Warriors: Silverjaw's Sorrow

Chapter Six

Silverpaw was adjusting.

Though the feat seemed impossible, it turned out not to be as the silver apprentice fell back into a routine. Wake up, clean, go to sleep. Sorrelmouse had yet to take her back on a patrol of any sorts, more out of consideration than anything else, and though Silverpaw still hated chores, she couldn't help but feel gratitude towards her mentor. After all... she still couldn't bear to look at her own reflection, and camp-bound tasks kept her as far away from it as she could get.

Silverpaw sank her claws deep into the mossy tree. Her claws hooked in expertise, she pried away a large chunk of moss and flung it to the floor. She swung her claws again and again, moving in a methodical rhythm.

The bark's gnarled surface twisted as its layer of green began to dwindle. Pinpricks of gold began to shine along its surface, the rogue's face appearing with a menacing grin and piercing, honey-yellow eyes. Bristling, Silverpaw's hacking grew more desperate, spurred on by fear as she erratically shredded now splinter-filled moss.

She stopped as quickly as she'd begun.

"Oh, StarClan," she whispered, staring at the mess beneath her claws. She slipped them back into her sheathes, her heart pounding against her chest like a trapped bird.

Glancing over her shoulder, she swept the remains under a bush, turning an apologetic stare back to the tree. Guilt shredded through her. It was as if somebody had taken over her mind, disfiguring the tree into the rogue's haunting face. Even the figment of her imagination, however, was wrong. His eyes were blue, not gold. She choked back a sob. I must be going crazy.

Flicking her tail, she circled around the trunk to where more moss flourished. She reared onto her hindlegs and dug her claws into it. She carefully pried away a few more pawfuls of moss, dropping it to a different, unaffected pile that grew with every new swipe. Once satisfied, she returned her attention to the pile. Sorting through each scrap, she gave the chunks a thorough shake, jetting little droplets of collected moisture through the air. She scooped a large mouthful into her jaw and pressed the rest between her chin and chest.

She began the awkward struggle back to camp.

Once she reached the crossing stones, she recognized that the load would be too much for a safe crossing, so she left a small pile behind. The rest clenched between her teeth, Silverpaw leaped across the stones with a prowess only a RiverClan cat could possess. Maintaining the momentum from her final bound, she pushed swiftly into camp.

There was a very slight breeze, molding the perfect day for sharing tongues. Strewn across camp, cats lounged comfortably about, sunning themselves in the company of their Clanmates as they waited for the day's peak to end and for more patrols to be assigned.

Mistpaw was huddled in a corner of the camp with Ravenfire and Lichenpaw. Her eyes darted towards the silver tabby, brightening for a moment, before she caught herself. The dark she-cat returned her green gaze to Ravenfire, saying something that made the elder laugh loudly. Silverpaw watched her for a heartbeat, conflicted with herself. Sighing, she tore her eyes away.

Sorrelmouse, alongside Dappledfang, carried old bedding out of the nursery. The two spoke affectionately, their tails gliding over each other's shoulders. Finchkit and Pigeonkit scampered around their paws, flinging a small wad of moss back and forth. Flicking an agile paw, Finchkit sent the ball flying. It landed square on Dappledfang's nose.

Dappledfang rubbed his muzzle, his amber eyes sharpening into a glare. The little she-kit mewled an urgent apology, but her fear was quickly quashed as the tom's fake scowl morphed into a mischievous smile. He grabbed the small bundle of moss and flung it far across the clearing. The kits squealed delightfully and took off in hot pursuit. Sorrelmouse laughed.