The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

40. Trust Is For Fools

Scorchpaw had never felt so restless in his life. Just a few hours ago, he had told Blackstar about the plan that he and Palepaw had devised, and now the battle would soon begin. Only one more moonrise would pass before he went with his leader to meet with Briarstar about the imminent fight. He twitched in his nest, glancing over at the empty moss bedding that belonged to his closest friend.

Eventually, he pushed himself up and stretched, yawning loudly and stepping out of his nest. Although he had been busy all day, he felt only energy. I'll take a walk, he thought, blinking and slipping out of the den. He watched as Tidefoot left the tunnel unguarded, likely heading towards the dirtplace, and he bounded across camp and out through the brambles. The night was cool, stars twinkling brightly above. Comfort lapped over him at the thought of the cats of StarClan watching him. They're watching over us.

He veered off in the direction of the river, padding aimlessly through the forest. He kept his ears pricked, yet he felt comfortable. There was little wrong. No invisible threat lifted his hairs one-by-one. He passed a bramble thicket, which hid a small pool of water and a crashed tree. He had caught his first mouse there, though not without difficulty. He remembered, clear as moonlight, the pain of briars raking his muzzle. Redwing hadn't even spoken, instead hissing at him and stomping away from his catch.

Redwing seems worse now. Scorchpaw thought back to when he had clawed her in training, and she had thrown sand into his eyes. The thought made him shudder. Few things had hurt quite so much. She's more ready to lash out. She's angry all the time. He shook it away and continued, moving towards the Streams: thin creeks that ran into the center of DarkClan's territory, disappearing into thin tunnels.

He emerged from the trees and padded up to the water, glancing in. He heard a plop as a toad leaped in. He took a deep breath, tasting the pure night air, but nagged at him. A faint scent touched his tongue. Palepaw? He sniffed again. His friend had been there, and the scent was fresh. Scorchpaw began to follow the trail, shuffling through grasses. He's going towards the edge of our border. He broke into a run, and shoved through brush and clambered up a hill. He emerged to see the river running peacefully. He's crossed. Why?

Scorchpaw narrowed his eyes, searching the pines for any sign of his friend. Nothing. His scent ends at the edge. Taking a few steps back, he sighed. I can ask him tomorrow. Please, StarClan, don't let him be stealing prey or raiding.

Turning, Scorchpaw started to walk along the border. He felt restless, thinking of Poppy now. She never told me when to meet with her again. But I can wait by the border, right? Blackstar will have to tell the Clan about her if we want the plan to work, so I shouldn't have to worry about sneaking around anymore. He quickened his pace. But what if none of this works? Blackstar may not let her stay, and the rogues will know she betrayed them. His stomach began to twist into rough knots at the thought. He grunted and pushed himself into a run, forcing his mind to clear. He raced along the river, clearing the creek that fed into the Streams with a bound, and slowed only when he found himself short of breath.

And so he padded along, focusing more on his surroundings. He took deep breaths to regain himself, and he crouched at the edge of the riverbank to lap up the cold water. He sat and watched the gentle flow, thankful for the pleasant moment. He was quick to lick his paw and wash his face and ears, and he stood and started towards the trees. He shoved through a low-hanging bush. A loud noise made him pause.

"Come on!" A voice called.

"Cheater!"

Palepaw! Scorchpaw whirled around and ducked under his cover, crawling forward just enough to see. He watched as his friend raced along the other side of the river, a cat giving chase. Spottedpaw too!