SLAVES

CHAPTER NINE

Smoketalon watched as Aspenpaw groomed his matted grey pelt. It was approaching sunhigh, although he wasn't sure if he could actually call it that considering the distinct lack of any sun. It had been awhile since they'd seen any now, ever since the snow had started to fall, in fact. The pine trees, much unlike the trees found across ThunderClan's territory, kept their leaves all year round, meaning that their branches were able to take most of the brunt of the leafbare weather. Nevertheless, the ground was still coated in a thin layer of snow, and the air had a biting chill to it. Smoketalon shivered. As he'd learned all too well in his first few moons as a slave, their den didn't exactly provide flawless protection from the cold.

By now, the cuts that Aspenpaw had received in his training session with Wolfpaw had, save for a scar on his left shoulder, healed completely. If a ShadowClan cat had seen the apprentice, they wouldn't have known he'd ever been wounded. It was good that Smoketalon didn't have to worry about him anymore, but whenever one problem sorted itself out another seemed to become all the more apparent. After he'd snapped at Aspenpaw for his friendly conversation with Tanglepaw, the small grey tom had been giving him the silent treatment.

At first, he'd toyed with the idea of apologizing to the young tomcat, but then decided against it. It's not my fault, Smoketalon thought disinterestedly. He just needs to swallow his pride and admit that he was in the wrong.

Aspenpaw finished up his grooming by licking the dirt and grime from between his claws, before stretching out in satisfaction. A hint of the tidiness that Smoketalon had come to expect in the apprentice's fur had returned, although it was still a bit matted.

'Your wounds are looking better,' the black tom meowed gruffly.

Aspenpaw didn't respond. The only sign he gave that he'd even heard the older tom was the slightest shrug of his shoulders.

Smoketalon's eyes narrowed at this. 'I said that your wounds were looking better,' he repeated, trying to tempt a reaction, but once again, it was like the apprentice had failed to hear him. He didn't like the way that Aspenpaw was acting. No matter how much the younger cat frustrated him, he had started to become a cat whose company he valued highly. There wasn't really anyone else he could have a reasonable conversation with in ShadowClan. Not only that, but he served as a reminder. A memory of a time when things were so much better for the both of them.

Smoketalon started to speak again, but suddenly, Aspenpaw got up to his paws. 'Sorry, I have to go,' he muttered curtly. 'One of the warriors said I'd be needed for a patrol yesterday.'

Smoketalon's body stiffened in annoyance. Really? he thought. When I'm about to talk, he decides to remember about a job? His paws itched; he was tempted to tell Aspenpaw he was being a mouse-brain, but didn't think the apprentice would take too kindly to an insult. He didn't want to give him another reason to make things awkward.

'Well, go on then,' Smoketalon replied, trying to keep the disapproval from his voice. 'You don't have to ask me for permission.'

Aspenpaw nodded, before quickly turning around and padding out of the slaves' den. The jet-black tom couldn't help but feel a little suspicious as he disappeared from view. The fact that he hadn't mentioned which warrior had ordered his presence, or even what type of patrol it was, raised a few questions in Smoketalon's mind. He wondered if the so-called "job" had just been an excuse to get away from him. Surely Aspenpaw wasn't that upset with him?

He shook his head. It was utterly ridiculous to be pondering on issues like this. He didn't need the apprentice; if anything, the young cat was just an inconvenience to him. But if he was right about one thing, it was that the ShadowClan cats would probably have jobs for him to do, too. Smoketalon stood up and glanced through the entrance of the den out into the camp. There weren't very many cats sitting around the fresh-kill pile, and as usual, Ravenstar was nowhere to be seen. He assumed that the majority of the Clan were out in the pine forest, hunting. The amount of prey caught had significantly declined since the start of leafbare.

He stepped out into the snow, all too aware of the hunger in his stomach. What Smoketalon would've done for a nice, plump squirrel or mouse right about now.

'Hey, slave! Get over here.'

