Chapter 10

Tinyclaw held his breath. He wished with all his heart that Cloudpaw would turn away, would stalk one of those tiny birds hopping in the garden. Anything but this! But Cloudpaw remained, and the Twoleg door opened.

The Twoleg didn't shoo her away, either – they leaned down and ran a hand along Cloudpaw's back, and Cloudpaw purred loud enough to be heard in the trees. She slinked around the hand, let out a little mew, and was picked up and taken inside.

Tinyclaw felt sick. Cloudpaw was tempted back into the life that Tinyclaw had left behind – that Tinyclaw had taken her from. Was I completely wrong about her this whole time? He wondered. He tried to think of the signs – could he have seen them before this? He lost himself in his whirling thoughts – and only the chill of oncoming evening brought him out of it. Swallowing, he slid down the tree.

Paws on the ground, he began following his own scent trail back into the woods. He padded along the Twoleg fences, his mind buzzing like a hornet's nest. He felt so betrayed, and yet… It's hard to be upset, he admitted grimly to himself. Cloudpaw was given away to the Clan before she had a voice to say anything about it. Was it really right to begrudge her for this?

A familiar scent crossed his path – Fiona. Tinyclaw halted, frowning. His paws had brought him deliberately to her fence, it seemed, and she was about. Tinyclaw swallowed. No, he had no intention of talking about Cloudpaw right now – there was no way he could, without betraying his disappointment in his brother's daughter. Fiona would be heartbroken – or worse, angry. He headed to Tallpines.

Fate seemed to wish to be cruel. "Tinyclaw!" Fiona's voice called.

Tinyclaw froze, then turned. Fiona was right behind him, her eyes wide with shock. Her pure white fur was freshly groomed, soft as a feather. Her eyes rounded with worry. "I haven't seen you for ages," she mewed. "I haven't seen Cloudpaw, either. Are you both all right?"

"E-Everything's fine," Tinyclaw replied tersely. His shoulders felt like stone. Here he was, lying right to her face! Nothing is fine! He screeched. I've failed my only kin!

Fiona didn't appear to catch on to the lie. She sighed, and touched her nose to his in greeting. Her kittypet smell, all soft and safe, stirred memories of Tinyclaw's old life. "I was starting to worry," she admitted. "I keep smelling Cloudpaw around, but she hasn't been by to visit. I suppose you're keeping her too busy." She paused to smile proudly. "Last time you mentioned how proud of her you were, and how hard Cloudpaw was working."

Her eyes were shining. She wants her daughter to have a great future, just like I do, Tinyclaw thought. "She… She shows great promise," he offered.

"I know," Fiona sighed. "She's my only daughter. I know she'll be special." Her eyes darkened. "I miss her, but I know how happy she must be."

"All your kits are special in their own way," Tinyclaw assured her. You gave me your only daughter, and your sacrifice was a waste. He needed to leave this conversation, before he missed a word in the wrong place. He insisted, "I must go."

"Already?" Fiona tilted her head. Then, she shrugged. "Very well. Bring Cloudpaw next time you come around, all right? I'll see if I can't get Rusty to be there, too."

Tinyclaw nodded. He turned away from Fiona. He didn't want to go back to camp. It felt as if he couldn't even walk straight as he headed into Tallpines. It felt as if the chasm between Clan and kittypet had opened up before him, and he was right on the edge.

Tinyclaw took the long way back to camp, trying to use the familiar surroundings and the greenness of the forest to calm himself. It didn't seem to be working. As he reached the ravine, he found himself missing Graystripe more than anything. Without him, it seemed like his thoughts would only fester.

"Hey!" Sandstorm offered. She padded out of the ravine just below, her eyes bright. She must have been hunting, and caught his scent. "How was training? Where's Cloudpaw?"

He swallowed. Sandstorm's sharp orange face stared back, but her green eyes were soft with worry. Tinyclaw knew deep down that he could tell her anything. "Are you alone?" he wondered.

Sandstorm nodded. "I was going to do a bit of hunting before mealtime," she replied. "Why?"

