CHAPTER 4

"Alright Asterpaw, today we're going to work more on balance," Stagtail informed.

Asterpaw tried to focus on the words that his mentor was saying, but found his mind wandering against his will. His brown-furred teacher was standing right next to him, towering a rabbit-length above Asterpaw's small, blue tabby frame. Immediately, the experienced warrior sensed his apprentice's distraction and called his attention back to training.

"Come on, Asterpaw. Focus! We've been trying to perfect your back kick for a few days now!" Stagtail reminded him, nudging Asterpaw gently in the ribs.

Asterpaw stared down at his paws, the only part of his underdeveloped body that was shock white instead of pale blue-gray. He shuffled his feet in the rough moor grass, already feeling shame leak into his chest at the prospect of being an utter let-down in battle training once again. Two and a half moons of training had passed by already and he still wasn't fast enough to catch a healthy rabbit, nor was he strong enough to pull off many battle moves. Out of all the WindClan apprentices, he seemed the farthest behind in his training, even though some of his den mates were younger than him. Stagtail had already asked him a couple of times if he was sure he seriously didn't want to become a medicine cat. With those memories lingering in his mind, Asterpaw wondered, what's wrong with me?

"Hey! I don't want to have to have another talk with you, Asterpaw," Stagtail once again interrupted his wandering thoughts, "Let's start warming up. I know you can balance on your hind-legs, so we'll start with that—on your paws and hold for a count of ten."

Shaking away his nerves, Asterpaw reared up onto his back legs, his feather-white forepaws pulled in close to his chest. He wobbled precariously for a moment and felt his mentor's tail slap against his flank, as the young brown warrior instructed him.

"Keep your tail out straight. Only ThunderClan keep their tails tucked in like the mouse-bellies they are. Alright, now five…four…three…two…one…and, you're all done."

Relieved, Asterpaw dropped back to all fours, waiting for Stagtail's next command.

"The more you practice this kind of balance, along with running some sprints, the stronger your back legs will become," the dappled brown tom informed, "But I think your real weakness lies in your front legs. Your back legs are pretty strong, and they will continue to get stronger the more you hunt, fight, and train, but your front legs seem to struggle developing muscle. I think we need to work a lot more on strengthening your front legs. If we do that, you should be able to run faster without tripping, turn more easily during a chase, and hit your opponents with more oomph."

"Okay," Asterpaw mewed, feeling a little uplifted at the tone of confidence in Stagtail's voice, "Do you know any exercises I could do to help with my front legs? I'll do whatever you say. You know I want to be a great warrior."

Stagtail gazed down at his apprentice fondly, his white muzzle opening to heave a sigh. He did know; he knew how much Asterpaw wanted to excel at his warrior duties and he knew how hard the little blue tabby tom worked to get better. Asterpaw didn't notice his mentor suddenly stiffen with resolve, nor did he see the doubt still lingering in Stagtail's golden eyes.

"Hmm," Stagtail rumbled, "Well, you could try running with stones tied to your paws. I know Violapetal had to do that to strengthen her shoulder after she wrenched it in a border skirmish. Though, I said we were working on balance today, so let's have you do some more balancing, but on your front paws this time."

Asterpaw felt a quiver run down his spine, "But, I've tried that loads of times already and I still can't do it for even a five-count."

Stagtail touched his nose to Asterpaw's shoulder, "If you keep practicing, I know you'll be able to do it."

With a flick of his long tail, Stagtail beckoned for Asterpaw to follow him, his short, soil-colored fur dotted with flecks of rich umber and tan helped the WindClan warrior to blend into the coarse upland grass as he galloped easily towards the hillside rising nearby. Behind him, Asterpaw lagged a bit, noticing how the muscles in his haunches had far more might than those in his shoulders. If he got going too fast, his forelegs couldn't keep up and he would stumble. It was just like his mentor said. Luckily, Stagtail wasn't tearing away at full-tilt with the speed only WindClan cats could possess, but cantering calmly and smoothly amid the clumps of springy grassland. After a few minutes of running, Stagtail suddenly picked up speed before screeching to a halt by rearing up onto his fore-legs and spinning around to face Asterpaw, demonstrating the move. The panting blue tabby apprentice closed the distance between him and his mentor with a few short, unsteady bounds. They were stopped close to the top part of the hill, where the ground sloped steeply downwards.

