A/N: ...And there I went again. Sorry! :/ February was really a hectic month, with school projects everywhere. How was everyone's spring break? Good, I hope. I went horseback riding! :) I had writer's block during all that time, but I think I'm over it! I finally finished this chapter last night and here I am posting it the next day. It's a bit shorter than last chapter. I gathered that the plot is pretty okay but that I should speed it up a little bit, right? Okay, then. I'll keep that in mind. And I'm glad that all of you like Dawnpaw's and Stormpaw's relationship! :) It was cool reading your guesses about what would happen next, too. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter, and again, sorry.


Chapter 29: Curiosity Killed the Cat

They were going to climb trees.

Stormpaw was extremely pleased at this. Climbing was something every IceClan cat could do, himself included. The large, jagged rocks that littered the IceClan territory were perfect for climbing. His mentor had made him go up on one of the most challenging ones when she was training him, and he didn't fear heights. So a tree, with nice, soft bark that you could sink your claws into—so very different than a steep, slick-surfaced boulder—was extremely easy.

This was such a change from the last training session that he felt himself becoming more pleased than he had been for the past four sunrises. Since that interrogation in the forest, Dawnpaw had been pestering at him for four days straight. But now she finally seemed to have given up. Stormpaw glanced around and saw her talking to Flowerpaw as usual; he must have looked too long, for she turned her head and shot him a glare. Nothing could ruin his good mood now, though, and he gave her a smirk back.

See if I'll do anything to help you next time you're cold…. No, no. He shoved his ears forward and stalked onward. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts, Stormpaw. We're going to have a climbing session! You can climb well. Yay!

Great StarClan, he sounded like the old Bluetail.

They hadn't done any training after the sunrise he'd woken up to find a golden she-cat ready to murder him. They'd simply been travelling, getting ever closer to Scar's camp. But after their meal for the morning, Mist had announced that they would practice climbing that day.

He had snuck a surreptitious glance toward Dawnpaw at this, but the golden she-cat seemed unperturbed. She had surprised him with her swimming skills. Could FireClan cats climb in addition to paddling? Mist made no comment about who could do this training session well and who couldn't.

Once Mist had completed her speech, it was only a matter of finding the right cluster of trees. And so they were currently padding after the gray-and-white she-cat like lost ducklings, waiting for her to find a place that she deemed suitable.

Stormpaw regarded their surroundings uneasily. In the past few minutes, the green grass had vanished and that hard, gray surface Twolegs seemed to enjoy walking on had appeared. It felt rather uncomfortable under his paws after a long period of treading on soft clumps of undergrowth and earth, but he didn't feel like complaining. When a Thunderpath appeared, he reconsidered his choice.

"Hey, you just stepped on my tail," Emberpaw said.

"Sorry." Stormpaw gave an embarrassed shake on his head and walked backward a couple paces. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the rest of his group had stopped.

Mist was nodding at three trees.

"These should be good," she meowed. "Try one out, won't you, Dapplepaw?"

The spotted she-cat stepped forward hesitantly. She seemed as wary of the Twoleg things around them as Stormpaw was. Vibrant wild met cold Twoleg influence in this place. Five tail-lengths away, a ragged dandelion danced around with an invisible wind until the breeze moved on and the tiny little flower slumped down onto the hard ground. To the left of them, a silver monster sat on the aforementioned Thunderpath. Stormpaw stared at it for several seconds, but it didn't move. He concluded it to be dead.

Surely Mist did not mean for them to practice here?

"I don't think this is a very good place to train, Mist," Dapplepaw was saying.

"And why not?"

The IceClan she-cat looked around and then back at their guide. "It just…doesn't feel right."

Mist nodded abruptly and began walking again. "All right, then. We'll just find a different spot, then."

Relieved, Stormpaw followed, but it wasn't long before he noticed that the scarred she-cat was leading them even further into the place they'd wanted to avoid. Twoleg nests were sprouting up as they walked along, and monsters sat in wait. He even saw some running on the Thunderpath. He went past a cylindrical object and then stopped. It kind of smelled like it had food in it. Ignoring the odd look Dawnpaw gave him, he stood up on his hind legs and pushed off the lid. Cautiously, he reached a paw in….

…And immediately whipped it back out, nearly wrenching his shoulder. A small, furry animal with some sort of black mask across its eyes sprang out of the gray cylinder, chattering furiously. Its black-striped bushy tail swished back and forth like a pendulum, and Stormpaw watched it nervously, backing up all the while.

"Do you think it bites?"

Surprised, Stormpaw nearly jumped a tail-length in the air, then looked to the side and saw Emberpaw peering at the angry animal, which was still stationed on top of the cylindrical object like a warrior guarding their Clan's camp.

"Let's not find out," he growled. Ears flat, he continued moving slowly backward. Meanwhile, the FireClan tom, apparently more snowflake-brained than he appeared, went even closer to the strange creature.