Tinyclaw frowned. It seemed to be enough – Sandstorm bounded up the ravine and settled beside him, pressing her pelt against his. She said nothing, but only looked his way sympathetically. Tinyclaw was more than grateful for her presence – and how well she seemed to be able to read him.

He took a deep breath. "Sandstorm…" he began.

"Yes?" she wondered.

"Did I make the right choice, bringing Cloudpaw to the Clan?"

For a moment, Sandstorm looked flabbergasted – but she smoothed her features. She took a moment to think, but when she finally spoke she was smooth and careful and honest. "When I saw her today, outside the apprentice's den… I thought she looked more like a kittypet than a Clan warrior. Yet… I couldn't help but remember last leaf-bare, when she went out all on her own to catch a vole. She was so unafraid, and proud of what she did – a Clan cat, through and through."

"So you think I made the right choice?" Tinyclaw wondered hopefully.

Sandstorm frowned. "I think only time will tell," she stated.

Tinyclaw swallowed. This wasn't what he'd hoped for – but she was right.

Sandstorm wondered, "Is everything all right? Has something happened to Cloudpaw?"

"I saw her go into a Twoleg nest this afternoon," Tinyclaw confessed flatly. "I think she has been letting them feed her for some time."

"Does she… know you followed her?"

"No."

"Then you should tell her," Sandstorm decided. "Cloudpaw needs to decide where she belongs. It's been long enough now."

"But what if she decides to go back?" Tinyclaw's voice was a whisper. "To Twolegplace? To being a kittypet?" He hadn't realized until today how much he wanted Cloudpaw to stay in ThunderClan – not just for him, or to prove that kittypets were just as capable as Clan cats; but for the fact that Cloudpaw had so much to gain. She had so much to give, and so much to receive in return. How could she throw it all away?

"It's her decision," Sandstorm told him gently.

"If I was a better mentor -"

"It's not your fault," Sandstorm interrupted. "You can't change what's in her heart."

Tinyclaw let out a hopeless noise.

"Just talk to her," Sandstorm urged gently. "Find out what she wants. Let her decide for herself." Her eyes were round with sympathy, and Tinyclaw wanted nothing more than to curl up with her and wail. But she was right, and she nudged him gently. "Go find her."

Tinyclaw nodded. He wanted to thank her – but she was already down the ravine and loping into the trees. Tinyclaw shut his jaws. The thanks would have to wait. He turned himself into the woods and towards the training hollow, hoping Cloudpaw might be simply retracing her steps.

He plunked himself down in the middle of the hollow as the sun sank beneath the trees. He didn't want to confront Cloudpaw like this – but Sandstorm was right. Cloudpaw was old enough now to know what she wanted, it was time she decided. There was no living with a paw in both worlds – Tinyclaw knew that. It was time Cloudpaw learned it, too.

Long shadows stretched over the sandy hollow, and the air was beginning to lose a hint of its warmth. Tinyclaw was about to wonder whether Cloudpaw had taken a different way home when she pushed her way through the bushes and into the hollow before him, a tiny shrew in her jaws that dropped to her paws when she spotted Tinyclaw.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered. Tinyclaw heard reproach in her voice – she clearly hadn't wanted to encounter him again. "I told you I'd be back by mealtime. Don't you trust me?"

Tinyclaw swallowed. It hurt to say, "No."

Cloudpaw looked hurt, her head tipped to one side. "I said I'd be back," she protested, "and I am."

"I saw you," Tinyclaw said frankly.

"Saw me where?"

"I saw you go into that Twoleg nest," Tinyclaw meowed.

"So?"

Tinyclaw froze. She looked so unconcerned, even offended that this was even something to be brought up. Did she not understand what she was doing? Tinyclaw struggled to keep his voice level. "You were supposed to be hunting for the Clan."

"I did," Cloudpaw replied, nodding to the shrew.

"And how many cats will that feed?"

"I won't take any tonight. I'm not hungry anyway."

"Only because you're stuffed full with kittypet slop!" Tinyclaw roared.

Cloudpaw flinched, her eyes wide at the sudden shift in his tone.

"Why did you come back at all?" Tinyclaw demanded, narrowing his ice-blue eyes at her.

