It took less than a quarter moon for three sick cats to become four, then five. Beepelt and four warriors were now nesting in Plumleaf's sheltered clearing. Everyday Heronpaw awoke fearing that they would get the news that the whitecough had worsened into greencough. So far that hadn't happened, thank StarClan.
Instead, Heronpaw's nightmare had plagued him every night. He couldn't remember it in as much detail anymore, but he always bolted awake in the middle of the night convinced that he was drowning in ice-cold water. He tried to tell himself it was the stress of early leaf-bare and whitecough and tried not to put any more thought into it.
Because of the sickness the apprentices were being worked hard. Kestrelfeather had even ended Heronpaw's punishment early so they would have more time for hunting and patrolling the WillowClan border. The work helped keep Heronpaw's mind off of his recurring dream.
That morning they had all been called to the training hollow just downhill from camp.
"Today you will be hunting in pairs." Kestrelfeather was saying to the gathered apprentices. "We want you to focus on filling the fresh-kill stores."
Next to Heronpaw, Specklepaw raised her tail. It was shaking with either excitement or nerves; he couldn't tell which.
"What are the fresh-kill stores?" she squeaked. "Also, there are five of us so- "
"The fresh-kill stores," Swiftwing interrupted, "are holes we have dug in the ground and lined with layers of leaves and snow. Prey stored in them keeps for almost a moon if it stays cold."
Specklepaw's eyes grew round with fascination. She bounced up and down on her toes.
On Heronpaw's other side Crowpaw tried to catch his brother's eye. Heronpaw ignored him. He didn't feel like teasing Specklepaw today. He had slept even worse than usual the night before.
"Crowpaw and Specklepaw, you'll hunt down by the lake-shore." Kestrelfeather instructed.
Specklepaw bounced harder. Heronpaw side-stepped away so she didn't tread on him in her fervor. Crowpaw looked distinctly disappointed by the matchup.
"Heronpaw and Morningpaw, you can take the Fallen Cedar. Hawkpaw..." Kestrelfeather trailed off.
A rustling in the dying undergrowth announced the arrival of Dawnheart. The pale warrior shook out his coat and hurried to Kestrelfeather's side.
"Sorry I'm late." He panted. He looked as tired as Heronpaw felt.
Kestrelfeather shrugged easily. "No harm done. You'll be with Hawkpaw today."
Dawnheart nodded and squeezed past the apprentices to stand at Hawkpaw's side. Hawkpaw didn't bother to greet his partner. He was too busy casting obvious glances in Morningpaw's direction.
The pretty she-cat appeared at Heronpaw's side. "Ready to go?" she said briskly.
Heronpaw looked up at her and caught sight of Hawkpaw's supremely annoyed face over her shoulder. The tabby was staring openly at Heronpaw and Morningpaw with a glint of jealousy in his gray eyes. Specklepaw was circling him and chattering about how she wished she could be Hawkpaw's partner and that she would love to learn from him. That did manage to lighten Heronpaw's heart a bit.
"Yeah." He said to Morningpaw. He stood up and together they headed out into the forest.
The day was cold and clear. Many of the ferns and bushes that had been alive just a quarter-moon ago were now dead and buried under a layer of disturbed and gritty snow. The forest was quiet. All Heronpaw could hear was the crunch of his and Morningpaw's steps and the sounds of their breath.
They traveled at a brisk pace in an attempt to warm their muscles. Heronpaw let his mind wander as they trotted through the endless trunks of the forest. He thought of the drowning she-cat, and freezing, suffocating water. He shook himself. He didn't have time to worry about this. He-
Heronpaw almost ran straight into Morningpaw's backside. She had stopped. Heronpaw stumbled to the side and hissed. He opened his jaws, ready to rebuke his denmate, when he caught a whiff of rabbit-scent. He froze.
Morningpaw cast him a sideways glance and angled her ears towards a small hillock between two pine trees. Heronpaw nodded at her and then towards the hill. Morningpaw twitched her whiskers and sank into a perfect rabbit-stalking crouch.
Heronpaw stayed back and watched Morningpaw slide over the snow. Her white belly fur blended perfectly with her surroundings and even her ginger and black patches could pass for shadows and wood. They were even upwind. It would be hard for her to miss this catch. Still, Heronpaw's heart pounded in his ears.
Morningpaw snuck behind a snow-capped rock and waited. After what felt like moons a quivering gray nose poked out from behind the hillock. The rabbit's whiskers trembled in the breeze. It took another step out into the open. Morningpaw pounced.
It was over in a heartbeat. Morningpaw's aim had been true and the rabbit now lay dead at her paws. Heronpaw straightened up and padded over.
"Good catch." He noted.
Morningpaw shrugged. "It was begging to be caught." Her green eyes were dull as she looked down at the animal.
Heronpaw sniffed. "Makes you wonder how any of them survive at all."
Morningpaw didn't reply.
