Chap 70

A grunt escapes Ashfur as the grey tom slowly rises from his nest, the increasing noise of the clan getting up around him cutting his slumber short. His muscles ache, but he forces himself to stand before vigorously shaking out his pelt. An action he almost immediately regrets as his muscles all but scream up in painful protest at their sudden usage. Still, through a quiet hiss under his breath, the blue eyed tom soon pads out of the warrior den, greeted by the rising sun. The rays radiate a pleasant warmth onto Ashfur's pelt, alongside the surprisingly mild temperature upon the breeze. Perhaps only a lucky day… or with a bit of hope the beginning of the end of leafbare. That would be a welcome change of pace. The fresh-kill pile is looking somewhat meager, most of his clanmates thin, Ashfur realises after a brief look around. If leafbare ends soon, Thunderclan will have weathered it decently well this year still. There was little real hunger in the clan as far as he could tell. Newleaf… a slight shadow arises to loom over the somewhat hopeful thoughts. Hawkfrost, whatever he has planned is meant to happen when leafbare finally subsides. Ashfur lets his paws guide him towards the fresh-kill pile absentmindedly. He still doesn't know how to feel about the Riverclan tom. He has helped him, but it all reeks so very much of conspiracy… Perhaps Talon is correct, yet at the same time Hawkfrost's presence has not entirely been unpleasant. He shakes his head before picking up a thrush for himself. Pointless driving himself crazy over it now, his sleep depraved self has yet to truly come to. Hawkfrost and Brambleclaw train together. Stands to reason, they would at least be roughly equally strong as fighters. If Ashfur can best one of them, he can best the other. Feeling every single movement in his limbs clearly as he lazily makes his way over to a spot of the camp's clearing onto which the sun shines, only to plop down and begin pulling the feathers off his piece of prey, he can not help but wonder… How far has he actually come in his goal? He'd need to see Brambleclaw fight to get any measure of the tabby's ability. Better yet, manage to get him to spar with Ashfur. Is he the equal of Tigerstar's sons yet? How far behind does he remain? With all the training he's gone through he should be catching up slowly, right? Hopefully soon…

Ashfur barely notices when several of his clanmates have the same idea, settling down near him, in the warming light, before her voice hits his ears. Ceasing his plucking for a moment and gritting his teeth behind closed lips, his right ear tuns towards it. He realises only now that his brother Cloudtail and Brightheart have lain down beside him to share a meal, sharing a few words every few bites, but past them he hears Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw. The fierce sting flaring up in his chest, Ashfur swallows hard, almost swallowing a feather in the process, spitting the plumage out instead. He can't well make out the words, but the sound, warm, caring… The grey furred tom catches himself at the last moment, keeping his paw from rising up and clutching his chest, opting to put it firmly on the little bird's wing instead and placing his other front paw over it. Winding vines of thorns, constricting around his heard, squeezing it nigh the point of bursting, the thorns digging in deep into it, bleeding it for what little worth it holds, that'd be the only way he could describe the sensation. After a few moments of trying to steady himself without seeming conspicuous, he slowly leans down again and proceeds to pull the feathers off his fresh-kill. It's worse. He's certain of it now. It was always bad, but I certainly was not this severe when it all started. It's getting worse and worse, bit by bit as the moons pass. His pace remains slow and steady, pulling a few feathers from the thrush at a time, meticulously, trying to focus as well as he can on it, if only to faze out everything else around him, faze out her, them. His empty stomach growls and contracts, but little of his hunger remains right now. Ashfur must eat. He can't keep up his draining nights without some sustenance, but it's all but bland as he finally ventures the first bite out of the plump little avian's breast. This can't go on… it won't! He must be getting close to his goal, he has to! Training with Bloodclan and the Dark Forest at night, training a talented apprentice and hunting at day, it needs to be doing something for him. It HAS to! The sooner he can prove it, the sooner Lionpaw becomes a warrior, the sooner his achievements as a warrior outshine Brambleclaw's, the better. Maybe he could convince Thistleclaw to let him spar against Hawkfrost soon, to get a measure of where he's at… Or maybe Hawkfrost's nebulous plan succeeds. One or the other must succeed.

A bump into his side lets the Thunderclan warrior look up, torn from his thoughts abruptly to be met by the grinning face of his foster sibling.

"That hungry, Ashfur? I thought the role of family glutton was safely in my paws."

Cloudtail's whiskers twitch in amusement. Slightly dumbfounded, Ashfur fails to realise his brother's meaning, until in his next chew, he hears, feels the snapping, like several tiny branches breaking. With a small huff, he looks down to confirm. He has in his absentmindedness bitten clean through the small chest bones, eating them alongside the meat. With a mildly annoyed expression, Ashfur swallows, feeling the sharp little bone splinters on their way down.

