Chapter 12

"Cloudpaw!" Tinyclaw cried. Beside him, Sandstorm gasped.

Cloudpaw seemed to have heard – for she lifted her head. Her eyes flew wide, and she gripped at the mesh with her claws. "Tinyclaw!" she howled. "Help me!"

The Twoleg took no notice of Cloudpaw's yowling. "Help me!" she cried again. "Don't let them take me!" Tinyclaw started forward, heart pounding in his ears – but in a flash the Twoleg opened a door, stuffed Cloudpaw inside the monster, and shut it again.

In a roar of smoke and fumes, the monster rumbled away, huge black paws rolling down the Thunderpath. With Cloudpaw, and Twolegs, inside.

Tinyclaw's paws moved before he even commanded them to. Sandstorm's cry of protest was cut off as Tinyclaw tore down the lawn and bounded onto the edge of the Thunderpath. The monster was far ahead, rumbling, and other monsters were criss-crossing the way, too – but Tinyclaw tore on.

Rough stone tore at his pads. The monster was long gone, but Tinyclaw was still running. When he stopped, his mind was still racing after the monster as fast as his paws could take him – even though he was puffing and gasping beside the Thunderpath, his paws stinging with grit and his limbs trembling.

"Tinyclaw," Sandstorm murmured.

Tinyclaw did not reply. He was too numb to even find comfort in the touch of her warm fur. Cloudpaw is gone. The Thunderpath ahead was empty.

He said nothing as Sandstorm led him back to the Twoleg yard, and through the passageway between nest and fence. She led him through the back garden, over the fence, and back into the woods.

It was then that Sandstorm stopped them. She whirled on Tinyclaw, green eyes wide with concern. "Are you all right?" she demanded.

Tinyclaw couldn't answer. He stared back at the blank fence, trembling. Had that really happened? Would Cloudpaw be bounding over that fence any moment now? Oh, the scolding she would get – She's gone, Tinyclaw told himself firmly. Gone. No more scolding.

No more Cloudpaw.

"Your pads," Sandstorm murmured, "they're bleeding!"

Tinyclaw numbly lifted a foreleg. Yes, she was right – grit and stones punctured all his poor pads. Tinyclaw had the vaguest idea of the stinging, right at the back of his mind, but the shock was numbing the full force of the pain. Cloudpaw is gone… and she didn't want to go.

When Tinyclaw did nothing but stare at his bleeding paw, Sandstorm bent down and began to lick the pad, smoothly and gently loosening the grit and stone lodged inside. Her gentleness and care soothed Tinyclaw, stirring up faint memories of his own kithood. It seemed to melt his shock away.

"She's gone," he murmured. He felt like a hollow log.

"She'll find her way home," Sandstorm offered. She kept licking his paws, but Tinyclaw felt a flicker of hope – yet her next words crushed it: "If she wants to, that is."

Tinyclaw opened his jaws, but he shut them. She was only speaking the truth. He couldn't be upset at her for that – he wasn't sure he had the energy to be upset at anyone but himself.

"She might be happier where she's going." If Sandstorm noticed his jaws open and shut, she didn't give any indication. "Don't you want her to be happy?"

Tinyclaw nodded slowly.

"Then let's get back to camp," Sandstorm decided briskly. She pulled away from him, and Tinyclaw felt a surge of frustration bubbling up inside. "Come on!" she insisted, waving her tail.

Tinyclaw trembled. "It's so easy for you, isn't it?" he snapped. "You share Clan blood with the rest of them – but me? I only had Cloudpaw! She was my only kin! And now there's no one in the Clan who could be that close to me!"

Sandstorm recoiled, as if struck. She curled her lip. "How can you say that?" she spat. "You have me! I thought our friendship was important to you!" She whipped her head around and snarled, "Clearly, it's not."

Bewildered, Tinyclaw watched her disappear, bolting into the trees with a puffed-out tail. His paws stung clearly now, a wave of wretchedness poured over him like hot water. How could he have snapped at Sandstorm like that? He valued her friendship far more than any other cat in the Clan!

Yet there was no more to do here. He got to his paws and headed back to camp, grateful to be away from the fences of Twolegplace. How could he ever tell Fiona what happened to her only daughter? Worry stung him at each paw step. What would the Clan think of this? He could imagine Dustpelt and Longtail jeering, "Once a kittypet, always a kittypet!" in that always-aggravating tone.

Maybe there's some truth to that after all, he wondered to himself sulkily.

The scuttling of a mouse distracted him. Tinyclaw followed it's furrows through the undergrowth until it stopped near a towering pine. The Clan still needed feeding, no matter what happened. He surged after the mouse, but there was no joy in the hunt – just cold swiftness. Mouse in his jaws, Tinyclaw carried on back to camp.