"I want you to practice balancing on the hill today," Stagtail meowed as Asterpaw approached, "If you practice facing up the hill, it will be more difficult to elevate your body, but it will help build your muscles. If you practice facing down the hill—I won't make you do that quite yet—you'd have no problem rearing up, but you'd have a much harder time keeping yourself steady. You might even tumble down the hill if you put too much of your weight into it. If you need to, try getting a running start. Alright, go for it Asterpaw."

Asterpaw suddenly quailed at the order his mentor had given him. I'm not ready to do this…I can't. Please, Stagtail, don't make me. Doubt pricked its cruel claws into the blue tabby apprentice's chest, making him hesitate. He gazed up into the eyes of Stagtail, glittering golden with anticipation. The hillside began to blur in Asterpaw's sunny yellow eyes as his nerves gripped him belligerently. Inside the young tom's mind, frustration mingled with his fear. He couldn't count how many times he had frozen during a training like this.

"Come on, Asterpaw," Stagtail urged patiently, "Give it a go."

Shaking his muzzle, Asterpaw clenched his eyes closed as tightly as he could, digging his claws into the dirt as he gave an awkward bound forward. His hind-legs bunched powerfully beneath him, before propelling his haunches into the air. The energy behind his movement lifted even his quivering fore-paws into the air as he flipped forward, the slanting hillside rising swiftly to collide roughly with his back. Eyes flying open, Asterpaw was met with the upside-down image of his mentor's anxious face.

"Well, that was a little too much oomph, but the enthusiasm was spot-on," Stagtail smiled upon seeing that his apprentice was mostly unharmed. Asterpaw was relieved to find no sign of laughter in his mentor's eyes—Stagtail wasn't making fun of him. Nevertheless, with the moor so wide open and clear, any WindClan warrior could have sighted his embarrassing blunder, and if any of his den mates, two malicious ones in particular, caught wind of Asterpaw's flop, the teasing would be endless.

Stagtail gestured his tail for Asterpaw to try again, and the small blue tabby tom rolled reluctantly back to his paws before attempting once more.

This continued on until the sun was at its highest point in the sky, just barely peeking out behind thick tufts of cloud. By that time, both mentor and apprentice had reached their limit. The whole front half of Asterpaw's body ached, a muscle running down his right shoulder throbbing angrily beneath his pelt. He could tell that Stagtail was frustrated with him; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't balance for more than two seconds, and when he did manage to find an okay stance, it was with his hindlegs splayed out awkwardly and immobilized. He felt as though he could never hope to perfect the back kick.

With a noisy sigh, Stagtail conceded, "That's enough for today. We'll keep working on it again tomorrow. Let's do some hunting before we head back to camp though. I'm sure the queens and elders will be grateful after such an arduous Leaf-bare."

The flecked brown warrior led Asterpaw back down the hillside, pausing occasionally to drink in the scents. Loamy patches of coarse moorland grass cobbled the plain hillocks, concealing small creatures whose fur would blend in with the mixture of tans and pale greens. Mentor and apprentice searched for hours across the southern patch of WindClan territory. Asterpaw missed one field mouse, but somewhat made up for it with the sloppy catch of another. Stagtail had needed to help him, but at least it was something. As the sun began to lower itself down towards the horizon, Stagtail spotted a young hare, thin still from Leaf-bare, but large enough to feed a few cats. Casting a pitiful look down at Asterpaw, he shook his head "no" and mouthed, "Let me get this one."

Asterpaw tried to push aside the knowledge that even if he tried, he probably wouldn't be able to catch the hare. Stagtail needs to get this one because WindClan needs food. We can't afford to lose such a good piece of fresh-kill after the harsh Leaf-bare. I'll have plenty more opportunities to practice hunting later in Newleaf and Greenleaf, he reassured himself.

So, the blue tabby apprentice contented himself with studying his mentor's movements as Stagtail adjusted his position to be upwind of the hare, before bunching his muscles and racing forward at top speed with all the fleetness and grace of WindClan warrior. The hare had no chance to let out a squeal of surprise at the hungry cat lunging towards it. It turned to flee but only made it a few frantic paces away before Stagtail batted its hind-legs out from under it and delivered a fierce bite to the back of its neck. With a few final twitches, the hare's body fell still. Asterpaw released the hopeful breath he had been holding.