Cloudpaw's whole body was fluffed. "W-What's the problem?" she wondered. Her voice shook. "I w-was only visiting the Twolegs for food!"

"You still don't understand," Tinyclaw seethed. "After all this time, you still don't get it." He sank his claws into the sandy earth to keep from boxing her ears. "I'm starting to wonder if it was right of me to bring you here."

"Well you did it!" Cloudpaw countered. "You're stuck with me now!"

"I may be stuck with you as an apprentice, but I can keep you from becoming a warrior!" Tinyclaw snapped. He didn't want to say that he could simply put her out of camp, cast her away from the Clan. No. He wanted to give her a chance – some chance – to bring herself around. Besides, even if he wanted to, Tinyclaw didn't think he could bring himself to say it.

Cloudpaw's eyes flew wide. "Y-You can't!" she sputtered. "You won't! I'll be such a great fighter, you'll have to make me a warrior!"

"How many times must I tell you?" Tinyclaw demanded. "There is far more to being a warrior than hunting or fighting – you have to know what you're hunting and fighting for!"

"For survival!" Cloudpaw meowed. "Like the rest of you!"

Tinyclaw lashed his tail. "Not at all!" he countered. "Warriors hunt for the livelihood of the Clan – we fight to protect the Clan! The Clan. Comes. First."

"Then I'll fight for the Clan, if that's what it takes!" Cloudpaw decided. "It's all the same in the end."

The urge to box her ears rose again, but Tinyclaw beat it down. It would do no good. "That's not how it works, Cloudpaw," he growled. "You can't fight for the Clan only when you want to. You can't eat kittypet food and only bring back a single piece of prey. You have to choose whether you want to live by the warrior code, or live as a kittypet." As he spoke, he recalled Tigerstar saying much the same thing to him, what seemed like ages ago. Tinyclaw, however, had been a Clan cat since the moment he entered the forest – he had no trouble telling where his loyalties lie.

Cloudpaw looked taken aback. "I like my life," she insisted. "I'm not going to change it just to make you feel better!"

Tinyclaw's hackles rose. "It's not just me that needs this," he hissed. "The entire Clan needs to know where you stand – whether you'll be by our sides when we need you, or sticking your muzzle into a kittypet bowl!"

Cloudpaw's eyes were fury. She picked up the shrew and marched past him. Tinyclaw hissed incredulously as he watched her head back to camp. Tinyclaw worked his paws into the earth, fighting the urge to chase her back to Twolegplace until she decided. But he pushed it down. She'll have to decide for herself. He repeated that to himself as he padded back to camp. I just hope no one else finds out about this mess.

As he neared the gorse tunnel, he heard stones clattering just behind him – some cat clambering down the ravine. Tinyclaw turned, hoping for Sandstorm – but he got Brackenfur, mouth stuff with leaves, instead.

Tinyclaw waited until Brackenfur was on solid ground before noting that he was very much favoring his leg. "Are you all right?" Tinyclaw asked.

"Fine, fine," Brackenfur mumbled around the herbs. He spat them out to talk properly. "My leg is playing up, that's all."

"You should tell Yellowfang," Tinyclaw offered. "She won't want you overdoing it."

"No!" Brackenfur insisted quickly.

"Alright, alright," Tinyclaw chuckled, surprised at the strength of his tone. "Let me carry these herbs for you, at least."

Brackenfur sighed. "May StarClan banish the fleas from your nest," he offered solemnly. Then, he meowed, "I'm sorry for snapping. Yellowfang is busy and needs these herbs – Willowpelt began kitting this afternoon."

Tinyclaw flicked his ear. The last kitting he had seen had been Silverstream's, and that had gone badly enough. "Is she all right?"

Brackenfur nodded. "Yes," he insisted. "Yellowfang just wanted some extra herbs, just in case. I was willing to oblige. Kitting isn't always a two-cat job."

Tinyclaw breathed a sigh. Brackenfur had saved Silverstream's life that day, by the river. Even if he couldn't save one of her kits. It didn't seem to affect him badly. "Let's see how she is, then," Tinyclaw offered. He picked the herbs up in his jaws and headed for the tunnel.

