The wind raged furiously outside of the apprentices' den as hailstones rained down on the earth, shattering into little shards as they landed on the ground roughly. Dark clouds rumbled in the roaring sky, and the scent of rain was heavy in the air. Pearpaw's fur fluffed out as he kept as close to the center of the den as possible. Bearpaw, Rootpaw, Ravenpaw, and Hailpaw retreated to the far side of the cave. Pearpaw winced as a hailstone landed right outside the cave, and he bounded over towards the back of the rock wall.

Hailpaw's yellow eyes were wide with fear. Even though he was named for the weather, he had never seen it before—and neither had any of the apprentices. Some of the warriors poked their head out of their den, their ears twitching with irritation as they quickly withdrew back into the thicket. Pearpaw shook out his fur and prayed to StarClan that it would end soon. His belly was rumbling with hunger, but no cat would dare to go out in weather as horrendous as this.

"Is this going to end?" Ravenpaw asked Rootpaw, her ears flattened with fear.

How would he know? Pearpaw glared at Ravenpaw. He can't tell the weather!

But Rootpaw was calm as he replied, "It will, Ravenpaw. Bad weather doesn't last forever. Sometimes the sky needs to weep, as do all of us."

Worry made Pearpaw's heart palpate as he saw the rain begin to turn into a downpour. Is it flooding on RiverClan land? he thought worriedly. Is Snowpaw all right? His paws suddenly itched to check on her, but he knew how foolish that would be, especially when it was hailing outside. He saw Rootpaw flash uncertain glances outside the den—he bet that his brother wanted to check on Dovepaw.

But neither toms could leave unless they wanted to get crushed by hailstones. Rootpaw's gaze was shadowed with worry. Pearpaw inched closer to him and hissed, "What are you thinking?"

"It may be an omen," Rootpaw murmured. "When I was helping with Ashenhawk, she was frightened because StarClan had been silent. Now the weather… I wonder what Ashenhawk thinks."

Pearpaw said nothing. Rootpaw was more in tune with the spiritual—and dare he say—more cultured aspects of warrior life. But Pearpaw wasn't interested in that. His claws arched and he wished that he was able to strike hailstones down just as easily as he could beat other apprentices in training. But he was powerless against the weather, he knew that. But if it rains as much as it hails, and RiverClan's territory is so prone to flooding… I need to know if Snowpaw is okay.

Rootpaw glanced sympathetically at Pearpaw. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm worried about my friend," Pearpaw muttered before he could lie.

"The RiverClan cat you were talking to at the Gathering?" Rootpaw inquired.

Pearpaw nodded. "She's my friend, and I'm worried that she'll get hurt. I'm sure it'll be flooding in RiverClan territory, with the rain this bad." Even as he spoke, he had to raise his voice so Rootpaw would hear him over the whipping of the wind and the fury of the downpour. "I want to check on her."

He expected Rootpaw to bristle at Pearpaw's suggestion, but instead his brother fixed him with a sympathetic gaze, as if understanding. He gave him a brief nod. "I understand," he said.

Pearpaw shifted his paws and beckoned his brother closer. He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure the other apprentices weren't listening. Hailpaw and Ravenpaw were pressed tightly against each other, and Bearpaw dug himself into his nest. Content that they wouldn't hear, Pearpaw gazed at Rootpaw. Rootpaw leaned in, his yellow eyes sparking with confusion. "So will you help me if I… say… want to go to RiverClan to check on her?"

There was a start from his brother, and Pearpaw waited for the firm, blatant refusal that was sure to come out of the black-and-white tom's mouth any second. But, much to Pearpaw's surprise, Rootpaw gave him a curt dip of his head. "I couldn't let you go alone. But only when the weather clears up."

Gratitude towards his brother bubbled in Pearpaw's heart. He knew just how close they were to becoming warriors—their training was nearly complete. Oakfire had told him so the other day. Being caught crossing the borders towards RiverClan territory could postpone their warrior ceremony. But I have to find out if Snowpaw is all right! What if she doesn't come to the next Gathering?

When the cracking of the hailstones hitting the ground started to ease—although the downpour remained very much intact—Pearpaw took a couple steps outside the apprentices' den. The rain pounded down on Pearpaw's thick pelt, soaking him to his core. He shuddered and winced as he heard Bearpaw's voice from behind him.

