Jumping into the river, the coolness brushes away the heat from his pelt cooling him down. He was relieved to find that the Great Sycamore would be a great place for the sick cats to rest as its big gnarled roots can act as a temporary shelter.
Once he's sure the river has done a good job of washing the stickiness and the stench off his pelt, he bounds out of it shaking his fluffy gray pelt to get dry. Pricking his ears he wonder's if Cinderpelt is with her assessment of the two sick Shadowclan warriors, she should head to the river before she catches the sickness as well. Washing her pelt with her tongue ain't going to be enough, since she could catch the sickness from that.
Walking around the forest, he heads back to camp. He has promised to take Cloudpaw out hunting today. He purrs, the white tom is turning into a fine hunter, almost beating out Sandstorm as Thunderclan's best hunter. And it's only been a moon since his apprenticeship. His fighting skills aren't too bad either, despite him still struggling a bit against Swiftpaw and the other apprentices, except Fernpaw and Ashpaw.
Going down the ravine, his paws hurt from the heat emitting from them, almost making him think his paws will get burnt.
Entering camp, he notices Sandstorm, Longtail and the other warriors that went out are back in camp. Darkstripe is out of camp though, along with Fernpaw and Mousefur. They must be out on the Sunhigh patrol he assigned yesterday.
Scanning the clearing he sees the tree stump beside the apprentices' den. Cloudpaw and Brightpaw are sunning themselves in the sun together, along with Ashpaw and Swiftpaw.
Bounding up to them, Graystripe meows, "Ready to go hunting, Cloudpaw?"
His apprentice's eyes shine, and he gets up immediately. He purrs, amused with his apprentice's enthusiasm. He did have Cloudpaw take care of the Elder's today along with Swiftpaw, so it makes sense.
"Then let's go."
Flicking his tail he beckons Cloudpaw to come with him. Padding amongst the scorched earth they head to the camp entrance, only to be stopped by Sandstorm.
"Mind if I join you?" she asks, green eyes shining.
"Sure. We can all hunt together," he then teases, "Cloudpaw might beat you though, mighty huntress."
Sandstorm scoffs, "He's been an apprentice for a moon. He can't beat me."
"Then let's make a bet against the three of us. Whoever gets the most prey gets the first pick of the prey-pile from amongst ourselves. And if Cloudpaw wins, tomorrow we focus on battle training as well."
"Really?" Cloudpaw mews, tail wagging in excitement.
"Really."
"Fine it's a bet. One with the most prey gets the first pick from amongst ourselves." Sandstorm mews, pale green eyes sparkling at the challenge.
"Good. First one out is a rotten piece of prey!" He yowls, running past them and towards the camp entrance.
"Hey, no fair!" Sandstorm mews, laughing, as she races to catch up to him, alongside Cloudpaw.
The warm scents of the forest greet him as he races along the undergrowth of the forest making him skid to a halt. Sniffing the air he smells traces of mouse. Perfect. Dropping into a crouch he creeps through the grass, careful not to make a sound. The scent of the mouse smells stronger as he moves closer.
He sees the mouse nibbling a nut on the root of the tree, he moves a paw forward only to step on a dry branch, which makes a loud crack. Looking down at his paw and the stick he quietly curses himself for making such a mistake. The mouse has already scampered off when he sits up.
Sniffing the air he hopes no other prey heard the noise he made. Scenting a pigeon, he goes after that, careful of where he steps.
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Carrying his catch back to camp, he's pretty proud of himself. Despite the mess up with the mouse, he managed to catch a plump pigeon, and three squirrels. Wondering what his apprentice and Sandstorm caught he waits at the ravine for them, his catch laid neatly at his paws.. Cloudpaw is the first to arrive with a thrush, two mice and a squirrel.
"Looks like we both managed to catch the same amount of prey." Cloudpaw mews, after he drops his catch on the ground. "Though three squirrels is pretty impressive."
"Right, I wonder what Sandstorm caught though?"
As if right on cue, Sandstorm appears with three mice dangling from her jaws along with two squirrels.
