The moonlight shone against the trees that crowded the ThunderClan camp as Pearpaw watched Ashenhawk climb out of camp and disappear into the forest. Pearpaw took a deep breath, thankful that she was gone. Now he could leave camp without being seen. He started to make his way towards the barrier around the camp, but winced as he recognized Falconheart, padding over to take his spot as the guard for the evening. Pearpaw lashed his tail in anger.
He had to think quickly. The gray tabby snapped his head towards the dirtplace tunnel. He wrinkled his nose. Gross, but it'll do. He crept across camp until he reached the tunnel towards the dirtplace. He squeezed his way through, his broad muscles raking the tips of the tunnel until he emerged into the dirtplace. Holding his breath, he quickly made for the forest beyond it and let out a sigh as he enjoyed the warm greenleaf wind against his pelt. With his paws striding across the forest floor, he crossed the gullies and rises in the forest until he reached the lakeshore. As long as he was three fox-lengths within the shore, he would be fine. WindClan wouldn't attack him.
Although I really don't want to run into Swiftstar. For the first time, Pearpaw was grateful for his gray tabby pelt. It didn't do him any favors in the forest where the foliage was green, but in the moonlight, it made him look like a shadow and hid him from sight. He crept across the lakeshore and quickened his pace, hoping that no cat saw him escape. Especially not Rootpaw. A shudder ran down his spine.
Pearpaw kicked up pebbles as he kept as close to the lake that he possibly could without being swept away by the waves. He didn't want to turn into Rootpaw. There was no one to rescue him from drowning—although, with a flash of confidence, he didn't think he'd fall victim to the waves as easily as Rootpaw did. He had managed to impress Snowpaw by swimming in the lake.
The scents of WindClan drifted towards him, and he snapped his head over to see a cat climbing the hills. They lifted their head and glanced around. Pearpaw froze, frightened that he was caught. But the cat twitched their ears and turned away, disappearing into the hills. Pearpaw let out a sigh and thanked StarClan before continuing on his journey. He recalled the trek that Flintstar had taken when he led the Clan to the island. It couldn't be hard—all he had to do was follow the lakeshore until he saw the branch that served as the bridge.
The tree finally came into view, its brown banks silhouetted by the moonlight. It was odd not to hear the murmurs of cats from the island or see their pelts swarming the tree as they crossed. Even the scent from the last Gathering was stale. Pearpaw leaped onto the roots of the tree and made his way down the tree until he reached the barrier of ferns around the island. He pushed through it and looked around, searching for the cat that had walked his dreams ever since he saw her.
She was there. She sat in the middle of the island, her thick white tail wrapped around her delicate, small paws. Her blue eyes—the same color as the lake—glittered with joy as she locked gazes with Pearpaw. She got to her paws and padded over to Pearpaw, brushing her pelt against his. Pearpaw purred loudly as her sweet scent drifted across his.
"I didn't think you'd come," Snowpaw confessed.
"Seriously?" Pearpaw gazed at her. "You're all I've been thinking about the last moon. How could I not come?"
Snowpaw grinned. "Did you go swimming while you were waiting for me?"
Pearpaw shook his head. "No. But this time, I really did fight off a fox! See?" He flexed his shoulder so Snowpaw could get a good look at the scar that was slowly forming there. Snowpaw's blue eyes widened as she looked down at the wound. For a moment, Pearpaw thought she would say she was proud of him, but she drew her tongue across his wound.
"You poor thing," she murmured. "Please tell me you didn't do it to impress me."
Pearpaw shook his head. No, but if it did impress you, I might do it. "No. A Clanmate of mine was in trouble." He wasn't lying this time, and he hoped Snowpaw would recognize that. Snowpaw didn't press him further. Pearpaw sat down next to her, wondering what he was here for. Were they going to talk all night? He wouldn't mind that. Or did she want to challenge him to something?
Snowpaw gazed at Pearpaw. "Do you know how to fish?" she asked.
Pearpaw shook his head. "No."
"Do you want to?" Snowpaw pressed. When Pearpaw didn't say anything, Snowpaw meowed, "Surely you can't rely on just forest prey forever. In leaf-bare, they'll all hide in their burrows, and what will you do then?"
"Won't the streams freeze?" Pearpaw challenged.
