Warriors AU: Rising Storm

Chapter 15

Sandstorm carried the ball of wet moss gently between his teeth. Some of the moisture had dripped out on the journey home, soaking his chest and cooling his forepaws, but there would be enough to quench Tigerclaw's and Willowpelt's thirst until a patrol could collect more after sunset.

The Clan lay in small groups around the clearing while the sun slowly slid toward the treetops. Most of them had eaten and were quietly sharing tongues in the customary grooming session, pausing briefly between licks to greet Sandstorm as he emerged from the gorse tunnel. He nodded to Dappletail, Mousefur, and Blossompaw, who were about to go out on the evening patrol.

Whitestorm was getting ready to lead another group of elders to fetch water. She was gathering them together at the fallen oak, and Sandstorm heard Speckletail's determined mew as he passed. "We'll need to keep our ears pricked and our eyes sharp while we're traveling." The old pale ginger tabby tom went on: "You see that nick in my ear? I got that when I was an apprentice. An owl swooped out of nowhere. But I'll bet my claws left a bigger scar than his!"

Sandstorm felt his fur relax on his shoulders, soothed by the familiar murmurings of Clan life. The Shadowclan cats were gone, just as Cinderpelt had promised, and he had seen Silverstream. He slipped into the nursery and placed the moss gently beside Willowpelt and Tigerclaw.

"Thanks, Sandstorm," meowed Willowpelt.

"There'll be more after supper," Sandstorm promised as the king and queen began to lick the precious drops of water from the clump of moss. He tried to ignore the eyes of Goldenflower's kit gleaming hungrily from the shadows as Tigerclaw pressed the moss with her muzzle to squeeze out another mouthful.

"Whitestorm is going to lead the other elders to the river once the sun has set and the woods are clear of Twolegs," Sandstorm explained.

Tigerclaw licked her lips. "It's been a while since some of them have been out in the forest after dark," she commented.

"I think Speckletail is looking forward to it," purred Sandstorm. "He was telling stories about the owl that used to hunt near Sunningrocks. Poor One-eye looked a bit nervous."

"A little excitement will do him good," Willowpelt remarked. "I wish I could go with them. A scrap with an owl would be just the thing to stretch my legs!"

"Do you miss being a warrior?" Sandstorm asked, surprised. Willowpelt looked so comfortable lying in the nursery while his fast-growing kits scrambled over him. It hadn't occurred to him he might hanker after his old life.

"Wouldn't you?" Willowpelt challenged him.

"Well, yes," stammered Sandstorm. "But you have your kits."

Willowpelt twisted his head to pick up a tiny golden brown tabby she-kit that had tumbled off his flank. He dropped it between his forepaws and gave it a lick. "Oh, yes, I have my kits," he agreed. "But I miss running through the forest, hunting for my own prey, and patrolling our borders." He licked the kit again and added, "I'm looking forward to taking these three out into the forest for the first time."

"They look like they'll make fine warriors," Sandstorm meowed. The bittersweet memory of Brightpaw's first expedition, when he went into the snowbound forest and came back with a vole, rose in Sandstorm's mind, and he blinked. He dipped his head to the king and queen and turned to leave, glancing furtively at Goldenflower's kit. He couldn't help wondering what sort of warrior it would be. "Bye," he mumbled as he squeezed out of the nursery.

He could smell all the tempting scents of the fresh-kill pile wafting from nearby, but there was one more thing he had to do before he could settle down for his evening meal. He padded across the clearing to Raggedpelt's den.