Vinestep's ginger-and-white fur shone in the sunlight, sleek and well-groomed, as he sat in front of Rootpaw, his tail wrapped around his big white paws. There was worry flashing in his eyes, and Rootpaw was trying to figure out what was wrong. Something was clearly bothering his mentor. Is it me? he thought uneasily, his claws pricking the ground. Does he want to switch mentors?

"Rootpaw," Vinestep meowed, "I want you to go out with Brookfeather and Dovepaw today."

Rootpaw tilted his head. He didn't mind that—Brookfeather was snappish, but she had saved his life, and he got along fine with Dovepaw. But why was Vinestep pushing him to another cat? "Why?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Yellowheart is ill," Vinestep said grimly. Rootpaw recalled that Yellowheart was Vinestep's mate, and she had recently learned she was expecting his kits. "I want to spend some time with her. I asked Oakfire if he'd be willing to take you for the time being, but he's busy with Pearpaw, and it'd be a conflict of interest to have you to train with Coalshadow. Tinyfire's training is too advanced for you, since Flamepaw and Lightningpaw are so close to becoming warriors, and Foxstorm is busy with Bearpaw."

Rootpaw sighed. He knew that none of the mentors wanted anything to do with him. He didn't even know how he got Brookfeather to agree. But it would be fun training with Dovepaw, at least. The black-and-white tom flicked his tail and nodded obediently to his mentor. Vinestep's lips were pressed in a frown, a silent apology.

"Will Yellowheart be okay?" Rootpaw asked.

"To be honest with you, Rootpaw," Vinestep mewed, his voice low, "I honestly don't know." With dismay in his amber eyes, he turned on his heel and headed into the nursery. Rootpaw watched as Flintstar's kits, Winterkit and Frostkit, scampered out of the brambles and watched Vinestep with keen curiosity. Rootpaw wanted to go over and talk to the kits, but a yowl from Brookfeather made him freeze in his tracks.

"Rootpaw!" The brown-and-white tabby had exited the warriors' den and was staring at him. "Are you just going to stand there all day? We have work to do!"

Rootpaw scrambled over to Brookfeather. Dovepaw was next to her, her silver pelt sleek and recently groomed where the sun hit it just right. Rootpaw tasted the air, the greenleaf scents fresh on the wind. Brookfeather's attitude wouldn't get to him, not when it was such a beautiful day, he noted as the sun cast its golden dapples on the trees outside of the hollow, and the warm breeze tickled his fur. Brookfeather exited the camp through the bramble tunnel, Dovepaw on her heels. Rootpaw followed them, his tail streaming behind him.

Brookfeather exited the camp, squeezing through the tunnel, and Rootpaw watched nervously, making sure Dovepaw wasn't too overwhelmed. She was still young and hadn't been training as long as Rootpaw had. But the she-cat kept pace easily, and it was Rootpaw's turn. He burst through the tunnel and followed his denmates. Dovepaw and Brookfeather were waiting for him as he emerged from the hole and shook his coat out, giving Brookfeather a gentle gaze. The brown-and-white tabby snorted.

Rootpaw brushed against Brookfeather and into the forest. He focused his gaze on the dazzling green leaves. "What are we going to do?" he asked Brookfeather.

The older warrior flicked her tail. "We're going to hunt," she said. "We'll go near the stream in the ShadowClan border—no cat's tried there for a couple of days. Come on and keep up. Don't think I'm saving you if you fall in that stream again."

Rootpaw's whiskers twitched with amusement. He doubted Brookfeather would ever let him live his near-drowning down. Shrugging his shoulders, he followed the older warrior as she weaved through the forest. Dovepaw was on her heels, excitement glittering in her bright blue eyes. Rootpaw bounded over to her and kept pace.

"How is Brookfeather treating you?" Rootpaw asked the young apprentice. Is she nearly as short-tempered with you as she is with me?

Dovepaw gazed at Rootpaw. "I know she can be a bit short-tempered," she said, sympathy in her eyes, "but she really is a good mentor." She butted her head against Rootpaw's shoulder. "She really cares, even if she doesn't—or can't—show it!"