"Don't be cheeky." Snowpaw purred. "Come on, I'll teach you." She gestured with her long tail to Pearpaw and led him towards the island shore. Where I swam, Pearpaw recalled the night of the Gathering. Snowpaw sat down, wrapping her tail around her paws once more as she gazed intently at the water.
"What are you looking for?" Pearpaw asked.
"Shadows in the water," Snowpaw explained. "That means there's a fish nearby. When you see the shadow, flick your paw into where the fish will go, rather than where it is." She lifted her head and gazed at Pearpaw. "Make sense?"
Pearpaw nodded.
"I'll show you before you try," Snowpaw meowed. Once more, she focused her attention back to the lake. She was so focused, her ears angled, her blue eyes keen and focused, her white fur turned silver by the sheen of the moonlight. Pearpaw's breath was taken away by her beauty. In seconds, the water splashed, and Snowpaw lashed her paw out into the waves. She pulled it back out, and in between her claws was a sparkling silver fish. She finished it off with a bite to its neck and dropped it at Pearpaw's paws. "See? Easy?"
"Yeah…" Pearpaw meowed. "Easy."
Snowpaw's blue eyes glittered. "You try, then."
"All right." Pearpaw's tail flicked. He was going to show her that he was a great fisher, just like he was a great swimmer. He padded over to the water and glanced down at the waves, searching for the shadows Snowpaw had mentioned. When he saw a flicker of black against the waves, he remembered Snowpaw's advice. "Strike where you think the fish will be." He moved his paws a little further upstream and then lashed out just as quickly as Snowpaw had. His claws scratched an odd texture, and he arched them to sink them into the flesh. He pulled out what he had between his claws and recognized it as a fish. Ugh! Gross!
It was wet and slippery between his paws, and the texture made him recoil. He threw it on the ground, and Snowpaw bit down and killed it easily. Pearpaw shuddered as he stared at the unseeing fish, death in its eyes. Nausea climbed up his throat as the stench of the fish piled in his nostrils.
"I can't eat that," he groaned.
"Suit yourself," Snowpaw meowed, shrugging her shoulders. "But you're a pretty good fisher. You caught that on the first try! It took my sister so many tries until she finally got a minnow." She let out a purr. "We'll make a RiverClan cat out of you." She paused, her eyes swimming with confusion at the last words. "I didn't mean…"
Pearpaw touched his nose to Snowpaw's. "Don't worry," he meowed. "I understand." If he was a RiverClan cat, maybe… just maybe… No. I'm ThunderClan. This is the best I'm going to get. He didn't want to think about it. He pushed those thoughts aside and gazed at Snowpaw. He brushed his dark gray tabby coat against her. "I'm glad we're here, you know. I don't think I would've been able to handle it if I didn't see you again."
Snowpaw blinked twice at him. "Jaymoon asked me what happened that put such a big smile on my face," she confessed, shifting her paws.
The ThunderClan apprentice frowned, the greenleaf wind billowing through his pelt and running against his whiskers. "Did you tell him?"
She shook her white-furred head. "No," she said. "How could I?" She shifted her paws. "No one would be very happy with me if they knew."
The sand shifted beneath Pearpaw's feet as he meowed, "Yeah. My brother, Rootpaw, was being a little bit nosy, but he stopped asking questions when I told him it wasn't any of his business."
There was a pause. Then Snowpaw gazed gently at him. "Don't burn the bridges you have with your kin for me," she murmured. "It's not worth it."
"Are you kidding me?" Pearpaw's gaze burned into Snowpaw's fur. "You're worth everything."
The tip of Snowpaw's ears turned red and she looked away. Did I embarrass her? Pearpaw thought. But when she looked back at him, there was the same glow in her blue eyes that he had been used to. Maybe I just imagined it. Pearpaw's ears twitched as he dug his nose into Snowpaw's shoulder. Snowpaw purred loudly.
All he could see was Snowpaw in that moment. There was no island, there was no other scent except for theirs. She's such a stunning cat. If only she was in ThunderClan! His heart swelled and he padded over to the waves. No shadows. They were gone. He felt a pang of disappointment. He wanted to impress Snowpaw by catching another fish. But there were not any left.