"Hey!" the big brown tom called out. "Where are you guys going?"

Pearpaw looked over his shoulder. "I just want to check on the defenses of camp!" he assured Bearpaw when Rootpaw came to his side. Rootpaw twitched his ears, neither confirming nor denying Pearpaw's excuse. Bearpaw said nothing, but from the furrowing of his brow, the gray tabby didn't think he had fallen for his excuse. But it didn't matter to him. Only Snowpaw did in that moment. Pearpaw bounded out of the den and streaked through camp, his ears flattened and a shiver cutting through his body.

Will we get a cold? he wondered. He knew that colds were contagious and had to be passed from cat to cat, so although he probably would spend the night in his den shivering and tired, he wouldn't get ill. At least, I hope not. He glanced at his brother, who kept pace with him steadily. When did his legs get so long? And when did his shoulders grow so broad? At least Pearpaw was still bigger than him. I need to stop comparing myself to him. He's a good warrior in his own way, and so am I. Plus, he's coming with me, and there really isn't anything better than that.

The stone hollow's walls were slippery with rain and draped with the remainder of hailstones as Pearpaw tried to make his way out of camp. His paw slipped on a rather wet stone, but he regained his balance quickly and squeezed through the bramble tunnel. Rootpaw was right behind him, landing easily next to him. Pearpaw tasted the air. All he could smell was rain.

"What route do you think we should take?" Pearpaw asked Rootpaw. "There's the ShadowClan route, and there's the WindClan route." Both Clans were their enemies. He doubted that, if they were caught by patrols from either Clans, they would get out without a ripped pelt. Swiftstar and Lionstar were equally fearsome, and although Pearpaw hadn't heard stories of Lionstar's ruthlessness like he had with Swiftstar, he knew that ShadowClan was considered the dark heart of the forest for a reason.

"ShadowClan might be faster," Rootpaw suggested. "We'll just have to keep close to the shore and pray to StarClan that a ShadowClan patrol doesn't see us."

Pearpaw nodded in agreement. He wasn't familiar with the territory on ShadowClan land—he only knew that it was made up of thick pines and in some areas, boggy marsh. So long as we stick to the lakeshore, we'll be find. He led the way through the forest, wincing as the rain continued to patter down with no sign of letting up. As he bounded towards the stream that marked the border with ShadowClan, he skidded to a halt as he stared at the roaring waters, overwhelming the streambank.

The stream must have flooded! He raced to the streambank, wincing as the water lapped at his paws. It was never this high! That must mean RiverClan territory is worse off than I imagined. He crouched down. I can cross this. I don't care. It was never a big stream in the first place. He looked over his shoulder, seeing that Rootpaw was trembling. Pearpaw frowned—he knew that Rootpaw feared water ever since he had fallen into the lake. But he had to do this. For Snowpaw.

Crouching down and wiggling his haunches, Pearpaw soared over the stream with a massive leap, his toes barely skimming the water until he landed on the opposite bank. The forest floor beneath him was squelchy and wet, just like it had been on ThunderClan's side. He shivered at the unnatural feeling beneath his pads and watched Rootpaw dawdle. Narrowing his eyes, Pearpaw was about to bark at Rootpaw when his brother crouched down and cleared the stream with a massive leap. Fear still sparked in his brother's eyes as he looked over his shoulder, staring at the stream.

Pearpaw gave his brother a brief nod and raced through the pine forest until he caught a glimpse of a smudge of dark blue. The lake! Pearpaw's feet diverted him towards the shore, and he was aware of Rootpaw running beside him the entire time. Pearpaw quickened his pace, wanting to lead—even though he had never been to RiverClan territory before. The ShadowClan scents were thick and nearly suffocating—musky, disgusting, almost like a fox. He ran towards the shore, even though he was tempted to stay under the pine trees—he was sure the thick canopy and the long branches would protect him from the rain. But when he heard the thunder rumble in the background, and a flash of lightning hit the land across the lake, he figured he would have no luck. He'd just have to deal with the rain on the open land.

The stones pattered underneath Pearpaw's pads and he winced as one of them wedged itself into his paw. He skidded to a halt and pulled it out quickly before running again. Rootpaw watched him curiously but kept pace with him as they raced across the lakeshore, towards where the land slowly changed from the pine forest to marsh. Pearpaw could make out the RiverClan scent marks just as they drifted towards him—holding the tinge of fish and water.

