his outline melted away, a warm breeze stirred the trees, and it carried traces of Crookedstar's voice with it, whispering softly in her ear.
"The feathers of the dove are soft and the flames of the sun bring life, but neither would survive without the everlasting sky, understanding and kind."
Skypaw awoke with a jerk and a gasp. The sun had set, and the nearly full moon shone over the tops of the pine trees. She leapt to her paws. The rock under her pads was cold. How long had she been asleep?
Turning on a paw, Skypaw launched herself off the rock and hared back toward camp. Her heart was throbbing in her chest. The Clan was probably worried sick—her mother and father—her denmates—
She was almost to the reed tunnel when she barreled into a wide tabby chest.
"Skypaw!" Rushsplash gasped, covering her face and ears in licks. Grasspelt and Mintfur came out from behind him. "Where in StarClan have you been? I've been worried sick—wondering if the foxes had gotten you—where have you been?"
"I-I went for a walk," she spluttered under his stream of licks, meows, and questions. She ducked out from under his tongue and rubbed her ears. "Knock it off, Rushsplash!"
"We're just glad you're safe," Grasspelt rumbled kindly. "Apprentices shouldn't wander off."
"We were on our way out to search for you," Mintfur said softly, and while his voice was calm, his twitching tail-tip showed his agitation.
Embarrassment burned under Skypaw's fur, making her skin crawl like ants. "I-I'm sorry, Rushsplash," she muttered. "I didn't mean to scare you…"
"Go back into camp," Grasspelt encouraged, touching her shoulder with his tail. "While we're out here, we may as well have a late-night hunt."
"And stay in there this time!" Rushsplash was doing his best to sound stern, but his eyes were soft, and he flicked his tail along her side as she walked past him.
Heading back through the reed tunnel with mews of farewell, she spotted Mistystar, who bounded over to her.
"It seems our lost apprentice has returned," she purred with relief. "Where were you?"
"I fell asleep by the river," she admitted shamefully, scuffing the ground with one paw. Mistystar let out a mrrow of laughter.
"Haven't we all, at one time or another? Well, I believe your denmates have already eaten," she continued, like everything was normal, "but I'm sure you could see if they have anything left for you to share."
Meowing thanks, she padded exhaustedly towards the apprentices' den. She pushed in with a half-hearted meow, and it caught short in her throat.
Salmonpaw was clawing angrily at his nest, snarling at a piece of moss that wouldn't lie flat. Amberpaw and Flamepaw were sleeping nose to nose, which only succeeded in making Skypaw angrier.
"What do you want?" Salmonpaw demanded of her.
"Nothing from you, burr-breath," she snapped back. If he wanted to be mean, she could be mean right back.
She was more hurt and upset than angry. Why didn't any of her denmates try to look for her? Did they not care about her anymore? Or had they even cared from the beginning?
"Then leave me alone, and stop staring," Salmonpaw growled, jerking her out of her thought train. He dropped to his side with a thump, his back to her.
"Fine," she muttered, pulling out of the den. "Grumpy-scales. Who made dirt in your fresh-kill?"
Turning away from her denmates, she padded sullenly across the clearing. Creamfeather was sharing a fish with Mallownose as she approached the fresh-kill pile. Sparklesong was padding away with her plumy tail entwined in Tawnytalon's thinner one. Skypaw stared, unseeing, down at the fresh-kill pile, stocked with a few fish of different sizes, two plump voles, and a fat squirrel. Her appetite was suddenly gone. She felt like wailing.
"Is something wrong, Skypaw?" Mallownose asked gently, tipping his head at her.
She shook her head, and then wondered why. She could trust her parents. So why did Skypaw feel such a reluctance to talk to them?
Maybe it was the secrets between her mother and Heatherheart regarding the three. Mallownose didn't seem to know—or he was better at hiding it.
