Hello and welcome to Turning Tail, a three-shot series about Kestrelflight and Harestar! The next part will be published in two days. I hope you enjoy this look into some of the more background characters of the series, and please check out Catch and Release, its companion three-shot following Minnowtail and Heathertail!
Harepaw never had spent much time with Kestrelpaw before he became an apprentice.
The little black and white tom always seemed closer with Heatherpaw, and Harepaw found the fiery she-cat difficult to be around sometimes. He was a little afraid of her, if he was being completely honest. That left him with Breezepaw for company, which meant he was better off alone. He spent more of his time in the elders' den than the other kits, learning the names of old leaders and tales of the Clans before even Tallstar, and he had never really formed any kind of relationship with the now-medicine cat apprentice.
Things began to change when he was made an apprentice to Tornear. The old tom tried, he really did, but Harepaw was convinced that there was something wrong with his body; it was too easy for him to dislocate something, or get a deep cut, or be bruised from even a light blow. Harepaw knew that his mentor would get frustrated with how often they needed to cut a training day short, and in long days of tranquility, Harepaw grew restless in the medicine den.
"Don't shift around," Kestrelpaw scolded. "You'll make it worse."
Harepaw groaned and fell back in his nest, ignoring the stab of pain from his wrenched shoulder. "Just think of what'll happen in a real battle," he commented miserably as Kestrelpaw bustled around. Barkface had already given him a bitter herb to chew up and had bound his shoulder with rushes, but Kestrelpaw insisted on fussing even after his mentor had gone off to collect some herb on the moor. "I'll be crow-food."
"That's not true," Kestrelpaw said disapprovingly. "Hasn't Tornear taught you to defend yourself?"
Harepaw groaned again. "He's trying, but I'm too weak."
Kestrelpaw snorted at that and jammed some moss under Harepaw's shoulder to allow him to lie more comfortably, then repeated, "That's not true. We've barely been training for a moon. I don't think you should be giving up this fast."
"Yeah, and true strength comes from within, and our only true enemy is fear, and—" He cut himself off, aware that he was behaving like a fox-heart toward a cat who'd never done anything but try to help him. Then, grudgingly, added, "Thanks."
Kestrelpaw rocked back on his paws, finally coming to a halt. "You're not weak, Harepaw."
Harepaw grunted, lacking the energy to argue the point. It's not about being weak, it's about being strong. And at the end of the day, he just wasn't. He'd heard enough elders' tales to know that toms were supposed to be one of two things; either fierce, loyal, and strong, or cunning, clever, and brilliant. He supposed Kestrelpaw would fall into the second category, though cunning didn't exactly fit the gentle tom. Maybe medicine cats get different categories. Gentle, caring, and brilliant...?
Harepaw knew he wasn't clever. It was just a fact, and one that he'd grown to accept. Heatherpaw could outwit him easily, and even Breezepaw had flashes of insight that Harepaw couldn't manage. Kestrelpaw, as well, might be soft and shy, but there must have be some reason Barkface took him on. Harepaw decided Kestrelpaw was probably hiding a thorn-sharp wit under his short fur.
Which left Harepaw to be a towering brute of a tom that could keep his Clan safe through the sheer power of his physical prowess. And that was far from the current reality. Harepaw was big, he supposed; he had broader shoulders than Breezepaw and wider, squarer paws than Heatherpaw or Kestrelpaw, but that was just the way his body was built; there was hardly any muscle at all on him.
"You still have lots of moons of training to go through before you're going to be expected to be WindClan's primary defense," Kestrelpaw reminded him. "You don't need to be all big and tough yet."
But one day I will need to be, Harepaw replied silently, resting his chin on his paws and studying the entrance of the medicine den. And I'm never going to be strong enough.
"Harepaw? How are you?" Tornear appeared in the gap between the heather bushes, blocking the faint shaft of sunlight. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Kestrelpaw."
Kestrelpaw dipped his head and retreated a little to let Tornear speak to his apprentice. Harepaw tried to sit up to meet his eye, but found it was difficult to haul himself off the moss Kestrelpaw had added. Mouse-dung. He peered up at his mentor.
"I'm okay," he rasped. "My shoulder hurts."
"I… I didn't mean to throw you off so hard," Tornear began. "I just wanted you to get some practice recovering after being pushed off. I'm sorry I hurt you."
Harepaw looked down again. "S'fine," he mumbled. "I'm going to get hurt anyway. It's not your fault."
"My apprenticeship started the same way," Tornear told him earnestly. "But if you keep training and eating enough to give your body energy, you'll become more resilient."
Harepaw found this doubtful. Breezepaw and Heatherpaw didn't have the same problem, and they were smaller and cleverer than him. They were supposed to be weaker; he was supposed to be the one who could protect them. He didn't say any of that, though. Tornear wouldn't understand. The tom was already big and strong enough to keep his Clanmates safe, and he'd be retiring once Harepaw was a warrior anyway. He'd done his part; he wouldn't be able to see that it killed Harepaw to know that he couldn't do his. "Okay."
Tornear seemed satisfied and retreated from the den, leaving him with Kestrelpaw again.
"Well, if you're going to be stuck in here for days, you might as well play moss-ball with me!" Kestrelpaw's eyes were bright.
Harepaw frowned. "Didn't you say I was supposed to stay still? And moss-ball's a game for kits."
Kestrelpaw shrugged. "Suit yourself, but I think it would be fun. Besides, wouldn't you like to practice swipes and stuff without a chance of getting hurt? Maybe it would help you exercise without making us use all our herbs on you."
That was another sore point for Harepaw; constant injuries from training meant that Kestrelpaw and Barkface were forced to waste valuable supplies on nursing him back to health. It made his ears hot with shame, and he scowled at the other tom. "No, I don't want to."
He shrugged again. "Like I said, suit yourself. I'll just quiz myself. Marigold, watermint, tansy—"
The next day, Harepaw accepted the offer of moss-ball just to shut the black and white tom up for a little while. It was more fun than he cared to admit; his claws didn't snag painfully on the ball and there was no teeth-rattling impact involved, just back and forth batting and catching. Kestrelpaw celebrated ridiculously when he got the ball past Harepaw to his side of the den, and had an equal overreaction to Harepaw getting a point against him.
Harepaw began to get into it too, though he'd never say so outright, and a streak of good-natured trash-talking began.
"You're as uncoordinated as a blind badger!" Harepaw exclaimed, shooting the spongy ball down toward Kestrelpaw's backlegs.