"I'm going to poke it!" Emberpaw announced gleefully, in the same tone an innocent, little kit would use, and then, true to his word, reached forward. The gray-and-black animal promptly swiped at Emberpaw's paw. Obviously very irritated, it swished its banded tail and scolded the dark brown tom in sharp staccato tones.

Dear StarClan… Stormpaw definitely did not like the way the furry creature was looking at them. "Emberpaw!" he hissed. "Come on, let's go!" He would much rather leave as soon as he could, but if the FireClan apprentice came back missing half his fur, he would no doubt get an earful from either Mist or Dawnpaw about why he hadn't tried harder to persuade Emberpaw from making friends with the animal.

"I think it understands us," Emberpaw said. The animal chattered at this.

Hmm, why not? They—all the cats—could understand each other. Dogs admittedly had a bit of sense in their heads, however brutish they might be. And birds chirped to each other when they saw an apprentice hunting, and then fled. So other animals could possibly have their own language that none of the Clans knew.

This wasn't the time and place for it, though. Stormpaw glanced around. Mist was gone. So were the other apprentices. Mouse dung!

"Yes, maybe you can meet up with it later and chat about what you have in common," Stormpaw snapped. "But we've got to catch up with the others right now."

Emberpaw nodded. "I suppose you're right." I am, snowflake-brain. "Bye, strange creature!"

The only response was an angry chitter.

Stormpaw looked up just in time for an unfamiliar yellow fruit to smack him right in the face. "Aaargh!" He reared up onto his hind legs, flailing his forepaws and trying to shake the substance off. It was mushy and had a sickly sweet smell that made him think it was rotten. At last Stormpaw got ahold of the fruit and flung it to the ground, but not before he thought Emberpaw would die of laughing.

He glared at the masked creature. "What was that for—"

The animal held up a red spherical object and gave him a nasty look. Somehow Stormpaw didn't think it was a peace offering.

"Run," he said under his breath to Emberpaw. The other tom nodded and they raced off. A splatter sounded behind them, narrowly missing Stormpaw's tail. Stormpaw risked looking back and saw that the odd little creature had jumped down onto the hard, pebbly ground. For a moment he thought that the creature would give chase, but with one more hiss, the furry masked animal disappeared into the shadows, its bushy banded tail swishing and disappearing after it.

Stormpaw slowed down with a deep sigh, motioning to Emberpaw that they could stop running now.

Ugh. What had he ever done to deserve this? Well, at least he'd found out what was in the cylindrical object.

Ten minutes and many dead ends later, they caught up with the rest of the group. Mist seemed to have not noticed his absence, for which Stormpaw was grateful. He was not in favor of explaining that they'd gotten held up by a small furry creature that threw disgusting things at them.

"Why are we going even further into this Twolegplace?" Stormpaw whispered to Rowanpaw.

The WaterClan apprentice shrugged. "Maybe there's some really cool trees she wants us to climb there," he said, flicking his bicolored tail, "but—what is that yellow stuff on your head?"

Seriously? Stormpaw reached up gingerly with one paw and sure enough, there was some of that nasty substance on top of his head. He repeatedly swiped the paw onto the ground as they walked until it was all gone, leaving behind a faint trail of yellow smears. "Thanks for telling me, Rowanpaw," he said. What if Dawnpaw had saw him with a clump of it still on his head? Then he got irritated at the very thought. He didn't care what she thought. Nope, not at all.

Even so, he felt himself searching for her—just in case she had indeed seen. When he finally spotted her, a jolt of surprise ran through his chest; she had turned and they had locked eyes.

Stormpaw fought the urge to turn his head to the side. That would signify that simple eye contact meant something much more to him, and he wouldn't want her to get that idea.

Like the kind of idea she must have gotten when she woke up next to you? a voice taunted.

He ignored it, confused as to why Dawnpaw was smirking at him. All was clear when she reached up a paw and, making exaggerated disgusted expressions all the while, pretended to swipe at her head. Not amused in the least, Stormpaw narrowed his eyes at her and drew his lips back in a silent hiss. She merely grinned and turned her attention back to Flowerpaw, who was watching the whole exchange with much entertainment.

Well at least she hadn't yelled it out loud, and the encounter with the gray-and-black masked creature was still secret. But no, he never had such good luck. As Stormpaw watched, unable to tear his eyes away just yet, he saw Emberpaw trotting up to them. Within a few seconds, pieces of their conversation drifted toward him, with bouts of laughter that got louder every time. He caught the words "Stormpaw, ran, fruit, strange furry creature," and "stupid."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were talking about.

Stormpaw noticed that Rowanpaw was still padding patiently next to him and realized how odd he must have looked, staring in Dawnpaw's direction. He coughed quietly, warmth spreading over his ears. He didn't feel much like talking now, and he excused himself by telling the ginger-and-white apprentice that he wished to speak to Mist.

"Why are we going so deep into Twolegplace?" he asked.

"Good trees there," was the reply.

Stormpaw twitched his whiskers in irritation. Good trees. Hmm.

"When will we get there?"