"There aren't a lot near the island," Snowpaw explained when she saw what Pearpaw was looking at. "We probably scared the rest off by catching these two." She nodded her head towards the fish. "I'd say take one for the road, but I'm sure some nosy ThunderClan cats would ask what you were doing by the water."
Pearpaw lowered his head in silent agreement. His eyes trickled towards the half-moon, and his heart sank as he watched it dip down into the sky. Have we really been here that long? It seemed so short. He studied Snowpaw silently. And yet I don't want it to end.
Snowpaw stretched out her front legs and sighed, glancing at the moon. "I need to get back to camp before Graypaw or Jaymoon notice that I'm missing." Her tail whisked as she padded closer to Pearpaw. "When will I see you again?"
"Next half-moon?" Pearpaw suggested.
The RiverClan apprentice's blue eyes sparkled. "That work for me." She brushed her cheek against Pearpaw's, and he breathed in her scent. "Sweet dreams, Pearpaw." With that, she splashed into the waves near the island and plunged into the water. Pearpaw watched her move through the lake as if she was an otter, her sleek white fur soaked to the brim. Her pelt disappeared in the waters until Pearpaw could no longer see her. He hoped that she got to the lake shore safely.
His head was floating the entire journey back to camp, knowing that he would see her again. He leaped over the stream that carved the border with WindClan and tasted the air. He wanted to beat Ashenhawk home—she'd have questions for him if she saw him wandering on his own. The scents of greenleaf were thick in the air and the birdsong was silent as he saw the sun starting to rise. He couldn't make out Ashenhawk's scent. Did she get here before I did? The fur pricked uneasily on the back of his spine as he neared the stone hollow.
As quickly as he could, he forced himself through the barrier in the camp. He bounded through the camp and spotted the apprentices' den. Like a shadow moving through camp, he squeezed his way into the cave and spotted his nest, right next to Rootpaw's. He crept through the nests and settled down on the cold moss, wrapping his tail around his nose. He peered open his eyes, trying to figure out if Rootpaw was awake. But the black-and-white tom was snoring softly. Good, he thought. That means he can't ask me any questions.
The gray tabby fell into a sleep where a dream worth having was a dream that did not have to end.
Small but strong paws shoved him in the side. Pearpaw's eyes opened blearily and he winced as the strong shafts of sunlight hit his pupils. He let out a groan and turned his head to see Rootpaw staring at him. Concern blazed in his brother's yellow eyes, and Pearpaw scrambled to his paws.
"You've been sleeping since sunhigh," Rootpaw said. "Oakfire said you might be tired from fighting the fox, so we let you sleep in. But then he said to come wake you. You need to see how Yellowheart is doing!"
Pearpaw blinked, too dazed to reply. He simply nodded and let Rootpaw lead him out of the apprentices' den. They approached the bramble thicket, where Yellowheart was sitting, her paws tucked under her chest, her golden fur shining with dapples from the sun. Her eyes were bright and her fur was sleek and smooth. Pearpaw hadn't seen her when she was ill—she had been cooped up in the medicine den—but he guessed she looked better than he did now.
"And it's because of us," Pearpaw said, pinpointing the pride that pricked in his chest. "If it wasn't for us getting the coltsfoot, she'd be sick."
Rootpaw looked surprised, as if he hadn't thought of it that way. "Well, I mean, if you want to think that way, then yes. But I don't think it matters who got it, do you? She's better, and that's what's most important."
The gray tabby forced himself to give his brother a nod. Although it would be nice if Yellowheart thanked us, he thought wryly to himself. Whatever Rootpaw says, it was us who got her the herbs she needed.
"We'd better see if our mentors need us," Pearpaw said. "Is Brookfeather still training you?" He gazed at his brother, wondering how he was doing with Brookfeather. It was no secret to Pearpaw - or the rest of ThunderClan—that Brookfeather tolerated no nonsense. That included Rootpaw's wandering and flower-collecting.
Rootpaw shrugged. "She's not that bad. I like to think I can help her with Dovepaw." There was a softness in his words and a gentle glow in his sun-colored eyes as he spoke about the silver-furred apprentice. Pearpaw arched his claws and remembered what Bearpaw said to him. He opened his mouth, about to say something to his brother, but wired his jaws shut. How would he feel if Rootpaw chastised him about Snowpaw?