Kestrelpaw snagged it easily with one claw and tossed it back in a higher arc, nearly brushing a branch of low-hanging heather. He's pretty fast for a tom cooped up in the medicine den all day, Harepaw thought admiringly. Might be fun to go run around on the moor together some time. "And you're as slow as a dead rabbit in leaf-bare!"
Harepaw leapt from his nest to bat it to the ground, then landed on all four paws, ready to slam one paw into it and score another point, but faltered when he saw Kestrelpaw's horrified expression. "What?"
"Are you okay? Great StarClan, I forgot about your shoulder," he exclaimed, darting forward to nose through Harepaw's fur and make sure there was no bone sticking out.
"Me too," Harepaw admitted, pulling away from Kestrelpaw's fussing. "I'm okay, though, it doesn't hurt."
"Well, that's a relief!" Kestrelpaw exclaimed, then tilted his head. "Huh. I guess you can go back to training, then. Tornear should be pleased."
Harepaw felt disappointed, though he didn't want to say it aloud. Don't be a mouse-brain. You shouldn't be unhappy to get to go train again. The moss-ball was just a distraction. Kestrelpaw blinked at him, friendly and expectant. Strong warriors don't want to stay in the medicine den so they can play a kit game.
Still, when he was back on the open moor with Tornear and practicing his belly-rakes, he couldn't help wishing his shoulder had taken another day to heal. Kestrelpaw was better company than he expected; he'd written off the tom as a more predictable and quiet version of Heatherpaw, but it seemed like there might be more hiding in the medicine cat apprentice than he'd expected. Besides, who says being predictable and quiet is a bad thing? Heatherpaw's yowl of victory as she pulled off a move against Crowfeather successfully made his ear-fur ruffle and Harepaw winced.
He brought Kestrelpaw a rabbit he caught himself to share with the other tom under the pretense of thanking him for keeping him company in the medicine den. To his disappointment, Kestrelpaw was busy and ate quickly before returning to the old warren. Harepaw wondered what would have been different if Kestrelpaw wasn't a medicine cat apprentice. He'd probably be more careful in sparring practice than Breezepaw is, he thought, rolling his pad against the packed earth underfoot and wincing at the lancing pain that shot through his leg. There wasn't much to be done, though; Harepaw would rather have his leg ripped off than ask Breezepaw to be gentler.
Still, his wasting of herbs and Barkface's time didn't abate as his apprenticeship continued. A particularly embarrassing incident where Tornear demonstrated a tricky fake-out swipe on the air and Harepaw flinched back so hard he sprained his tail was the last stem. Pelt hot with shame, he sat in the medicine den silently as Barkface treated him. Even Kestrelpaw's attempts to engage him in conversation were ignored.
I'm never going to get better, he thought. I might as well retire to the elder's den now. He rested his muzzle on his paws, tucked his sore tail over his nose, and tried to sleep.
For the first time in moons, he dreamed, vividly.
He was out on an moor, though it was an unfamiliar one; certainly not any part of WindClan's territory. The breeze ruffled his fur, warm as green-leaf, and he let out a relieved breath when he realized that the soreness of the waking world was gone. This is nice. He craned his neck, blinking at the golden sunlight. Where in StarClan's name am I, anyway? His dreams were foggy and indistinct and normally involved being in the camp, surrounded by badgers, or floating through the air while rabbits with bleeding eyes chased him. Nothing as peaceful or unfamiliar as this.
When he caught sight of four enormous trees in the distance, he gasped. Is that… Fourtrees? He had never seen the legendary meeting place, but when he whirled around to confirm, wonder filled him. Highstones! And that dark spot at the bottom must be where the Mothermouth is.
"Harepaw?"
The voice was a tom's, raspy and unfamiliar. Harepaw whipped around. Is this the part where I get attacked by something? But the cat that stood on the grassy moor where there had been nothing a moment ago made no move to threaten him.
He was a small, dark tabby, and his pelt was lined with as many pink, puckered scars as tabby stripes. Despite the heavy scarring, the little tom seemed quite friendly, skinny tail flickering to and fro and his yellow eyes round.
"How do you know my name?" Nonetheless, Harepaw narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"Shredtail," the tom answered, stretching. Harepaw caught sight of another, bigger scar that ran under his belly. "I used to be a warrior of WindClan."
"Used to… are you dead?" Harepaw blinked. Is this a dream from StarClan?! Shows you what befriending medicine cats gets you. He couldn't contain a little thrill of excitement, however. Is he some ancestor of mine, here to give me advice?
"Yes," Shredtail admitted, sighing. "And it's terribly boring. I wanted to do something more useful with my not-life, which is why I'm here."
That answered Harepaw's next question. "Am I one of your grandkits or something?"
Shredtail snorted. "Maybe. I lived a long, long time ago, though. I guess that's why we showed up here."
Harepaw cocked his head. So he can't choose the dream location? Who does then, if not StarClan? "Why are you visiting me?"
"Why shouldn't I?" Shredtail asked, looking a little concerned. "I want to help you. We're a lot alike, you and I. Or at least, we used to be."
He couldn't hide all of his doubt. That sounds like something Tornear would say. "I guess you can't tell, because it's a dream, but I'm a mouse-heart. I sprained my tail just by flinching yesterday."
"I know," Shredtail replied. "It makes you angry, doesn't it?"
Harepaw frowned at the suggestion, but Shredtail wasn't accusing, merely waiting for an answer. The apprentice slid his claws into the peaty earth absentmindedly, thinking of Kestrelpaw's pitying eyes and the wasted herbs. "Yeah. I can't protect my Clan if my body falls apart every time I move a whisker."
"You're right."
What? Harepaw was caught off-guard. He'd expected another platitude about how true strength came from within and that Harepaw would eventually grow out of it.
"You're too weak to protect cats you care about, and if you go into battle, you'll just end up in the medicine den," Shredtail said with another shrug.
Harepaw scowled. I know that's true, but… "Okay, I don't like this dream. Leave me alone."
"Harepaw," Shredtail said again as the apprentice squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wake up. When he opened one eye a slit, the scarred tabby was still there, giving him an amused look. "I'm sorry, but you know it's true. And I know because it was true for me."
Harepaw was about to snap at the tom again, but at that admission, he paused. Shredtail noticed that he was listening again and continued,
"I was the runt of my litter," he told him. "I always got hurt in training and I was never chosen for battle patrols because Duststar knew I'd be no use. When I was finally put on one, I saw Mottlepaw, the she-cat I'd grown up with, bleed out in front of me."