It was evening when Tinyclaw returned to camp, mouse swinging from his jaws. The sun was touching the tip of the treeline, turning the sky a lovely orange. As much as he wanted to curl up and be alone, Mousefur met him as he placed his catch on the fresh-kill pile.

"You've been gone a while," she commented.

Tinyclaw wanted to say he was sorry, but just saying so might spark a conversation he didn't want to have. I need to talk to Tigerstar first, he told himself. Of course, even saying nothing might spark the questions anyway.

Mousefur tipped her head at him. She commented, "Oakheart arranged patrols while you were away."

Tinyclaw swallowed. "Tell him thanks," he offered. He cursed himself – he had been gone a lot longer than he ought to have been.

"Sure," Mousefur offered with a shrug. She sauntered away, towards Oakheart and his kits.

Tinyclaw swallowed again, and looked about the clearing. Most of these cats seemed to accept him as deputy now, despite the broken naming ritual – was he really as alone in the Clan without Cloudpaw as he thought? Or had he let the idea of Cloudpaw being his only kin cloud his mind? It didn't stop the fears from pouring in – did Cloudpaw's disappearance mean StarClan wasn't happy with his deputyship?

His legs wobbled under the weight of his anxiety. Looking around, he spotted Sandstorm sharing a meal with Runningwind. He flinched visibly when Sandstorm's eyes passed reproachfully over him. I'll apologize, he told himself. But… I need to tell Tigerstar first.

His throbbing paws made their way to the den within the Highrock. He called out a greeting, and was shocked when Whitestorm was the one who answered. Tinyclaw made his way inside to find Whitestorm and Tigerstar curled closely to one another, purring and grooming. Tinyclaw's fur went a little hot, and he wondered if he'd interrupted something.

"Tinyclaw," Tigerstar rumbled, his eyes half-closed, "what is it?"

Whatever was happening, the thought of telling Tigerstar what had happened dried up Tinyclaw's tongue. For once, Tigerstar looked pleasantly happy – and Tinyclaw had no desire to ruin that for him.

"I… was simply wondering if… you were hungry," Tinyclaw offered instead. Flimsy, since he could see the remains of a thrush just before both toms.

Tigerstar shook his head, "No," he replied. "Whitestorm brought me something." He looked up warmly at Tinyclaw. "Thank you for the consideration, though."

Tinyclaw nodded and backed out of the den before Tigerstar could ask what he'd been up to today. The purring resumed, and Tinyclaw found that outside the den was far cooler than the inside.

Shaking that off, Tinyclaw trotted back over to the fresh-kill pile and picked up the mouse he'd caught. Then, he took a deep breath and headed for the nettle patch, to sit with Sandstorm and Runningwind. Mostly Sandstorm.

She was tearing apart her sparrow, ripping its wing out with purpose. Tinyclaw flinched at the crunching sounds as he sat down near her, mouse between his paws.

"Hey," Runningwind offered, "I thought you might miss mealtime!"

Tinyclaw shrugged. "Busy day," he offered quietly. His eyes kept darting to Sandstorm, who was absorbed in tearing apart her sparrow systematically. She seemed to be waiting. Runningwind's whiskers twitched at her, and there was a slight grin on his face.

"I'm sorry," Tinyclaw whispered to Sandstorm. "I… didn't mean to say what I did, and I…"

"I understand," Sandstorm said simply. Her eyes flickered to him, and Tinyclaw felt a warm chill spread down his spine. Yes, she did understand. "Next time, think beyond your own whiskers."

"I will," he breathed back. Tinyclaw swallowed. "Are we friends again?"

Sandstorm bit into her sparrow, finally. "We never weren't," she said simply.

Tinyclaw heaved out a sigh of relief, but bit back what was left when he spotted Runningwind snickering just across the nettle patch, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Tinyclaw's tail puffed, and he averted his eyes from his friend. Great, just what I need, he thought. Runningwind making fun of me like Graystripe did.

"Uh… Tinyclaw?"

Tinyclaw's eyes flickered up. Ashpaw was standing a pace away, looking nervous and worried, his ears pinned and blue eyes clouded.

"Yes?" Tinyclaw wondered. "What is it, Ashpaw?"

"I… I was wondering if you'd seen Cloudpaw," Ashpaw meowed. It came out in a tumble: "She said she'd be back by now, and whatever else she might do… she always keeps her promises!"

Tinyclaw blinked at him, amazed.

"We're all really worried!" Ashpaw mewled.

"Whatever else she might do"? Tinyclaw was stunned. How had Cloudpaw managed to earn the friendship and loyalty of her denmates when she was so bratty and arrogant? Yet here Ashpaw was, standing before him, worry in his eyes for his friend and littermate.

Something disturbed him, though – after all, being around cats for a while did tend to make a friend or two. What had Ashpaw meant by, "Whatever else she might do?"