Stagtail sent him to retrieve his catch and then return to camp.

As Asterpaw padded up to the scoop in the earth that WindClan called home, the tiny, ragged field mouse dangling from his jaws, he familiarized himself with the arrangement of his clan mates. Hickorystar was nowhere to be seen. Being as old as he was, WindClan's leader had probably already retired to the old badger set he called his nest. Blackberrywing, the deputy, was chatting with Marblespots, a senior warrior, probably about the silver tabby tom's 5-moon old kits as they neared their apprenticeship. In the shadow of a boulder, Ilexfang lay curled uncomfortably around his new, and heftily pregnant, mate Pansyfeather. Asterpaw felt a small surge of anger for his biological father caressing a she-cat that wasn't his mother, but he mentally shoved it aside. Ilexfang could do whatever he wanted, and with Flittersong's sometimes stifling personality, Asterpaw could envision why the black and white tom had left her for the calmer and quieter Pansyfeather. Next to the dip in the ground, Silverpaw and Talonpaw were dashing through the soft sand and weeds, practicing battle moves at odd intervals. Asterpaw particularly kept his eyes locked on those two, making sure they didn't turn their attention on him.

Silverpaw and Talonpaw were the youngest sons of Hickorystar himself, though only Silverpaw closely resembled the now elderly leader. Talonpaw looked like their mother who had died shortly after her kitting. They were the oldest apprentices in WindClan at the moment, and only about a moon away from warriorhood. Nonetheless, they picked on and bullied anyone they deemed too weak or lesser than them—Asterpaw was one of their favorite targets.

Skirting the camp slowly, his body lowered slightly towards the ground, Asterpaw snuck his meager catch onto the fresh-kill pile, watching his two older den mates the entire time. Thankfully, they didn't spot him, and he dashed towards the underground portion of the apprentice's den: a hole in the ground once inhabited by foxes. Inside, the black and ginger shape of Clovepaw was already curled up into her feather-lined nest. Asterpaw remembered that he had heard something about Clovepaw being on moon-high patrol tonight; that must have been why she was resting now. Replacing the agony in Asterpaw's abused muscles was sheer numbness. He felt what was left of his energy quickly shamble out of his exhausted being as his paws almost gave way beneath him. Luckily, he made it to his nest in the far corner of the cozy den, and before he could register the presence of sleep in the back of his mind, it had completely engulfed him.

He was awakened by the sneering of two all-too-familiar voices, though for once they weren't directed at him. His eyes flew open to watch the scene unfold.

Clovepaw was gone from the den, but seated in her own nest a few over from Asterpaw, was Dianthuspaw. She had soft, all-white fur, still dotted with the last of her downy kitten fuzz, and mismatched eyes. Her left eye was warm amber, but her right eye, closest to Asterpaw due to how she was positioned, was sky blue, and it was on this same side that Dianthuspaw was also deaf. Her paws were tucked elegantly beneath her, but her tail twitched with agitation behind her. Asterpaw could sense the aura of smoldering hurt and anger billowing outwards from her, and directed at the two near-full-grown tom cats in front of her. Looming menacingly before the half-deaf apprentice, were Silverpaw and Talonpaw, their eyes narrowed into cruel slits as they ruthlessly upbraided Dianthuspaw with scornful words. Dianthuspaw and her sister, Erminepaw, had only been apprentices for a couple weeks, and already the terrible duo of senior apprentices had selected the disabled white she-cat as their newest target.

"Who said you could have a nest so close to the center of the den?" that was Silverpaw, "You're an apprentice, you should know that the eldest cats get the nests in the middle where it's warmest!"

Dianthuspaw just ignored him, heaving a sigh before tucking her nose down against her chest and closing her eyes.

Silverpaw shoved his brother roughly in the shoulder and Talonpaw prowled closer to Dianthuspaw, poking her roughly with his claw until she was forced to open one eye to glare up at the dark brown and the gray tabby bullies.

"Did you hear what he just said? You. Need. To. Move…" the brown tom growled at her, enunciating every word with another jab of his claw into her leg.