Feeling awkward, Heronpaw shuffled his paws. "Want me to bury it?"
"Rabbit is Cloudpelt's favorite." Morningpaw said suddenly. Her mew quivered and her tail drooped.
Heronpaw winced internally. Cloudpelt had been the first to fall ill on the day of the early snowfall. He hadn't considered that Morningpaw would be worried for her mentor until now.
"You can take it to him." Heronpaw said with a forced purr. He touched the tip of his tail to her side. "It'll help him get well."
Morningpaw shook herself and raised her head. Her eyes sparkled with resolve. "You're right. Moping won't help him, prey will. Come on, let's hunt."
They didn't get a chance to before they were interrupted by a disheveled Hawkpaw clambering out of a bush. He practically fell at Heronpaw's feet. Hawkpaw was followed more gracefully by Dawnheart who was watching the tabby apprentice with the same look of quiet amusement, confusion, and amazement that most cats eventually did.
Heronpaw and Morningpaw both stopped to watch as Hawkpaw straightened up and shook out his coat. The action did little to remove the host of pine needles, dead moss, and grit that clung to his pelt.
"Oh." Hawkpaw said lightly. "Hello." He nodded at his denmates with enough decorum to merit the greeting of a Clan leader.
Heronpaw tried not to snort.
Morningpaw dipped her head back. "Hello, Hawkpaw. Good hunting?"
Heronpaw looked between his denmate and his brother, amused.
Dawnheart wandered up next to him. "He's been barging directly through the undergrowth the whole way here. Claimed he smelled a pheasant." The warrior muttered with a purr.
Heronpaw briefly forgot his worries as he watched Hawkpaw and Morningpaw try to make small-talk.
"Hey!" Hawkpaw eventually said much too loudly. He turned to Heronpaw and Dawnheart. Heronpaw was surprised his brother even remembered they were there. "We should swap hunting partners."
"That's a wonderful idea." Morningpaw chirped. "It'll be a great lesson in adaptation."
Heronpaw and Dawnheart shared a look. Dawnheart shrugged. "Okay."
Hawkpaw looked briefly caught off guard, as if he hadn't expected his suggestion to work. He recovered almost at once and began asking Morningpaw about places to hunt. Heronpaw watched his denmates fall into their own little world without him. They padded away, pelts almost brushing and tails hovering close together.
"Kestrelfeather suggested we go to Slate Rocks." Dawnheart piped up.
Heronpaw shook himself and nodded.
The walk to Slate Rocks was uneventful. Dawnheart was a quiet, yet calming companion. Heronpaw enjoyed the warrior's soothing presence.
As the Slaterocks loomed ahead through the trees, Heronpaw caught a whiff of mouse. He slowed his gait and twitched an ear at Dawnheart. The warrior paused and lowered himself to the snowy path.
Heronpaw crept forward in his best hunter's crouch and tasted the air. The scent was coming from under a dying holly bush at the foot of a nearby tree. He fixed the once-glossy leaves with an unblinking stare.
A tiny, quivering nose poked out from the leaves. Heronpaw stiffened. The mouse made to move out into the open. Heronpaw unsheathed his claws.
A sudden gust of wind sent Heronpaw's fur flattening the wrong way. In an instant the mouse shot away. Heronpaw gave chase.
He sped after the mouse on light paws. The little creature tried to scramble away, but was slowed by the snow. Thrilled by the hunt, Heronpaw launched himself into a pounce. He landed squarely on the mouse as it struggled to cross a slight dip in the snow.
Triumph twisted into terror as the ground beneath his paws gave way. Freezing cold water splashed up around him as he struggled to find his balance. His terror magnified at the water's touch. His chest tightened and his breath came shallow. He staggered backwards; the mouse forgotten.
He flopped down into an awkward sitting position in the snow. His paws shook with fear rather than cold. He found himself staring into the tiny, hidden pool of water. A thin layer of ice lay broken across the surface. The mouse lay, half-submerged and dead, in the center.
Dawnheart came bounding over. "Are you alright?"
Heronpaw continued to stare. A white shape reflected off of the water's surface. Heronpaw tilted his head upwards. A blue, cloudless sky stared back.
"Hey," Dawnheart said, nudging Heronpaw. "What's wrong?"
Heronpaw shook himself. "I landed in that puddle." He croaked. "It spooked me."
Dawnheart gave him a sympathetic look. "I stepped in a hole the other day. Scared me out of my skin."
The warrior padded over to the puddle and bent to pick up Heronpaw's mouse. He leaned down to grasp it. He froze. His neck fur shot up and his eyes stretched wide.
Heronpaw's heart skipped a beat. Did Dawnheart see the shape too? He struggled to his paws, ignoring a stinging sensation on one of his pads.
Any evidence of Dawnheart's discomfort was gone by the time Heronpaw had gotten to his feet. The pale warrior turned from the puddle, holding the sodden mouse.
