The sequel to Celestial Winter should be up sometime this next week. I'm sorry for putting it off for so long but I've been working on both of them this whole time, not to mention another story idea I had - a story about Mapleshade! I don't know if I'm going to post it until I've got a lot more of it written... but my focus has been very divided lately.

Chapter 4

Sunlight streamed onto Hawkkit's pelt, dappling it with shadows. He prowled through the sparse grasses of the wood, tall trunks rising up to touch the sky. The soft, needle-strewn ground felt spongy and soft beneath Hawkkit's paws. The air was clean and clear, and he could smell prey everywhere.

He stretched his muscles, on his toes with excitement. His claws slid out, and he opened his jaws.

The most powerful scent was mouse.

Hawkkit glanced at the clump of brambles it came from, and he dropped into his best hunting crouch. He slid his paws along the ground, using a trick he had heard Softpaw talking about with Milkpaw and Nightpaw a sunrise ago. Muffling his pawsteps with the pine needles on the ground, watching and making sure each step was careful.

The brambles swayed, and then were still. Hawkkit could still smell the mouse. He leaped, knowing that if he lingered for too long the mouse would escape. He saw the small brown body before it was caught between his claws. Hawkkit finished it off with a blow to its neck and pulled his catch out of the brambles, pride prickling his pelt.

Wait till Tigerheart sees this! He thought. And Rowanstar, and all those cats who doubt me just because I wasn't born in ShadowClan! They'll be so proud!

A twig snapped nearby.

Hawkkit dropped his mouse and looked around, the fur on his shoulders bristling. What was it – a fox? A badger? There aren't any badgers around here anymore, silly. He told himself. He breathed in the scents of the woods once more – the smell of his fresh-kill was the strongest, but there was another scent…

It was ShadowClan, but it wasn't of any cat he recognized immediately. Hawkkit licked his lips and tried scenting again, wondering if the mouse-scent was confusing him. But the smell remained, faint but definitely ShadowClan. Hawkkit was unsure how to react - he stood still, looking around him for the strange cat.

"Hello?" he asked. They were ShadowClan – surely they weren't an enemy?

The wind whispered in reply.

Hawkkit snorted irritably. He didn't like playing hide-and-seek with Applefur's kits – it was so childish! - he certainly didn't want to play it with a warrior.

But there was no one.

He scented the air again, finding that the ShadowClan scent had vanished. Shrugging, he picked up his mouse and trotted back to camp. He prepared himself for the flood of praise as he pushed through the bramble-and-gorse entrance and faced the Clan with his catch proudly displayed in his –

"Hawkkit, are you still asleep?"

Hawkkit opened his eyes. There was no mouse in his jaws, no blood on his paws. He couldn't smell the pines and the cedar, or the mice and squirrels hidden in the undergrowth. He could only smell the nursery and the milk of the queens. Instead of pine needles beneath his paws, there was his nest of bracken and feathers.

"I told you we could wake him up!" cheered Fuzzykit. The only she-cat of her litter, the light brown tabby was energetic and quite the pawful for Applefur. Mottlekit, a dark brown tabby, and Patchkit, a tabby tom with white patches, looked up from their nest.

"I was having a good dream," Hawkkit complained. He narrowed his eyes at Fuzzykit. "Why did you wake me up?"

"Its past sunhigh and you promised you'd help clean out the nests in the nursery!" Fuzzykit replied, fluffing out her fur. Hawkkit's hard stare did nothing to faze her. "So come on! The nests aren't getting any cleaner!"

"Fuzzykit, stop that!" hissed Applefur. The mottled she-cat sat up in her nest. Hawkkit craned his neck to see that it was rather dirty. Applefur leaned out and scooped Fuzzykit back beside her brothers with one paw. She looked sympathetically at Hawkkit and mewed, "I'm sorry – kits, you know…"

Hawkkit rolled his shoulders. He could be mad at Fuzzykit, but he held quite a bit of affection for the queens. They were the only cats who didn't look at him like he was a stranger. He had nursed alongside Ivytail's kits and, when Ivytail's kits were too old to nurse, she and Applefur were the cats to help him transition to eating fresh-kill.

"Do you mind helping with the cleaning?" Ivytail asked, a purr in her tone. Hawkkit looked up at his surrogate mother – though they didn't share a nest, Ivytail still treated him as one of her own. She was not cut out for the life of a warrior – not anymore. The Great Battle had changed her, and she now dedicated her life to raising kits for the Clan. "All the apprentices were taken out by Tawnypelt and some warriors for a group session."

"Not at all," Hawkkit meowed.

"Maybe you can watch these three for a bit while I go to the lake later?" Applefur asked suggestively. Her eyes sparkled, and Hawkkit groaned inwardly. "Pinenose is getting so big she's feeling a little cramped, and a pregnant queen shouldn't wander alone. Besides – I need a break, too."