"She's deaf, remember?" Silverpaw nudged his brother, his lips curling up into a disdainful smirk, "That's why her daddy has to mentor her."

Talonpaw let out a short laugh, before suddenly cuffing Dianthuspaw roughly over her deaf ear. The white she-cat flinched, letting out a hiss of pain and shock as she tried to draw away from her antagonizing den mates. Talonpaw continued.

"So, you can feel pain in that ear, but you can't hear anything out of it. Seems troublesome. We could slice it off for you," his arrogant voice trembling with malice, "I still can't believe father even let you become an apprentice in the first place. You're useless!"

Silverpaw snickered behind his brother, nodding his head when Talonpaw glanced questioningly back at the gray tabby; Silverpaw was clearly the ringleader. Nasty smiles widened on both of their faces as Talonpaw padded closer towards Dianthuspaw, raising his paw to bat at her again.

Asterpaw had seen and heard enough. Swallowing his fear, he hurriedly got to his paws and crossed the den to step in front of Dianthuspaw.

"Leave her alone!" he spat furiously.

The flicker of surprise vanished from Silverpaw's pale green eyes almost as soon as it appeared. It was exchanged with a look of wicked glee. Here the brothers' alternate play-thing had intervened, begging to be taunted and taken down a few notches. Both took menacing steps towards Asterpaw.

Righteous fury battled against acute terror, just barely overwhelming the blood-chilling fear that Asterpaw felt as he faced his antagonists. He tried to keep his legs from trembling—he knew he could not beat either of them in a scuffle, but if his clan mates heard him scream for help, the two apprentices would play it off as though Asterpaw himself had been the offender. Even if his clan mates knew what Silverpaw and Talonpaw said wasn't true, they wouldn't do anything to challenge the sons of WindClan's leader. Some might even defend them, like Silverpaw's mentor, Martenstorm.

"Why do you pick on other cats?" Asterpaw growled, trying to keep his voice free of distress, "You think you're better than everyone else so you treat them like badger-dung. Why?"

Talonpaw scoffed, "We don't think we're better, do we Silverpaw?"

Silverpaw shook his head, continuing to close the gap between him and Asterpaw. Their muzzles almost touching, the gray tabby apprentice affirmed his brother with a quiet, threatening jeer, "We know we're better than weak, mewling kittens like you. The blood of the fiercest warriors and the noblest leaders runs through our veins. We pick on small fries like you because you can never be great like us, and you deserve to know that. Besides, what cat isn't going to back us when father is also the WindClan leader?"

"You're no better than a-a Dark F-forest cat," Asterpaw rebutted, but his voice was quivering as much as his legs now.

Silverpaw suddenly pitched forward and Asterpaw shrank back in panic, but he felt no swat of his fellow apprentice's claws or nip of his fangs. Forcing his tightly clenched eyes to open, he saw Silverpaw and Talonpaw cackling a few paces away, before turning their backs and leaving the den. The raucous sound of their laughter flooded Asterpaw's veins with horror. They are truly despicable cats, StarClan will see that they pay for their cruel actions!

Something shifted behind Asterpaw, and all of the sudden, the blue tabby tom apprentice was being shoved into the wall of the den. He glanced over to meet the fuming mismatched gaze of Dianthuspaw.

"I can take care of myself," she bristled, "I don't need you to fight my battles for me. Keep your nose in your own business next time!"

With that, Dianthuspaw whisked her way out of the apprentice's den, leaving Asterpaw feeling shocked and empty inside. He sat stock-still in hurt confusion for some time before also heading out of the apprentice's den.

Outside the sun's last few rays of light were disappearing beyond the horizon and many cats were laying together in groups beneath the first pin pricks of stars appearing above, sharing tongues. Feeling a twinge of hunger in his stomach, Asterpaw glanced towards where the fresh-kill was deposited, but upon noticing how empty it looked, he shoved away his thoughts of food. Instead, he climbed up the hill flanking WindClan's camp and flopped into the heady moor grass near the top. The sharp, yet flexible, little stalks of green poked into his belly fur, tickling against his skin.

