Warriors AU: Blackfoot's Reckoning

Chapter 3

Author's Note: Good news! I don't need a new computer! I managed to fix my computer and get it connected to my new Wifi. Uploads will continue as normal!

Hollyflower and Blizzardwing turned away, Blizzardwing with one last affectionate glance over her shoulder. As they rejoined the rest of Starclan, another cat rose and padded toward her. Blackfoot recognized him at once.

"Yellowstar," she greeted him with respect, dipping his head. This cat had been her Clan's deputy and then leader, prior to Brokenstar. Blackfoot had always looked up to her.

"Hello, Blackfoot," the former leader greeted her warmly. He bent to touch his scarred nose to Blackfoot's forehead. Blackfoot managed not to flinch this time, anticipating the burning cold of his touch. Almost immediately, the Starclan cats faded, and the past took shape around her.

"Not even a whiff of Windclan today," Blackfoot meowed cheerfully to her patrol as she led the way back into camp.

"They know better than to come onto our territory," Clawface answered, switching her brown furred tail. Beside her, Nutwhisker purred in agreement.

Blackfoot's chest swelled with pride as they passed through the narrow tunnel between the brambles and into Shadowclan's camp. By patrolling, she helped to keep the camp, and all the cats in it, protected. And here the camp was, busy and safe. This is what being a warrior is all about.

In the center of the camp, Runningpaw, the medicine cat apprentice, was laying out herbs to dry in the sun. Archeye and Crowtail were sharing tongues and gossiping in front of the elders' den. Mousewing and Pebble sat side by side, gulping down prey. It was so peaceful! Nutwhisker nudged Blackfoot cheerfully with her shoulder as her and Clawface brushed past on their way to the fresh-kill pile, and Blackfoot flicked her ears at them.

"If I ever see you doing that again, I'll make sure you're squeezing ticks off the elders for a moon!" The harsh yowl broke through the calm of the clearing, and Blackfoot turned to see Cinderfur scolding Brokenpaw at the edge of the camp. She looked as if she was barely holding herself back from charging at her. The muscular apprentice was glaring back at the she-cat, her tail slashing angrily. Behind them, Deerpaw shifted anxiously from paw to paw. There was a long, bloody scratch across her shoulder.

"You can't tell me what to do!" Brokenpaw snarled back defiantly.

Cinderfur's face twisted in fury and she raised a paw in threat, her claws extended.

"Wait!" Without pausing to think, Blackfoot hurried toward them. She pushed in front of Brokenpaw, blocking Cinderfur. "You can't attack an apprentice."

"I don't need your protection," Brokenpaw meowed indignantly.

"The punishment fits the crime. She was tearing into Deerpaw with her claws out," Cinderfur told Blackfoot. "She knows better than to use her unsheathed claws in training."

Brokenpaw growled. "How are we going to fight other Clans if we're afraid to get blood on our paws?"

She's going to make a fierce warrior, Blackfoot thought with admiration. But all warriors were supposed to set good examples for the apprentices, so she meowed, "We don't get our Clanmates' blood on our paws, Brokenpaw. You know the rules." She glanced at the smaller apprentice. "Why don't you go to the medicine den, Deerpaw? Raggedpelt can put something on that scratch." Deerpaw nodded and hurried off, looking relieved to get away from the conflict.

"The rules are stupid," Brokenpaw muttered. "We have to make ourselves strong. Only cowards aren't willing to get hurt." Her orange eyes flashed meaningfully at Cinderfur. Then she turned and sauntered toward the apprentices' den, switching her bent tail.