Not my problem, Pearpaw thought. "Where is Oakfire?" He glanced around, searching for his sleek-furred, brown-and-white mentor. When he couldn't spot him in the clearing, he frowned. Is he disappointed that I slept in today? He couldn't help it. He had been with Snowpaw all night—he had been tired.
"Maybe you can come with me and Brookfeather," Rootpaw suggested when Pearpaw couldn't find his mentor. Pearpaw shrugged. He didn't want to miss a day of training, and if Oakfire wasn't there, he'd take the second best. As Rootpaw finished speaking, Pearpaw looked up to see Brookfeather approaching them.
"Where's Dovepaw?" Rootpaw asked.
Brookfeather looked over her shoulder. The silver she-cat was sharing a fish with her brother, Bearpaw, who brushed against his sister's side. The two siblings chuckled at something that they were saying.
"Dovepaw!" Brookfeather yowled.
Dovepaw scrambled to her paws. "Coming!" she exclaimed. She touched her nose to Bearpaw's forehead. "I bet you'll never catch a bream like I do. Let's make some feather-flowers when I come back, okay?"
Bearpaw nodded. "Okay."
"Ready, Rootpaw?" Brookfeather asked the black-and-white tom when Dovepaw joined them.
Rootpaw nodded.
Brookfeather glared at Pearpaw. "Well, scurry on. I'm sure your mentor is waiting for you."
"He doesn't know where he is," Rootpaw mewed. "Can he come with us?"
Brookfeather let out an over-the-top, exaggerated groan. Dovepaw chuckled, but cleared her throat and pressed her lips when Brookfeather shot her a dark glare. Then she turned and stared at Pearpaw. "I have three rules for apprentices who go with me. Don't get in the way, don't irritate me, and obey my orders. Got it?"
Pearpaw's claws arched and dug in the ground. Brookfeather was acting like she was a senior warrior! Didn't she know she was just two seasons older than he was? But he said nothing. Brookfeather was a warrior, and he didn't want to irritate her. He'd find himself in Flintstar's den, possibly under Coalshadow's disapproving glare. He gave Brookfeather a stiff nod but figured out he'd find some way to ditch her during the session. No cat could complain if he was hunting for his Clan.
The brown-and-white tabby gave a stiff nod and left the camp, her fur a blur as she burst through the ferns. Dovepaw was right after her, and Rootpaw raced against her, their pelts brushing. Pearpaw snorted in irritation at how close they were but shook his head. He had Snowpaw, a cat prettier, smarter, and braver than Dovepaw was. He followed them and exited the stone hollow, watching Brookfeather's every step as she took them through a winding rocky path in the forest until they reached a patch of sedges.
Brookfeather gave the sedge a nod. "There should be something in there. See if you can spot anything."
Pearpaw held back a sigh. Hunting in sedges? Was I just recently apprenticed? Dovepaw might have been, but I wasn't. And Rootpaw… Rootpaw was staring intently at the fern. He's fine being ordered around by a cat barely older than he is? Brookfeather just left the nursery when we were born! She's not a senior warrior, and he's being treated like he's the same age and level as Dovepaw. How is he all right with this?
A burning anger started to fizzle through him. He'd show these three cats that this was too easy for him. He tasted the air and made out the musky, sharp tang of a mouse. Dropping into the hunter's crouch, he approached the sedge, brushing against Dovepaw. Dovepaw mewled in confusion, and Pearpaw stiffened, wondering if her mew alerted the mouse. But he caught its furry gray body, and it didn't move. That stupid mouse deserves to be fresh-kill.
The ThunderClan apprentice let out a massive jump. But he misjudged the distance, and to his frustration, he landed a whisker-length behind the mouse. He lashed out his paws, knowing he could still kill it if he got the aim right. To his dismay, his claws raked nothing but the air, and the mouse let out an alarm cry as it raced away. The birds flew from the trees when they heard the mouse's squeal, and Pearpaw was left stunned as he watched what should have been an easy catch devoid the forest of all prey.
"That's a lesson on how not to do it, in case you two were wondering," Brookfeather said sharply, glaring at Pearpaw. "Are you out of your mind? A two-legged fox could do a better hunting crouch than that, and more importantly, it would actually be able to catch the mouse! It was right in front of you. How do you get the distance so wrong?"