His yellow gaze hardened as he recounted it.
"It was a time before the code that prohibited warriors from killing was added," he explained, a hint of a snarl in his throat. "I knew that the cats I loved would never be safe so long as other Clans' mangy warriors still prowled the forests."
Harepaw shivered. What if Heatherpaw or Breezepaw was killed by a ThunderClan warrior? Or, StarClan forbid, if Kestrelpaw was killed? The idea of the smaller tom being injured was unexpectedly panic-inducing. He's a medicine cat! He can't defend himself.
"I trained until I knew that no cat would be harmed if I made it my mission to protect them," Shredtail said, softening a little when he saw that Harepaw was shaken at the idea. "And I want to help you do the same. I had to do it alone, but it doesn't need to be that way for you. I will train you."
"You will?" Harepaw's fear at the story vanished. "How?"
"Here." He flicked his tail at the empty moor. "Come on!"
Then he took off, tail streaming out behind him, and Harepaw shot after him. It felt good to run again without feeling stabs of pain with each pawstep. Their paws thrummed a steady beat on the earth, and Harepaw's fur warmed in the dream-sunlight. Shredtail skidded to a halt in a hollow that Harepaw guessed had been the old territories' version of the training heath.
"Wrestle me," Shredtail offered, bunching up his hindlegs as if he was preparing to leap at Harepaw. His tail whipped from side to side, waiting for Harepaw to react.
Doubt flickered in him, but he couldn't deny that exertion in the dream felt markedly different than it did in the waking world. Maybe sparring would be different too.
He crouched too. "Alright."
Shredtail leapt and Harepaw shot forward too, trying to knock the smaller tom off-balance. When they collided, rather than the head-spinning pain that Harepaw had grown to expect, he just felt a satisfying impact that made a forgotten competitive spark, deep in his belly, flare to life. Shredtail rolled with the blow and sprung to his paws, yellow eyes glittering. Harepaw braced himself for another attack, but Shredtail began to circle him.
Harepaw kept his guard up, his tail lashing as he anticipated Shredtail's next offensive.
"Aren't you going to take a shot at me?" Shredtail asked. It wasn't mocking, exactly, just expectant.
Is this a trick? Harepaw kept his body tense as he replied, "Should I?"
Shredtail jumped and Harepaw rolled backward with the momentum, then kicked hard with his back legs to throw him off. Again, the tom recovered easily, and took up his circling once more.
"You can't protect anyone by waiting for the other cat to strike," Shredtail told him. Harepaw narrowed his eyes and didn't reply, waiting for the other tom to continue. Sure enough, he straightened up a little, leaving his ready position and added, "Playing defensive all the—"
He didn't let him finish. The tension that was wound tight in his hindlegs snapped free in an instant as Harepaw shot forward and tackled him. They rolled over, crashing into each other and then the earth over and over, but Harepaw didn't go limp with pain as usual. Instead, adrenaline blazed through him and he grabbed Shredtail by the nape of his neck and shook him, trying to stun the tabby. Shredtail let out a rusty purr at the attempt, then spun, ripping himself free, and lashed a sheathed paw across Harepaw's chest.
"Good!" he exclaimed, then jumped on Harepaw again. Once more, they wrestled. Harepaw attempted a belly-rake and Shredtail boxed his ears in return, neither tom getting the upper paw. Eventually, Shredtail broke free of Harepaw's grasp with such ease that the apprentice was left wondering if Shredtail had been holding back. They were both breathing hard, and Shredtail's eyes glowed with exertion.
"There it is! I knew you had some fighting spirit."
Harepaw couldn't help a purr. Fighting felt good, which was an entirely novel concept after moons of sprains and bruises. I wish Tornear could see this. "You're not bad yourself."
Shredtail snorted, but clapped Harepaw on the back with his tail. "You're better than I was when I started, that's certain. I think with a half-dozen moons more, you might be better than I am now."
Harepaw eyed him doubtfully. He'd felt the wiry, packed muscle under that deceptively skinny pelt, and reflecting on the fight, was quite sure that Shredtail had adjusted his own abilities so as not to finish it in heartbeats. Still, the praise puffed his chest up. "Really?"
"Really," Shredtail agreed. "You just need to have a little more confidence. Trust me; your body isn't going to fail you if you throw yourself in whole-heartedly. The problem isn't in your pelt or your bones, it's all those doubts stored up in that big head of yours." He flicked Harepaw's face, and Harepaw ducked away with a mrrow of amusement. "You keep thinking you're going to get hurt, so you shrink away from blows instead of properly defending yourself. And you wouldn't attack me first until I told you to! You can't let your enemy always get the first hit, or they'll be getting the last hit too."
Harepaw nodded, finally catching his breath. It was a lot easier to accept advice when he wasn't smarting and exhausted, he thought. "Yeah, next time I'll tear your fur off before you get a word in edgeways."
"Not a bad idea," Shredtail agreed, eyes glimmering with humour. "You should wake up now. Once that sprained tail is healed, try out some of the stuff I've told you. I'll be watching."
Harepaw wasn't sure if that was a joke, but figured it wasn't too strange considering Shredtail saw enough already to know that Harepaw needed his help. "I will!" he said, and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun vanished, and pain sparked at the base of his tail.
When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the medicine den. The old melancholy threatened to settle over him again, but he forced it away. I'm not weak anymore. Shredtail's going to teach me, and then I'll be strong enough to protect every cat. No ThunderClan crowfood will get their claws into Kestrelpaw on my watch.
He stood and stretched, trying to ignore the tremble of discomfort in his tail.
"You're awake!" Kestrelpaw said, hurrying over to check his tail. "How is it? Does it hurt?"
Harepaw let him check him over despite the embarrassment that prickled in his pelt. "Not much."
"It's too bad it's green-leaf," Kestrelpaw commented. "Barkface says that moss soaked in ice-melt can bring down swelling better than any herb."
Harepaw grunted.
"I hope Onestar doesn't send you hunting squirrels," Kestrelpaw worried aloud. "I think ThunderClan is getting testy and I wouldn't be surprised if the next hunting patrol gets into a scrap."
"It's green-leaf," Harepaw sighed. "There's enough prey to go around. If ThunderClan started something, then they'd be looking for trouble. Besides, don't you have enough herbs for every cat?"
