Chapter 12

Briarfur stretched and yawned. It was about a quarter moon since RustClan had attacked, and the excitement had died down around camp, though she knew every cat was still angry.

RustClan will never hear the last of this, she thought to herself. If I ever see one of them outside the Gathering, I just may claw its fur off.

As she poked her head outside of the warriors' den, blinking in the late morning light. She crossed the clearing over to the fresh-kill pile, choosing a slightly stale mouse left from the last hunting patrol, and chose a spot near Woodpelt and Nightwind to eat it.

"Good morning," the two senior warriors—her parents—spoke almost simultaneously.

"Good morning," Briarfur replied with a courteous nod. "The sunhigh patrol is leaving soon, right? Should I accompany them?" She dipped her head and took a bite out of the prey as she listened to Woodpelt's reply.

"No, the patrol is already sorted out. You will join a hunting patrol this evening. You can do pretty much what you please until then."

Briarfur sighed. Just another lazy day in camp. She finished her meal in silence as her mother and father shared tongues. She felt a sense of longing as she watched them, so close and so obviously in love. Maybe someday I'll have someone to love like that. It would be nice.

"I think I'll go for a walk in the woods. I'll be near the stream on the northern border, if you need me." Woodpelt gave a nod of acknowledgement, and she briskly padded out of the camp after burying her mouse's bones.

The walk in the woods was serene, everything beautiful in late greenleaf. The first of the autumn colors were appearing in the trees, and leaffall probably wasn't far off. Earthy scents were all around her; the smell of squirrel, leaf mold, and faint traces of herbs found their way to her nostrils. A walk in the forest was always enough to keep her happy.

Another scent caught her attention: feline. She sniffed again, drawing the scent over the roof of her mouth, and found that it belonged to her friend Rockstorm. She decided to visit with him, and quietly padded towards him. Soon his grey coat was within sight, but she could see by his posture that he was stalking some prey. She hung back and watched as he crept closer, snapped a twig, chased an alerted squirrel halfway up a tree, fell down, and uttered a muffled "Fox dung!"

Briarfur let out a mrrow of laughter. "Better luck next time!" Rockstorm turned in surprise and gasped.

"Yikes! Don't ever creep up on me like that!"

Briarfur feigned hurt. "Gosh, I just wanted to see you. You didn't have to snap like that. Hey, could I hunt with you? I've got nothing to do until the evening patrol."

"Umm… Sure! Sounds great. I'm heading towards the north border and back. Let's go!"

He took the lead, and Briarfur padded a short distance behind. Looking at the handsome tom in front of her, her mind returned to that longing feeling she had felt earlier that morning. She tried to focus on her hunting, but eventually Rockstorm was filling her mind.

She barely even saw the mouse when it scurried right in front of her.

"What are you doing?!" called Rockstorm teasingly. "I've never seen a mouse leap into someone's jaws, but that was the next closest thing!"

"Aww, lay off! It was a good few taillengths ahead of me!"

"It was right in front of your nose!"

"Was not! Besides, you didn't do any better with that squirrel!" They continued teasingly bickering with each other until Briarfur playfully cuffed Rockstorm over the head. He, in return, shouldered her roughly, and soon they were both rolling on the ground play-fighting like apprentices.

Briarfur was having immense fun, and couldn't believe that she hadn't done this since she was an apprentice. She was also happy to be in such close contact with this handsome tom; lucky her! However, her loud purr was interrupted by a louder…

"Ahem!"

Rockstorm looked up suddenly. "Swiftclaw! I- um- w-we uh—"

"Are neglecting your hunting duties? Yes, I know. I would certainly expect better of both of you." He shifted his gaze to include Briarfur. "Since you're so eager to be with young Rockstorm here, why don't you hunt with him while you're at it? Between the two of you, I expect that fresh-kill pile to be full to the brim by sunset; and you aren't going to have a bite of it until then."

"Uh; Swiftclaw? I'm on the evening patrol…"

"Better have the fresh-kill pile full in time to leave for your patrol then. Good luck." Swiftclaw simply turned and walked away.

If ever a cat's jaw had hit the ground, Briarfur's definitely did. "Oh, Rockstorm, I am so sorry! This is my fault."

"No, don't be hard on yourself. It was both of us. Anyways, I haven't had that much fun since I was a kit!" Rockstorm meowed. "But, let's hold off on the fun until we have that pile filled. We don't want to get Swiftclaw cross." he added hastily.

"All right. Let's go." They spent the rest of that afternoon hunting, making multiple trips back to camp before returning to the forest. It was nearly time for Briarfur's patrol, but the fresh-kill pile wasn't completely full yet.

They were now sitting in camp, planning to rest their sore paws for a brief moment before making one last hunting trip. "Uh oh," groaned Rockstorm. "Here comes Swiftclaw."

The Siamese warrior crossed the clearing towards them, glancing at the fresh-kill pile on the way. His eyes widened, and he continued on his way to Briarfur and her friend.

"We're dead. Swiftclaw will have our pelts. StarClan, please save us."

Briarfur thought that Rockstorm was being overdramatic—Swiftclaw was a rather gentle cat—but she was fairly convinced that there would be a punishment.

So, being braced for verbal abuse at the least, she was surprised when he meowed, "I'm impressed. I must say I wasn't expecting you to catch so much prey! You are now excused from hunting duties. Briarfur, I believe you're due on a patrol? Woodpelt told me to fetch you; he said you should bring one other cat and meet your brother Sootstorm at the camp entrance. But by all means, you should eat first!"

Briarfur breathed a sigh of relief. "Rockstorm, would you patrol with me?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, I'll get us some prey. We'd better hurry." She trotted over to the fresh-kill pile, chose a rather plump jaybird, and brought it back to Rockstorm. They gobbled it down quickly, and she spat out a feather as she raced to the tunnel.

"Hi, Sootstorm! Ready?"

"Right. Let's go."

They were out until it was dark, on an uneventful border patrol. They started at the GrassClan border to the west, traveled east along the border from there, and followed the stream back to the general area of camp.

All in all, at the end of the day, Briarfur and Rockstorm were practically asleep on their feet. They were both still hungry, but they went straight to the den. Rockstorm circled his nest and settled down, flicking his tail invitingly towards her. She curled up against his warm body, purring. Sleep gently washed over them.