Fury boiled inside of Pearpaw's and turned into a bubbling rage as he leaped to his paws and turned on his heel, glaring at Brookfeather. "I was tired!" he snarled at her. "I didn't sleep at all last night!"
"That's your problem, not mine." Brookfeather's green gaze never wavered from Pearpaw's.
"Sorry I'm not as great as you," Pearpaw hissed. "I suppose I should have remembered that you lord over us all, right? That you're the most important warrior in the Clan? Did you become Brookstar while I wasn't looking?" He bowed his head mockingly. "I'll call you that from now on."
Rootpaw let out a horrified gasp, and Dovepaw was rooted to the ground. Anger blazed inside Brookfeather's brilliant green eyes as she rose to her full height. It should've scared him, he knew—Brookfeather was a mighty warrior—but all of the emotions that had been swirling inside him, the feelings he didn't understand since he saw Snowpaw at moonhigh, broke out of him like a damaged dam.
"You do not speak to a warrior like that," Brookfeather hissed at him. "Come with me. We're going to Flintstar and we're going to see what he has to say about this. Rootpaw!" She barked her brother's name over her shoulder. "You're old enough to accompany Dovepaw on her own. I think Falconheart took a patrol near the WindClan border—see if you can catch up with him. And you…" The brown-and-white tabby turned to stare at Pearpaw. "With me." Without waiting to see if her orders were obeyed, Brookfeather took off.
Pearpaw scowled and scuffed the ground with his paws. Brookfeather couldn't order him around. But he knew it would be much worse if he didn't go with her and face Flintstar. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. But it was done and over with. He gazed at Rootpaw and Dovepaw, who stared at him as if he had just challenged the WindClan leader. He scoffed. You would've never stood up. You'd just stand there like lost starlings. Turning his heel on them, he bounded through the forest and towards the camp. He couldn't see Brookfeather—she must have gone ahead of him.
Dismay dampened Pearpaw's heart and turned his paws into stone as he entered camp and saw Flintstar sitting on top of the Highledge, Brookfeather next to him. The she-cat twitched her tail towards Pearpaw, her green eyes narrowed into tiny slits. Flintstar followed her gaze. He gestured with his tail towards Pearpaw, and Pearpaw gulped the lump in his chest. He was all but aware of his Clanmates' piercing glares on him, some curious, some accusatory. But Pearpaw held his head up high as he climbed the rocks and approached Flintstar. He gave Flintstar a deep bow of his head.
"Come with me." Flintstar padded into his den, and Pearpaw was right behind him. Brookfeather was at their heels, and Pearpaw glanced at Flintstar, wondering if he would chastise her. But he simply let Brookfeather follow them without saying anything. When the three cats entered the cave, Flintstar sat down, his thick tabby tail wrapped around his massive front paws. Brookfeather took a seat a few mouse-lengths away from Pearpaw. Pearpaw refused to look submissive. He met Flintstar's gaze evenly, and this seemed to stir Flintstar, because his ears flicked nervously.
Flintstar broke the uneasy silence. "Brookfeather told me that she was out with you, Dovepaw, and Rootpaw, when you missed a catch. Brookfeather corrected you on your technique, and you insulted her even though she was trying to help you. Tell me, did I get that right?"
Pearpaw lashed his tail in irritation. "She didn't help me. She just insulted me about my technique!"
"Did you want me to sugarcoat it?" Brookfeather hissed. "You only did that because you were frustrated with Rootpaw and Dovepaw. I saw it in your eyes."
"I shouldn't be training with Dovepaw, who just started her apprenticeship, and Rootpaw, who never pays attention to anything!" Pearpaw protested.
Flintstar shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Pearpaw. Dovepaw is your denmate, and so you'll train with her if the situation calls for it. And Rootpaw is your brother—you were apprenticed at the same time, so you're on the same skill level. How Rootpaw learns is none of your business. Coalshadow asked that you train together more often."
"What?" Pearpaw's anger was melted away to be replaced by confusion. "Why?"