Kestrelpaw frowned. "But you…" He didn't finish the thought, seeming to sense Harepaw's shame. He really does think I'm a mouse-heart. He couldn't help hoping there might be a little skirmish. A vision of him returning to camp, supporting an injured Breezepaw or Heatherpaw with no wounds of his own landed in his head. That would impress Kestrelpaw. He'd treat the other cats and be pleased that he didn't need to use any herbs on Harepaw, and then they could share a squirrel together.
"I'm going to go tell Tornear that I'm ready to train," he said determinedly. Concern flashed in Kestrelpaw's eyes.
"Okay. Be careful," the tom urged him.
Tornear was pleased to see his apprentice up and about again, but Harepaw's mood dipped when he found out they would be hunting. Just as he was about to resign himself to boredom, he remembered Onestar's new initiative on hunting. We're not supposed to just hunt rabbits anymore! A little of the adrenaline from his dream tingled in his veins when he thought of Kestrelpaw's fear that there would a border skirmish.
Harepaw nudged Breezepaw and murmured in the smaller tom's ear, "Let's go hunt some squirrels by the ThunderClan border."
His goldenrod-yellow eyes flashed with malicious delight. "Good idea. I'd like to show those mice-munchers the skill of a WindClan warrior."
That was easier than I thought it would be, Harepaw thought, taking off after his denmate. Their mentors followed a heartbeat later, chasing them all the way across the territory to the strip of woodland that Onestar had instructed them to use as practice for squirrel-hunting a half-moon earlier.
Breezepaw pointed his tail when Harepaw arrived next to him in the line of the trees. He had already pinpointed a squirrel, fat and gray and nibbling on a chestnut, and Harepaw began creeping toward it. Breezepaw, hardly more than a dark shadow under the trees, stalked it from the other side, and the two toms closed in on it without so much as a tail-signal to the other. Putting his skill into practice felt almost as good as sparring with Shredtail had, Harepaw thought.
He bunched his legs, ready for the killing blow, when the wind suddenly changed and the squirrel's head jerked up. It streaked into the forest and, without missing a beat, both apprentices sprinted after it. Harepaw leapt over a log, then dashed around some brambles, the squirrel's scent thick on his tongue. You won't get away so easily!
"Stop!"
The shout rang out, so loud and authoritative that Harepaw complied before he even knew who had spoken the command. Breezepaw skidded to a halt next to him, ears pricked and breathing hard.
Not more than a fox-length away stood the largest tom Harepaw had ever seen. Harepaw's own shoulders were considered broad by WindClan standards, but the brown tom scowling at them from the head of a ThunderClan patrol was surely twice as wide. Dustpelt, he remembered. The tom had been commended at the last Gathering for chasing off a fox. Looking at him now, Harepaw didn't doubt it.
The squirrel had disappeared, but the thrill of the chase didn't drain away. Are we going to fight? Despite the confidence that Shredtail's advice had given him, now that he was muzzle-to-muzzle with a cat as established and fierce as Dustpelt… He tried not to tremble under the heat of Dustpelt's amber stare.
"What in StarClan's name are you doing?" Harepaw relaxed a little when he heard Tornear's mew ring out. He was even more senior and powerful than Dustpelt. If it came to blows, he could test Shredtail's advice on some cat else; the little golden she-cat peeping out from behind him, maybe. One day I'll be bigger and fiercer than Dustpelt, Harepaw vowed. But… not today.
"How dare you frighten our apprentices?" Tornear snapped, coming to a halt beside Harepaw. Whitetail was right behind him, giving the ThunderClan warrior a challenging stare. He was grateful for her presence too; Whitetail could make peace if things went south.
"They were about to cross the border!" Dustpelt retorted. Harepaw wanted to defend himself—But we didn't!—but the prospect of turning Dustpelt's scowl his way was too worrying.
Breezepaw had no such qualms.
"How do you know?"
"You weren't even slowing down!" Sure enough, Dustpelt's furious gaze pinned itself to Breezepaw, who only fluffed his spiky pelt up more.
"I'd have caught the squirrel in one more stride!" Breezepaw snapped right back. Shame flashed through Harepaw as he realized he was too nervous to stand up for himself the same way as Breezepaw. I guess Shredtail wouldn't be training me if I wasn't. I'll say something once I'm strong.
"You were nowhere near it!" Another of the apprentices, a tom, shouted from the back of the patrol. Harepaw grimaced. This is just going to escalate, isn't it? He was no longer hoping for a scrap; the adrenaline and courage was gone and left behind his old certainty that he'd be hurt if it came to blows. Come on, Whitetail.
"Was too!" Breezepaw spat.
"Everyone knows WindClan can only catch rabbits!" the golden tom snorted. "ThunderClan has the best squirrel hunters."
That made Harepaw square his shoulders. Didn't he see my maneuver with the log? "Not anymore! Every WindClan apprentice has special training in the woods so we don't have to rely on rabbits anymore."
This was evidently the wrong thing to say. Dustpelt and the apprentice narrowed their eyes, while a lithe, older she-cat at Dustpelt's shoulder cocked her head. "Really? Why?"
Harepaw snapped his jaws shut. Mouse-brain! Don't tell them WindClan secrets!
"It's none of your business!" Tornear intervened, eyes blazing.
"Is it so you can invade our territory?" Dustpelt stepped closer to the border, seeming like he was looking for an excuse to pounce on Tornear and give him another shredded ear.
Whitetail, at last, put herself between them. "We have woodland in our territory. It makes sense to use it. And we don't want to be dependent on one sort of prey anymore. The elders still speak of the hunger WindClan suffered when Twolegs started poisoning the rabbits before the Great Journey."
Harepaw nodded, a bit of his anxiety fading. Maybe if they understand… "And there are sheep on the moorland now, with Twolegs and their dogs—"
Tornear slapped his tail over his mouth and Harepaw shrank back, ashamed when his mentor gave him a silencing look. "That's none of ThunderClan's business either! So long as we stay on our side of the border, we can hunt what we like."
Despite the humiliation that heated Harepaw's pelt at being silenced like a rowdy kit in front of a patrol of ThunderClan cats, it seemed like tempers were cooling. He let the fur on his spine smooth. Sorry, Shredtail, maybe another day.
"But squirrels don't know about the border. They cross over it. You'd be eating our prey," Dustpelt growled. Or maybe not.
"If it's on WindClan territory it becomes our prey!" Tornear snapped.
"Squirrels have always been ThunderClan prey!" Dustpelt stopped pacing and let the fur stand up on his neck.
"Is that part of the warrior code?"
