Chapter One
The acrid scent of smoke still lingered in the air half a moon since the forest was ablaze. Wrentail sat at the edge of the river, staring ahead at the dead trees. What was once her home was now a wasteland. She had no idea what her Clan's camp looked like after the fire; she had not stepped paw in the burned territory yet.
Numb agony pulled at her chest. There was a yearning feeling deep within her. How she desperately wished she were curled up in a patch of warm sunlight and sharing tongues with her Clanmates. Her thoughts were overcome by the memories of caring for the members of her Clan and the friends she had made in her life.
She slowly swept her tail over her paws, wondering if any of the other warriors had made it out. Those who stayed in camp on the night of the Gathering might have been able to escape the flames in time. Wrentail hoped that Brindlewhisker especially had survived. Her sister should have had kits by now.
Where would anyone have gone? Neither she nor Birchshadow had even smelled another cat in the days they'd spent in the meadow.
As if on cue, the bulky tom approached from the side. "Wrentail?" he meowed gently. "Are you alright?"
Wrentail turned to face him. The burn scars that marred his pelt were starting to pinken, blending in with long healed battle wounds. He was just as handsome as he had ever been. The only good thing to come out of this was that Wrentail no longer had to hide her feelings. She realized that she had been staring a moment too long; Birchshadow ducked his head and licked his chest in embarrassment.
"I'm okay," she murmured heartbeats later.
He nodded and flitted his gaze down her side. "Your wounds are healing."
"Yes, they don't hurt as badly as before," she replied, quickly moving her tail over the burn on her flank. Her injury had been worse and for a short while in the beginning Wrentail feared that she would develop an infection. Thankfully, the worst of it was over with now.
Birchshadow flicked his tail. He looked across the river and sighed deeply. Wrentail knew what he was thinking. He had lost just as much as she did, if not more. He had been deputy for a short time, his title stripped of him before he could even really get the chance to guide his Clan. "Would you want to join me on my hunt this evening?" he asked a short moment later.
"I can't hunt, Birchshadow. I don't have the training."
"Well, if we're going to be on our own, you may as well learn. Besides, it'll be good exercise for your leg." he persuaded. Wrentail hated to admit that he was right. Plus it would take her attention away from her thoughts. She dipped her head in agreement. Birchshadow purred, brushing his head against her shoulder. "Just do as I say and you'll be catching prey in no time."
Wrentail chuckled softly. "Alright. You're the expert, after all." She rose to her paws, wincing when she placed weight on her hind leg. Out of instinct, she turned her head and began to lick at the yellow scab on the patch of missing hair. How ugly, she thought, hoping that her fur would grow back as it had been before.
"Where are we hunting?" Wrentail asked. Birchshadow gestured with his tail towards the horizon where the rolling hills gave way to a vast clearing.
"Just past there. I found an active rabbit burrow. Even if we aren't quick enough to catch them, other little creatures like to make their home in the tunnels."
Wrentail couldn't remember the last time she had had a rabbit. The musky flavor was a distant memory that rolled off her tongue as though its taste still lingered. Her belly was empty and it was making itself known. Birchshadow was an excellent hunter, but his expertise lay in the forest and not on the meadow. In the time they had been sheltering here he had only been able to successfully catch some field mice and a few shrews, none of which were particularly filling when you have to ration one catch between two mouths.
"You sure I can do this?" Wrentail meowed as she began to follow behind the tom.
"Once you get the technique down," he replied, "hunting will be more efficient and rewarding for the both of us. It's best that you learn now in leaf-fall while our prey is still plentiful. Come leafbare we'll be going many, many days between prey."
Birchshadow was right once more. There were no other cats to put on a patrol. Less eyes on the hunting grounds meant less prey being brought back to the densite.
"Perhaps if I master prey catching," Wrentail added, "then I'll teach you about herbs."
Birchshadow glanced at her over his shoulder, eyes glistening with amusement. "You'd certainly be entertained if I were to try."