Once more, Asterpaw felt his gaze scanning over his clan mates. The kits of Marblespots and Wheatcloud were listening attentively to a story being told by Quinceleaf, their elderly grandmother. One of the kits, Asterpaw thought it was Rainykit, was simultaneously pouncing on Quinceleaf's twitching tail. The gray tabby elder didn't seem to mind though. Gooseshadow, Columbineleaf, and Pollenwind all bounded in from across the moor, their jaws clinging to a few scrawny pieces of prey. They must have been on a hunting patrol. Silverpaw and Talonpaw were nowhere to be seen—they had probably gone out training or were off getting into trouble somewhere out of sight of the WindClan camp. Dianthuspaw wasn't around either, which seemed strange considering she had only just left Asterpaw in the apprentice's den a few moments earlier. However, his confusion about her absence was short-lived as he heard the soft patter of paw steps approaching him from behind and Dianthuspaw's subtle, sweet heather scent washed over him. The white she-cat laid down next to him quietly, tucking her front paws under her.

Asterpaw felt heat bubble throughout his body as he tensed, expecting her to say something harsh once more. Instead, silence surrounded the two apprentices as night continued to slowly fold over the sky.

"I'm sorry," the words were so soft, Asterpaw barely heard them. He glanced over at Dianthuspaw lying next to him. Her eyes were fixed on the stars twinkling above them. She continued without looking at him.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you for defending me…thank you for standing up for me."

The heat that had been burning in Asterpaw's chest fled, only to be replaced with surprise. She was thanking him for shielding her from the cruelty of Silverpaw and Talonpaw. For the first time in his life, he felt a small, squeamish tingle of joy. His life hadn't been a terrible one thus far, but reflecting back on it, there had never really been a time where he had felt a kinship to his peers or pride in something positive he had done. This new feeling surprised him even more so than the fact that Dianthuspaw was now showing him gratitude after rejecting him previously.

He opened his mouth to respond to her, but she stopped him, "Don't spoil it by saying anything. I know they pick on you—I've seen it, even when I was still in the nursery. It was very brave of you to stand up to them…but it was still stupid. They could have seriously hurt you. No matter what they may say to me, they cannot hurt me. The clan would not tolerate them wounding a feeble, disabled cat like me."

The word "disabled" was spat out, full of venom, but Asterpaw could sense the hurt buried beneath all the ice in Dianthuspaw's voice. With that, she stood up, and turned to walk away. The burning inside of Asterpaw's chest had cooled to a pleasant warmth.

"Goodnight Dianthuspaw," he murmured as she padded away.

Though he didn't turn his head to gaze at her as she left, he heard her pause for a second, her good ear twitching as she mewed back, "Goodnight Asterpaw."

When he finally took the time to glance back over his shoulder, she was long gone, probably skirting the moorland hills in search of her sister or parents.

Speaking of parents, trotting towards him from the shallow scoop of earth WindClan called camp, was the small, dappled shape of Asterpaw's mother, Flittersong. Asterpaw could just make out the blue and cream tortoiseshell patches of her fur in the ever-dwindling light. The same sun-yellow eyes as her only kit shimmered with purpose. Bounding the rest of the way up the hill, she reached Asterpaw's side in no time at all, sitting down next to him and immediately starting to groom his blue tabby fur roughly.

Asterpaw tensed beneath his mother's tongue, wanting desperately to pull away from her, but at the same time, he didn't have the heart to do so. He knew the fragility of her temperament.

Flittersong had been young and beautiful—she still was really—but early into her warriorhood, she fell head-over-paws in love with a tom who was only destined to break her heart. She had always been delicate…clinging to the cats around her, particularly her brother Wormwhisker, who was kind enough to tolerate her, unlike her other brother, Nimbleshade, who was quick to flee from her overwhelming presence. Though those closest to her had urged her to become more independent, she clung doggedly onto them, unable to grant them any reprieve from her overprotectiveness. She pursued Ilexfang, the tom she had mooned after since she had earned her warrior name, and once she had finally caught him, was quick to force him into a situation that would make it difficult for him to abandon her. He was welcoming of her at first, but seeing the way she unnecessarily tried to control his other personal relationships, he tired of her rapidly. He could not so much as patrol with another she-cat lest she question his faithfulness to her, nor could he be away from her side for any longer than a few hours unless he wished his love for her to be doubted. She could not bear to think that he, whom she loved so much, might not love her in return—it kept her up at night, anxiety swallowing her until she broke into fits of panicky rage at her mate. It wasn't long before she bore Ilexfang's kits, one of the two dying shortly after being released from her body; the other, a tiny blue tabby tom with white-mitted paws, became her new world.