"What is the Clan supposed to do with that?" An annoyed growl from the undergrowth announced Cherrynose's arrival. She sniffed at Dawnheart as she padded fully into view. Slatefang slipped out behind her. Both warriors had prey.
Heronpaw glared at Cherrynose. "It's still edible." He protested.
Cherrynose ignored him. She strode up to Dawnheart as the pale warrior stepped out of the dip in the snow. Dawnheart shook icy water from his front paws and rolled his eyes.
"It's just a bit of water."
Cherrynose glared at him. "The sick cats need fresh, warm prey. If you can't manage that then maybe you should go back where you came from."
"It was my fault." Heronpaw interrupted, angry.
Cherrynose gave him a side-long glance. She snorted and flicked her tail. "Apprentices." she turned on her heel and marched away out of sight.
Slatefang watched her go, his ears twitching.
There was an awkward silence.
"She's worried about the sick cats." Slatefang said. It didn't sound much like an apology, just a statement.
"Don't worry about it." Dawnheart said with a half-hearted wave of his tail. There was another long silence. Heronpaw could feel the awkwardness coming off of the two warriors in waves. Dawnheart's ear twitched. "I think I hear a bird." He turned and vanished between two trees.
Confused, Heronpaw blocked Slatefang as he tried to leave. "What was that?"
Slatefang glanced at him. "Dawnheart can take care of himself. He doesn't need me to fight his battles for him."
Heronpaw lashed his tail. "You've always defended him, why stop now?"
Slatefang shrugged. "I see Cherrynose's point."
Heronpaw was so taken aback that he couldn't speak. Of any cat in the Clan he had never imagined he would be hearing this from Slatefang.
Slatefang saw Heronpaw's expression and rolled his eyes. "I don't agree with her, but I see her side."
"How?" Heronpaw demanded.
"All our lives we've been told that the warrior code is law. Then Blizzardstar invites a kitty-pet into the Clan, and gives him a warrior name."
"The warrior code says-"
"Yeah, Blizzardstar's word is law. I'm not fighting you on that." Slatefang snapped. He suddenly looked exhausted.
"Ever since Dawnheart got his name, things have been going wrong for the Clan. You have to admit that is true."
Heronpaw didn't like it, but Slatefang had a point. The conflict with WillowClan, early leaf-bare, and the arrival of whitecough had all happened after Dawnheart had been named.
Still, Heronpaw refused to believe that any of the Clan's misfortune was because of Dawnheart. Sometimes bad things just happen.
Slatefang looked down at his paws as if ashamed. "I'm not saying it's right, but Dawnheart has to prove himself to the Clan more than the rest of us. If I step in every time it'll make him look weak."
Heronpaw clenched his jaw. "Believe that if it makes you feel better," he said.
Slatefang's eyes flashed dangerously and Heronpaw flinched. He had forgotten that Slatefang was a formidable warrior.
Slatefang tossed his head and turned to leave.
Heronpaw watched him go, his pelt prickling. Still frustrated, he took off in the direction Dawnheart had gone.
It didn't take long to find the pale warrior. He was sitting at the base of a cedar, mouse at his paws and head tilted towards the sky.
Heronpaw approached quietly. He sat next to his friend in silence.
They sat together quietly for a time until Dawnheart spoke.
"Thank you."
Heronpaw looked up at the pale warrior. He had known since he was a kit that Dawnheart wasn't like the rest of them. He looked strange with his long, wedge-shaped face and his large ears. He was taller and thinner than most forest cats, and his voice had a slight inflection to it.
And yet, Heronpaw had never considered Dawnheart an outsider. If Blizzardstar said he belonged then he belonged. Heronpaw wished every cat saw it that way. How many CedarClan cats thought the same way Cherrynose did? And did Dawnheart even know that his closest friend sympathized with his opposers?
Dawnheart glanced down at Heronpaw. "Are you okay?"
"What?" Heronpaw said, surprised.
Dawnheart tilted his head. "You haven't been yourself lately." His earnest blue gaze burned Heronpaw's ears.
Caught off guard, Heronpaw found himself telling Dawnheart about Kestrelfeather and Falconstorm. He let his anger spill out then and there. It felt good to tell someone about his frustration and feeling of hopelessness.
When he had finished, Dawnheart was quiet for a few heartbeats. Heronpaw immediately felt abashed. He hadn't meant to unload so much onto his unsuspecting friend.
"Believe me, I know what it feels like to be judged for things I can't control." Dawnheart finally said.
Heronpaw felt a stab of shame. His problems seemed silly now.
Dawnheart stood up and glanced down at his companion. His eyes sparkled.
"The only thing you can do is prove them wrong. Come on."
Emboldened by Dawnheart's simple words, Heronpaw found new vigor inside of himself. They hunted for the rest of the day, and by the time the sun set they had a respectable catch.
As they marched back into camp, heads held high, they received praise from all around. Despite telling himself he didn't care, Heronpaw found himself searching the crowd for his father's face. He didn't find it.