Patchpaw was woken up by the distant murmurs of her clan.
She shook her head to rid her of sleep, rolling over upright and standing. Her long pelt brushed against the bracken of the apprentices's den as she exited.
There was a group of cats just outside of the nursery. A small black and white tuxedo cat was forcing her way through them to get inside. Patchpaw bounded over, curiously guiding her toward the gathered cats.
Tawnyflower spotted her in the crowd, padding toward her and blocking her from the nursery.
"What's going on?" Patchpaw chirped, trying to look over her mother toward the nursery.
"Mistfall's kits are arriving," Tawnyflower said calmly, placing a paw on Patchpaw's back to keep her from looking around her.
"There's already a lot of attention on the poor queen, you don't need to get involved."
"Will she be okay?" The apprentice asked, finally calming down and meeting Tawnyflower's gaze.
"She will be fine. Mintpaws is taking care of her." Tawnyflower was right. Mintpaws, the clan's only medicine cat, was more than capable of handling the clan on her own.
She was a small but bulky she-cat with a black and white pelt. Her paws were white, but were most commonly stained green from the herbs she sorted daily.
The irony of the healer's name was not lost on Patchpaw. Imagine going through moons of training just to be given the name Mintpaws.
Not long after she entered, Mintpaws emerged from the nursery with a half-empty bundle of herbs.
The surrounding warriors looked at her expectantly, anxious to hear how Mistfall was coping.
"There are three healthy kits. You can stop lingering around the nursery like a bunch of hungry foxes now," the small cat retorted with a hint of humor.
Patchpaw pushed her way passed Tawnyflower and stuck her head inside the nursery entrance.
Mistfall lay spread out in her nest with her head draped over the nest's edge. She seemed exhausted, but there was a purr rumbling deep in her throat.
Three tiny kittens were curled in a ball near the queen's belly. One of the kits was a cream color with orange accents. The second was a light ginger, an almost perfect representation of their father, Gingersnap.
The last kit was a solid gray. The frail kit's eyes weren't even open yet, but they let out high-pitched mewls and wiggled among themselves.
Mistfall drew her tongue over the three bundles of fur, wrapping her tail around them and drawing them closer to her belly.
She gave a friendly yet tired glance to Patchpaw before resting her head back down on the moss bedding.
Before Patchpaw could pull her head out of the nursery, she felt the presence of a larger cat behind her.
She stepped back, her eyes wide when she realized Gingersnap was waiting behind her with a vole in his maw.
"Sorry," Patchpaw mrrowed with a nervous chuckle, stepping to the side to allow the tom inside the nursery.
Patchpaw noticed the dawn patrol returning as she picked a crow from the fresh-kill pile. She sat and started to nip at it, figuring that Crowwatcher would be taking her out to train shortly after.
She wiped the remains of the crow from her paw and padded over to Crowwatcher who was cleaning his thick, sun bleached pelt.
"Snakepaw and Silverpaw are already out hunting. I want you to head toward the marsh and catch something too. You can say hi if you meet them out there, but don't linger for too long."
Patchpaw listened to Crowwatcher, giving a nod and bounding toward the clan exit. She could still feel the crow settling in her stomach, so she forced herself to slow down as she made her way to the pine forest.
She walked lightly, over-exaggerating her steps to keep the mud and dirty snow from sticking to her white pelt.
She decided to take the long way around to get to the marsh so she'd cover more ground in her search for prey. She kept her head high as she passed the stream border.
The lingering ThunderClan scent was stale and beginning to fade. She took a moment to mark the border, rubbing against the outer pine trees that lined where the pine forest ended and the rocky stream started.
Continuing on her way, she caught a glimpse of the bridge. A group of cats were gathered there and curiosity got the best of Patchpaw.
She made her way toward them. Once she got closer she was able to make out who the cats were. Twigrush, Rednose, Silverpaw and Snakepaw were sitting together with a pile of prey in front of them.
Snakepaw stood and lifted a mouse from the pile. Silverpaw then grabbed his catch, too, and the warriors lifted the remaining prey in their maw and under their chin.
It looked like a lot of fresh kill, but most of the prey was skinny and nothing more than skin on bones.
Determined to feed her clan, Patchpaw bounded off in the opposite direction toward the marsh.
With slippery mud under her feet, Patchpaw kept herself positioned low to the ground. The marsh was usually flooded with frogs and toads, with the occasional lizard.
But now, any type of prey was scarice. ShadowClan couldn't afford to be picky, either. Prey was prey, and even the skinniest lizard was enough to keep a warrior alive for a day longer.
With newleaf approaching, all clans could expect their prey to return and the hardships of leaf-bare to be over.
But despite the melting snow, there were no signs of prey returning. The forest was still quiet, and any remaining snow was left untouched. Patchpaw's hunt would reflect this, too, as she hadn't found a single trace of prey.
Returning back to camp empty-pawed would be disappointing, not just to Crowwatcher, but to the members of the clan that rely on the warriors and apprentices to feed them.
Brackencall, ShadowClan's only elder, didn't leave his den most days. Under his matted fur he was visibly thin.
The thought bothered Patchpaw enough to sit up and draw a paw over her face in a self-soothing gesture.
Straightening her whiskers and flattening her face fur, she stood and began her journey back to camp.
She figured there was no use lolling around the forest in hopes to find prey that wasn't there, and she'd at least find something to occupy herself with back at camp.
The first thing Patchpaw noticed when she entered the camp clearing was the state of the fresh-kill pile.
Guilt struck her as she recalled the crow that she, without hesitation, took for herself before she left to hunt.
She was unable to bring more prey back to make up for what she'd eaten, and the prey pile was limited to what Snakepaw, Silverpaw, Rednose and Twigrush had brought back.
Snakepaw, who was sitting next to the apprentices' den, beckoned her over with a paw. She walked over with a skip in her step before settling next to him, laying on the ground with her paws tucked under her long fur.
She started to groom the fur on his back, but pulled away when Snakepaw flinched.
"What's wrong?" Patchpaw mewed, concern in her eyes. Snakepaw gave her a quick glance then averted his gaze. "Silverpaw attacked me for scaring away a squirrel by accident. He didn't mean to claw me, but the pressure of his paws on my back made his claws prick my skin."
Patchpaw could tell Snakepaw was forcing himself to be calm. He was way more upset than he was letting himself pressed her pelt against his and touched her muzzle to his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sure he didn't mean to scratch you, but you did get hurt regardless." She gave the tom a lick on the shoulder. Snakepaw looked at her appreciatively.
"I don't understand why Silverpaw is so.. Aggressive," his voice lingered a bit on the last word.
"A warrior would never throw themselves at a clanmate for a mistake like that. I should tell Twigrush." Patchpaw felt her pelt bristle as Snakepaw spoke.
"That will only delay his training, not make him a better warrior." Patchpaw lifted her head and looked around the clearing as she thought.
"Maybe you can talk to Elmstar and get to know Silverpaw a bit better? He's the closest thing Silverpaw has to a father, he might understand why he behaves the way he does."
Snakepaw seemed satisfied with her response. "I'll talk to him after the last hunting patrol. I have a feeling they'll want as many cats hunting as possible, and we're not excluded from that."