Ashamed and afraid of his new responsibility as a father, especially with a she-cat that seemed so unhinged, Ilexfang spoke to Flittersong a few weeks after their son was born, telling her that they were no longer mates…he could not "in good conscience", parent this kit alongside her. Flittersong tried to tear his throat out, but her body, still weak from recent kit-birth, and heavy with milk for her beloved Asterkit, betrayed her. Ilexfang fled from the nursery, and they never spoke again.

From then on, she would not let little Asterkit out of her sight. He could not leave the nursery without her there to keep an eye on him, he could not sit with the elders and listen to their stories, he could not play with Clovekit, born before him, or Erminekit and Dianthuskit born after him. Nor when Tasselkit, Rainykit, Marigoldkit, and Daffodilkit were born was he allowed to play with them neither. Flittersong even went to the trouble of requesting Wormwhisker as his future mentor, but both Hickorystar and his trusty deputy Blackberrywing, denied it, already planning for Wormwhisker to mentor his disabled daughter since he had some experience working with a deaf cat, the trait being passed down to Dianthuskit from his mate, Cottonpool. Flittersong was furious, but obeyed the choice of her leader with reluctance. When Asterpaw was assigned Stagtail as his mentor, Flittersong lectured the poor young tom for a good hour about how to treat her son.

When Asterpaw, Asterkit at the time, had been old enough to understand that a father-figure was missing from his life, Flittersong had been quick to dispel his curiosity. She spat curse after curse upon Ilexfang's name and forbade Asterkit from ever speaking to him. Nevertheless, when she was commanded to pick up her warrior's duties once more, she had no choice but to leave her kit behind in camp. Finally seeing a chance to talk to his son, Ilexfang approached the five-moon-old Asterkit while Flittersong was on a patrol.

"I'm sure she's told you already, but I'm your father, Asterkit."

Nervous, and skeptical because of his mother's hatred toward the black and white tom cat, Asterkit responded with fear.

"Why don't you love Mama? Why did you abandon us?"

Ilexfang sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping with guilt, "I love you and your Mama very much. I love you as my son, and I love your Mama as my clan mate…I love all of my clan mates equally. Your Mama and I, we had a fight, you see…and I realized that I could only love your Mama as a clan mate, and nothing more than that. But Asterkit, please never think that I abandoned you. I'll always be your father, and I'll always be here for you. I am sorry that I could not have been around you during your kit-hood. Please never feel like you cannot come and speak to me. Your Mama and I, we may have our…differences…but you will always be my son and I will always love you in a very special way."

Asterkit then noticed that the yellow eyes he-himself possessed, were far more similar to Ilexfang's than they were to Flittersong's. They were yellow like a buttercup sprouting up in Newleaf, and his mother's were more orangey, like a marigold.

"It would be best not to tell your Mama that I spoke to you today," Ilexfang continued, "Take good care of her, Asterkit."

Then he was gone, and Flittersong never heard about their exchange. As Ilexfang had said, it was probably for the better. Still, not even a moon into Asterpaw's apprenticeship, and news had spread throughout the WindClan camp that Ilexfang had impregnated a new she-cat, the brave, yet dainty Pansyfeather. Flittersong never mentioned the news, but Asterpaw could see that it ate her up inside—she was suffering. At the same time, a prickle of anger washed over him too. He hadn't talked to Ilexfang since the day the bi-colored warrior had approached him, and now, as Ilexfang publicly doted upon and caressed his new mate, the likelihood of Asterpaw ever further connecting with his biological father grew slimmer as the days passed.

So, as much as Flittersong pestered him with sloppy licks or incessant questions about his training, Asterpaw lied to her, saying that everything was fine, letting her lap up his words thinking they must be affection. He didn't tell Flittersong that he wasn't fast enough to catch a rabbit, strong enough to run at full-tilt like any respectable WindClan warrior, nor smart enough to ever best an opponent in battle. He could only tell her about his day-to-day experiences through a lens of neutrality; let her believe that everything was going well, that he would be a fearsome warrior one day, even when he was filled with doubts himself. He worked himself as hard as he could every single day, in hopes that someday those little white lies would become truths. Everything was fine, everything would be ok.

