1Riversong was a young DuskClan warrior. She left the den and padded out into the center of the camp. She couldn't get to sleep tonight. Just a few moons ago, Riversong had been known as Riverpaw, the apprentice of the infamous Wingfoot. She sat outside the den and groomed out her soft, gray-blue fur, paying close attention to the darker stripes that ran horizontally across her lower back.
"Hey, Riversong!" a voice behind her meowed, "Let's take a patrol out." Riversong turned.
"No thanks, Wingfoot," she told the cat. Wingfoot was a tan-colored he-cat with tufts of white fur at his heels, almost like the wings at those of StarClan warriors.
Wingfoot eyed her carefully. "That was actually an order, Riversong," he said, "Brightstar says we should check out the lip of the Shaded Valley. He thought the Twolegs might be back, since greenleaf is almost here."
The Twolegs were always at the lip of the Shaded Valley, the main part of DuskClan's territory, in greenleaf. They fished in the vast lake where LakeClan lived. DuskClan and LakeClan were allied, so naturally, DuskClan would help drive the Twolegs away. Riversong sighed. Going out on a patrol with Wingfoot was the last thing she wanted to do.
Wingfoot had been so kind to her when she was his apprentice. He had often bragged about how well she did on solo hunting missions. But now that Riversong was a warrior, his attitude towards her had changed totally. He became sarcastic and somewhat cruel to her, always telling her what to do. The only cat worse than him was the DuskClan leader, Brightstar. If there was ever a cat who deserved to become a warrior of PlagueClan, it was Brightstar.
The big, yellow tabby was too high-and-mighty for his own good. Brightstar seemed to believe that Riversong was his own personal errand-runner. The only time he ever called on her it was to go fetch him some fresh-kill, or make sure the apprentices did their chores, or to go on patrol with Wingfoot. Riversong sunk her claws into the loam. Wingfoot nudged her. "Well, let's move. We should probably take more warriors with us. Get...hmm...Sleetfur and...Let's see, if we took Sleetfur, you and myself, and of course, Racepaw, that would make four, so..." He paused. "Why don't you tell Foxpelt to come with us?"
Riversong nodded. "Should I get Racepaw?" she asked.
"No, I'll fetch him. You get Sleetfur and Foxpelt. That should be enough for a patrol, especially if we run into any Twolegs." Riversong nodded and returned to the den.
Sleetfur, a silver cat who had been made a warrior at the same time as Riversong, was the first she woke. Sleetfur opened her blue eyes slowly. "Wha' d'you wan'?" she murmured sleepily.
"Moonhigh patrol," Riversong growled, "With Wing-face."
Sleetfur gave a sleepy purr and got to her paws. She sighed. "He doesn't like you any more, does he, Riversong?"
"Either that or he's a very good actor," Riversong muttered, moving over to where Foxpelt slept. Foxpelt was a senior warrior. Riversong gave him a gentle nudge.
"Go 'way," the ginger tom growled.
"Moonhigh patrol, sir," Riversong meowed softly. Foxpelt nodded and got up. His amber eyes shone in the gloom of the warriors' den.
"Well, what does Wing-for-Brains want us to check out now, eh?" he asked, "A very suspicious rabbit trail? Or does he need to know which way to the nearest bush so he can make dirt?" He purred to comfort Riversong, who had a shocked look on her face at the very idea of such an honorable cat openly mocking the Clan deputy. "I don't like the way he treats you, Riversong," he said simply.
Sleetfur, Riversong, and Foxpelt all left the den, pelts glowing in the moonlight. Wingfoot and his apprentice Race paw were waiting for them. Racepaw was a new apprentice, a skinny white tomcat with black streaks running along his flanks. Wingfoot nodded at the group approaching him. "Good to see you all awake," he meowed, "The sooner we start patrolling, the sooner we can get back to our warm nests."
He got up and stalked into the night. Foxpelt shrugged and followed him. Sleetfur looked briefly at Riversong as if to say 'did we even have to leave them in the first place?' Riversong flicked her tail at the silver she-cat before padding after the rest of the patrol. Racepaw bounced beside his mentor. Riversong felt a pang of jealousy as the tom turned to the young cat and appeared to be praising him.