Rootpaw brushed his tail across Dovepaw's shoulders. "I'm glad she's so good to you," he mewed softly. He watched as Dovepaw's elegant ears pricked, and the soft twinkle in her blue eyes. She's stunning. And she's clearly strong if she can put up with Brookfeather.

"Hey, she rescued you from drowning!" Dovepaw batted Rootpaw playfully with her small paws. Rootpaw purred in amusement.

"Should I get myself drowned again so she's nicer to me?" Rootpaw asked innocently.

"I think she'd let you drown if you do it again!" Dovepaw purred. "Don't put it to the test, though. That means I'd have to go after you instead of her, and even though I can fish, I can't swim."

"Could always learn." Rootpaw touched Dovepaw's shoulder with his nose.

Brookfeather let out a snarl that made Rootpaw and Dovepaw both stop in their tracks. They both looked at her blazing green eyes as she tossed her angular face over her shoulder.

"Can you two stop chattering like a pair of doves?" she hissed. Rootpaw tried not to chuckle at Brookfeather's unintended reference, and even Dovepaw bit her lip. "I can smell a thrush, and if you two yowl any louder, it's not going to be there any longer!"

Both apprentices nodded quickly.

"Dovepaw, try and catch that thrush," Brookfeather ordered, nodding her head towards the roots of a tall birch tree. "Rootpaw, you'd better try a few fox-lengths down from here. I don't want Dovepaw being distracted."

Rootpaw lowered his head in acknowledgement of Brookfeather's orders. He mouthed, "Good luck!" at Dovepaw before turning on his heel and trotting near the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan. He tasted the air, trying to make out a scent for prey. Just as he was able to distinguish shrew in the air, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful blooming blue flower on the opposite side of the stream. Wow… he thought, the thrush momentarily forgotten. What kind of flower is that?

He glanced around, wondering if Brookfeather was watching. It was ShadowClan territory, that was true, but if he picked it, and then got off… no cat would notice, right? The stream was narrow enough to leap across. All he'd do was grab the plant and leave. Perhaps it was an herb that Ashenhawk could use. Rootpaw approached the bank of the stream, shuddering as he stared at the water. He wouldn't ever forget his near-drowning in the lake, but to his relief, the water in the stream rippled softly, not treacherously like the lake. With his powerful back paws, he leaped from one side of the stream to the other. The moment he landed on the other streambank, the scent of ShadowClan immediately overwhelmed him.

Where's that flower? He glanced around, searching for the midnight-blue flower that had gained his attention. There! He spotted it, right near the roots of a massive pine tree. He bounded over to the flower and started to nip it at the stem. Brookfeather might be furious, but he'd catch something for her, and she would forget all about it. What wishful thinking. But I need this. He recognized the flower as he studied it closely. It was known as the night phlox—symbolizing harmony and unity. He'd give it to Dovepaw, as proof of their friendship. Just as he finished nibbling off the stem and held it in his paws, he heard a furious howl. He looked up over his shoulder and gasped as a broad-shouldered white cat headed straight towards him.

Rootpaw tried to scramble away, but the tom landed right on top of him, sending him to the ground. There was kit-fluff around the tom's cheeks, and he still held the youthful expression of a kitten. He must be recently apprenticed! Indignation boiled in Rootpaw's blood. And he still managed to pin me down!

"What are you doing on ShadowClan territory?" the white-furred cat hissed, pressing his face towards Rootpaw's cheek. Even though his voice was harsh, there was a flicker of fear in his amber eyes. This was a new apprentice who didn't know what he was doing. Rootpaw blinked gently at the tom, trying to show him that he wasn't a threat. It must've worked, because the tom gave him an uncertain frown, and the muscles in his shoulder relaxed, but he didn't get off him.

"I'm not stealing prey, if that's what you're thinking," Rootpaw told him. "Or planning an invasion."

The white tom sniffed. "You were picking a flower. Is it an herb? Were you stealing it?"

Rootpaw shook his head. "No, I don't know if it's an herb. It was just a pretty flower, and I know what it meant. It means unity."

