"Let all those cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!" Summoned Ashstar as she climbed to the top of the Highrock.
Runningshadow tore his gaze off of the fern tunnel and sat right at the base of the Highrock as deputy. He watched the other cats curiously padding forward, wondering why there could possibly be another meeting.
Longpaw and Shadowpaw were nobly holding Mudpelt down in case he protested too wildly about his punishment, although they had no idea what was going on.
Shadowpaw looked wildly frightened, as if seeing this cat that he had always looked up to had become a prisoner.
As soon as the last warrior had come to sit down, Ashstar started the meeting atop the Highrock. "Just a few moments ago, one of our warriors was attacking one of their Clan mates. He has also severely injured another apprentice, and he is in need of a punishment."
"Which cat is it?" Called Pineclaw. "Is it one of the outsiders?"
"I wouldn't be surprised!" Hissed Strikefoot. "They don't know a thing about the warrior code!"
"He has a point," Called Newtfrost. She was getting slightly plumper, she must have been pregnant. "Those outsiders may have been successful apprentices, but who knows where they come from? What if their former society was murderous like this?"
"It wasn't Owlpaw or Oakpaw!" Hissed Ashstar. "I find it unfair for you to accuse them. The cat that I have been talking about is Mudpelt." The gray she-cat flicked her tail for Shadowpaw and Longpaw to bring the warrior up to the front where the whole Clan could see him.
Loud wails and unbelievable gasps rose up from the crowd. "Why Mudpelt?" Hissed Strikefoot. "He would never do anything like that!"
"Actually, Strikefoot," Mudpelt hissed, "I would. I just did. Let me speak for myself, you mouse-brain!"
The black and white tom flattened his ears reproachfully but didn't say a word.
"Now, as your punishment," Ashstar meowed, looking down at the dark brown warrior, "You shall be sent to the apprentices den. That is where you shall sleep. You shall resume the position as an apprentice for a moon and a half. Mudpelt shall be treated with the respect of an apprentice."
The whole crowd snarled. "You heard her, Mudpaw!" Jeered Chasewind. "Go to the apprentice's den where you belong!"
Mudpelt let out a growl, but didn't dare do anything. He wanted to please Ashstar and make one of his fellow warriors look like the cat doing wrong instead of him.
Runningshadow curled his lip at the warrior. Traitor! He thought.
"After a few days, when Cloverpaw gets better enough to tell me what happened, then I shall decide your fate," Ashstar yowled. "As for now, you shall remain in your punishment. Leave now," Ashstar growled coldly, flicking her tail to dismiss the warrior.
Mudpelt grunted something under his breath and went to the warriors' den to cower.
"Wrong way, mouse-brain!" Chuckled Brindlerose quietly.
Ashstar leaped down from the rock and slunk into her den.
Runningshadow tried not to worry too much about his leader. Suddenly, his thoughts strayed to Cloverpaw. Was she okay?
He rushed out of the clearing and headed for the fern tunnel. Worry churned in his heart like kneading paws, and Runningshadow felt a pang of anger at Mudpelt for hurting Cloverpaw…
The picture of Cloverpaw's mangled, bloody, dead body flashed in Runningshadow's mind. He suddenly felt sick.
His pace even faster, Runningshadow went for the split rock and poked his head into the crack. There was complete darkness, and Cloverpaw's pelt being dark brown didn't help.
But he did see Mossflower's white pelt stick out in the darkness and he felt a flare of hope. At least she wasn't treating Cloverpaw for a terrible injury, he thought.
"Mossflower," He called.
The she-cat jumped as if her thoughts were buried in something else. "Oh, hi Runningshadow. It's just you. I thought it was Lightfoot."
"Lightfoot?" Asked Runningshadow.
"The tom that I fell in love with," Mossflower whispered, peering from side to side. "How are the kits, speaking of?"
"They're very healthy," Runningshadow mewed. "They just opened their eyes: Tansykit's are deep amber, and Lavenderkit's are-"
"They're light blue, aren't they?" Asked Mossflower nervously, kneading her paws.
