Author's Note: Taking the chance to jump right in to our characters in this chapter while setting up some fun stuff for later. It was very interesting to rewrite this chapter, as many things stay the same while also changing greatly-mainly with the character interactions. I'm very eager to expand on them and I thank everyone who has read the story so far. (:


CHAPTER 2


If morning had come and gone, Skypaw would have had no idea; her face was buried so deep into her nest that she probably didn't know where she even was, let alone what time of the day it was.

With the sunlight peeking into the den, however, it was difficult to remain in that state for long. It penetrated the borders of the den and despite her efforts to remain closed off from the light and perhaps the world itself, she blinked in frustration when she felt something press adamantly against her side.

Her gaze moved slowly farther and she squinted, barely making out the white paw that was pushed uncomfortably against her back. The culprit was quite obvious—Wrenpaw was stretched out in her nest, seemingly unaware of anyone and anything around her, content to make herself comfortable by whatever means necessary. Apparently, she hadn't considered the comfort of anyone else in the den, as her eyes didn't even open.

Feeling her annoyance fuel her, Skypaw kicked at her friend's paw, watching with a dull sort of satisfaction as she pulled it closer to her body and turned on over. Still asleep, apparently. She couldn't say she had never moved around in her sleep, but she had certainly never woken another cat with a paw in the ribs. Next time Wrenpaw complained about her squirminess, she would have an answer to throw back.

Despite how pointless it seemed, she did attempt to close her eyes once more as she settled her head back on her paws, ears flattened against her head. Now that she was awake, though, the shuffling of the camp and the deep breaths beside her were much more prominent. She would not be going back to sleep with her senses on high alert, though she did cover one eye with a paw in sheer frustration before finally giving up.

She pushed Wrenpaw even more, intent on moving her farther from her nest, but the she-cat didn't even twitch. Skypaw had been hoping to give her a taste of what she had gotten earlier, but Wrenpaw was apparently dead to the world.

Her eyes moved over to the other side of the den, slightly surprised to see Snowpaw still sleeping, as he was usually the earliest riser out of all of them. The fact that Wrenpaw was still asleep wasn't crazy to believe, but Skypaw was further taken off guard when she realized her brother's white fur remained flat and his breathing even; not even her shuffling had woken him.

Must have been training late yesterday, she ultimately reasoned.

His mentor, Quickbreeze, certainly wasn't a cat to scoff at. The fact that she even was a mentor was an accomplishment in and of itself, given the short time she had even been in the Clan. While her sister Embercloud had been mainly concerned about ensuring her one remaining kit made it to apprenticeship, Quickbreeze was the one mainly taking charge in everyday life.

Even as a kit, Skypaw could the warrior going out with whatever patrol needed an extra paw, or even just to gain more experience. She wasn't a "no nonsense" cat like Jaggedclaw, nor a cat willing to do the bare minimum and nothing more. She reached above and beyond like she had something to prove, though it did prompt the further question—didn't she?

It was difficult to remember a time Quickbreeze and Embercloud weren't Clanmates, and as a result, it was also difficult to see them as anything other than Clan-born. But Skypaw knew the rules often didn't allow them to become warriors in the way they had, and it left her questioning things once she grew old enough to understand.

Quickbreeze had no doubt proven her worth, alongside her sister. She had fought tooth and claw to give her family a good life, and now, she seemed to take pride in her position as one of their sharpest warriors. Once Skypaw and Snowpaw had been promoted, very few could argue her qualifications outside of her background.

Snowpaw, for all of his quietness and what Wrenpaw would call "weak will," took it all in stride, listening to Quickbreeze and every word she said as though it was gospel. That could have been why he thrived in training compared to many of them, although his strengths tended to lean towards tracking, using his sensitive nose and sharp eyes to find what they could not.

Suddenly, she felt bad thinking that he was more of a pushover than anything. Wrenpaw had joked about his and Brackenpaw's lazy tendencies before, although perhaps it was Skypaw's fault for taking her at face value for that.

Brackenpaw, she suddenly thought, realizing that he was the only one absent from the den. It seemed odd that he would already be out on patrol, given that he craved sleep nearly as much as she did.

Lifting herself to a sitting position, she spotted the newest apprentice, Whitepaw, curled up just by the den entrance. Her ear twitched, as though aware she was being watched.

Skypaw hadn't paid too much attention to the newest apprentice in the last quarter-moon, but she also hadn't had much free time to speak with her, either. The pale bundle had been like a ghost in that time, going out with Mudwhisker to train or joining in on every patrol she could. She was much like her aunt in that way, although Skypaw couldn't say much else about her.

