Liza Taylor: Just scroll down to the end of the chapter; you'll figure it out!
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ON THE THUNDERPATH: SPARKFUR POV
Sparkfur walked slowly, her legs aching, her mouth parched, and her stomach rumbling underneath her thick fur. Her partner's pace had slowed also. The moon had raised high in the sky and still they traveled. They both agreed to walk till morning, then hunt and rest. Now Sparkfur regretted what she'd said. One paw was sliced on a rock and every step she took, she left a splash of blood. Flintclaw obviously didn't notice, because he limped onward, his fur glimmering softly.
"I'm tired," she mumbled. She was surprised she'd admitted it. He halted, flicking his ears. The silver tabby frowned, and looked at the patches of blood.
"We should stop. You're hurt, and I don't think you should keep on." Gratefully the scarlet she-cat sank to the ground, flanks heaving. Flintclaw leaned over and began rasping his tongue over the cut. He spat after a few licks, gravel lodged in pools of saliva. "You really messed up your pad."
"Hmm." She was barely listening. A loud rustling broke the silence. "There's a vole," she murmured, trying to stand. But she plopped down again with exhaustion. "Can you hunt?"
He nodded, his fur thick and shiny from all the fish he ate. "Yes." He crept forward, but he wasn't especially skilled in the art of stalking. Flintclaw's tail was curled in the air and his weight was unbalanced. Sparkfur muffled a laugh and watched. His hind legs bounced off the ground, and Sparkfur winced—too heavy a vibration. The vole darted out from between the RiverClan tom's claws and disappeared. Sighing, he spun around and returned.
"Nice going, badger," she meowed teasingly. Flintclaw obviously wasn't in the mood, because he flattened his ears and spat.
"I don't see you trying to hunt for us!" he snapped, lying down near a patch of ferns. She stared, startled and hurt, at his turned tabby back, and looked away.
"Sorry." He just rippled his fur, and she curled up next to a tree, huddling for warmth. It was nearly winter. Sparkfur shivered and glanced at Flintclaw. At first they'd been friends, then a little laugh and he got prickly. He's almost as bad as that WindClan elder, Crowfeather! she thought. Licking her paw, she melted into sleep.
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RIVERCLAN CAMP: REEDFOOT POV
Reedfoot yawned and stretched. He smacked his lips, looking around for Flintclaw. Of course, he wasn't there. He felt a heap of sorrow drop itself on him. The brown tom missed his best friend, and decided to seek comfort in training Stripepaw.
Reedfoot took a large fish from the pile and began eating. Stripepaw came out of the apprentices' den and sank her teeth into a trout, licking her lips as cold blood ran down her chin. Sitting down beside him, the tabby ate quickly, then looked at her mentor. "What are we doing today?"
"Battle training." Her eyes lit up, and Reedfoot took their remains and buried them. Mistystar paraded in from the camp entrance, shaking water from her fur and looking irritated.
"Fishpaw tried to walk on the ice. He fell through and I had to get him out." The drenched apprentice followed, shivering. "Go see Willowfur. She'll fix you up."
"Sorry," Fishpaw stuttered. "It was an accident." Then he walked away.
"Accident, my left ear!" Mistystar growled. She looked around. "Where did Flintclaw get to?" Reedfoot froze in panic, trying to think quickly.
"Uh…he went off to hunt really early."
"Why didn't I see him?" she wondered, just looking confused.
"Flintclaw said he was going down west, upriver."
"Oh." She walked away.
Stripepaw stared at him, her eyes hooded. "He isn't hunting, is he?"
Reedfoot looked confused at this assault, and he backed away. "Uh…"
"Yeah. I saw you two last night, and heard you. Is he, like, in love with Sparkfur or something?" Stripepaw looked disgusted.
"No!" he hissed. "He has to go off on a mission. I doubt he even likes her. She's related to stubborn old Squirrelflight."
"Don't even get me started on her!" the apprentice spat. "The things I could say about that she-cat…"
"Yeah, well, save it and stuff it with a pigeon," he snapped. "Come on. Do you want battle training or not?" Stripepaw nodded eagerly.
"Let's go!"
