Flames At Night: Book 1: A Shattered Path

Chapter Ten

Patterpaw

Patterpaw stirred awake to the sound of coughing. She looked around at the several empty nests. After Brindlepaw had become sick, Frecklepaw had also fallen ill, and it seemed that Mallowpaw had also come down with something. The gray tabby tom was sitting in his nest, looking miserable.

"Mallowpaw," Patterpaw whispered. He glanced towards her. "Go to the medicine den. Rowanfoot will give you some herbs."

He sighed but nodded, trotting off in the direction of the medicine den. Patterpaw lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. How many more cats will get sick?

She stood up, stretching, and padded out of the den. Lots of cats were in the clearing, and the apprentices who were not sick were helping carry balls of moss into the warriors den.

Patterpaw ran up to Salmonpaw, the youngest apprentice in the Clan. "What's going on?" she asked.

"We're helping move the sick cats into the warriors den," he explained. "You can help too, just go get some moss and bring it here."

"Oh, okay," hummed Patterpaw. "There are really enough sick cats to justify that?"

Salmonpaw sighed. "Yeah. I really want Hopeflight to be okay. He's the only family I have in SparkClan." Salmonpaw was born outside of the clan, and Hopeflight was his mentor.

Patterpaw licked his cheek. "He'll be fine. Trust me, Hopeflight will be playing with his kits again in no time."

The red tom sighed again. "Okay. See you later, Patterpaw." She could tell that he was not very convinced.

She headed out into the forest, prepared to gather moss. Finding a large tree with plenty growing on it, she began to collect it in a small pile.

A birdcall sounded through the air, and Patterpaw decided to try and catch it. Glancing through the trees, she spotted a starling, close to the top of an elm. She carefully climbed up the trunk, hoping that the bird would fail to notice her.

Just as she was about to reach it, the starling let out a loud alarm shriek and took off. Patterpaw tried to leap after it, but her paws were a mouse-length away from its tail feathers. She landed back on the branch.

"Mouse dung," she muttered under her breath. It's all right. I can just go get my moss.

As she went back down the tree, she heard a rustling sound in the bushes. Maybe I will catch something.

But when she got closer, she realized that it wasn't prey. A familiar gray tail was poking out of the undergrowth. "Dolphinpaw?"