Her parents hadn't searched for her either. Maybe that was why. It had been her mentor, a warrior she had spoken to twice, and Mintfur that had started to search for her. Did they actually care? Were they the only ones?
Did she matter to no cat?
"I'm okay," she murmured. "Just…not very hungry, I guess."
"Are you feeling okay?" Creamfeather asked, rising to her paws.
"Just a bellyache," she lied, picking up a fish. "I'm gonna take this to Heatherheart and Willowshine," she mumbled around her mouthful. Flicking her tail in farewell, she padded disgruntledly away.
Brushing through the medicine den overhang, Skypaw mewed a greeting. Pebblefoot was curled up in a nest, sound asleep. He had cobwebs, moss, and poultices covering one half of his face. Featherpaw was sitting over him, her tail curled around her paws, her ears pricked like she was searching for danger. She turned as Skypaw entered.
"Who's that for?" she greeted her sister, nodding to the fish.
Skypaw set it down. "Anyone who'll eat it, I guess," she replied. "How's Pebblefoot?"
Featherpaw's eyes clouded as she turned back to her mentor. "They don't know if they'll be able to save his eye," she murmured quietly.
"What's this, what's this?" Willowshine demanded, coming forward from the back of the den, cutting into their conversation. "My patient needs sleep! And how is he supposed to sleep with two apprentices in here chattering like spring starlings?"
"Don't be so grumpy, Willowshine," Heatherheart said tiredly, padding forward. "Featherpaw is worried and I'm sure Skypaw is too."
"A-Actually, I brought some fresh-kill," she meowed softly.
"Not hungry," Willowshine said curtly, turning away and sniffing at Pebblefoot's face. "Save it for other cats."
"Thank you, Skypaw," Heatherheart murmured kindly, ignoring her mentor, "but we've already eaten. Flamepaw and Amberpaw brought us some fresh-kill earlier. You're probably tired. Why don't you go get some rest? Or if you don't want to return to your den," she added, seeing Skypaw's silent snarl of disgust at the thought of going back to the apprentices' den, "you could see if you could get Featherpaw to eat any."
"I'll do that," Skypaw said with a sigh. Her sister was stubborn, more so than she, and she didn't know how fruitful her attempts would be.
"Hey Featherpaw," she said, padding up to her sister and sitting beside her. "You should get some rest. Pebblefoot's asleep, and Willowshine and Heatherheart can watch him. It won't do him any good to tire yourself out."
"I'm not tired," she grumbled, but Skypaw could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and wondered how long her sister had been sitting like this.
Skypaw stood up again and began collecting reeds and moss from around the den, shaping them into a makeshift nest next to Pebblefoot. Featherpaw watched her with tired curiosity. Once the nest was done, Skypaw patted it down and flicked her tail at it, motioning at her sister.
With no further objection, Featherpaw slid into the next, and, after a moment, dragged the fish after her. Skypaw settled down beside her and began grooming her dusty fur, cleaning the bits of dirt and herbs from the thick leaf-fall coat. Featherpaw stared at the fish for a few more heartbeats before Skypaw nudged her side, and she began to nibble at the side.
Once her fur was freshly groomed, Skypaw tucked some moss around her sister. Featherpaw turned away from the half-eaten fish and curled up without a word. Skypaw laid down and finished off the rest of the fish—her belly still ached but she knew that someone had to eat the fish, or it would just rot and make the den smell bad. Once the fish was done, Skypaw poked together some of the leftover reeds and moss for her to lay on. It wasn't as comfortable as her heron-feather-lined nest in the apprentices' den, but it would do.
Settling down, Skypaw rested her head on her paws and her tail over her nose. But she couldn't stop thinking about Crookedstar's prophecy. If it even is a prophecy, she thought. Prophecies are for leaders and medicine cats, not apprentices like me.
Feathers, flames, and sky. Maybe that was her and her siblings? But what was the deal with the sun and the dove? Skypaw rolled over. She considered asking Heatherheart—she was, in fact, a medicine cat, and she had lots of experience with StarClan.