"Soon."

Ah, another equally cryptic answer. He couldn't help wonder if the fate of the Clans was safe in the paws of this mysterious she-cat. So far she'd been nothing but suspicious, what with her strange knowledge of the Clans and usual refusal to give them good answers. Could six apprentices really be all that was needed to stop Scar? Six was a large number. Larger than two, yes. And one, and three, and four. And you couldn't forget five. But it would be no good if they weren't prepared. Or if Scar threw them out right away, or killed them.

Stormpaw stared down at his paws. They moved steadily, following Mist without question. They walked after her without much complaint, the claws out and clicking on the unfamiliar surface—just in case. Were these paws capable of saving the Clans?

He sneaked a look at their guide. She traveled without hesitation, one foot in front of the other. Both her head and her tail were held high. The gray-and-white fur was impeccably groomed, and although he couldn't see them from this angle, Stormpaw knew that Mist would be staring straight ahead with those bicolored eyes.

And who could forget her scar?

Funny thing, they were going to Scar's camp. A cat with a name like that must surely have a scar also. Mist had not given the apprentices, much less the Clans, an extensive explanation about how Scar ran his or her camp, and in his mind the cats under Scar's reign were hulking and scary, slinking in the shadows. They were experienced in battle and sneaky, clever, and devious. So, they must surely have scars too. Therefore, being named after a rift through your fur must mean that said rift was very important.

And he doubted Scar had gotten such a defining wound in the first few moons of her life. He or she must have had some other name before the scar had happened. He amused himself with his thoughts and random hypotheses for several minutes, as it looked like they weren't going to get to their destination any time soon.

And then it hit him.

Was Mist Scar?

His mind pounced on the question immediately, squashing it down with a "That is ridiculous" and a "Wow, we're in big trouble if that's true." He knew it wasn't likely. If Mist was Scar, she could have just killed them already. They were six young apprentices, nothing significant in the whole, grand scheme of life. (Even though he did consider himself pretty important.) There could be other reasons she hadn't yet, though. Stormpaw refused to rule anything out. He knew Mist could lie or give a confusing reply. But he had to ask.

Gathering all his courage, he caught up to her and said:

"Are you Scar?"

For the first time since he'd met her, the gray-and-white she-cat appeared honestly, truly surprised. Her fur fluffed up, perhaps on accident or on purpose covering the nasty gash on her side. And her green eye and her blue eye both opened wide.

"What makes you think that?"

"For starters, you've been nothing but mysterious the entire way through," he started, "which may just be your personality or an unsuccessful attempt to keep us out of the loop, since that's why I'm questioning you right now. Second, you have a strange abundance of Clan terminology and knowledge for when you've never even been in the Clans, unless you've been stalking us or something like that. And third, the cat is named Scar, and you have a very big scar on your side."

"Well, someone's a little inquisitive," Mist meowed in amusement, her surprise completely gone in a matter of seconds.

Stormpaw had to admire her. Strong enough or lucky enough to come out of a fight with such a scar, able to mask most of her emotions, and perhaps smart enough to hoodwink three entire Clans. Here was a cat that IceClan would have plenty of use for, a cat that he wanted to be like.

"That's not an answer."

She chuckled softly. "And persistent, too. Very well. I shall tell you." Looking around furtively and then leaning in closer, she whispered in a quiet voice: "I am not Scar."

Stormpaw, who had tilted his head toward her in order to catch her words better, jerked back. He felt as if he'd been slapped across the face by a fish. If she wasn't lying, he'd just accused their guide of being a cat who was, supposedly, going to take over the Clans.

"Do you believe me?"

"Well, I don't have any evidence that would prove or disprove your claim. So not quite," Stormpaw admitted. "But you seem trustworthy."

Mist seemed pleased with his answer. "That is one thing I am," she said, and she said it with such firmness that Stormpaw believed it. "I am your guide, and I will not lead you into a trap. As for what might happen at Scar's camp, though, is not completely under my control."

Not completely under my control. Whether she meant to or not, Mist had given him a clue. She must have some position of importance in Scar's camp, Stormpaw theorized. Maybe she had risen to that position to make herself safe in a place that sounded bloodthirsty and then realized she could do something else besides keep her own pelt from harm.

But he wasn't going to voice his new thoughts. Perhaps after a few more days of mulling them over, but he wasn't going to dip his paw so quickly back into the fire.

Stormpaw realized that Mist was waiting for an answer.

"Okay," he said. "Thank you." And he truly was.

The gray-and-white she-cat flicked an ear. "Only doing what I should be," she said.

Stormpaw nodded, then, with a respectful bow of the head, dismissed himself to the back of the line. Rowanpaw gazed at him curiously for a few moments. He must have watched Stormpaw and Mist talk. Something in his body language told the WaterClan tom not to bother him for now, and so the two toms padded silently side by side.

Stormpaw tilted his head back as they walked, gazing up at the sky. StarClan, he prayed, surely you would let us know if something was fallacious about this?