Dustpelt hissed at Tornear's mocking reply, but Whitetail once again cut them off just as it seemed like one would leap at the other.
"Leave it," Whitetail murmured to Tornear. "This isn't worth losing fur over."
Tornear let out a slow, hissing breath, then agreed, "Okay. For now."
Both toms backed down slowly, and Dustpelt sat, his amber eyes roving over each WindClan cat coldly. Harepaw squared his shoulders when the senior warrior gave him a suspicious stare, but Tornear guided him away from the border.
"Come on," he rumbled. "ThunderClan cats will be mouse-brained and unreasonable, and water is wet. Let it go."
Harepaw fluffed his pelt indignantly. As if I need to be told! I wasn't the one biting Dustpelt's whiskers off! Still, relief washed over him as they loped away from the border. I guess I'll have to wait to use Shredtail's advice for another day.
That day came about a moon later.
Breezepaw had killed a squirrel on ThunderClan territory, and Harepaw didn't have time to tell him to run before he spotted dark pelts in the trees. A heartbeat later, they were facing off against two hissing ThunderClan warriors.
Harepaw's heart beat quicker, preparing for battle, and he loosed a long, loud yowl to warn the mentors. A long-legged black tom tackled him as he did, and Harepaw rolled with the momentum, remembering his wrestling with Shredtail. The impact rattled his teeth, but he didn't feel the yank that would signal a wrenched shoulder or a dislocated paw. He fastened his teeth into the warrior's pelt and tore off a chunk of fur, hissing all the while. Don't get scared! Defend yourself! Get the first hit!
Tornear launched himself into battle and his mentor's scent washed over Harepaw as the older tom dragged the black ThunderClan tom off his apprentice. A few heartbeats later, Whitetail appeared with the border patrol consisting of Ashfoot, Owlwhisker, and Weaselfur. Triumph flared in Harepaw—These mouse-brains don't stand a chance!—and he threw himself at the long-legged tom again. A zing of pain shot through him when his enemy clawed his chest, but rather than wilting, he battered his soft belly with renewed energy.
The tom ripped himself free, growling, then spun around and gasped when his eyes landed on something in the trees. "Thank StarCl—"
Tornear bowled him off his paws, and both toms went down in a whirl of teeth and claws. Harepaw stumbled back, fear sparking in his pelt when he saw what had provoked the exclamation from the ThunderClan warrior. Dustpelt, accompanied by the viciously scarred she-cat that Harepaw recognized as Brightheart, a golden-brown tom, a gray-spotted tom with the darkest blue eyes that Harepaw had ever seen, and a few apprentices, hurtled out of the undergrowth and set upon the WindClan patrol. Harepaw's pelt spiked, but he rallied his courage and dove at one of the apprentices, a small gray and white she-cat. She must be hardly out of the nursery!
He felt a tingle of shame for attacking such an easy opponent, then very suddenly felt far less sympathy when she swept his paws out from under him neatly and sent him crashing to the ground. He banged his muzzle, pain sparking through his head, and he shook his head to clear it, trying to prepare for another attack by the other apprentice.
"Spread out and drive them down there!" Dustpelt's order rang out.
The small she-cat was gone, replaced by a furiously-hissing Brightheart. I didn't even stand a chance against a tiny apprentice! Harepaw thought, stumbling back. I can't take on a whole warrior, she'll shred me! But Breezepaw leapt at Brightheart from next to Harepaw, trying to knock her off her paws, and the she-cat focused her attention on throwing the apprentice to the ground. Harepaw gulped, then jumped on her as well and joined Breezepaw in clawing Brightheart's remaining ear.
Brightheart rolled suddenly, taking both toms down with her, as Whitetail attempted to grapple her. She sprang to her feet, then slammed Whitetail onto the ground and beat the breath out of her with rapid blows to her belly. Breezepaw writhed on the ground for a moment, then got to his paws and waggled his haunches, ready to pounce on Brightheart again.
Instead, like a beam of sunlight, the golden tom that Harepaw had seen by the border a moon ago shot out of the fray and grabbed Breezepaw with glinting, unsheathed claws. They crashed to the ground together, spitting and hissing all the while.
Harepaw was about to jump in to save his denmate when a pair of jaws fastened themselves to his tail. He yowled with pain and spun to see a pale tortoiseshell and white she-cat with her pelt standing on end, raising her paw to slash at him. He recoiled, stumbling, and fell onto his back. A heartbeat later, she pounced on him and they rolled together. More blows battered his pelt, and this time, the pain only served to discourage him. Shredtail was wrong! He thought, trying to duck away from the onslaught. I'm a mouse-heart. Kestrelpaw's going to be so disappointed.
When the apprentice's weight disappeared, he laid there for another few heartbeats, feeling hopelessly weak and defeated. I might as well let Dustpelt break my neck.
"Get up!" Tornear snapped at him, hooking a claw into his pelt and yanking at him. Harepaw groaned, then got to his paws. What use is it? WindClan was losing; there were just too many ThunderClan warriors and Dustpelt's plan to drive them down the gully was working.
He chased after his Clanmates, then heard another growl behind him. He whipped around to see the same gray-and-white she-cat that had beat him so easily in their last clash.
"Not you again!" he groaned aloud. She answered by knocking him to the ground as deftly as she did the first time. He hardly resisted this time, just trying to escape the blow when she slammed her paws down. It was no good; without missing a beat, she spun and delivered a bruising kick to his side. He yowled and rolled, then scrambled to his paws and ran.
"Run back to the nursery, Harekit!" she crowed as he leapt the stream.
Great, she knows my name. Shame flushed through his pelt as Ashfoot sounded the retreat. Is it because I ran? His Clanmates joined him, all bearing welling scratches and missing fur, and anger with himself pulsed through his stinging flanks. I was mouse-brained to want a battle! He'd had a few more dreams of Shredtail; usually they would spar or the tabby would teach him a move, but obviously it had done nothing for him. I'm still a mouse-heart.
"Stay away from the border," Ashfoot said to Breezepaw when they'd caught their breath.
Breezepaw's tail stuck up, outrage plain on his face. "Just because some ThunderClan mouse-brains want to make a fuss?! Onestar said—"
Ashfoot lashed her tail once to silence the apprentice. "I don't care what Onestar said," she mewed, yellow eyes hard. "A few squirrels aren't worth a battle. From now on, hunt on the moor if you can't keep to the right side of the border."
Of Rabbits and Falcons
Harepaw dreamed of Shredtail and the old moor again. He hung his head, ashamed, knowing that Shredtail saw his terrible performance in the battle. The scarred tabby wasn't angry though.