But she wasn't very happy with Heatherheart, not in the slightest. Skypaw frowned, cross. Who else was there to ask?
Willowshine wasn't really a good candidate—she and the grumpy medicine cat had never been close, and she didn't feel comfortable going to her to discuss something so personal.
Mistystar had to have some experience with StarClan. Leaders talked to them too, right? Maybe not as much as medicine cats, but they did. So perhaps she would ask her.
Skypaw made up her mind to speak to Mistystar in the morning. Her thoughts finally quieted, she closed her eyes and focused on Featherpaw's breathing in the nest beside hers.
Skypaw must have fallen asleep at some point, because she awoke to warm sunlight pooling through the reeds. Barely after sunhigh, the air was already thick, promising another sweltering day. Featherpaw was still sound asleep; a late, lingering butterfly was fluttering its wings while perched on her sister's tail. Pebblefoot was rousing, blinking his one clear eye and yawning as he scratched his ear with a hind leg.
"How do you feel?" Skypaw asked him.
Pebblefoot hesitated, and then heaved a sigh. He leaned over the small freshwater pool beside his nest, staring at his reflection. He was silent for a long time.
"You know," he finally murmured, "I hoped it had all been a dream. I heard Heatherheart and Willowshine talking last night—they thought I was asleep—and…" He took a shuddering breath and had to turn his head away. "They don't know if they can save my sight."
Skypaw's heart ached for the elderly warrior. She knew he was close to retiring and had assumed that Featherpaw would be his last apprentice. This might force him to retire sooner than intended.
As if he had read her mind, Pebblefoot turned his attention to Featherpaw, still breathing softly. "Don't tell Featherpaw. I'd like to tell her myself. I don't want to upset her more than she already is. She needs to focus on her training, and worrying over me won't help her."
Skypaw nodded, unsure what to say.
Fortunately, the reeds swished and Mistystar's mew sounded just before she appeared, blinking in the dimly lit den. Pebblefoot turned to see her. Skypaw was relieved—serious discussions were Flamepaw's forte, not hers.
"Ah, Skypaw, Rushsplash is looking for you," she said briskly. "You might want to go find him; he's leading a hunting patrol."
She hesitated, wanting to speak to the leader. Mistystar twitched her tail expectantly.
"Your mentor?" she urged. Skypaw resigned herself; she could speak to Mistystar later.
"Yes, Mistystar," Skypaw mewed, rising to her paws, stretching and yawning hugely. Her belly rumbled loudly and her fur burned as she flinched.
Mistystar purred. "There might be something left on the fresh-kill pile, if Rushsplash will let you eat before you leave. You should go now though."
"Yes, Mistystar!" she repeated, scampering out of the medicine den.
The clearing was abuzz with life. The elders were sunning themselves out by the tiny stream that ran past the camp, where the kits played and learned to swim. Rushsplash, Hollowfeather, and Mossypelt were standing near the reeds towards the entrance to the camp, meowing to each other softly. Creamfeather and Duskfur were sharing tongues, while Tawnytalon rolled in the dirt. The fresh-kill pile was empty; with an inward sigh, she accepted the fact that she would have to eat after the rest of the Clan was fed by their patrol. Skypaw bounded across the clearing to her mentor. He turned his kind gaze on her.
"I trust you slept well in the medicine den. Ready for some hunting?" he meowed. When she nodded eagerly, he continued: "We're just waiting on Mistystar, and then we can go."
"Is she coming with us on patrol?" Skypaw asked, her heart suddenly pounding. Her leader was coming, and would be watching her hunting? What if this was some sort of assessment? Why wouldn't Rushsplash have warned her? A million thoughts buzzed through her mind like a swarm of angry bees. Everything else was momentarily drowned out.
Rushsplash opened his mouth to reply; before he could say anything, however, a sudden yowl echoed from the medicine den.
"But I don't want another mentor!"