The tension from the ShadowClan apprentice's muscles disappeared, and he got off Rootpaw. Rootpaw scrambled to his paws and shook out his fur. He glanced at where he had dropped the flower. The greenleaf wind was taking it away. Rootpaw gasped in horror.

"I need that flower!" he exclaimed. "We need to get it!"

The tom's eyes rounded in shock as Rootpaw chased after the flower. The ShadowClan apprentice followed him, and with a massive leap, he lunged himself forward. To Rootpaw's surprise, the tom grabbed the flower in his jaws and snapped it tight. He landed on the ground and spat it in front of Rootpaw. "There you go. I don't know why you're trespassing to steal flowers. You're out of your mind."

Rootpaw held the flower's stem down with his paw. "Thank you," he murmured, his heart alit with the fact that hi beautiful flower was now safe. He looked up and gazed at the tom. Still with the youthful look on his face, he had a thick white pelt, and although he was the same size as Rootpaw, his shoulders weren't nearly as broad and Rootpaw couldn't see the muscles beyond his thick pelt. "What's your name?"

"I'm Lightpaw," the white cat said, looking uncertain at telling a Clan cat his name. "Yours?"

"Rootpaw." The ThunderClan apprentice dipped his head. "Thanks for getting that flower for me. It's important."

Lightpaw frowned at him. "I should take you back to my camp."

"Why?" Rootpaw tilted his head. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

"You're trespassing." Lightpaw flicked his tail in irritation.

"Just to get the flower. I was going to go back across the stream." Rootpaw nodded to the slow-flowing stream behind him. "I mean no harm. Honestly."

Lightpaw shifted his paws uneasily. It was clear the tom was stuck between dragging Rootpaw back to camp or letting him go. Rootpaw didn't want to stay on ShadowClan territory any longer than he had to—but he knew that if Lightpaw felt his honor told him to bring him back to ShadowClan camp, he would go. I would do the same thing if it were a ShadowClan cat on my territory, wouldn't I? he thought to himself.

"You can go," Lightpaw said. He pricked his ears as both cats heard the crackling of ferns behind him. "Now, before one of my Clanmates sees you!" He shifted his weight to one side. "They'll either shred you for trespassing or shred me for not bringing you to camp."

"Okay." Rootpaw nodded. "Thanks, Lightpaw. For the flower, and for not turning me in. I won't forget this, I promise." He bent down and grabbed the midnight-blue flower from beneath his paws. With the flower still firmly in his mouth, he turned on his heel, waving his tail as a goodbye to Lightpaw before leaping the stream. He landed on ThunderClan territory and let out a sigh of relief. His ears immediately pricked as he heard pawsteps heading towards him.

Oh, no! Rootpaw thought inwardly. Not Brookfeather! He waited for the inevitable appearance of the brown-and-white tabby, but the cat who appeared beyond the brackens and brambles wasn't Brookfeather—it was her apprentice, Dovepaw. Dovepaw leaped over the brambles and padded over to Rootpaw, giving him a sniff.

"I thought I lost you," Dovepaw meowed. Her blue eyes narrowed as she gave Rootpaw another sniff. "And you smell like ShadowClan."

"Just a little directional error," Rootpaw meowed. He leaned over and dropped the flower near Dovepaw's ear. Dovepaw gave a mewl of surprise when Rootpaw leaned back and examined his work. The midnight-blue flower was a stark contrast against Dovepaw's light silver fur, but it brought out the blue in her eyes. "Stunning."

Dovepaw lifted her paw to touch the flower in her ear. "You picked this in ShadowClan territory?" she asked. "For me?"

Rootpaw shifted his paws. "I thought it'd look nice on you." Did he go too far? Maybe he was being too straightforward. "I can—"

"No." Dovepaw shook her head. She padded over to the stream and gazed down at herself. Rootpaw followed her as the silver she-cat studied her reflection in the slow-moving waters. A small smile spread on her face, the corners of her lips crinkling. "I like it."

"You do?" Rootpaw asked.

