A small, stray twig on the leaf mulch-covered ground let out a small crunch as Turtlepelt's paw landed on it mid-stalk. Her ears perked apprehensively, worry spilling into her mind as she scanned her prey for signs that it had heard her.
Did it hear me? What if it runs away? If I chase after it, what if I trip and fall and hurt myself? Oh, StarClan, I don't want to be stuck in the medicine den! Not so close after my warrior assessment…
Yet the mouse remained unfazed, nibbling on its small yellow seed. Morning light dappled the forest floor through the thick canopy of green leaves overhead, casting a stray shadow over her intended prey. Turtlepelt let out a muted breath of relief and crept closer towards it until its scent filled her nose. Her mouth watered at the thought of sinking her jaws into it. Tail sweeping slowly from side to side, she bent low and prepared to spring.
From behind her, the sudden cry of a finch as it flew from a branch pierced her ears and she flinched. The mouse, startled, abandoned its seed and took off.
No, no, come back! Turtlepelt pleaded with it silently. She sprang after it, nearly tripping on the roots of an oak. A brief sharp twinge ran up her paw as she recovered.
Please don't fall, please don't fall, please don't fall…
As the distance closed between herself and her prey, she leaped and caught it with a forepaw, quickly bending down to deliver the final bite before it could scramble free.
Relief caught in her throat, and she took a breath, feeling her heart thudding beneath her chest. I'm not a failure after all.She bent down to pick up her catch.
"Great catch, Turtlepelt!" came a chirp from behind her.
Turtlepelt nearly choked on the mouse's fur from surprise and spat her prey back onto the ground.
A furry red shape emerged from a clump of ferns nearby, smiling sheepishly. "Oops."
Turtlepelt gave Squirrelpaw a reassuring flick of her tail as she picked her mouse back up again. "It's alright," she mumbled around the fur. "You just scared me, that's all."
A silver-furred tom stepped out next to Squirrelpaw. Blackmask snorted. "You need to be more careful, Squirrelpaw. Someone could get hurt."
Behind his back, Squirrelpaw rolled her bright blue eyes and mouthed his words mockingly with a face. Turtlepelt resisted the urge to purr. Her previous apprehension began to loosen its grip on her.
Blackmask looked over his sister's prey. "Nice job. Sorry if I scared it; I nearly lost the finch I was chasing. It's only thanks to Sootstrike that it didn't fly off."
The dark gray tom slid out of a birch a few tail-lengths away, toting a plump finch. He let out a puff of breath. "The morning hunting patrol is way too early to be using that much energy."
Squirrelpaw scuffed at the ground with a paw. "I didn't catch anything…"
Blackmask swiped at her shoulder with his tail. "You're an apprentice," he reminded her. "And a new one at that."
"Show-off," Squirrelpaw muttered under her breath, just barely audible.
Blackmask shot her a glare and opened his mouth to retort, only for Sootstrike to swiftly interrupt to stop the pair's bickering.
"Let's head back to camp," he mewed lightly, yet with an awkward undertone. "Some food in our bellies will soothe our tempers… and our stomachs."
The SeaClan camp at midday—Turtlepelt's favorite time of day—was bustling as the patrol picked their way back down the cliff-side into the rocky dip of the camp. None of the patrol members even batted an eye at the roaring gorge seemingly hundreds of tail-lengths below, their paws expertly weaving down the trail.
Turtlepelt trotted after her brother as they deposited their prey into the fresh-kill pile. She felt a prick of pleased embarrassment come over her as she saw their catches filling it up. With a flick of her ears, she paused to take in the sounds of the camp life around her.
Outside the warriors' den, Flowerstripe and Hareflash were chatting as they waited for their sister, Goosestream, to return from her patrol. Ebonypaw and Riverpaw were casting glances at the prey heap that the patrol had brought back with them, not hiding their hungry gazes.
Adderscar approached the pile, his gait barely slowed by his age. "Bring us back something good—and not some StarClan-forsaken bitter squirrel again," came the raspy grumble of Troutstone from the elders' den. Adderscar only twitched his whiskers in amusement as a reply.
A furry pair forming a squealing bundle rolled across the camp ground and bumped into Turtlepelt's foreleg, breaking apart into Thistlekit and Silverkit. Their brother, Perchkit, let out a purr as he looked on from near the nursery.
"Whoops," Silverkit mumbled. "Sorry, Turtlepelt."
Turtlepelt gave them a shy but gentle smile. "It's alright, Silverkit."
Thistlekit pulled on his sister's tail and she squeaked before giving chase to him again, this time setting off back in the direction of the nursery.
When Turtlepelt redirected her attention to her friends, Squirrelpaw was pulling a sparrow off the pile. "Cloudpaw'scoming to eat with us," she meowed around its feathers. "Hope that's okay."
"Of course," Turtlepelt responded with a soft purr. "Your brother's always welcome." The tom reminded her a lot of herself—both of them were on the quieter and more soft-spoken side, and it seemed to help balance the group out.