"I know what happened," Shredtail said before Harepaw could speak. "You got into your own head again. Even after I started training, it happened to me too."
Harepaw let out a relieved huff, but Shredtail raised his tail.
"However," he continued, "the next time you clash with ThunderClan, you're going to need to do better."
"I will," Harepaw promised, but there was a weight to Shredtail's eyes that made his fur prickle with apprehension. "Why? Do you know something?"
Shredtail sighed. "I shouldn't tell you, you're not…" He swallowed, looked up at the eternally clear blue sky, and then levelled a dark gaze at Harepaw. "Onestar is going to keep pushing our Clan to hunt on ThunderClan's territory, and the battle that they bring…" He closed his eyes like it was too painful to continue.
"What? What is it?" Harepaw stepped forward, fear swelling in his belly.
Shredtail swallowed. "Kestrelpaw will die in the conflict."
"What?!" Harepaw exclaimed, recoiling.
"Listen to me, Harepaw, it doesn't have to happen," Shredtail told him, eyes round and genuine. "You can prevent it, but you must be brave."
A tremble started in his paws and threatened to take over his whole body, but Harepaw took a deep breath. "How?"
"Remember that you're protecting him," Shredtail said. "Remember what's on the line. I couldn't save Mottlepaw. Don't let the same thing happen to Kestrelpaw."
Harepaw took another breath, still on the verge of panic. Did he get a prophecy? "I won't! I won't, I'll do whatever it takes to protect him."
"Good." Shredtail nodded. "Now, come on, pretend I'm Dustpelt, coming to hurt him."
It wasn't the first time the tabby had proposed that sort of training exercise, so Harepaw didn't falter and launched himself at 'Dustpelt' with as much force as he could muster. They didn't stop until Harepaw was out of breath and shaking with exhaustion.
When he woke, stiff and still tired, he couldn't stop himself from hurrying to the medicine den to check on Kestrelpaw. To his relief, the black-and-white tom was slumbering peacefully in his nest. I don't know how much longer we'll have if I can't protect him… he thought, then resolved to try harder to spend time with his friend. I shouldn't keep dragging my paws. Even if I do annoy him, it's better than losing him forever and not having anything to remember him by.
Breezepaw seemed quicker that day in training and body-slammed Harepaw, sending his denmate to the hard earth with enough force to bruise, at least. Harepaw groaned and rolled over, not bothering to try to launch an attack against him. Great. So much for protecting Kestrelpaw. Tornear sent him to the medicine den when they finished that day. Guess this is one way to spend more time with him.
"Hi, Kestrelpaw," he said, grimacing when he put pressure on his left paw as he stepped into the den.
"Wrenched, bruised, or dislocated?" Kestrelpaw asked, twitching his whiskers and helping Harepaw into a nest.
"Aren't you the medicine cat?" Harepaw responded.
Kestrelpaw sighed. "After being in here this much, I'd think you'd start to be able to tell. It's wrenched. Lie down, I'll bind it."
Harepaw complied, giving a contented huff as Kestrelpaw shuffled around, gently wrapping his shoulder in rushes and offering Harepaw a few leaves with one slender paw. Harepaw chewed them up, accustomed to the taste, and sighed.
"Moss-ball?" he offered.
"I'm busy!" But Kestrelpaw's gaze warmed at the memory and he purred. "That was fun. Maybe tomorrow, if you're still in here."
"Busy medicine cat," Harepaw sighed to himself, relaxing. "Taking care of the whole Clan."
Kestrelpaw snorted but Harepaw could tell he was flattered as he gave his chest a few quick licks. "Not until I get my full name."
"Kestrelfeather, Kestrelfall, Kestrelflight," Harepaw mused.
"Haretail, Hareface, Hareclaw," Kestrelpaw replied.
"Not Hareface, I hope!" he exclaimed.
"I think you'll be getting your full name soon," Kestrelpaw commented. "I heard Onestar talking about needing new warriors."
Harepaw hummed thoughtfully. Maybe. I've been training long enough, I think, but… He didn't feel the excitement he expected. I still have so much to learn. Well, even if Tornear stops training me and I'm not technically an apprentice anymore, I can still learn from Shredtail. We've barely scratched the surface of all he can show me. And if the scarred tom really had seen the future, Harepaw would need it. Harepaw watched Kestrelpaw, nervous, but tried to hide it. I've got to make the most of the time I have left with him.
"Then I can order you around," Harepaw teased instead of voicing his fears.
"As if!" Kestrelpaw snorted. "You think I let Nightcloud and Tornear order me around now? You'll be at the bottom of the fresh-kill pile again, anyway. You've gotten used to being the biggest, oldest apprentice, I bet."
Harepaw snorted. If only you knew. "It would be nice to have fewer expectations."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Kestrelpaw said thoughtfully. "Don't you think every cat will expect you to be the next rising star of WindClan?"
"I hope not!" Harepaw sat up, alarmed. "Do you think they will?"
"I'm just tugging your whiskers. Lie down, you're going to make your shoulder worse."
Harepaw snorted but did as he said, and sighed. "I hope I'll be an apprentice for at least another moon. I'm not ready to be a full warrior."
Kestrelpaw made an impressed noise. "Huh. That's more mature of you than I would have expected."
Harepaw frowned, though his pelt flashed with warmth. Does he think I'm mature? "I'm very wise! Besides, it's not maturity, it's cowardice."
"Here we go again," Kestrelpaw snorted.
"It's true!" Harepaw protested, and Kestrelpaw merely snorted again. But not for long, Kestrelpaw. I'll protect you; Shredtail will teach me.
Sure enough, that night he dreamed of the tabby again. He didn't waste much time talking, instead jumped straight to sparring. Shredtail pushed him harder, yanking him off-balance and hitting him hard enough to send him reeling. Harepaw rose to meet his dream-mentor, rearing up on his hind paws and swinging his paws to bludgeon the tabby's scarred muzzle with equal force.
When they stopped, Harepaw dropped to the ground, exhausted.
"Get up!" Shredtail scolded him. "You're still not strong enough. Look, I'll teach you a move that you can use in the battle."
At the reminder of the approaching conflict with ThunderClan, Harepaw got to his paws and shook out his pelt.
"Stay still; I'm not going to hurt you," Shredtail told him, then jumped forward and bit his neck. Harepaw flinched, but didn't pull away when he realized that Shredtail's grip was only on his fur and not his skin. Then Shredtail reached out and dragged his paw from underneath Harepaw's belly all the way to his chest. If Shredtail's claws had been unsheathed, Harepaw didn't doubt that he'd have been left with a scar, or worse.