"I think you could do it," she insisted. "At least some basics just in case."
"Alright. We have a deal."
They climbed the hillside and stood over the meadow. Wrentail could see all the way to the mountains, already capped with snow. Down below she took notice of the herd of bison grazing on yellow grass. These animals typically stuck to the fields but would occasionally graze in shallow forests for wetter plants. Wrentail had only seen these beasts up close once on accident while she was gathering herbs as an apprentice. They smelled of earth and dust and were highly irritable. They were taller than any animal she had seen before with large, pointy horns and hunched backs full of muscle and power.
She knew right away to get out of there, hightailing it back to her mentor.
"We aren't going near those things, right?"
Birchshadow lashed his tail. "No, don't worry. The bison do provide the tunnelers with some protection against foxes and coyotes, but we'll be hunting at the densites away from the creek."
Wrentail felt more at ease. She had not known of any cats who were killed by a bison and she certainly did not want to be the first.
"Watch your step, we'll go down the slope here." Birchshadow stated. He led the way down the hill with Wrentail following behind. She was careful about her pawsteps. One wrong move and she'd be sent tumbling into the valley.
Once they had reached the bottom Birchshadow paused. His ears swiveled forward and his tail flicked lightly. He had smelled something. Wrentail tested the air for scents herself; the musky smell of ground squirrel was close.
"Come on," he murmured quietly. "Stay low to the ground and do as I do."
The golden-brown tom dropped into a crouch. Wrentail paid close attention to his body's form. His tail was hovering above the ground, not quite low enough to touch it. His paws moved under his belly and he kept his claws sheathed.
She mimicked his movements. Excitement and nervousness swirled in her belly. She had never hunted before, but the way she moved felt instinctual as though she were meant for this.
Birchshadow stopped and lifted his head ever so slightly. "There," he whispered. "A whole group of 'em. See them popping out of their burrows?"
Wrentail slithered next to him. Her eyes widened. How were they supposed to catch those things when they could just duck back down into the tunnels?
"I know what you're thinking," he added, "but worry not. I'll lead one right into your paws."
"What do you mean?"
"If we work together we can bring one down." Birchshadow turned his head. "You quietly move around that sagebrush and block those dens. I'll chase one towards you."
"And I'm supposed to…?"
"You'll catch it with your paws and bite its scruff until it stops moving."
"And if I can't catch it?"
"We'll try again."
Wrentail nodded slowly, unsure. She was starving and was desperate for a fat meal, but the uncertainty of the hunt was nerve wracking. She also didn't want to let Birchshadow down.
He nudged her gently, gesturing her towards the meadow. Wrentail padded off, trying to remember Birchshadow's movements from just a few moments ago. The scent of the sagebrush overwhelmed her senses. The ground squirrel's musk was still lingering here somewhere. She hoped that the sagebrush would at least mask her own scent.
She curled around the edge of the brush and stopped. Before her were several tunnel entrances, all of which she was supposed to guard.
Wrentail crept into the open and got into a hunting position. Suddenly, it dawned on her; Birchshadow didn't tell her whether or not he would give her a sign.
How am I supposed to-?
"Wrentail, catch it!" Birchshadow yowled. Wrentail darted her eyes up, seeing a tawny beast racing towards her. She felt her paws trembling as it grew closer. It still didn't see her or smell her. Perhaps there was a chance for her to kill it.
She lunged forward when it was nearly in her grasp. With unsheathed claws she managed to hook its flank. It squealed in alarm and wriggled fiercely. Wrentail swiftly lowered her head to bite it, but before she could do anything the little thing whipped its own head around and sank sharp teeth into her foreleg.
Wrentail hissed and stumbled backwards. The ground squirrel, now free from the trap, scurried off and disappeared into one of the tunnels.
"Oh, too bad," Birchshadow meowed. He padded up to Wrentail. "Are you alright?"