"Hey!" Brackenfur hissed. "You'll be the first to know if I make a full recovery, but for right now can you slow up?"

As they entered the camp, it was evident that Willowpelt's kitting had been a success. The whole camp seemed to be buzzing with excitement, with One-eye and Dappletail padding away from the nursery with hearty purrs.

Sandstorm came dashing up to greet them. Her eyes were wide with wonder and happiness. "Willowpelt had two toms and a she-cat!" she announced.

"How is she?" Brackenfur wondered.

"Fine," Sandstorm replied. "She's feeding them now."

Brackenfur purred. "I must see!" He hobbled over to the nursery.

Tinyclaw spat out the herbs, making sure they weren't damaged before asking Sandstorm, "Where's Cloudpaw?"

Sandstorm narrowed her eyes mischievously. "When Oakheart saw what a measly catch she brought in, he sent her to clean up the elder's bedding," she replied.

"Good," Tinyclaw decided. For once, he was pleased with someone's interference.

"Did you speak to her?" Sandstorm wondered, her tone turning serious. Her eyes glittered with worry.

Bleakly, Tinyclaw remarked, "I don't think she even realizes that she's done something wrong."

To his surprise, Sandstorm didn't seem too troubled. She flicked her tail. "She's young," she reminded Tinyclaw. "Don't be too upset. Keep remembering that first catch, and that you share the same blood." She licked his cheek. "It'll show, sooner or later."

Tinyclaw's fur flushed, but Dustpelt trotted up before Tinyclaw could return the gesture. Dustpelt's eyes were narrowed, and he sneered, "I hear that Cloudpaw made the tiniest catch of the day! You must be really proud of your apprentice."

"Go away," Sandstorm sighed, rolling her eyes. Tinyclaw's ears pricked in surprise. "There's no need to be spiteful – it doesn't impress anyone, you know."

Tinyclaw blinked in shock as Dustpelt recoiled, as if Sandstorm had taken a swipe at him. The dark tabby warrior turned away, shooting Tinyclaw an angry glare. Sandstorm sighed, but said nothing more.

"That's a neat trick," Tinyclaw mewed. "Mind teaching me?"

"Sorry," Sandstorm meowed. "I don't think it'd work for you." She looked lost, but only for a moment. Tinyclaw knew that she and Dustpelt had grown apart when Sandstorm began seeing Tinyclaw in a different light. "I'll apologize later. There are kits to see!"

Sandstorm led the way into the nursery, and Tinyclaw followed. Just as they entered, Tigerstar was squeezing his way out, his broad shoulders shaking the whole den for a moment. He looked relaxed, his eyes shining. Sandstorm slipped in, and Tigerstar breathed, "More warriors for ThunderClan!"

"We'll have more than any other Clan, soon enough," Tinyclaw remarked.

Tigerstar's face suddenly clouded. "Let's hope we can trust these new warriors more than the old," he muttered. Tinyclaw swallowed, shocked, staring at Tigerstar as he padded away. He shook himself. His leader's distrust was no reason to not celebrate – or see – the new arrivals. Tinyclaw padded into the nursery.

It was warm and crowded inside. Willowpelt was huddled up in a bed of moss, looking sleepy and tired. At her side were three kits – two gray like their mother, and one tortoiseshell-and-white. Each kit had a warm, milky scent that made Tinyclaw comfortable to smell.

"They're amazing," he told her.

Willowpelt nodded. Tinyclaw felt a stab of lonelieness – the last new born kits he'd seen were Graystripe's, and he and Silverstream had taken them to RiverClan. Where they belonged, sure; but Tinyclaw couldn't help but think of how ThunderClan could have kept them safe, too.

Tinyclaw's tail bristled as he picked up the scent of Bluefur's kit. He turned to see where she was – Mistykit was nestled up with her brother and sister, sleeping soundly. The pale gray she-cat looked as innocent as any kit from the nursery, and Tinyclaw felt a pang of resentment at the suspicion flickering in his mind.