"Distract them by grabbing their neck, then slice their belly," Shredtail told him, letting him go.
Harepaw shivered at the brutality of it, but nodded. "Right."
"Try it on me."
Harepaw carefully got some of Shredtail's short fur beneath his teeth, then lashed out with a forepaw and pretended to score his paws up Shredtail's stomach. As he did, he noticed suddenly that he was tracing the long scar that he had spotted on their first meeting.
"Is this…" Harepaw began, backing up.
"Yes," Shredtail grunted. "And I'm going to teach you how to get out of it, too, so you don't end up like me."
Harepaw blinked, a little stunned. If it killed him, isn't it a… But he brushed off the thoughts, watching as Shredtail flicked his tail at his own neck.
"The grip is too weak to hurt your neck," Shredtail said. "It's just a distraction, because when a cat realizes their life is in danger, they'll panic. That will give you an opening to slice open their belly."
"You said—" Harepaw began, then fell silent when Shredtail glared at him.
"I'm getting there. This move is going to be the hardest for you to counter, so long as you behave like a mouse-heart." Shredtail's tone was cool but Harepaw dipped his head, accepting the insult as true. "The grip on your neck isn't going to be what kills you. So before you get your belly cut open, you need to rip yourself free. Your fur will tear, and it'll hurt, but you'll be alive."
Harepaw nodded, sobered by the plain discussion of a killing blow. I suppose only rogues will use this.
"Now let's try it."
And before Harepaw had a chance to catch his breath, Shredtail shot forward and grasped his neck with needle-sharp teeth. As the tabby had said, animalistic panic gripped Harepaw. But you'll be alive. The words echoed as Harepaw tore himself free. He caught a gleam of silver claws as Shredtail's paw lashed out in empty air. Were his claws unsheathed? But either way, Shredtail had missed. Harepaw's bare skin at his neck tingled, but triumph glowed in his chest when Shredtail grinned.
"Very good! Very good. You're conquering your fear."
Harepaw lifted his chin, adrenaline still tingling in his paws. "It's because of you."
Shredtail cocked his head. "Maybe. You're still working hard, and I can see that."
He puffed out his chest further and Shredtail snorted.
"Alright, alright. Let's practice."
Of Rabbits and Falcons
Harepaw's assessment came a half-moon later. They had been hunting, both on the moor and in the strip of forest by the border, and Harepaw had caught enough to make even Tornear twitch an ear, impressed. They moved to the training heath for sparring practice, and Whitetail and Crowfeather set both their apprentices against Harepaw.
Heatherpaw jumped straight at him while Breezepaw circled, and Harepaw kicked away the she-cat with ease. He watched Breezepaw through slitted eyes, thinking of Shredtail's first advice to him. You can't let your enemy always get the first hit, or they'll be getting the last hit too. So before Breezepaw could leap, Harepaw threw himself forward and knocked Breezepaw's paws out from under him. Heatherpaw jumped on Harepaw's back, and he reared up, throwing her off and giving himself the chance to batter Breezepaw's side in the same movement.
As Breezepaw recovered, Harepaw swung his paw at Heatherpaw's muzzle. The she-cat ducked away, but wasn't fast enough to escape his second attack as he shouldered her off her paws and delivered a swift back-kick when she tried to scramble away.
He turned to face Breezepaw again just in time to meet the tom's eyes as he shot forward and grabbed Harepaw's neck with open jaws. Shredtail's move! Despite the shock that flashed through him, Harepaw's muscle memory was already working and without thinking twice, he ripped himself backwards to leave Breezepaw with a mouthful of white fur. Breezepaw's strike aimed at his belly came a heartbeat too late, and Harepaw shoved him off balance once more.
"Alright, stop!" Tornear called out, a gloating note in his voice. "Excellent, Harepaw, just fantastic."
Harepaw stood, shaking off the pain that sparked where his fur had been torn away. Where did Breezepaw learn that? He eyed Whitetail curiously, but she seemed just as puzzled as Harepaw.
"Careful with that throat move, Breezepaw," his mentor cautioned him. "You could really hurt a cat."
Breezepaw snorted, but no cat paid him mind. Tornear ushered him back to camp, where he was named Harespring, and then offered to share a meal with him. Harespring glanced at him and the other waiting senior warriors, then back at the medicine den.
"Actually, Tornear, if you don't mind, I think I'd like to eat with Kestrelpaw," he admitted, ducking his head.
"Of course! New warrior's choice," Tornear declared, then padded off to sit with Ashfoot and Whitetail.
Harespring dropped a rabbit in front of Kestrelpaw, who had been watching the ceremony off in one edge of the camp with his mentor.
"Want to share?" he asked.
"Since you're going to be ordering me around from now on…" Kestrelpaw teased, eyes shining with good humour. "I don't see why not."
They settled down together and continued talking and joking late into the evening until Onestar finally told Harespring it was time for his vigil. He stood, stretched, bid farewell to Kestrelpaw, and then took up his position in front of the entrance of the camp.
As he watched the camp settle down for the night, under the stars, his gaze lingered on Kestrelpaw. He knew he should be pleased to be a warrior, and looking forward to his future with the medicine cat apprentice as a close friend, but he couldn't shake the worry that plagued his mind. Shredtail's vision of that battle must not be far off now. I'm going to have to be brave.
He watched the black-and-white tom as he helped his elderly mentor into the medicine den and felt a protective surge in his chest. I have to get stronger, for him. It was a pity he wouldn't be sleeping tonight; he would have trained harder than ever. I hope I see Shredtail tomorrow, he decided. I won't waste a moment. He flexed his claws, absentmindedly tearing up the earth, and spent the night imagining all the moves he would use to tear the pelt off whatever ThunderClan fleabag threatened his—his friend.
He enjoyed his new warrior name in peace for another moon. Onestar continued pushing the Clan to hunt closer and closer to the stream that separated them from ThunderClan. There were a few close-calls, but still no sign of the battle that Shredtail had predicted.
Until a cool leaf-fall day on a routine border patrol. When Harespring saw the forms on the moor, lit by the dawn sun, apprehension thrummed in his paws. Is this the battle? They're on our territory! But Kestrelpaw was still safely in the camp.
Ashfoot was as tense as he felt when they approached the patrol. He knew their steadfast deputy had been growing ever more anxious from Onestar's unreasonableness. He didn't want to imagine what point Onestar would be at without her influence.