She was grateful that Whitepaw—following the general rule of newer apprentices sleeping near the entrance—blocked out some of the light that would otherwise blind her, but Brackenpaw's absence also meant that his usual spot in front of her was wide open, leaving it utterly pointless to even remain in the den at all.

It was pure silence outside of the soft snores of Wrenpaw, but Skypaw knew that wouldn't last long, given the sounds of approaching pawsteps that were undoubtedly heading in the direction of their den.

"Whitepaw?" Skypaw suddenly heard, the voice immediately prompting her to remain in a "sleeping" state, should she not wish to be poked and prodded to come and help out. "Whitepaw, it's time to get up. We're heading out," Mudwhisker called.

She had never known the young warrior to be so punctual. The first few days, sure—he was probably working to show Silentstar that he was a good pick for a mentor. But a quarter-moon in? Skypaw had to wonder if he was truly that dedicated.

"Hmm…" Skypaw looked over to Whitepaw at her soft whisper, and watched as the she-cat moved slowly to her paws, her eyes still shut tight against the light. She would have spoken up, told Whitepaw that it wasn't going to help her, but the she-cat's eyes snapped open too quickly for her to say anything. "Oh! Yes. Sorry, Mudwhisker. I'm ready."

Any tiredness that remained was very quickly slipping away from the pale she-cat. Skypaw was envious, wondering at what point in her apprenticeship she stopped becoming excited to go out and train.

Mudwhisker was not intimidating in the slightest, so maybe that put Whitepaw's mind at ease. On the other end, Jaggedclaw wasn't the most friendly-looking at first glance, although Skypaw wasn't sure how he would take someone telling him that.

Whitepaw nearly stumbled making her way out of the den, and as the sounds faded, Skypaw was plunged into silence once more. She checked again just to ensure Snowpaw was still breathing, and Wrenpaw had since turned over on her other side. The normal buzzing of camp was absent, and with annoyance, Skypaw realized that it was the background noise that had normally allowed her to sleep in the first place.

She curled her paws under her again, figuring that simply relaxing wouldn't do her any harm. Her eyes slowly closed, intent on a light doze…

Opening her eyes again, she found herself confused. The light outside had become much more saturated, and she was the only one left in the den; Snowpaw and Wrenpaw were now gone, and the scents in their nests were somewhat stale. They must have left some time ago

Even pawsteps approaching the den didn't phase her at this point, as the prospect of further sleep had already left her. It had to have been close to sunhigh at this point, given how long she had to have slept. It might have been funny to just pretend she was still asleep. Or maybe she was sick. Or maybe she had lost all feeling in her paws and just couldn't get out of her nest for today and the foreseeable future.

Catching Brackenpaw's familiar scent, Skypaw quickly realized that he would have absolutely none of it.

Luck was rarely ever on her sound, and no amount of praying on her part would allow her to escape her dreaded fate. Even with her eyes closed she could sense his presence approaching, and feeling a paw prod her in the side, she let out a large sigh and flicked her murderous gaze his way, finding it to be more amused than surprised.

Cocky mouse-brain.

They stared at each other for a few uncomfortable moments, with Skypaw growing more agitated while Brackenpaw looked almost bored.

"What?" she finally asked, tired of the silence that would no doubt drag on forever if they let it.

She felt another, stronger poke in the side as Brackenpaw finally smiled. "Think it's past time you were up, don't you?" he asked, not even bothering to wait for a response before he was turning tail and padding out of the den. A legitimate sense of agitation washed over her—he must have quite a bit of faith that she would follow him, otherwise he would have waited. It was a foolish idea, but one she couldn't really argue, as she did end up moving slowly to her feet and making her way outside without any verbal argument. Not that she would admit it, but he was probably right.

Skypaw squinted when she finally got an eyeful of the light she had been avoiding earlier in the day, letting out a sharp hiss as she ducked her head, only spotting Brackenpaw after giving herself a few moments to adjust. He grinned at her from the fresh-kill pile and she approached slowly, only slumping into a sitting position opposite of him when she could finally see without burning her eyes.

"Morning, pretty-paws. Or should I say afternoon?" he teased, tilting his head as he peered at her. "Would have woken you sooner, but figured you needed your beauty sleep. That said—who made dirt in your fresh-kill?"

The question was posed in a joking matter, but Skypaw knew better than to pass off his comments as innocent. Brackenpaw could be quite an anomaly—making a joke in a serious situation, or lacking emotion in a rather harmless scenario. He was intelligent—in fact, Skypaw could say that he was probably the smartest of her denmates—but the cockiness he showed was not impressive to her.

"No one," she replied back slowly, finally feeling some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I was just kinda hoping for a break. Sessions with Jaggedclaw have been dragging."