"What's the name of your friend?" Rootpaw asked, his voice nearly taken away by the pounding rain. Pearpaw wanted to pretend not to hear his question, but Rootpaw was already coming with him when he didn't have to. He might as well answer.

"Her name is Snowpaw," Pearpaw replied. He had to be careful not to give away the intensity of his feelings. "We're just friends, but I'm worried about her. It's not like we're enemies, we don't even share borders." It was as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Rootpaw. Rootpaw blinked twice but said nothing.

The two toms started to slow their pace when the RiverClan scents became unmistakable and there was no question that they were on their land. Pearpaw's pelt was sodden and slick with rainwater. Drops of water fell from his pelt with every step he took onto the squelchy marshland. Mud collected underneath his paws and when he took another step, he yelped as he slipped into a mud hole. The thick mud sucked at his paws and threatened to take him all the way in until Rootpaw raced over and grabbed his scruff, hauling him out of the pit.

Pearpaw scrambled onto the marshland and away from the hole he had fallen in. Terror made his fur stick on edge as he stared at the spot where the mud nearly drowned him. RiverClan isn't even safe from its own territory! he thought. How does Snowpaw live here? He wished he had time to wash the disgusting mud off, but the sooner they got to Snowpaw, the sooner they could leave. He stiffened as he realized he had no idea what the RiverClan camp looked like. In their last meeting on the island, Snowpaw described it as an island between two streams. But how could they get into the RiverClan camp without being ripped into half? And without being seen? They might have to swim in the stream that guarded the island—and Rootpaw was afraid of water. They'd surely be spotted!

"What's your plan?" Rootpaw asked when the two cats approached a lone willow tree. Pearpaw sniffed the air to try to see if he could get a central idea of where the RiverClan camp was. All he could smell was the rain, and a tinge of RiverClan. His teeth were chattering and he could feel raindrops streaming from his whiskers. He wanted to find Snowpaw.

"Let's just keep going straight," he said.

"Pearpaw." Rootpaw's voice was curt as Pearpaw started to walk away. He turned on his heel and frowned as he gazed at his brother, startled at the intensity in his yellow eyes. "Tell me something."

Pearpaw cocked his head. "What?" he inquired, the fur on the back of his spine pricking uneasily at how Rootpaw was gazing at him.

"Snowpaw." Rootpaw's ears twitched. "She… is just a friend to you, right?"

"Yes!" Pearpaw whirled on Rootpaw, his tail lashing. "I would never be disloyal to my Clan by having a relationship that extends past friendship. She's just my friend, and she's not an enemy because we don't share the same borders. I want to know if she's all right. If you can't handle that, then maybe you should go home!"

Rootpaw's eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, Pearpaw cursed himself inwardly. He needed Rootpaw to help him—he shouldn't have lashed out at him. Rootpaw cleared his throat and meowed steadily, "If that's what you say, Pearpaw, then I believe you. But I won't leave you—you need someone to back you up while you're here. So let's find the camp, check to see if Snowpaw is all right, and then go home."

His brother's pelt was sodden with rain and his ears were flattened as the thunder crackled in the sky above, but he held his head straight and his chin high. Pearpaw wasn't sure how he looked in comparison to him. He gave his brother an awkward dip of his head. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he turned on his heel and continued his trek into the marshland.

The scents of RiverClan started to rival the scent of the rain when Pearpaw finally saw what looked like a smudge of blue. The camp? He quickened his pace until it became clearer. Is that it? Two streams flowed apart for a good distance until they united on a triangular piece of land, dotted with green foliage that swayed in the fury of the storm. It was just like Snowpaw had described. That must be it.

Gurgling and bubbling piled up from the stream as Pearpaw approached it from the southern side. It, too, was swollen just like the stream that marked the border on ShadowClan territory. Crossing into their camp would be nearly suicidal, Pearpaw thought. He sat on his haunches and started to deliberate his next steps.

Irritation flooded his paws as he realized that Rootpaw had grabbed a pebble near the stream. He's thinking about pretty objects now? Rootpaw skipped the pebble over the stream, watching as it skipped one or two times, and then plunged into the waves below. Then he tossed another pebble. This time, it skipped three times. Pearpaw clenched his teeth as Rootpaw threw a third pebble. This pebble landed right on the island shore.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" Pearpaw asked icily.