The loud voice came from the area around the warriors' den, where a cat whom he recognized as Nightwhisper was standing. Smoketalon groaned. He had known that a job would be inevitable, but he only wished that it hadn't come so soon. Reluctantly, he picked his way through the snow over to the warrior, coming to a stop when he reached him. There was something unnerving about the black tom's piercing yellow eyes, and his pelt was spotless compared to his own. The relation to Ravenstar was obvious.

'We're going out to collect some bedding for the elders,' Nightwhisper instructed. He sounded grumpy, and incredibly unenthusiastic. 'Deputy's orders.'

Smoketalon nodded wordlessly, but as soon as Emberheart was brought up, even just in passing, his head started to spin. He was beginning to notice more and more just how clearly ShadowClan weren't happy with their deputy. For almost all of his orders given, there was some kind of backchat. The apprentices lacked respect toward him, especially Wolfpaw. He even recalled that Ivynose had appeared spiteful on the matter. Smoketalon thought about asking Nightwhisper why that was, but he held his tongue. It probably wouldn't get him anywhere.

Nightwhisper led him out of camp and into the forest, padding nonchalantly across the frosted ground. Smoketalon watched from behind. He moved in a strangely elegant way, with the grace and confidence of a cat who thought that he owned the lake, and carried himself with dignity. There was next to nothing of the cruel, arrogant aura that emanated from his brother, Ravenstar. Somewhat oddly, it crossed Smoketalon's mind whether the warrior might've been a good choice for deputy, especially since he was related to the ShadowClan leader.

'Right,' Nightwhisper grunted. 'This is the spot.'

They had arrived in a clearing full of boulders. They were covered in moss, perfect for the bedding that the elders would require. The trees parted above, and when there was adequate sun, its rays would reflect off the smooth surface of the rocks, warming them up. When he was a kit, Smoketalon had heard stories about a place called Sunningrocks back in the ancient forest of his ancestors, which had been full of stones similar to this. But now, in leafbare, they looked damp and wet. He glanced at the ShadowClan warrior doubtfully.

'Go on, then,' Nightwhisper commanded, tapping his claws on a nearby rock, waiting. 'I haven't got all day.'

Smoketalon's eyes narrowed. 'Alright!' he snapped, a barbed hiss escaping from his throat. 'It's just bedding. It's not like the elders will die without it.'

He sensed that his sarcastic comment would have been treated a lot more harshly had he not turned away before a retort could come. With Nightwhisper's cold yellow eyes trained upon his back, he began scraping the moss from the stone it clung to, without much eagerness. It was indeed as damp as it had looked from a distance. He didn't think the elders would enjoy it in their nests very much.

'Hurry up,' Nightwhisper called out impatiently. 'Emberheart said that he wanted me to collect the elders' moss by sunhigh.'

Smoketalon looked up at the sky. It was past sunhigh already, more evidence to suggest that Emberheart's orders were disregarded faster than they should be. Even more so than that, it sounded like Nightwhisper was implying that the deputy had wanted him personally to fetch the moss, not for him to order some slave to get it.

'Why do all you ShadowClan cats seem to hate Emberheart so much?' Smoketalon demanded boldly. 'No one ever seems to obey his orders properly.'

He fully expected to hear a scathing remark back, or perhaps just a warning for him to get on with his work, but instead, Nightwhisper held his gaze. There was an element of curiosity in their depths. 'You're a lot more... outgoing, than I thought a slave would be,' the black tom mewed slowly. 'You certainly have more fight in you than I'd anticipated after the battle.'

The reference to that horrible night, as usual, made Smoketalon's ears burn, but he was getting better at controlling himself. 'Well, I'd be a pretty pathetic warrior if I just gave up, wouldn't I?' he returned.

Nightwhisper chuckled darkly. 'Yes, I suppose you would be,' he muttered. 'And in answer to your question about Emberheart, it's because he's a fox-hearted coward. The kind of cat that doesn't deserve to be in a position of power in this Clan.'