As the night progressed, Asterpaw followed through with these dishonest routines until Flittersong had run out of both energy and questions to ask him.

"Mum, I'd like to sleep alone tonight. Is that okay?" he asked.

In her eyes, he saw her heart crack a little, and reassured her, "If I get lonely or cold or whatever, I'll come find you right away, I promise."

She nuzzled him mushily once more, pressing her cold nose and slightly parted lips into his cheek. Her breath was hot and stifling in his fur; he longed for her to go away more than ever, but he forced himself to endure her overbearingness.

"I suppose, baby," she mewled into the now-soggy fur of her son's forehead, "But you better keep your promise. Come find me if you need anything at all, and I expect you to sleep next to me tomorrow night to make up for it."

"Yes, Mama," he comforted her, "Goodnight Mama."

With a final lick to his nose, she vaulted down the hillside to find a place to rest beneath the light of Silverpelt.

Alone, Asterpaw's gaze drifted over his clan for the final time that night. He hated to admit it, but it's not like he couldn't tell—his clan mates were still too thin. WindClan cats had always been lean and muscular, but the cats he saw dotting the hillside around him were unhealthily skinny. As in all the clans, this last Leaf-bare had been unforgiving, and the Leaf-fall prior had been the source of battles between WindClan and RiverClan over the alleged thievery of prey. WindClan had lost four warriors and an elder to the battles; three of the warriors and the elder had died from their injuries or infection, and the other warrior had been murdered, supposedly by accident. It left WindClan weak, hurting for fresh, strong cats to provide for the clan, but Leaf-bare robbed the moors of prey, making the already enfeebled clan even more damaged. Another elder, already at the brink of StarClan's gates, was tipped over the edge and into the paws of the starry ancestors by starvation.

Asterpaw had still only been a kit when Leaf-bare had begun, but he was relatively well-provided for by the rest of WindClan until he was made an apprentice and forced to endure his new responsibilities, even in the harsh conditions.

When would WindClan recover? New-leaf was well on its way, the final frosts had melted weeks ago, and yet the moors still had little to offer the hungry clan.

If only I could be of more use to them all, Asterpaw despaired, they need me to be stronger than I am. I guess all I can do is keep working really hard. But…should I consider asking Heatherstep to be her apprentice? I don't know…I really don't feel like I'm cut out to be a medicine cat either…I feel like I'm supposed to be a warrior. At the same time though, I don't want to keep letting Stagtail, and my mother, and my clan mates down…I just…I just…I just really don't know.

Twinkling overhead, StarClan was forced to share in the murky despair that the little blue-gray tabby apprentice felt.

Fun Fact #1: Asterpaw's front legs are underdeveloped because of his mother. Since Flittersong would not allow him to partake in very many activities while he was a kit, especially not allowing him to play with other kits, his front legs did not get enough exercise while he was in his most critical stages of growth. Of course, he's still growing, but not as quickly as he was early on as a kitten. However, the fact that his front legs struggle to build muscle is more of a psychological thing. His brain remembers there not being very much muscle stimulation early on in his life, and so the signals it sends to the muscles, even when Asterpaw is exercising them, do not cause the muscles to grow or strengthen like in other cats. I doubt this is a real thing that exists, but this is a story about talking cats who live in groups and communicate with spirits, so pretty much anything is possible, though I try to throw in a decent amount of realism.

Fun Fact #2: The WindClan warrior that was murdered, was killed by a young RiverClan she-cat. Rumor has it that it wasn't really accidental. Hmm, I wonder whodunnit? Guess, we'll never really know.

Fun Fact #3: The condition that both Dianthuspaw and Cottonpool share of having mismatched eyes and being deaf on the side of their blue eye, is actually a pretty common genetic disorder in felines. There's a high likelihood that blue-eyed white cats will be deaf (think Snowkit from the first arc in the Warriors series), and due to this, white cats with one-blue eye, and one eye of a different color, also tend to be deaf on the side of that blue eye. Granted, in this case, Cottonpool's non-blue eye is green, and Dianthuspaw's non-blue eye is amber, but they are both deaf on their right side.