She could guess the reason why, but she didn't need to be sharing her failures so freely. She had Jaggedclaw had done much less talking and much more training in the last few days, and she was more than eager to rest her aching muscles.

"Anyway," Skypaw said, shaking out her pelt as she tried to move on. "Is there any reason you woke me? I'm not due for a patrol."

"I know," Brackenpaw nodded, and it seemed genuine enough to tell Skypaw that he wasn't just messing around. "I already went on patrol. I ran into Whitepaw as I was coming back, and she mentioned that Wrenpaw might need some help."

Skypaw laughed then, finding that she didn't know any more than she did before. Wrenpaw needing help was nothing new; the question was whether it was for a legitimate reason, or if she needed a scapegoat. Still, there was the curiosity over why Brackenpaw would wake her over such a thing. Could he not help her himself?

"And this required waking me?" she drawled.

Brackenpaw finally shook his head, moving to his paws to pad around to her, sitting on her side and pressing his against her. "Come on, Skypaw, you're not usually this difficult. You don't wanna accompany your best buddy to help his dear sister?" At her scowl, he quickly followed with, "Okay, okay. Honestly, I'm just trying to impress Silentstar. The Gathering's less than a quarter-moon away and I already know he's trying to pick who he's taking."

Brackenpaw's casual smile soon returned, something she could almost guess he practiced, and she almost growled in defeat.

"Fine, okay," she finally said, stretching out each of her limps as she stood up—briefly lamenting on her lack of opportunity to eat. Hopefully this wouldn't take too long and she could actually enjoy the rest of her day. "What are we helping with, anyway?"

"Don't know."

"You don't know? Then how do we know what we're even walking into?" Were toms always so daft?

Brackenpaw must have noticed the fur on her back rising, as he was quick to respond. "Ralax," he reassured, flicking her tail with his as he walked around her, aiming to get ahead so that he could take the lead. "Whitepaw didn't seem panicked, so I figured it couldn't be anything too bad. I'll tell you what—if it's bad enough, I'll say it was my idea. I doubt they found more RavenClan scents over the border."

The comment had Skypaw flicking her ears, only slightly more intrigued. Only a quarter-moon ago had Brackenpaw and his patrol returned to camp with news of RavenClan scents being where they shouldn't. Skypaw hadn't been a part of the investigatory patrol, but from what she heard, they certainly weren't scents to be ignored.

"Silentstar never did find out what that was about, huh?" Skypaw asked, feeling her legs itching to move faster. Given she hadn't witnessed the evidence for herself, she was quite curious to see if the problem had persisted. What if they found RavenClan scents again? "What if it happens again? Do you think Silentstar will actually confront Meadowstar?"

"Confronting Meadowstar would be like talking to a tree," Brackenpaw scoffed, the first hint of annoyance she had heard from him since he woke her. "Do you think he'd even care? Silentstar would have to scream into his ear for Meadowstar to even acknowledge his presence."

It was a funny thought, and definitely not an unrealistic one. Meadowstar was a stubborn cat in two ways—one was his age, which Skypaw could estimate was as old as the hills themselves. The tom could barely function like a normal cat, let alone make sound decisions. His lack of proper behavior was only compounded by his refusal to admit any wrongdoings, whether it be from his own decisions or lack thereof.

She had only heard stories of his supposed attack on the AspenClan camp moons ago, when she hadn't even opened her eyes yet. There were several guesses thrown around for the motive, considering that setting off Meadowstar was like poking a badger. Territory was one, retaliation was another, but for all she knew, someone could have easily just looked at him funny. Some cats seemed to know the real reason, but try as she might, very few cats wished to speak about it.

The leader of RavenClan made her uncomfortable, there was no doubting that. His lack of any forethought—whether due to his age alone or a mix of everything—was dangerous in and of itself, and not something Skypaw would like to witness first hand.

Skypaw said nothing, unsure if speaking up would make any sort of difference to what was already said. Brackenpaw didn't seem to know anything more about Silentstar's plans for the future, but considering the Gathering was coming up so soon, she might be able to witness the confrontation first hand. The idea made her nervous, but the thought of Meadowstar's clouded mind letting his warriors trample over their borders was more than enough to reassure her that it was the right idea.

"Wish we could face him head-on," Skypaw said, passively swiping out a paw. "I doubt he'd even know what hit him."

"If he even had a chance to react," Brackenpaw said, chuckling as they moved through the undergrowth and came upon a more open area, the dirt paths being much wider and filled with different scents. It was one of the normal paths warriors traveled, she realized, and based on the fresh scent she could identify as Wrenpaw's, they were on the right track.