"I guess I'm just a bit in thoughts. Lionpaw will have his assessment before too long and good as he might be as a fighter, I still need to get him to train his hunting some more. He can be… difficult to motivate to do anything other than showing his prowess in battle."

"Stubborn on doing things his way? Sounds like an apprentice I once knew."

Turning his head, Ashfur sees Dustpelt stretching himself, glancing over with amused eyes. Scoffing, Ashfur rolls his eyes at his former mentor.

"I still think I would have gotten that mouse better from above. Suppose I wasn't a perfect apprentice myself, was I?"

Dustpelt shakes his head, leisurely padding over to the blue eyed warrior with a mild chuckle.

"Perfect? Starclan, no. But that did not stop you from making me proud. In the end, you passed your assessment, as I knew you would, and no cat would deny that Thunderclan is glad to have you amongst it's warriors."

"Oh? Are we getting stories now of Ashpaw being difficult?"

Cloudtail smirks mischievously. Ashfur shoots back a sharp grin, his tail tapping in fake annoyance.

"Are we discussing disobeying our mentors, Cloudtail? I think I'll win that debate. I think I can remember a fair few times where…"

Ashfur lingers on his last words, returning an equally mischievous look to his adopted kin. His whiskers twitching, Cloudtail quickly shakes his head, still amused but visibly somewhat alert not to provoke anything else being said.

"Alright, maybe we don't do that. I may have had a… lapse of judgment here or there…"

"I'll say. And brave to imply you don't anymore."

Breatheart purrs amused at her mate, Cloudtail's fuzzy pelt fluffing up flustered. Ashfur and Dustpelt both chuckle at the white furred tom's embarrassment. Brightheart turns her head over towards Ashfur, her neck fluff cosily nestled against her cheek, her one emerald eye shining with well-meaning warmth.

"Lionpaw looks up to you, Ashfur. That's been clear since the day you were made his mentor. If you give him the chance, he won't let you down. He enjoys challenges. Why don't you take him for a test assessment? He might take better to that than just going hunting."

Ashfur lets out a small thoughtful hum, looking down at his paws, before raising his gaze to the scarred she-cat. It is not difficult to see how Cloudtail came to choose her, despite all that happened to her to hold such warmth, such care for her clanmates. He chose well. As much as a deep respect for this former denmate of his when they were apprentices arises in Ashfur, more so does he feel joy for his sibling, currently still rubbing the side of his head. Some jealousy, certainly, but joy all the same. The words of Ashfur's clanmates has pushed aside the piercing sting somewhat.

"Perhaps. It is certainly worth a try. Thank you, Brightheart. I feel like I'll have the chance to find out soon enough…"

The grey tom turns his head towards the apprentice den, Brackenfur emerging with Hollypaw bounding after the experienced warrior. Once some of them are up, the rest are soon to spring forth, Lionpaw well included. Foxpaw steps out next, stretching herself before looking over her shoulder back into the den. Briefly, Ashfur cracks a small smile once more. Ferncloud's kits are growing up so fast… before long they too will have their assessments. It only then dawns on him and the smile vanishes, as he observes what Foxpaw had been waiting for stepping out of the den. He'd been too distracted by the brief and pleasant talk to notice that Squirrelflight had gotten up to fetch her apprentice. Shaking her pelt out after stepping out of the narrow apprentice den, Squirrelflight's dark ginger fur looks like brilliantly dancing flames in the sunlight. The warmth Ashfur had been so grateful for begins to pearl off of him like dew off a feather, the sting returning mercilessly. A small and quiet, yet still noticeable wince escapes Ashfur, pulling his eyes away and back to the half-eaten thrush. He shakes his head violently as Dustpelt's tail taps his snout.

"Stop it, Ashfur. Don't tell me you're still hung up on that. You need to let it go at some point."

Dustpelt's voice is firm, but not without care as he looks down onto his former apprentice, pulling his tail back. His ears folded flatly against his skull, Ashfur shoots a glare up at the dark brown tabby.

"Like Whitestorm let go of Brindleface? I remember sitting vigil for my mother, I do not recall seeing my father there that night. Is that how that is meant to go? It's no longer there so stop caring?"

Dustpelt shakes his head.

"No, of course not, Ashfur. But you are only hurting yourself and for what? She chose Brambleclaw. She has kits now. If ever there was a time to still change this, it has passed by now, you must see that…"

Ashfur scoffs, the tip of his tail tapping against the ground.

"Easy for you to say, you've had Ferncloud at your side from the very start, you have your own kits… third litter now, is it?"

Dustpelt's eyes narrow at Ashfur's cold words, but takes a deep breath before answering in an attempt to calm himself.