"You have high energy," Flintstar replied. "Training with Rootpaw will balance out your own." He narrowed his amber eyes and added more harshly, "Like I said, Pearpaw, they are your denmates and will soon be your fellow warriors. You will train, hunt, and fight with them. Their status and their learning does not diminish what will be their bond with you. You must learn to respect them. You are not better than them because you learn faster or you are a better fighter. And," he said, looking at Brookfeather, "there is no excuse in the way that you talk to your Clanmates, especially warriors. Brookfeather was training you today. She didn't have to, but she did. What you said to her was completely out of bounds and unacceptable. I want you to apologize to her."
Pearpaw's fur bristled, and he was half-tempted to ignore Flintstar's order as he turned to gaze at Brookfeather. But he was sure that Flintstar would inflict a harsher punishment than the one he probably already had in mind, and his sore behavior would be the Clan's gossip for the next moon. It was better to swallow his pride and get this over with, he was sure. Even though his blood boiled and he clenched his teeth, he didn't want to stew on this.
"I'm sorry, Brookfeather," Pearpaw said, each word dragged out of them, harder than the last. "I spoke out of turn, and I should've recognized you were trying to help me, not insult me."
Brookfeather sniffed the air contemptuously. You could at least say you forgive me!
Flintstar nodded approvingly. "Brookfeather, you can take your leave."
"Are you going to punish him?" Brookfeather asked.
"That is none of your concern." Flintstar's voice was harsh. "What happens now is between Pearpaw and I, not you." Pearpaw felt a small flash of triumph at how he spoke to the warrior who thought she knew it all. Brookfeather's eyes widened and she looked briefly wounded, but she gave a nod and left the den, her tail-tip twitching in irritation.
Pearpaw glanced at Flintstar. "What's my punishment?"
"It's not a punishment," Flintstar said. "But I want you to take care of the elders for the next moon on your own. Don't even think of asking for help from your denmates."
Sure sounds like a punishment! Pearpaw wired his jaws shut just as he was about to complain about how unfair that was. It would get in the way of his training!
Flintstar went on. "The elders have ages of skills to teach you, and they served their Clan for a long time until they could no longer. You will listen to what they have to tell you as you clean their bedding, bring them fresh-kill, and remove their ticks." He gazed off in the distance just as Pearpaw gagged at his last words. Remove all their ticks? Just getting the ticks off from Robinfire is painful enough! "Rootpaw spent a lot of time with the elders as a kit. You never did. Hopefully, you will learn something from it."
Pearpaw dipped his head, although inwardly he was seething. But he knew that he wouldn't go against his Clan leader, no matter how unfair the punishment was. Not as an apprentice, at least.
"One more thing," Flintstar said just as Pearpaw was waiting for him to dismiss him. "It troubled me just how insincere your apology was, and how you seemed to think you did no wrong, both by insulting your denmates' performance and in talking back to Brookfeather." His yellow eyes burned in Pearpaw's pelt. "Tell me, Pearpaw, do you know just how important your Clanmates are to you?"
"Of course I do." Pearpaw twitched his tail uneasily. What was Flintstar getting at?
Flintstar stared at him, a hint of disbelief in his sun-colored eyes. "I hope you do," he said quietly. "Because even if you don't respect your Clanmates, they respect you. It's unfair that they don't get the same in return, Pearpaw. They protect and defend you with their life. You should do the same." He flicked his tail towards the exit of his den. "You may go now. Start with your duties for the elders—I'll let Oakfire know. And it would be good for you if you apologized to Rootpaw and Dovepaw, as well. You must learn respect for the cats you live with, or you will fail as a warrior." His last words held an ominous threat, and Pearpaw's throat tightened.
Was Flintstar threatening to hold him back if he didn't respect his Clanmates? But I do respect them! he thought indignantly. Just not the cats who boss me around because they think they're so much better than me. His tail twitching, Pearpaw left Flintstar's den without even bidding him farewell. Snowpaw would never treat me like this. Fury fizzled in Pearpaw's blood as he headed towards the medicine den to get the mouse bile that he would inevitably need for Robinfire's endless amount of ticks.
I'll show them, Pearpaw thought determinedly. I'll show them just how good of a warrior I am. And every cat will respect me. They won't tell me to care for the elders alone, they won't report me to Flintstar. They'll be so in awe of me that they'll do whatever I say.