She was homesick. All of the prey in the world couldn't replace her friends, especially those too deeply rooted in kittypet life to leave.
She sighed, creeping into a hollow log and hoping for a mouse. Behind her, a furry brown shape twitched. Perfect. She stalked forward, pouncing on it with vigour.
"Hey! What are you doing?" She was surprised to see a brown tabby cat instead of the mouse she'd been hunting.
"Sorry. I thought some mice may have taken shelter in here."
"Well, you found something taking shelter. I'm Branch."
"Copperpaw."
"Nice to meet you. I was just waiting in here – the clouds are darkening. It looks like rain."
"Mouse dung."
"Yeah. I know we'd miss it if it goes, but it just seems to make life harder."
"Yep. And then you have to deal with the travesty of muddy paws!" Branch laughed as she wiggled her paws at him faux-menacingly.
"Oh, the horror!"
"And then, what's worse... all the moss is wet!"
"How could a cat survive?" He joked.
"By being like those RiverClanners I've heard about?"
"True. They always used to have water in their pelts, or so Ma told me."
"Oh, my mother says they did. They used to eat fish and everything!"
"I'm- I'm happy here." His voice became a touch less animated.
"Are you?"
"Ye-no. Problem is, my old home's a bit too overrun to go back."
"Oh."
"But it's alright. I get to meet interesting cats now. Like you."
The sound of pawsteps jolted them both.
"I'd better go."
"Meet you again soon?"
"I'd love to." She purred.
A moon passed. Every couple of sunrises, Copperpaw would slip away from camp and meet Branch. Although Firestar trained her well, he seemed to know that she wouldn't be up to recruit. Finally, she realised that the life of a Clan cat didn't suit her.
"If that's what makes you happiest, I won't stop you. I know the bonds that you can share with Twolegs."
"I'm sorry, Firestar."
"Don't be. You've already been in the Clan longer than most cats who agree to come."
He nodded to her one last time, and she raced away into the forest, eager to get home.
"It's alright." Her mother blinked at her. "Clan life doesn't suit every cat. I just want you to walk the path that you feel is best for you."
"That will be kittypet life then."
"Remember, Copper. There will come a day when you have kits, and they will walk their own paths. Just remember to let them go." Sparky had never seemed so wise to her, even as kits. Sparky let out a wheeze.
"Mother! Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Just a bit of a nasty cough. The Cutter'll fix me right up."
"Alright." She padded home to her Twolegs, who greeted her with warm yowls, cuddles and (of course) a long bath. She longed to reassure them but knew that they wouldn't be able to understand.
A couple of weeks later, once the housefolk took her to the Cutter to check for parasites, they found kits.