Dovepaw nodded. "I do. It's just like the color of my eyes, isn't it?" She turned and gazed at Rootpaw. "I'll treasure it as long as I can, I promise." Her whiskers twitched with amusement. "I may not be able to wear it all the time, but I'll keep it with me in my nest."

Rootpaw purred steadily. "If you lose it, I'll pick you a new one."

"I'd like that," Dovepaw mewed. "Sometimes Bearpaw gives me flowers, too. He likes picking them after we folded feather-flowers together." Her tail flicked as she turned her head over her shoulder. "Oh, no! The thrush! I have to go pick it up and bring it to Brookfeather. See you, Rootpaw!" With a mewl, Dovepaw plunged back into the ferns, her silver body disappearing into the throng of green. Rootpaw watched her go.

He glanced over the stream to see that Lightpaw was still staring at him. The tom hadn't moved from his spot. He saw everything, Rootpaw thought, feeling his ears turn red. He was sure that he would burst from embarrassment when he saw the ShadowClan apprentice's whiskers twitching.

"You like her, don't you?" Lightpaw asked him from across the stream.

Rootpaw's fur bristled. Then he allowed it to flatten as he replied calmly, "I do. I don't think there's a problem with that, do you?"

Lightpaw shrugged. "I just don't think I've ever seen a tom approach a she-cat like that. At least, not in ShadowClan."

"Surely things must be the same in ShadowClan as they are in ThunderClan," Rootpaw meowed, "just in the pines. You have warriors wanting to defend their Clans, apprentices training, queens nursing, elders telling stories, medicine cats treating patients." He tilted his head. "Am I wrong?"

Lightpaw was quiet for a long moment. Rootpaw wondered if he had said the wrong thing. Had he offended the dark tabby?

"I guess you're right," Lightpaw conceded. "But don't think I'll let you go so easily next time!" He fluffed out his dark tabby fur. Rootpaw purred in amusement and dipped his head to the enemy apprentice. Then he leaped into the forest and searched for Brookfeather and Dovepaw.

He tracked their scent until he reached the Sky Oak. Brookfeather was teaching Dovepaw how to stalk birds. Rootpaw's heart swelled when he remembered Vinestep teaching him the very same lesson—right at the Sky Oak. He walked over to Brookfeather and sat next to her. Brookfeather stared at him.

"Did you give Dovepaw that ridiculous flower?" she asked him.

"It's not ridiculous," Rootpaw defended himself. "It's pretty. And she looks pretty with it."

Brookfeather's green eyes widened for a faint moment. "She already folds enough feather-flowers with Bearpaw as it is," she argued. "And there's the amount of times she goes fishing." Then she shrugged. "Just don't do it again," she growled. "Dovepaw has to focus on her training, and you have to focus on yours." She turned to gaze at Dovepaw. "More strength in your back legs, Dovepaw! Do you expect the bird to fly to you and wait to be eaten?"

Dovepaw rolled her eyes at Rootpaw. Brookfeather's fur bristled. "Don't roll your eyes at me!"

Rootpaw stretched his paws out. When would Brookfeather ever calm down? Did she enjoy snapping at other cats? She did save me from drowning, he recalled. Maybe this is just a Brookfeather thing. He watched as Dovepaw gave a massive leap and landed on top of a patch of moss. What a great jump! Admiration for the silver she-cat swelled in Rootpaw's heart, and he glanced at Brookfeather, wondering if she could find something to complain about. The she-cat gave a sniff.

"Not too bad," she conceded.

"Not bad?" Dovepaw gazed at Brookfeather. "It was incredible!"

Brookfeather grunted, but Rootpaw could detect a tiny flash of pride in her green eyes. "Don't get too proud of yourself. It'll be your downfall."

The silver apprentice let out a sigh. "I'll try again."

"She's doing great," Rootpaw meowed to Brookfeather. "That must be because of your excellent training."

Brookfeather gave Rootpaw a long look from narrowed eyes. "I know what you're trying to do."

