Silence {Warriors Fanfiction}

{𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐}

"Undoubtly, yes. We found him before her. Sweet, sweet victory."

Sunrises and sunsets turned into a quarter moon full of downpours and glaring sun. Lightwhisper stretched in the weak morning sunlight, still holding on to the magic of his new name. Greenleaf had taken hold fast- the humid air was already foreboding an approaching rain.

For his first job, he had been appointed to guarding the entrance of the other camp from moonhigh to dawn. A strange sleep schedule.

Lightwhisper didn't complain, but he wished he could do hunting, or border patrolling. Quickflash had reassured him this he was excellent at both. Guarding was the most boring. Boring enough that even a deaf cat can accomplish. He stretched once more, and left his guarding spot. It was well past time for Raggedtail to take over guarding the entrance.

He padded over to the not-so-makeshift warrior's den, sandwiched between the nursery and elder's den. The almost elder was still sleeping, and Lightwhisper gently tapped his shoulder with the tip of his tail. Meanwhile, Raggedtail's well, 'tail', was half falling off, mangled and patchy. He opened one bleary eye and heaved himself to where Lightwhisper was previously, grunting.

Probably muttering something along the lines of- Senseless cats can't even let me sleep a wink longer. Have'ta guard and that's it, ain't it? Can't even become much of an elder because they all say I'm too grumpy. Youngsters need some grump to settle their jumpiness anyways.

Poor Raggedtail looked way older than he actually was. His tail had become that way long ago, in a skirmish between rogues. HailClan was usually welcome with visitors, but they were vicious. A classic tale to set fear deep into kits' hearts, passed on by elders.

There was a small burrow on opposite made long ago by some fox or badger, now acting as Ferretfur's den. She was half healer, Lightwhisper supposed. Except she didn't have that much of a belief in StarClan and wasn't a fan of motivational speech.

There weren't a lot of queens or elders in the camp at the moment, especially since most of them had just ran off and died as still senior warriors. He didn't know how. The camp wasn't that cramped, but Lightwhisper still had to share his bedding with another cat.

He glanced at the tom. From his awkward positioning and the strange way his whiskers lifted up, it was clear he was snoring. Loudly. His name went something along the lines of 'Mottleleaf'. Moh-tul-leef. 

Somehow, in a matter of a heartbeat, he had switched from an unknown cat that would never even look at him, to his best mate. With a coat of tortoiseshell- usually thought to be cursed on toms, rendering them unable to mate- and sharp yellow eyes, Lightwhisper couldn't have asked for anyone else.

Mottleleaf was a laugher. Like Quickflash, like Rosepaw, like Rainheart before everything happened. Lightwhisper liked that. Without a care in the world, charismatic, easygoing. Full of positivity, and something else he couldn't quite put his paw on.

In fact, the sleepy tom was just awakening. He looked a bit disoriented. Tufts of moss everywhere, tail tangled with legs and muzzle, fur unimaginably messy. Lightwhisper suppressed a snort, the usually cleanpaws Mottleleaf was nowhere to be seen. Had he known, he would've spent more of his mornings waiting instead of getting harassed by the kits.

They were still quite few compared to earlier moons, but four was a considerable amount. There was, of course, Dragonflykit with her ginger pelt and snow dipped paws. Lightningkit and Floodkit- two peas in a pod, as Lunachest would say. Kittypet ways. They were littermates, like how Lightwhisper, Finchpaw and Rosepaw used to be. Colours countering each other, the dark cinnamon of Floodkit and light gold of Lightningkit.