Tinyclaw awoke early the next day. Thoughts of Graystripe had laid heavily on his mind the night before, and now they crept up on him like a warrior stalking a mouse. He couldn't help but toss about in his mind how Graystripe might think about the Cloudpaw situation – and the more he thought about it, the more Tinyclaw resolved to see Graystripe today.

He slipped out of the den and gave a long, satisfying stretch. The day was already warm, but not yet at the peak of heat. Now would be a good time to do anything remotely enjoyable. The sky was powdery blue, with nary a cloud in sight, and the sun was just above the horizon.

Dustpelt was chatting with Cinderpelt in the clearing. Tinyclaw frowned. Those two had been rather close lately, and Dustpelt didn't seem like he was as much on edge as he normally was. What was he up to, sharing gossip? Badmouthing Tinyclaw? Whatever it was, Cinderpelt seemed interested. Tinyclaw approached.

Upon sight, Dustpelt's eyes hardened. Well, that hadn't changed.

"Dustpelt," Tinyclaw ordered, "will you take the sunhigh patrol?"

Cinderpelt glanced at Tinyclaw. "May I go, too?"

"Of course," Tinclaw agreed. If it kept Dustpelt out of Tinyclaw's hair, fine. It seemed like the two were getting along, anyway. "Take Ashpaw and Fernpaw with you."

"Sure," Dustpelt grunted. There was no edge to his tone, no hostility that Tinyclaw could feel. It just seemed like he was impatient for Tinyclaw to leave them. "We'll do that."

Tinyclaw nodded. "Good." He padded away, feeling strange. Dustpelt hadn't been happy to have his conversation interrupted, but he hadn't sneered or jibed, either. And now that Tinyclaw was mostly out of earshot, he could hear that Dustpelt was talking to Cinderpelt as normally as any cat would talk to anyone else. Weird, Tinyclaw thought.

Once he was out of the ravine, Tinyclaw raced to Sunningrocks. The ground was so dry, his paws kicked up dust – and when he reached those giant stone slabs, Tinyclaw saw that the various weeds growing up between them had withered and died. It had been two moons since it last rained, and the whole forest was showing it. Tinyclaw sighed and continued on, down the slope of Sunningrocks and towards the river.

The scent marks for RiverClan were strong here, as the forest thinned out to make way for the river. Birdsong echoed through the trees, but there were no other odd noises. RiverClan-scent was heavy here, but it seemed like no one was nearby now. Tinyclaw frowned. Had he just missed their dawn patrol? He didn't scent Graystripe. Was their dawn patrol on the way?

His determination made him take a bit more of a risk than usual. Tinyclaw walked the border itself, peering over the river. It was low enough now to wade across at most areas, but for a deeper channel in the middle that required swimming. Tinyclaw was more used to water than most ThunderClan cats, thanks to the flooding in newleaf.

He was about to begin wading into the river when an unexpected scent battered his nostrils, from his own territory – ShadowClan! Tinyclaw hopped away from the border and into a clump of dead, drying ferns. He opened his jaws, heart pounding in his ears. He had scented that right – ShadowClan cats, on ThunderClan territory! Fresh, too, despite the rancid stink of sickness.

Tinyclaw kept low, creeping deeper into the territory. The scent was not hard to follow. Tinyclaw kept it slow, in case he was spotted – but he saw neither hide nor hair of ShadowClan cats trundling through the forest. Finally he came upon the source of the scent – an old oak, felled by storms, with a low slope of sandy soil going down into its roots. A natural cave, and full of ShadowClan warriors.

They need to be driven out, he thought. There aren't too many. Through the rancid stink, he could only distinguish two scents. Tinyclaw pushed out of the ferns and arched his back, ready to strike – but he was met with only panting, wheezing breaths from inside the cave.

He glared into the gloom. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he flattened his ears in shock. The last time he had seen Whitethroat and Littlecloud, they were disappearing into the tunnel beneath the Thunderpath. What were they doing here?

"Why have you come back?" Tinyclaw demanded. They were staring up at him, tiredly. "Get out of here, before you infect the whole forest!" He unsheathed his claws. These cats needed to leave, before someone with less compassion found them.

"Tinyclaw!" a familiar voice called from behind. "Don't!"