"Somewhat." Rootpaw tossed another pebble. Then, in a hiss, he called over the stream, "Snowpaw! Snowpaw, come out!"

"Mouse-brain!" Pearpaw shoved Rootpaw in the side. "Would you come out if some random cat started shouting out your name?"

Rootpaw blinked at him. "Yes."

Of course. The gray tabby flicked his tail, but something told him to trust Rootpaw as the black-and-white tom continued to call Snowpaw's name. Pearpaw could spot a couple of bramble thickets right near the edge of the island, and a snow-white pelt that made Pearpaw's heart skip a few beats appeared right behind the bush. Her beautiful blue eyes were narrowed as she looked around suspiciously. Snowpaw!

"Who's calling my name?" Snowpaw called out. The rain was pounding down on her, and Pearpaw felt an ache in his heart as he imagined her being cold and hungry. Now I just want her to be safe in her den.

"It's me," Pearpaw called out. Snowpaw swung her head and stared at Pearpaw in surprise. She opened her mouth, about to say something, but then her gaze focused on Rootpaw and she shut her jaws. She carried a look of nonchalance in her eyes—it struck Pearpaw, but he guessed she was doing it to not reveal the intensity of their feelings towards Rootpaw. Snowpaw leaped into the stream, and even though the water was swollen and overflowing at the banks, she swam strongly through the stream and landed on the other side of the bank. She shook out her fur. Pearpaw stepped back—he would've been irritated had it been any other cat, but it was Snowpaw, and he was soaked already. What was more rain?

Snowpaw stared at Pearpaw. "What are you doing here?" she asked, staring alarmingly at Rootpaw.

Rootpaw blinked at them. "I can tell you both need some time to talk. I'll wait a few fox-lengths away, under the willow tree that we just were at." He waved his white-tipped tail and bounded away. Pearpaw retraced the steps back to the willow tree in his mind when Snowpaw nudged him again.

"The hailstorm was really bad," Pearpaw explained to her. "So is the rain. It's nearly flooded the forest, and I'm sure it must be worse in RiverClan. I just wanted to check on you." He nodded his head towards the stream. "Look, it's overflowing."

Snowpaw said nothing. She pressed her head into Pearpaw's chest. "Look, I'm fine," she meowed, brushing her tail down his spine. "Reedstar and Otterfrost have a plan in place if the flooding gets too bad. We're already moving the queens and the elders." A small purr rumbled in her throat. "I'm glad you're worried about me, Pearpaw. It means you care. But I don't want you out in the rain when you could get sick."

Pearpaw breathed in her sweet scent, relieved that she was safe—even if she was getting wetter by standing in the rain with Pearpaw. "I really care about you, you know," Pearpaw murmured after a few moments.

"I know." That was all Snowpaw said as Pearpaw broke away from her. She was trembling, and he guessed it wasn't from the rain. There was chaos swirling in her blue eyes, betraying what she felt. I never wanted to know this madness either, but I can't stop it. The only comfort is that I'm not the only one who feels this way.

"Come to my camp," Pearpaw offered. "You'll be safe there."

The white she-cat shook her head. "I can't," she said, touching noses with him. "My Clan will be wondering where I am, and I have to help one of the queens get out of camp. She's heavily pregnant, and Pale-eye is afraid she'll give birth in the flood." She let out a sigh. "You should go home before your Clan wonders where you are. But don't worry, I won't let anything stop me from seeing you again." She rested her head in the crook of Pearpaw's neck before pulling away. Love glimmered in her soft blue gaze as she leaped back into the stream and swam back towards the island. Pearpaw watched her go, fighting the instinct to swim after her.

At least she's safe. That's why I came here, isn't it? To see if she's all right? Pearpaw turned on his heel and bounded away, following Rootpaw's scent all the way to the willow tree. The rain wasn't easing up—in fact, it was getting harder. They had to go back to camp before Flintstar realized they were missing. He stopped right next to Rootpaw, who was watching him with a concerned yellow gaze.

"Is everything all right?" Rootpaw asked him.

Pearpaw nodded stiffly. "Everything's fine," he said numbly. I want to forget her. I really do.

But I know she's the only she-cat in the whole world who can make me happy.