"Yes, but-"
"Oh, I knew it!" Wailed the medicine cat. "One of my kits are blind! BLIND!"
"No, she's not blind," Runningshadow assured her. "She was just chasing my tail around the other day. She bit pretty hard, see?" He asked, sweeping his tail tip in Mossflower's direction. There were patches of fur missing where the tiny kit had severed it.
Mossflower sighed. "I guess I should quit worrying about my kits. What do you want, Runningshadow?" She asked wearily.
Runningshadow's muscles tensed. Mossflower was treating him like he was a burden! Perhaps the pain of the kits was still wearing off, although it had been a half-moon. But maybe… maybe it was something else…
"Do you miss your kits?" Asked Runningshadow.
"More than anything in the world," Confessed Mossflower. "I don't even miss Lightfoot anymore. I just want to spend some time with my own kits. Oh, Newtfrost and Summerheart are so lucky to have their own kits that aren't forbidden."
Oh, I wouldn't say that, Runningshadow thought as Mossflower mentioned Summerheart. "Don't worry about it," Runningshadow said.
Mossflower perked up in a way. "So what were you here for again?" She asked.
"I'm not hurt, I just want to check on Cloverpaw," Runningshadow said.
A dark, melancholy look passed over Mossflower's face momentarily. "Oh…go ahead," Mossflower hoarsely whispered, pointing her muzzle toward the den. "You'll see her."
Runningshadow's stomach twisted. Hopefully Cloverpaw wasn't hurt too bad? He slowly peeked deeper into the den and tried to pick out Cloverpaw's green eyes.
There they were, shimmering in the darkness, as luminous as the full moon. "Runningshadow!" Exclaimed the apprentice. She grunted with effort to get to her paws, but didn't prevail and stayed on the ground.
"How are you?" Asked Runningshadow, licking her muzzle. "Are you hurt? Is it really painful? Is the injury deadly? Did Mudpelt do anything bad?" He asked quickly
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Cloverpaw mewed. "Mossflower said that it was a broken bone in my hind leg."
Runningshadow tried not to take a glance at Cloverpaw's hind leg, but eventually his gaze strayed to it. The left hind leg was laid out and limp, and the limbs looked slightly torn, as Cloverpaw's leg was in an unusual position. There were cobwebs caked around the wound, layers after layers of it.
"I…I'm sorry," Runningshadow mewed.
"Well, you can quit looking at it!" Growled Cloverpaw teasingly. "I'm starting to wonder if you think my stupid leg is prettier than me!"
Runningshadow purred. Mudpelt may have hurt her leg, but not her spirits. "Not a chance," He laughed, lapping at her ears.
Cloverpaw purred quietly and steadily for a while, and eventually started to get sleepy. She lay her head on Runningshadow's flank and drifted off to sleep, emitting low, relaxing breathing sounds. She fell asleep in five heartbeats.
Runningshadow didn't care to object, and was feeling weary himself after the battle with Mudpelt. Feeling achy, he decided to let sleep envelop him, and soon he was lightly breathing in his dreams, curled up next to the apprentice.
C.L.O.V.E.R
Runningshadow yawned and opened his eyes. Cloverpaw was still there, sleeping away. Runningshadow wished he could stay some more, but had to go on the sun-down patrol.
He slowly gathered a bit of soft moss with his paws and put them under Cloverpaw's head in place of his side, and gently padded out of the den.
Once he exited the fern tunnel, Runningshadow let all thoughts of rest behind and ordered the sun-down patrol.
He trotted to the base of the Highrock, which was usually the spot where the deputy assigned patrols.
"The cats going on the sundown patrol will be Bloodflower, Catkinpaw, Cloverpaw, and Honeystorm. I would also like Strikefoot, Owlpaw, Newtfrost and…" A picture of a dusky brown tom came into his head. "Duskstorm, for a hunting patrol. We need all the prey we can get in early leaf-bare."