"Oh, can we go?" Patchkit asked, his eyes bright as berries.

"No," Applefur told him firmly. All three kits looked downhearted. "You're far too young. Maybe when you're older we can take a walk outside camp – right now you stay in camp."

The three kits groaned.

"All right," Ivytail meowed. "All three of you – grab as much bedding as you can!"

Mottlekit didn't look happy, but when Patchkit and Fuzzykit dove into the nest and came out with surprisingly large piles of bedding in their mouths, the quieter tom just had to join in.

By the time they were done, the sun was beginning to sink into the sky. Hawkkit's muscles were sore and he feared he would never get the taste of rotten bracken out of his mouth, no matter how many mice he ate. Applefur had taken Pinenose out of camp, leaving Hawkkit to watch the kits play in the clearing while Ivytail spruced up the bedding in the nursery and did her best to reform all the nests.

Hawkkit kept a close eye on the kits – though they played with sheathed paws, he knew that sometimes excitement made the claws slide out. Patchkit was prone to accidental scratches, and Hawkkit made sure his mouth wasn't always full of mouse in case he needed to call out to them.

Done with his fresh-kill, Hawkkit settled down to wash himself, wanting every bit of dirty bedding out of his fur. He kept a close eye on the kits as they played tirelessly, batting at one another and reenacting battles that probably would never take place.

"Take that, Mistystar!" Mottlekit roared. He leaped onto Fuzzykit and the two tumbled across the clearing.

"Never!" Fuzzykit exclaimed. She batted his ears and Mottlekit backed off, bristling like a puffball.

"Surprise attack!" cried Patchkit. He leaped onto Mottlekit.

Shocked, Mottlekit meowed, "We're on the same side, Patchkit!"

Hawkkit looked up. There was a commotion at the entrance – the apprentices streamed into camp, fresh-kill in every jaw. The three kits tumbling across the clearing stopped their game to look up with eyes sparkling with awe. Tired-looking warriors padded into camp led by Tawnypelt, who walked beside Softpaw, her apprentice.

"You all did well today," she called. "Put your prey on the pile and then take something for yourselves. You've earned it!"

Hawkkit watched as the tired apprentices each selected a piece of prey from the well-stocked pile. Rowanstar padded out from the medicine cat's den and looked at it approvingly.

"That was a good idea you had," he admitted, looking at Tawnypelt. "We should do it more often."

"ThunderClan isn't the only Clan with special hunting techniques," Tawnypelt remarked.

The two brushed muzzles.

"How is Littlecloud?" Tawnypelt asked.

Hawkkit leaned forward to listen. If Littlecloud died, then how would Mistpaw be a medicine cat? She didn't have that much training at all! How would ShadowClan cope?

"Leafpool agreed to stick around until he improves," Rowanstar meowed, "one way or the other. There's a cold going around, too – Smokefoot was in the den complaining of a runny nose. He was treated, but keep an eye out. I don't want a chill circulating through the camp."

Tawnypelt nodded.

"Spying?"

Hawkkit nearly jumped out of his fur at the sound of Softpaw's voice. The cream-and-tortoiseshell she-cat was sitting just behind him, her tail curled and a lizard at her paws. Hawkkit bristled – no wonder her name was Softpaw! He hadn't heard her coming at all!

Softpaw's eyes sparkled. "Don't worry," she meowed in her soft voice. "I won't tell on you." She pushed the lizard towards him. "Share?"

Hawkkit shook his head and nodded towards the remains of his fresh-kill. "I ate already," he told her.

Softpaw shrugged and bent to take a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and then meowed, "Are you worried about Littlecloud?"

Hawkkit nodded. "Who isn't?" he reasoned.

"I think it's in the backs of all our minds," Softpaw murmured, looking at the cats around her. "I think everyone is worried, whether they say it or not. Littlecloud was a huge part of all our lives… just like Blackstar and all the other cats that were lost during the Great Battle. Losing them all has made us feel small and weak."

"But we're not weak!" Hawkkit insisted.

Softpaw smiled at him. "Of course we're not," she meowed. "ShadowClan will never be weak."

"Do… do you think that if Littlecloud dies, someone will attack us?" Hawkkit asked. "We'll be weaker without him…"

"I doubt that," Softpaw insisted. "Littlecloud wasn't important only to us – all the Clans owe him in some way. His loss will not provoke any attacks, I think. When Littlecloud dies, it will probably be the last time that the Clans share their grief, as if there weren't any boundaries."

Hawkkit blinked. Something about her words made him sad. Would it really be the last time? Was there nothing else that could make them feel as if they weren't separate Clans, fighting one another for survival?

He shook his head. We're warriors, he thought. Loyalty to our Clan makes us strong, and those Clans need to be divided.

Nothing will ever change that.