"What?" Rootpaw feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Exasperated, Brookfeather turned back to Dovepaw. "No, Dovepaw! Flex your shoulders more. There's no strength in your jump if your shoulders aren't flexed!"

Poor Dovepaw, Rootpaw thought. She's going to be a great warrior, though. I can tell. Sparks kindled inside of his heart into a blazing fire, full of warmth and affection. And maybe, just maybe… He focused his gaze on her bright blue eyes as she exchanged a glance with him when Brookfeather's attention was faltering for a moment. Maybe we could be something more.

Rootpaw shifted away from the training cats. The dense canopy above dappled the ground with patterns of light and shadow, creating a fusion of greens and browns that shimmered in the gentle breeze. The forest was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant birdcalls, but Rootpaw's mind was elsewhere, lost in the beauty of the woods.

As he wandered, his gaze was drawn to a flash of color on the forest floor. He paused, his ears perking up with curiosity. Nestled among the fallen leaves and twigs was a feather, unlike any he had seen before. It was long and slender, with an iridescent sheen that caught the light in a spectrum of colors. The feather's hues shifted from deep blues to vibrant purples and greens, creating an enchanting effect that mesmerized Rootpaw.

He approached the feather cautiously, as if afraid it might vanish if he moved too quickly. Gently, with the utmost care, he picked it up between his teeth and held it up to the light. The feather seemed to dance in his grasp, its colors more vivid against the backdrop of the forest. Rootpaw felt a surge of excitement as he examined the feather. It was a treasure, a rare find in the depths of the woods. He imagined the bird it must have come from, a creature of extraordinary beauty, soaring high above the treetops. The thought filled him with a sense of wonder and a deep appreciation for the natural world around him.

I don't want to lose this, he thought to himself. I want to see this, forever and ever. He had to bring it back to camp. But could he leave it in his den? No. He wouldn't put it past Pearpaw to take it out and toss it away. There must be some place in camp I can put this… He sprinted away from Brookfeather and Dovepaw. He'd meet up with them later.

Rootpaw, carrying the stunning feather delicately in his mouth, padded swiftly through the forest, his heart beating with the excitement of his new find. The woods were a familiar territory, yet every tree and bush seemed to hold a new secret, a potential hiding spot for his newfound treasure. But none of those would do. He wanted to keep it where he could see it, where it would be safe. As he made his way back to ThunderClan's camp, his mind raced with possibilities of where to keep his precious feather. He needed a place safe from the curious paws of his fellow Clanmates, somewhere he could visit and admire his collection in peace.

The forest transitioned into more familiar grounds as he neared the stone hollow that made up their camp. His mind, still abuzz with excitement, was focused on finding the perfect spot within the camp to safeguard his new treasure. As he entered the stone hollow, Rootpaw glanced around, assessing his options. The camp was bustling with activity, cats going about their duties, but his attention was drawn to a small, seemingly unused cave tucked away in a quiet corner of the hollow. It was partially concealed by a large boulder and a tangle of ferns, making it an easy spot to overlook.

Curiosity piqued, Rootpaw made his way towards the cave, slipping inside with a sense of anticipation. The interior was modest—a small, unadorned space that smelled faintly of earth and moss. The cave's walls were rough, with little crevices and nooks that seemed perfect for storing small items. A slender shaft of light pierced through a crack above, casting a serene glow inside the cave. This is it, Rootpaw thought, a surge of satisfaction filling him. It was an ideal place for his collection, a secret spot within the camp where he could keep his finds safe and admire them in solitude.

Gently, he set the feather down in one of the small crevices, ensuring it was secure and visible. The feather looked even more magnificent here, its colors vibrant in the soft light. Rootpaw took a moment to appreciate the sight, feeling a deep connection to the beauty of the natural world. Rootpaw backed out of the cave, carefully making sure no one had noticed his discovery. This cave, hidden within the stone hollow of ThunderClan's camp, would be his special place—a personal museum where he could keep his most cherished finds, each with its own story and memory.

He merged back into the camp life, his mind already wandering to the possibilities of what other treasures the forest might hold, waiting to be discovered and brought back to his secret trove.