Blackmask plopped down a few tail-lengths away from the fresh-kill pile with a vole. He tapped the spot next to him, inviting his sister to sit. She gave him a grateful dip of her head and gently settled onto the camp ground next to him. Across from them, she saw Squirrelpaw and Cloudpaw do the same.
Turtlepelt tore off a bite of vole before pushing it to Blackmask. He took a mouthful before returning it to her. The sweet taste filled her mouth and a happy shiver ran up her spine.
Across from her, Squirrelpaw purred as she took a nibble off of her and Cloudpaw's sparrow. She butted her head against her brother's chin. "Have some, Cloudpaw!"
The fluffy white tom ate a small bite off of the sparrow's back, his ears perked somewhat apprehensively. He looked around the camp, seemingly distracted.
Blackmask blinked at him curiously. "What's on your mind?"
Cloudpaw startled out of his gazing and shook his head. "J-just thinking," he mewed. "I had a bad dream last night… I just hope it wasn't about my herb assessment." He finished his last words with a nervous look down at the sparrow.
Squirrelpaw gave him a light shove. "Every cat gets bad dreams, Cloudpaw. Weird ones, too." She took another bite of her meal and chewed with a thoughtful expression. "I think that I had a dream I was a fish once."
Turtlepelt smiled at her friend. "What's that kind of dream supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she responded with a proud puff of her fluffy red chest. "That's the point I'm trying to make."
Cloudpaw gave his sister a grateful glance, his anxiety lowering.
Blackmask, tail tip twitching, opened his mouth to speak. "I was thinking—"
A loud screech broke into his voice, and Turtlepelt felt herself jump. Instantly, dozens of pairs of eyes shot to the rock path on the side of the cliff leading into the SeaClan camp, gazes filled with fear, curiosity, or a mixture of both.
"Morningstar!" Goosestream yowled, dark gray ears flat against her head. "Come quickly!"
Almost instantly, a pinkish-red tabby shape emerged from a gap near the top of a carved-out stone; the Leader's Stone. "Goosestream? What happened?" The leader's tone was urgent, but not so much that it gave away fear.
One of Goosestream's patrol mates, Dustrunner, butted in. "MistClan invaders! They'll be planning an attack any moment, I know it—"
"We aren't sure if the scents mean anything," the third member, Swiftfeather, interrupted him, shooting him a sharp glance. Dustrunner gave her a quick glare in return and muttered something Turtlepelt didn't catch.
Morningstar frowned. "Scents?"
Goosestream let out a sigh, her whiskers fluttering in annoyance at her patrol mate. "We found some scents that had strayed across our border with MistClan. Swiftfeather is right; it could be a careless mistake by an apprentice." She paused, turning her blue gaze up to Morningstar. "What do you think the scents mean?"
Morningstar's brow furrowed, and Turtlepelt winced. Ever since Morningstar had taken over, only a few moons ago, her authority had been consistently challenged—likely because of her young age.
"She'd better answer quickly," Blackmask mumbled beside her. "Or else it'll give Goosestream something else to question."
Turtlepelt gave him a bewildered look—surely her own brother didn't agree with the cats who questioned their leader? Squirrelpaw, seemingly thinking the same thing, gave him a sharp glance, but held her tongue.
After a few more stretched-out heartbeats, Morningstar responded with a flick of her tail. Breezesong jumped up onto the rock beside her. "Breezesong, increase patrols along the MistClan border, but keep it marked as normal. Tell the patrols to be on the lookout for suspicious activity or any additional stray scents. If there are none within the next few days, lower the patrols back to normal."
Breezesong nodded with a brief incline of her head.
"Morningstar!"
Turtlepelt, along with the rest of the Clan, swiveled her head in the direction of the voice. She felt herself tense as she recognized its owner—Sandfoot. The father of Morningstar, but one of her greatest adversaries in the Clan.
Sandfoot shouldered his way through the crowd, his sheer size enough to part the cats on their own—that must be where Morningstar got her height—and came to a stop at the base of the Leader's Stone.
"With all due respect," he began with the slightest incline of his head, "Are you suggesting we should not seek an answer from MistClan themselves?"
Breezesong instantly bristled beside her sister, hackles raising even at her own father, but Morningstar held her back with her tail.
"Sandfoot, as a member of The Council, I would not wish to disrespect your advice, but the peace between the Clans has been maintained for several moons now. Stirring up a question such as this, especially if Shellstar and Mossyshine are not aware, could cause tension." Though the leader's demeanor and tone were calm, Turtlepelt caught a brief tremble in her gaze.
Her father's expression tightened. He turned his head and his gaze swept over the cats who had gathered behind him, their eyes curious and watchful. "But shouldn't we be seeking a clear answer? Are we not deserving of a reason for a clear violation of the Warrior Code?" His voice rang out around the camp walls; it was as if his words were directed at the Clan rather than only Morningstar.