"Mousebrain… You've never even tried finding someone else. What about Hazeltail?"

Ashfur rolls his eyes and looks back down at his fresh-kill

"I have only respect for Hazeltail, but nothing even remotely like that. She's fine, I reckon, a good fighter, clearly, but not… it! I won't feign love where there is none, Dustpelt. Neither of us would emerge happy from that. I… won't do that to a clanmate. I don't think I could."

Ashfur's voice trails off, his heavy heart sounding in his words for once. Dustpelt shakes his head, letting out a deep breath.

"Stubborn as ever…"

"Oh, give him some room you lump of fur!"

Cloudtail places his tail onto Ashfur's shoulder, the sheer amount of fluff veiling much of the white warrior off from Ashfur's view as he turns his head to look at his foster sibling.

"You'll get through this. You're not alone and you've faced tougher battles than this."

As Dustpelt, with a spat tsk and bristled neckfur, turns and leaves, Ashfur looks back over to his brother, finding Cloudtail shooting a mild glare after Dustpelt, before returning his adoptive kin's gaze.

"Some wounds take time, I guess. Take what time you need. As I said, you've had tougher battles than this. You'll get through. You always do in the end, badgers, dogs, warriors… You've always gotten back up."

A small scoff escapes Ashfur, but his kin's words do draw forth a small smile from the grey warrior.

"Very different kind of battles, those were. But I hope you're right. I'm trying my hardest. Though I know my words to Dustpelt were harsh. I care a lot for him, for Ferncloud, their kits. I did promise her I'd protect them and I have no intention of breaking that promise."

"No cat doubts that, Ashfur. You are loyal to your kin and that I am grateful for too."

Brightheart's mew are calm, before she leans over, gently bumping her head into Cloudtail's thick neck fur.

"He can use someone looking over him from time to time, keep him out of trouble."

Ashfur chuckles as Cloudtail slightly puffs up at Brightheart's words in a feeble attempt to simulate offense, but almost immediately melts into her touch, resting his head over hers.

"As well as I can when the chance presents itself. We are indeed kin, I've never seen it any other way, ever since Firestar brought him to us. And I know Ferncloud would say the same."

After a few heartbeats, Brightheart pulls away from her mate, who tries to follow still, resulting in him nearly flopping over onto his side. A look of amusement and warmth descends from Brightheart's emerald eye to Cloudtail, who's shifting his paws outward for stability to keep from falling over, before sending back a wink and grin to his mate, his whiskers twitching. Following a gentle swat to Cloudtail's face, Brightheart turns her gaze back to Ashfur, holding a tinge more seriousness.

"Dustpelt is right about one thing though. You are hurting, Ashfur. No warrior can win a fight by letting themself get hurt constantly. Please find it in you to stop it somehow. Only you can."

Letting out a sigh, the grey tom looks off to the side, eyes dimmed between reminiscence and contemplation.

"I know. I'm trying. I… am in fact trying to work on it currently."

Almost grateful for it, Ashfur spots a bolt of bight ginger fur bounding over towards them. Leaving the rest of his fresh-kill, he gets up.

"Seems we're out of time for long talks. But know that there is hope, I think. And that I very much consider the advice you gave me earlier. It might just help me deal with this a little easier."

Nigh on cue, Lionpaw skips to a halt before Ashfur, eagerly beaming up at his mentor.

"Up already, then? Suppose we should begin for today."

His voice sounding with more warmth, he addresses the young tom, reaching out and giving Lionpaw a pat on the head. It is received with a grin, before the apprentice ducks away under it.

"Yeah! What are we training today? The time Firestar took me training he showed me a move and I really want to try it out."

"Think you'll beat me yet?"

Ashfur gives a grin, one of his fangs flashing in the sunlight.

"Perhaps we'll give it a try some other day. I have something planned for today. Your assessment is slowly drawing closer, so perhaps we should see how well you'll be doing when the time comes. We'll have our own little assessment today. Think you can impress me?"

Flashing a competitive smirk, Lionpaw nods.

„I'll show you that I'm ready to be a warrior already! You know I am."

„I know you can fight like one. But if the warriors can't provide for the clan, there is nothing to fight for. Show me you can and MAYBE I'll put in a good word with Firestar for you. Ready?"

Ashfur begins padding towards the camp's exit, giving a quick grateful glance over at Brightheart, before observing his bounding apprentice from the side.

„Always! But when I manage to get it done faster than any other apprentice, do we get to do some fighting practice later as well?"

Ashfur chuckles at Lionpaw's eagerness, though some of the sting in his chest still strikes him with discomfort each beat of his heart.

„If, not when. But perhaps. You said Firestar showed you something? I don't think I ever trained with our leader myself… could be interesting."