He purrs, "Looks like the Mighty Huntress came out on top."
Sandstorm nods, pride glowing in her eyes.
"Let's take this back to camp."
Him and Cloudpaw pick up their prey and head back to camp. Dropping their catch on the pile, it looks pretty full. And the sun is beginning to set. His ears prick backwards as he hears pawsteps. Wondering if it's the Sunset patrol coming back early, he turns around only to find Cinderpelt limping heavily and carrying a bunch of herbs in her mouth. Flicking his tail in good-bye, he bounds up to Cinderpelt.
"Are you doing okay?" He mews.
Cinderpelt drops the herbs, "I'm fine honestly. But my leg is acting up a bit…."
"From all the walking we did and you stayed out to find herbs. You should let Yellowfang help you…"
"No!" Cinderpelt mews, gardening everyone's attention which makes her ears flattened in embarrassment. "I meant Yellowfang has enough to do with Willowpelt's kitting…."
"Oh."
The last kitting Cinderpelt had been to was when his kits were born. And where she tried everything in her power, but Silverstream ended up dying during the birthing process of his kits.
"So you know…..I-I didn't want to be there. So after she checked me, I offered to go gather herbs instead when it was announced the kits were coming."
"Is she okay?" he asks, worried for Willowpelt. He knows she and Silverstream aren't the same, but he shudders. He still had dreams about Silverstream's death, even though he's mostly gotten over it. Featherkit and Stormkit helped, as they were a reminder of her.
"I don't know," Cinderpelt mumbles. "I just got back and didn't bother to stay and see."
Mews and purrs of affection drew his attention away. One-eye and Dappletail were padding away from the nursery, their eyes full of affection and love.
"It must have been a success if the elders are happy." Graystripe comments.
Cinderpelt breathes a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness. I'm going to take these to the Den. See you later."
Cinderpelt picks up her herbs and pads away to the den. The little rest seemed to make her leg a little better. Sandstorm pads up to him, "What was that about?" Her head looks in Cinderpelt's direction.
"Oh, we just chatted about Willowpelt's kits being born."
"Did she help?"
"No, she went out herb gathering instead. She's still traumatized by….."
Sandstorm's head drops down and her ears flatten, "Oh. I forgot…"
"She was a Riverclan warrior, and Featherkit and Stormkit haven't been too rambunctious to warrant much attention."
"Right."
Was that sadness he detected in her mew. Tilting his head in confusion he wants to ask why she's sad, but before he can, Brightpaw runs up to them. "Willowpelt's okay and she's had two she-cats and a tom."
"That's a relief. The clan doesn't need any more bad omens." He comments.
"You mean like what happened to Windclan?"
Graystripe nods, "Yeah."
Noticing Sandstorm still seems down, he mews, "Did the mighty huntress forget that she won the bet? How about we visit the nursery and then we can eat together. You pick first though."
Sandstorm brightens up and she leads the way to the nursery where Bluestar was just squeezing out of the entrance. The old leader's face is relaxed, and her eyes are shining. As Sandstorm slips inside, she yowls triumphantly, "More warriors for Thunderclan!"
"We'll have more warriors then any clan soon." he purrs.
Bluestar's eyes begin to cloud and a ripple of unease ripples through his pelt.
"Let's just hope we can trust our new warriors better than our old." Bluestar growls darkly.
"Are you coming?" Sandstorm calls to him from inside the warm shadows of the nursery. Shrugging off his fears about Bluestar he pushes his way inside. The warm scent of milk greets him as he lays eyes on Willowpelt.
Once again relief floods him as he sees Willowpelt laying in a nest of soft moss, with her three kits squirming around her belly.
Graystripe notices a new softness arise in Sandstorm as she smells the warm milk scent of each kit, while Willowpelt sleepy but content as she looks at her kits.
"They're great." He mews. A twinge of sadness enters his heart as he remembers Silverstream. The last newborn kits he had seen were his and hers. But nothing could change her fate, so instead of dwelling on the past he leans on Sandstorm watching the newborn kits, making her look at him with a little surprise.