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REDSTAR POV: LEADER'S DEN
Redstar couldn't help but be worried. What if she'd gotten hurt—or hit by a monster? He sought comfort in his mate, Flowersong. (I know, sounds like a complete Bluestar description, but she's actually related, through Mistystar. Mistystar had a second litter, you know, one after the one in Forest of Secrets, and Flowersong left for ThunderClan, kind of like Tawnypelt.) The beautiful blue-gray she-cat looked at him with her laughing blue eyes and hushed him. "Oh, Redstar, she'll be fine. I know a big brave cat that was just like her."
It took him a moment to realize Flowersong was talking about him. "Well, I have to be worried. I could lose a warrior," he muttered. The gray she-cat laughed.
"Lose a warrior? Redstar, I know for a fact you're just saying that to cover up it's a fatherly emotion." She licked him tenderly on the ears.
"But Flowersong!" he meowed, eyes glittering with worry. "What if she's hurt? What if this is a lie? What if she's in…" He didn't say the last word.
"Love?" she hissed. "Don't you dare! She is perfectly loyal." The she-cat turned and stalked out of his den, for the first time truly angry with him.
Redstar was stunned. He sighed, and blinked as the deputy ran in. Squirrelflight skidded, throwing dust up into the air. "REDSTAR!" she screeched.
"What?" he gasped with a cough, blinking dust away.
"We've got a RiverClan apprentice and warrior. You should come see." Redstar followed his deputy, which was rather funny because she was his grandmother…but, he was surprised to see a small tabby she-cat and a lanky brown tom. They stood flanked by four warriors, Lionfur, Hollywhisker, Berrytail, and Cinderfoot. The gray she-cat grinned.
"Why, look at our motley crew," she joked. Redstar frowned.
"What are you two doing here? What are your names?"
"I'm Reedfoot, and this is Stripepaw, my apprentice. We…well, Stripepaw, this is your fault. Tell them."
"W-well," she stammered, stepping forward, "I need to speak to Redstar."
"Whatever you can say to him you can say to us, kitty!" hissed Mousepelt, appearing beside Honeyheart. The tabby bristled.
"It's fine." The six cats backed away, leaving him with the RiverClan intruders. "Come along." They followed him to his den.
"So, go ahead," he told Stripepaw, settling in his bed of moss with his tail curled around his paws. Stripepaw cleared her throat, washed a paw nervously, and began.
"Well, Reedfoot here is best friends with Flintclaw. He lied to Mistystar about where Flintclaw went, and she found out because Graywater overheard and snitched on us. So now she wants us to come and ask his whereabouts."
"I don't rightly know," he said. "Sparkfur left to get him last night, and I think…oh, yes. They were headed toward the old f—OH GREAT STARCLAN! They don't know where it is!"
The color drained from the cats' faces. "Uh-oh," Reedfoot muttered.
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FLINTCLAW POV: BESIDE THE THUNDERPATH
He woke with frost tipping his fur, making him look like a crystallized ball of fur. A few tail-lengths away, Sparkfur shivered and convulsed, and he felt guilty. Flintclaw shouldn't have been so rude to her. A thin film of scab covered her cut, but it was red and puffed. Suddenly a huffing and puffing brown cat paraded down the Thunderpath. Flintclaw recognized him as the ancient medicine cat of WindClan, Barkface. The thin tom flopped down, panting.
"What are you doing here, Barkface?" he asked.
It was a moment before the exhausted cat answered. "StarClan gave me a dream. Was I surprised to see Gorsepaw! They told me two cats of water and fire would need my help with the old forest. And I thought it must mean you."
Sparkfur woke and looked around, blinking groggily. Barkface fixed his eyes on the cat. "The old forest is very, very far from here. It may take you two at least a moon, and that's if things go well." He blinked. "Do you see the mountains?"
Flintclaw turned and stared at the jagged cliffs in the distance. "Yes."
"Head towards them. Oh, and, uh, Sparkfur, I thought you might need some herbs." He slyly revealed the pile of herbs under his paw. "Let me see your pad."
Barkface sniffed the wound, wrinkling his nose. "Nasty!" He pressed on a few herbs, to the horror and pain of Sparkfur, who stood biting her lip till blood ran down her chin.
"There you are. I wish you two luck. Goodbye." He dipped his head and bounded away.
"Well," Sparkfur said finally, "I suppose we're off. Hmm…tag, you're it!" She whacked him with her tail and limped away.
"Hey!" Flintclaw yowled. "Not fair!"
