Warrior Cats: Billypaw's Code

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the concept, or characters, of Warriors by Erin Hunter, which is what this Fanfiction is based off of. Please read and support the author of the Warriors series.

WARNING: This telling has themes of violence, depression, suicidal thoughts, and ptsd. If you are sensitive to any of the above things please leave.

Billypaw sat on a bank, looking down at the lazily flowing liquid. Wolfclaw had went over the dangers of the river, what fish to avoid, and what fish that were just to big. Now Rustpaw, Flounderpaw, and Billypaw, were fishing.

After the public announcement of a traitor in the midst of MistyClan, the apprentices dynamic has changed. All the apprentices formed groups of two, and gave dirty looks to each other. It was really bad. Whitepaw had awoken the day after, and was moved into the medicine den. Whitepaw had claimed she woke up with the gashes on her side, and through her glazed vision saw nothing but the other sleeping apprentices.

A splash pulled Billypaw out of her thoughts, and she looked towards Rustpaw, who had a plump silver fish in his jaws.

"Don't look at me with that scarred ugly face, traitor." he hissed through his fish.

Flounderpaw glared at Rustpaw briefly, but said nothing.

Billypaw's ears flattened to her head, "I'm as much of a traitor as Flounderpaw."

Flounderpaw opened her maw to speak, but the blue spotted mentor Wolfclaw cut her off, "Flounderpaw, rustpaw, grab your catches and we'll head back to camp," Wolf'claw turned his icy gaze towards Billypaw, "Don't come back until you catch a fish."

He lashed his tail angrily, and picked up his own catch, a furry rabbit. The other two apprentices fell in line behind Wolfclaw, and disappeared down the moor. Originally an apprentice could not be out of camp unless a fully trained warrior was with them, but ever since the incident moons ago the clan needed all hands on deck, and disregarded that part of the code completely.

Billypaw watched the spot the three cats disappeared over the moor, and turned her attention to the free flowing river. she breathed in the flowered air, and closed her eyes. She saw, not the river, but a bloodied and mangled tom, one with striking green eyes. Billypaw's eyes shot open.

"It's not real.." she breathed out, her eyes settling on the silver fish swirling in the liquid beneath her.

A sigh escaped her mouth, and she stared down pitifully at her empty paw.

"I can't catch anything," she muttered.

Suddenly, the plump silver fish picked up speed, and swam towards her. She flung her paw into the water, claws unsheathed. She had struck its head, she was aiming for its body. Her claws dug into its face and she lifted it up. She bit it's neck. It wasn't a clean kill, blood dripped down from its face into the water, but she didn't know any other way to catch it.

She shifted it in her jaws to make it easier to carry, then headed in the direction her mentor had left, The sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves filled the air, like the cries of a pack of coyotes. Billypaw could hear a trickle of water, and the wind blew through the grass in a mournful way. The call of a bird. The hiss of a river. MistClan's borders were big, and because of that, many border patrols were sent out.

The little clan's pride would not hold if the borders were neglected. She padded into camp, moonlight washing over the dark area. I wasn't good enough to catch more than one tiny fish, she thought. Maybe Whitepaw would enjoy the fish though. Billypaw softly padded towards the silent medicine den, and heard soft but labored breathing coming from inside.