Is he going to do the same to Racepaw as to me? She wondered, When Racepaw gains his warrior name, will he be to Wingfoot what I am: some new cat to order around?
Sleetfur yawned as she ran.She saw the two leading cats' exchange. It was obvious that Wingfoot had found a new apprentice to lavish affection on. She unknowingly sharedRiversong's thoughts. How much longer will Racepaw be dearer to him than StarClan and following the warrior code? Will he just repeat his act with Riversong when Racepaw is made a warrior?
"I'm so proud of you, Racepaw," Wingfoot meowed, "Most apprentices that are woken for a moonhigh patrol mutter something and go right back to sleep. But not you!"
"Thank you, Wingfoot," mewed Racepaw, "I was just so excited because this is my first moonhigh patrol. I had trouble sleeping anyway."
Oh, please, Foxpelt thought, That piece of flattering fox dung. Racepaw never even sleeps to begin with. Every cat in DuskClan knows that.
The group of cats paused at the cliff that marked the top of the Shaded Valley. Wingfoot scented the air suspiciously. He breathed out slowly. Overhead, the huge quarter moon was rising. Wingfoot turned back to the patrol behind him. "I can't smell anything to worry our tails over," Foxpelt muttered. Riversong and Sleetfur purred to themselves.
Wingfoot's yellow eyes narrowed. "I was checking, Foxpelt," he hissed, "You think I want to be out here in the StarClan-forsaken darkness?"
"No. I know Brightstar was just being overcautious in ordering this patrol," Foxpelt replied calmly, his green eyes neutral. Foxpelt was never one to take sides. "Mind your tongue, Wingfoot. Deputy to Brightstar you may be, but that does not change the fact that I was present at your kitting."
Wingfoot stared at his paws. "Yes, father," he murmured. Something crackled in the bracken. All the cats present bristled and crouched down, ready to attack. A high-pitched mew stopped them. Foxpelt smoothed out his hackles and stood up straight. "It's all right, Tempest," he meowed in his deep voice, "We're not going to hurt you."
"Is that Foxpelt of DuskClan?" the voice asked.
"No, it's Mountainpaw of LakeCl-of course it's Foxpelt, Tempest! Now get out here. We won't hurt you, right?" He turned back and stared sternly at the patrol behind him. The other cats stood up as well and let their fur fall flat.
Riversong had to strain her eyes to see the pure black cat that walked out. Tempest was a loner, a cat who was not a part of a Clan, but who wasn't owned by Twolegs either. Foxpelt had helped Tempest when he was an apprentice, and the two tomcats had formed a close bond. Tempest had even fought on the side of DuskClan before.
"Racepaw, this is my friend, Tempest. Tempest is a loner," Foxpelt meowed. Racepaw nodded respectfully. Tempest winked. "So Tempest, what brings you here at this hour of the night?"
Tempest took a deep breath. "It's Scars," he meowed, "He's been harassing some poor LakeClan cats again. You remember Scars, don't you?"
Foxpelt rolled his eyes. "It's hard to forget such a battered, stinking badger." He turned to the rest of the patrol. "Scars is a badger that Tempest and I drove away a few times," he explained, "Scars is unusual in that he has never killed a cat before in his life. He's a bit mixed up in the head. Just stalks around and ambushes unsuspecting cats."
"Wh-what d-does he d-do when he c-catches them?" Racepaw stammered. Riversong could smell his fear.
Tempest laughed and licked the apprentice's ear in a rough, yet comforting way. "Don't worry, young...ah..." He looked around in confusion.
"Racepaw," Riversong told the loner.
"Thank you, my lady," Tempest replied, dipping his head, "Young Racepaw. Scars doesn't hurt any of his so-called 'victims.' He merely corners them and growls, frothing at the mouth like he's gone mad. You just need to hit him hard enough and he backs away."
"Well, you heard him!" Sleetfur yowled, jumping forward, "Let's go get us some badger!"
Wingfoot silenced her with a glare. He shook his head. Foxpelt gave him a warning look, then said, "We'll help."
Riversong and Sleetfur cheered loudly. Racepaw stuck close to Wingfoot, who watched the scene with slitted eyes. Tempest nodded his thanks before turning back and racing into the shadows. The DuskClan patrol trailed close behind him into LakeClan territory.