There came the sound of several mumbles around the camp. Dustrunner came to stand beside him, puffing out his chest with pride as if he had orchestrated Sandfoot's question himself. Goosestream kept her distance, but Turtlepelt saw her nod in agreement.
Breezesong's eyes became a green blaze. "Sandfoot, if you have a direct objection to your leader, you should bring it up with her privately, not in front of the whole Clan," she spat.
Their leader shook her head. "Breezesong, please…" She exhaled softly, the weight of the argument clearly starting to take its hold on her. Turtlepelt frowned in sympathy.
"Don't stand up for your leader simply because she is your sister," Sandfoot replied smoothly. "Unless there is a reason for your being chosen as deputy pertaining to that matter?"
A yellow-she cat poked her way out beside Sandfoot. "Sandfoot, hold your tongue," Goldenbranch warned him sternly, copper eyes boring into him.
Cherrywish, one of the Clan's mediators, stepped forward and cleared her throat. "This must end now." She took a paw-step between the Leader's Stone and Sandfoot and Dustrunner with a sweep of her tail. "As Clan mediator, I am impartial to either—"
"'As Clan mediator, I am impartial to either side'," Dustrunner jeered, leaning his head forward. "The only problem is, the leader chooses the mediators—and if Milkstar chose you, doesn't that mean you'd side with his successor?"
"Shut up, Dustrunner," Goosestream snapped at him from where she had come to stand by him and Sandfoot. "Our mediators don't need your commentary."
Cherrywish gave her a grateful blink. "As I was saying, I am impartial as a mediator—as is Briarstream." She dipped her head to the ginger she-cat. Briarstream dipped her head, her green eyes shimmering with pride—she had only been chosen as a mediator recently after Thrushwing had passed away during the greencough epidemic, and was still settling into her new role.
Beside her, Turtlepelt noticed Squirrelpaw puffing her chest out proudly at her mother's recognition, while Cloudpaw looked at her with pure admiration.
"I believe that we should focus less on pointing tails at what should be done and who should do it," Cherrywish continued, not missing a beat, "And more on what caused these scents. Didn't Goosestream and Swiftfeather already suggest that they could have been made by an unaware apprentice?"
Sandfoot opened his jaws to reply, then closed them. His amber eyes narrowed briefly—Turtlepelt couldn't tell whether he disagreed with the she-cat or was deep in thought.
She turned her gaze back to Morningstar, who had let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Cherrywish… I appreciate your insight." She straightened and angled her head up higher, raising her voice after it had grown weaker during the fight. "I would like now to adjourn and speak to my deputy, medicine cat, mediators, and The Council in private." She turned around and disappeared back into her den.
As cats started making their way through the crowd to the Leader's Stone, the rest of the Clan broke off into small groups, eyes bright and ears twitching as they discussed the scene that had just unfolded in the heart of SeaClan.
Squirrelpaw leaped onto her paws, tail sweeping across the ground. "I can't believe Dustrunner—what a load of fox-dung! First he challenges Morningstar, then Breezesong, and then Cherrywish?"
Blackmask licked a paw and drew it over his ear. "He's too brash for his own good." He gave Turtlepelt a glance whose message she recognized instantly—Dustrunner was their mother, Aspenheart's, littermate, and thus their own uncle. Would he start drama in his family over his own quarrel with our leader?
Cloudpaw looked at the ground and shuffled his paws. "I just wish every cat would stop fighting," he mewed quietly. "What if something happens to Morningstar?"
His sister bumped sides with him and rubbed her head against his shoulder. "Nothing's going to happen to Morningstar. She's a strong leader; everyone knows that—even furballs like Sandfoot and Dustrunner."
"You shouldn't speak of Council members like that," Blackmask retorted sternly, locking eyes with the red-tabby apprentice. Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes and instead busied herself with licking her brother's ears.
Turtlepelt swallowed and finally spoke, finding the courage to enter the conversation. "What about the cause—do you think they're right, saying that it's an apprentice?" Something about the circumstances of the situation felt… off. Like it was too convenient for a couple of scents to be put across the border during a time of nearly-declared peace between the Clans; but she didn't trust her own instincts well enough to put her faith in the thought.
"It's either an apprentice, or some other MistClan cat who wants to stir up trouble," Blackmask answered, a dark tone edging his last words. Cloudpaw shot him a fear-filled glance, and he quickly added, "But I'm certain it's only an apprentice as well."
"Some stupid apprentice," Squirrelpaw huffed, whiskers twitching. "I haven't even been an apprentice for a moon and I still know our borders."
Turtlepelt shifted uncomfortably at her friend's words—Squirrelpaw was adding more fuel to her fears that their problem was far worse than the Clan thought.
If it isn't an apprentice or some other careless warrior, then… who would want to destroy the peace the Clans have worked towards for so long?