Had the she-cat been with her, she knew that Wrenpaw would be the one throwing insults at the RavenClan leader. Given her lack of a filter, it wouldn't take much to get her riled up. While it was amusing most of the time, she came to appreciate Brackenpaw's thoughtfulness alongside his more reserved cheekiness. Brackenpaw was certainly a lot less trouble to hang around, and his company far less overstimulating. She certainly didn't have to struggle to keep up with a conversation as well as hunting when she was with him.

Brackenpaw slowed suddenly, lifting his nose and peering around briefly. "I think she headed this way," he said, heading in the direction Skypaw knew headed towards the small stream that branched out a short way from the lake. It wasn't a popular hunting spot given the muddier ground and lack of much land prey, which made Skypaw quickly realize that Wrenpaw probably wasn't looking to make a catch.

With Brackenpaw leading, Skypaw figured she'd at least be somewhat useful and taste the air for prey, wondering if they might get lucky this time around. But much like she assumed, there was nothing but the smell of mud and reeds, something that was wholly unappetizing in comparison.

A loud greeting broke into her concentration, making Skypaw quickly give up on her minimal efforts. Wrenpaw had made her appearance, her pelt stuck with various mud patches and leaves while her face was scrunched up in obvious disgust. Definitely not a hunting trip.

The sharp scent that hit her nose moments after confirmed her suspicions, and Wrenpaw was quick to complain as well.

"Ragwort leaves!" the she-cat exclaimed, spitting at the ground several times before screwing her face up once more.

"You accidentally catch leaves rather than prey?" Brackenpaw asked sarcastically, and Wrenpaw gave him a seething look in response.

"Bristlefur sent me to collect them," she responded, sitting down and shaking out her pelt. It didn't do much other than make it stand up more—the mud certainly didn't help her. "He said he left some here yesterday, and seeing as we're so close, he figured I wouldn't mind. Of course, he failed to mention that the herb tastes like moon-old mouse bile!"

That was… not a taste she liked to imagine, and Skypaw resisted the urge to gag. "Why don't you tell Bristlefur to bug off, then?" It was blunt, sure, but Bristlefur would probably react with no more than a quiet stare before padding away. The tom was an odd one, that was for sure.

"And get skinned alongside a verbal lashing? Honestly, I'd sooner take my chances jumping in the rapids," Wrenpaw retorted. Skypaw bent down to groom her side in the meantime, and despite the frustration that led her here, Skypaw quietly snickered, finding amusement in the idea of Wrenpaw of all cats helping Bristlefur.

"I can't say whether or not Bristlefur even knows how to use his claws," Brackenpaw responded. "I doubt you'd get in much trouble." A short pause, and then, "So, with that said, why did you agree to help?"

"Ugh!" Wrenpaw spat again. "Scorchtooth told me he was busy, and that I had to do whatever Bristlefur told me to do. Then I walk into the medicine den, and the mouse-brain looks at me like I have bees in my brain!"

That brought on a mental image she could laugh at: Wrenpaw and Bristlefur in the same den, forced to work alongside each other as Wrenpaw talked her ear off and Bristlefur barely listened. His patience, while it appeared unending, could only go so far, and Wrenpaw was likely the only cat who could break it. When it came to Scorchtooth, however… Skypaw wondered if he just wanted to keep Wrenpaw distracted for a day.

"Okay, okay," Skypaw finally said, ultimately stopping her grooming efforts in favor of listening to Wrenpaw's frustrations, realizing quickly that her friend's agitation was only growing. If she didn't do anything, she would most likely have to hear about it for the next half-moon. "What do you need help with, then?"

"Those," Wrenpaw flicked her tail behind her without looking, pointing at a small pile of leaves, "need to be brought back to camp."

No, really? Skypaw thought, but held her tongue.

"In that case, you'll definitely be chosen to go to the Gathering, Skypaw. Always volunteering to lend a paw!" Brackenpaw said, winking at her while barking out a laugh at her expression. She scowled in response.

"You got off lucky this time," Skypaw said to Brackenpaw. "Can't guarantee you'll get away unscathed the next time you wake me up for something like this, though."

"I'll take my chances."

She padded over to the pile, sniffing at them briefly. They didn't smell bad, but she knew well enough that the scent alone wasn't the only judge of how something tasted. Preparing herself, she gathered up as much as she could in her jaws, resisting the urge to retch. She couldn't even say it was a bad taste—but it was definitely strong, and she moved her tongue to the side to avoid it.

Skypaw lifted her head then, noticing that Wrenpaw had her own pile. Brackenpaw, of course, was standing off to the side, not lifting a paw in the slightest. Thankfully she still had the ability to form words around the herbs.

"Arrogant furball."

"All part of the charm."