They bounded down the hill toward the ThunderClan cats and Harespring called, "Stay where you are!"
There was no Tornear to reprimand him for speaking out of turn, this time. Let Ashfoot handle this, he told himself, but it was hard to look at any of the ThunderClan warriors without picturing them pouncing on the defenseless Kestrelpaw.
"Isn't there enough prey in ThunderClan territory?" he hissed at them as their patrol approached the trespassers. When they reached them, Ashfoot opened her mouth to speak and was interrupted by their leader, ThunderClan's deputy Brambleclaw.
"We've come to speak with Onestar."
"We come in peace," Sandstorm added. A senior warrior, Harespring thought. He had no doubt there was hard muscle beneath her pale pelt. Dustpelt might not be with them, but she could hurt Kestrelpaw badly.
Ashfoot would hear none of it. "Go back to your own territory!"
"Not until we've seen Onestar." Brambleclaw's eyes glittered with determination, and fear sunk in Harespring's belly like a stone. They want to come to our camp! It's a ploy, they're planning an attack! This is what Shredtail was warning me about.
"ThunderClan should stop thinking they can come and go on WindClan territory
as they please!" Owlwhisker spat from beside Harespring, who twitched an ear with agreement. "I bet you don't visit Blackstar this often!"
"Just go home," Ashfoot growled. "Onestar doesn't owe you any favors."
Brambleclaw's eyes narrowed, and adrenaline pulsed in Harespring's veins. If he takes a step…
"We promised Firestar we'd speak to Onestar. We only want to talk!" His voice dripping with false sincerity, Brambleclaw stepped forward.
Taking that as enough evidence of his intentions, Harespring flung himself at the deputy. He stopped just before he struck him and hissed, lips drawn back, "Not another paw step!"
"We want to see Onestar," Brambleclaw repeated, eyes dark, and raised his paw to take another step.
Visions of Brambleclaw gripping Kestrelpaw's limp body between his teeth dancing in his head, Harespring pounced, paw lashing out to rip open Brambleclaw's skin. Instead of drawing blood, Brambleclaw knocked Harespring's strike aside with one paw, lightning-fast. With another blow, Harespring found himself slammed into the ground. He was pinned. No! How did he do that?! Harespring writhed, but the deputy was as heavy as a badger, and continued his conversation with Ashfoot as if the warrior beneath him was nothing more than a caught mouse. Humiliation seared his pelt, and Harespring screwed his eyes shut. I'm sorry, Kestrelpaw, I'm too weak.
But this time, rather than feeling defeated, hate for the tom above him and for any that would threaten Kestrelpaw or any other member of WindClan surged in him. I'll train harder, he vowed. I'll train until no cat could get between him and me.
Brambleclaw's weight eased, and Harespring scrambled to his paws, glowering at Brambleclaw.
"You really have to go," Ashfoot repeated, putting herself between her Clanmate and the ThunderClan deputy. "Onestar has nothing to say to you."
Finally, Brambleclaw nodded and turned. Harespring sagged with relief. Maybe I did save Kestrelpaw, even if I was being a mouse-heart while doing it. His suspicions were confirmed that night when he dreamed of the moor and Shredtail.
"Good job, Harespring," Shredtail told him.
Remembering his failure by the border, mortification tore through him again. "But I failed. Brambleclaw beat me with one paw."
Shredtail dipped his head. "Yes. But you saved Kestrelpaw. And I'll tell you a secret." The tom leaned forward, and Harespring mirrored the action, hungry for his mentor's words. "Brambleclaw also trained in his dreams."
Shock flashed through Harespring. "He did?! Who trained him?"
Shredtail let out a mrrow of laughter. "You won't believe it, but… Tigerstar."
"Tigerstar?!" Harespring echoed. "Like… that Tigerstar?"
Shredtail shrugged. "He's different now. We all are, after we die. And he truly did love his sons, so now that there's no chance for him to achieve all his… other plans, he just wants to help Brambleclaw grow stronger."
Harespring nodded. I guess that makes sense. Even a cat as evil as Tigerstar must love his kits. "Have you met him?"
Shredtail hesitated. "I… yes. There's a place where we can train cats like you, but it's not quite as nice as the moor."
"There are more cats training than just me and Brambleclaw?" Harespring pressed.
Shredtail nodded.
"I want you to bring me there," Harespring decided. "Even if I did save Kestrelpaw today, who knows what will happen tomorrow? I need to train more."
For the first time, Shredtail gave him a real smile, yellowed teeth glinting in the sunlight. "I'm glad to hear it. I think you would benefit from meeting some of the other trainees too. Once you're strong enough, maybe you could have a dream-apprentice of your own."
"Really?" Harespring perked up. Thistlekit, Sedgekit, and Swallowkit are so young, and I'd like to teach some cat my tricks. "That sounds great! Wait… if Brambleclaw trains there, are there… like, cats from other Clans?"
"Of course," Shredtail replied. "But we're really one big Clan, I'd say. There's no hostility between the Clans in dreams."
Or in StarClan, I guess. Harespring nodded. "Then take me there."
Shredtail waved his tail, and like the world was melting, everything seemed to droop a little. The Fourtrees and Highstones disappeared, and the blue sky turned dark. Bare trees sprung up, crowding out the starless sky, lending shade to the peaty earth underfoot. A cat's yowl split the air.
Harespring whipped around, spotting a hill that rose up from earth a ways in front of him, tipped with a giant stump. The forms of cats writhed in battle atop it, hissing and yowling. They were hardly more than silhouettes in the dim light, forcing Harespring to slit his eyes to see. He took a tentative step toward the base of the hill, watching breathlessly. Is that Breezepaw?!
The dark tom flung off his opponent, a gray and white cat that Harespring immediately recognized as the ThunderClan warrior Mousewhisker. Breezepaw threw himself after him, and the two toms tussled, then finally Breezepaw got the upper paw and pinned him. Rather than stepping off him, though, Breezepaw leaned over and when he raised his head a heartbeat later, Harespring could tell that something dark stained his old denmate's mouth.
"Welcome," Shredtail said, coming up to stand at his shoulder, "to the Place of No Stars."
Shy at the start, 'til this guy named Shifty / Who had 100 pounds on me called me "Brittle Bones Nicky" / How dumb I was, twenty-one / And way out of control / You're not gonna push me around / You can't get me down-down-down
If you enjoyed, please leave a review!