The slave tilted his head to one side. A fox-hearted coward? he thought. Why's that? He opened his mouth, about to take advantage of the situation and ask for more information, but Nightwhisper had clearly had enough.

'That'll be enough moss,' Nightwhisper decided, gesturing toward the small pile Smoketalon had collected. 'We can go back to camp now.'

The ShadowClan warrior twisted around and padded away from the rocks into the denser undergrowth, back in the direction of the ShadowClan camp. Smoketalon cursed under his breath, wishing that he'd managed to pry more information out of Nightwhisper, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long. He gathered up all his moss and dashed after him, following his scent trail back through the trees. All the while, his mind kept falling back to Emberheart, trying to figure out a reason why he would be considered a coward among his Clan. He remembered, before ThunderClan had been destroyed, Emberheart always seemed to be quite popular; at least, that was the impression he got whenever their paths crossed. In fact, it was only after the battle that things had started to change, it seemed.

When they got back to camp, there was a much stronger scent of cat in the air. Nightwhisper ordered Smoketalon to take the moss to the elders, which he did, dropping it just inside the entrance to their den for them to pick up later. He couldn't see Aspenpaw, so he assumed that the apprentice had gone back to the slaves' den. Smoketalon was just about to pad back over to the den as well, when suddenly, a group of ShadowClan warriors burst in through the camp entrance. Their leader, the large white tom Bonefur, seemed alarmed. He turned, whispering in forcibly hushed tones with the other cats on his patrol, before sending one of them over to Ravenstar's den, apparently to inform their leader of something.

Smoketalon's ears pricked up in interest. Something was going on, something of enough importance to get a ShadowClan patrol riled up. He wasn't that far from the patrol, so quietly, he edged a bit closer until he could just about hear what they were saying.

'-you don't think it's too serious, do you?' one of the warriors was saying.

'I sure hope not,' a russet brown she-cat called Duskwing replied.

'Relax, it could easily be nothing,' Bonefur rasped, although he didn't look at all convinced. 'Maybe the WindClan cats we overheard were just gossiping about RiverClan-'

'Then why were they mentioning prey-stealing? And why did they seem so angry?' Duskwing whispered back.

Smoketalon's eyes widened. Prey-stealing? he wondered. Are RiverClan stealing prey? From WindClan? He leaned in closer, desperate to hear more, but the group had moved further away from him. He could tell they didn't want to make a scene of it, but they had thought it was serious enough to go and tell Ravenstar.

He glanced up at the leader's den. The cat who'd gone inside still hadn't come out yet. Would the ShadowClan leader come out and say something to the Clan? Smoketalon doubted it. Just overhearing one Clan wittering on about prey-stealing probably wouldn't be enough to panic a cat who always seemed so calm and collected as Ravenstar, but it must still be the slightest bit worrying for him to hear, regardless. Did this mean the two neighboring Clans could be on the verge of a battle?

Smoketalon began to pad way from the group, not wanting any of the ShadowClan cats to realize he had been eavesdropping. It probably wasn't nearly as serious at they'd made it out to seem, but prey-stealing in leafbare wasn't good for any Clan. And besides, it really wasn't any of ShadowClan's business, but this was Ravenstar. Smoketalon had learnt through previous experience that the ShadowClan leader relished the very idea of war.

Shaking his head, he made his way into the slaves' den, hoping to see Aspenpaw inside. And thankfully, he did. The apprentice was curled up into a tight ball in his nest. He appeared to be asleep, but Smoketalon knew that he was faking it from the sound of his breathing.

'Hello?' he called, nudging the young cat with his muzzle. But Aspenpaw didn't move. Evidently, he was still ignoring him.

Smoketalon grunted, but didn't pursue the matter. He knew he would have to clear up the tension between him and the apprentice at some point, but now wasn't the time to do so. He padded over to his own nest and settled down. Hopefully, they wouldn't get any other jobs for the rest of the day. A nap sounded like a good idea at this point.

[chapter originally written by Claudaujay]