Approaching the tunnel out of camp, forcing the two cats closer together to pass through at the same time, Ashfur's nose twitches. A scent, like cold iron. He hums as the two emerge from the other side, out in the forest.

„You need to fix your bedding sometime, Lionpaw. Still got thorns, it seems."

Lionpaw rolls his eyes, the tip of his tail flicking at the pesky comment.

„You're one to talk. You got to fix yours too."

With a hum, Ashfur turns his head towards the young tom, in clear displeasure at both the response and it's tone, souring the merely passible mood underneath his only falfway truthful enthusiasm further, before finding that Lionpaw is giving Ashfurs right flank a focused, uncharacteristically contemplative look. Following the apprentice's eyes, Ashfur mutters a quiet curse under his breath. The light shines through the still barren branches above in just the right angle to let a few droplets of blood sparkle on newly formed scabs through his pelt. He thought he'd managed to lap his wounds clear of further bleeding before he got out of his nest… The grey warrior shakes his head and sighs

„Fair, I suppose… anyway, let's start at the ancient oak. Stalking in the undergrowth and climbing. Remember, I will mostly just observe and remain hidden. This is entirely for you to accomplish."

Lionpaw takes longer to respond than usual, a question almost visibly forming in his face, before shaking his head dismissively.

„Alright… race you there?"

Turning from unusually calm to excited again within just a few words, Lionpaw looks at Ashfur with a far too certain glint in his eye. Ashfur lets out a deep breath, but lowers himself, ready for a dash.

„Fine. But no going straight through bushes again this time. I won't be the one to explain it to Leafpool if you poke an eye out on a bramble."

Lionpaw moves silently through the undergrowth, moving with more grace now that there is no snow anymore. Ashfur observes from amidst the branches of a nearby tree, his pelt hiding him reasonably well among the still leafbare paled bark. A bird hops near the tall risen roots of an old tree, Lionpaw moving mostly on the base of scent and sound, keeping his bright pelt well out of sight as he slowly stalks closer to his would be prey. The apprentice is slower in his approach than some others would be, but not without skill. Ashfur would be lying to himself if he didn't admit to being mildly impressed. It remains blatant that his apprentice's hunting skills pale in comparison to his talent for battle, but so far it seems… acceptable. Not great, but as things are going, it appears Lionpaw would pass his assessment when the time comes. A revelation that does relieve some of the grey mentor's worries. He'll be fine. Lionpaw will receive his warrior name before too long. He will easily become one of Thunderclan's strongest warriors. Ashfur already kept his promise, making him the strongest cat in the apprentice den. Despite his worries, it seems he has done a decent job of mentoring this young cat after all.

Ashfur's observation of Lionpaw is interrupted as something moves in his peripheral vision. Turning his head, he looks out past the treeline, to the shore of the lake, narrowing his eyes in displeasure. The tall, gangly frames of twolegs wandering along the grounds. What would they be doing here? His attention thoroughly captured, the grey tom moves gracefully among the branches, with little effort leaping from one tree to the next, getting closer to the outer treeline. Twolegs rarely venture about in the territories in such cold weather, even with the snow gone… then again, he doesn't usually pay them much mind. Few warriors would as long as they don't really bother the clan. The shore line doesn't offer much prey, far too open terrain, at least for the way Thunderclan hunts.

Ashfur's curiosity is about to sink, his mind for a moment already turing back to his apprentice, as it is suddenly rekindled. One of the twolegs gets lower to the ground, digging in the tough, muddy ground. It should not interest Ashfur this much, twolegs more often than not act incomprehensibly, and yet… Something about this does not sit well with the blue eyed warrior. Something about this brings back the image of his nighttime encounter with Hawkfrost. Digging along the shoreline…

A loud chirp and the flapping of wings brings the warrior to snap his head back towards the old tree, at a bit of distance but still well within vision of his elevated position. Lionpaw raises his head, even from afar visibly pleased and possibly somewhat relieved, as the bird hangs from from his jaws. Another successful kill on his little mock assessment,valuable fresh-kill cought for the clan. With a hum, Ashur sends one last look to the twolegs, a sinking feeling in his gut, before shaking his head and returning his attention to where it should be. Can't do anything about twolegs doing twoleg things… all he can do is report the sighting to Firestar, for what little that will do.

Unaware of another pair of blue eyes observing him bounding back, deeper into the forest over the winding, bare branches, Ashfur gets back to observing his apprentice's hunt. With the grey warrior disappearing from view, Hawkfrost's gaze returns to the twolegs, his tabby pelt letting him blend in seamlessly, crouched low among the waterside reeds. Right on time, just as predicted. A smirk flashes across the Riverclan warrior's muzzle. Not long now. Soon, very soon…