"Who will lead it?" Asked Bloodflower as she approached him. "The sundown patrol, I mean."
"I shall lead," Runningshadow decided.
Newtfrost came up to Runningshadow, almost limping. "May I lead the hunting patrol?" She asked.
"Are you sure you want to?" Asked Runningshadow. "You're almost pregnant enough to join the nursery."
She nodded perkily. "Yes, I want to have at least a couple more patrols before I start motherhood."
Runningshadow rested his tail on her shoulder. "Alright, you may lead the hunting patrol," He told her. "But take it easy. I don't want you being too hard on your unborn kits."
Newtfrost purred. "I knew it," She said happily.
Runningshadow tipped his head to a side, clueless. "Knew what?" He asked.
"I knew that you would be the perfect deputy," Newtfrost purred to him. "You're doing a great job so far. I think it's because Cinderhope was your mentor."
Runningshadow stared at nothing on the dusty ground. "Yeah," He replied dully. Cinderhope had been the former deputy and Runningshadow's mentor. About a moon ago, Cinderhope had been mysteriously drowned in the river bordering RiverClan camp.
"I bet you miss him a lot," Newtfrost said. She looked into his eyes. "Do you?"
Not daring to lock his blue eyes with Newtfrost's amber ones, Runningshadow nodded. "He was the perfect mentor," He replied. "Almost like a father to me. I was glad I had him to look up to instead of…" His voice trailed off.
"Instead of Crimsonstone?" The tortoiseshell finished.
The light brown cat sighed in agreement. Crimsonstone was his murderous traitor of a father. Runningshadow hadn't known about Crimsonstone until his warrior ceremony, when Ashstar thought he was ready to hear about his father.
Not too long ago, Runningshadow, Summerheart and Cloverpaw had confronted Crimsonstone when he was trespassing on ThunderClan territory. The small patrol had beaten him, but unfortunately it had made Crimsonstone even more bloodthirsty and hungry for revenge.
A few days after Runningshadow had driven Crimsonstone out, he had gathered nearly an entire Clanful of rogues to attack ThunderClan camp. He had taken one of Ashstar's lives, leaving her with only four left.
Runningshadow had defeated his father in the battle, and the rogues had run away in defeat.
Newtfrost turned around when she saw Owlpaw plunge past her into the gorse tunnel and waved her tail goodbye to him. Runningshadow decided it was a good time to leave anyway and gathered his patrol.
"Ready to go?" He asked.
Bloodflower nodded, and the rest of the patrol followed suit.
Runningshadow gave a small ear flick to his Clan mates behind him and headed out the slightly torn gorse tunnel. And then he remembered something.
He dashed back into the ravine. "May I get a repairing patrol also, please?" He asked his patrol. They all dipped their heads patiently, although Bloodflower and Catkinpaw looked ready to go. Runningshadow remembered that they both had the same mother, Stripewhisker, so they must have been sisters.
Runningshadow turned around and thought over who should be repairing. He headed for the apprentices' den, where Shadowpaw and Poisonpaw were practicing fighting moves. Perfect, Runningshadow thought to himself. Those two hadn't gone out in a while.
"Shadowpaw, Poisonpaw, can you be on the repair patrol?" Asked Runningshadow. "Just help with the gorse tunnel and the bramble border that guards our camp."
Shadowpaw nodded. "Those fox-dung rogues tore apart our camp! It makes me so angry!" He whipped around and dashed off out of the mauled gorse tunnel to get more thorny weeds to weave through it.
Poisonpaw did nothing but give his new deputy a small nod and dash off after Shadowpaw submissively.
Runningshadow felt major approval for the two apprentices. They had learned all of their fighting moves and were perfecting them easily. The two deserved to be made warriors.
But even more then those two, Runningshadow remembered Deerpaw and Longpaw, the eldest apprentices. They deserved to become warriors more than any other apprentice in the den.
Runningshadow would have told Ashstar, but he had a patrol to lead. He scrabbled his way up the clearing and led his patrol deeper into their forest territory.