"That thing bit me!" she snapped.
"Really?" Birchshadow questioned. He craned his neck and sniffed her leg. "It'll be alright. It doesn't look deep."
Wrentail licked the blood from the wound. "I'm sorry I didn't kill it."
Birchshadow flicked the end of his tail. "It's alright. You still caught it before it got you, at least. Next time you'll know to end it as quickly as you can. It saw a way to get out of there and it took that chance."
"What are we going to do about food?" Wrentail asked. Her body was slightly drooped with disappointment. She assumed not all cats caught prey on their first try, but it still felt embarrassing.
"I can go out later this evening and catch something for us." he replied. He touched his nose to her cheek. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It took Frecklepaw a long time to catch her first prey." His voice trailed off. Wrentail knew he was thinking about his apprentice. She was close to becoming a warrior before the fire. Her young life, full of so much to give to the Clan, was either taken from her or changed forever. Wrentail placed her paw on his for comfort.
"For you, Birchshadow, I'll try again next time." she said.
He purred as he rubbed his head against her shoulder. "I know you'll get it. I'll keep helping you. Now, let's get back to the den before the sun goes down."
The two cats made their way to the direction of their densite. Stalks of grass tickled Wrentail's sides as she passed through them. The aspen trees in the distance were shining with the late afternoon sun. She had to admit, it was beautiful in the meadow. Soon enough, however, this landscape would be covered in thick snow.
Her gaze flitted to Birchshadow. He looked larger in the golden light.
He was so sure of everything. She wondered what he thought of when his mind lingered to the oncoming threat of leafbare. Was he just as scared as she was? Neither of them had spoken too much on the subject except for small bits here and there. Their conversation earlier made Wrentail bristle. She was determined to land that catch. She had to prove that she was capable of surviving the cold season.
But that would have to wait until her leg bite stopped throbbing. She was useless right now. Perhaps tomorrow when it's less sore she would be able to try again.
The sun was nearly behind the mountain peaks when they made it to the den. It was nestled under a fallen tree. Something had dug under it many, many moons before but it was vacant when the two cats discovered it. It really wasn't that bad of a home.
Birchshadow stopped just before the entrance. "I'll go catch something real quick. You stay here and rest. I'll be back soon."
"Stay safe," Wrentail mewed. Birchshadow nodded. He turned and bounded off. Wrentail stayed outside of the den until she could no longer hear his pawsteps. When the clearing had fallen silent, she slithered into the den.
Inside it was warm and cozy. The makeshift nests that she and Birchshadow had been working on the last few days were nearly finished. Wrentail decorated hers with bird feathers she had found while on her walks. She twitched her whiskers and lowered her head, pushing her nest closer to his ever so slightly.
She then climbed into the nest, circled a few times, and laid down on her belly with her paws crossed.
A short while later, Birchshadow returned. In his jaws was a mole. Though it was small and half of it wouldn't be fully satisfying, the two cats shared it.
When it was nothing but bones and scrap meat Birchshadow took it outside to discard it. He had mentioned before that leaving pieces of prey near the den meant that other animals would come looking for food.
"The nights are getting cooler," he shivered upon returning. "I was hoping the mountains and the forest would block some of this wind but they aren't." He curled up in his nest with a fluffed pelt.
"It's warm in here," Wrentail replied.
"Yes," Birchshadow meowed, "I suppose it is." He pushed his nose into Wrentail's shoulder fur. She purred quietly and curled her tail around her body. Birchshadow soon settled. His body was heavy and he slumped slightly. He had fallen asleep.
Wrentail allowed her purrs to grow louder. As a medicine cat, she would never be able to lay this close to any other cat, let alone the deputy. But her duties were no longer to the Clan. PineClan was gone, but she had Birchshadow. What could StarClan do now to punish her?
She sighed in contentment. Perhaps, she thought, this wouldn't be too bad after all.