(✓) Warriors ▸ Shadows of the Domestic [1]

Chapter 23

The days blur together, each one adding another layer of familiarity and belonging as I help Brindleface here and there. She's quite old, her fur tinged with silver around the muzzle, but she's still held in high regard as one of our best queens. She prefers to stay close to the nursery, a soft, comforting presence for the kits. I, meanwhile, make it my duty to fetch fresh prey for her whenever I can. Her eyes light up with gratitude every time I drop a plump mouse or a juicy rabbit at her paws.

Then there's Speckletail. Helping her is a different story. Her piercing gaze always seems to find fault, and she's quick to blame Yellowfang for anything that goes wrong. Her constant nagging and strict demeanor can be grating, like thorns in my fur. Despite that, I can't help but respect her dedication to the clan.

When the queens huddle together, their voices dropping to conspiratorial whispers as they share the latest bits of gossip, I'm often tempted to join in, to let my curiosity get the better of me. But, just as I'm about to step closer, Whitestorm's familiar call pulls me away, leaving the secrets of their conversation to linger like unattainable prey.

At this very moment, I'm padding alongside Whitestorm, the forest around us a tapestry of earthy scents and rustling leaves. I carry a squirrel in my jaws, its fur a sodden mess from my dripping-whisker catch. There's a certain pride that swells within me, knowing I've brought back a worthy meal. Whitestorm throws me an approving glance, and for a second, I forget all about the day's frustrations, my heart lightened by this small victory.

"Great job today," purred Whitestorm as we brushed through the thorn tunnel and emerged into the camp, where sunlight flooded over us in a warm embrace. I purred with contentment through the squirrel fur in my mouth and dropped the catch onto the fresh-kill pile before cleaning my paws and whiskers. "Thanks, you did well, too," I meowed to the white warrior. His eyes gleamed warmly at me before he added his rabbits to the pile. "Would you like to join me for the rest of the day, or are you more interested in eavesdropping on another one of the queens' gossip sessions?" he asked, padding away from the heap.

I shrugged nonchalantly before settling down under the cool shade of the root where the apprentices often eat, and began to groom my fur, which was flecked with the squirrel's blood and matted with a few thorns and splinters. "Nah, I'm good here. Want to groom our coats together?" I asked, glancing at him. He grinned and gave my neck a few affectionate licks. "Anytime."

We sat there, sharing tongues, a quiet bond forming between us, until I sensed a darker presence. My ears flattened instinctively. "Tigerclaw," I hissed, turning to face the striped warrior. His narrowed amber eyes were hard to read, as if masking a storm behind them. "Harepaw, why aren't you out training with your mentor?" he growled, and I felt my heart twist with anxiety.

Beside me, Whitestorm spoke up calmly. "Harepaw has spent the day with me, Tigerclaw. I'm training her in hunting, and let's just say she doesn't need any more training than what I can provide." He gave me a warm glance, which I returned gratefully. Tigerclaw snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Young warriors always need more training. Now, go out and train some more, you've been lazy enough in the sun." He flicked his tail and stalked away.

I slumped down, feeling small and defeated, but Whitestorm nudged his nose along my ear. "Don't let him get to you, my dear," he meowed gently. His words were a balm to my wounded pride, and I took a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the world pressing on my shoulders, and gave Whitestorm a gentle lick on the cheek. "Thanks, but I better do as he says, or he'll drag me out by the tail," I said, my voice tinged with reluctance. As I stood up, I shook out my fur, sending tiny droplets of dew scattering in the light. My coat, now groomed and pristine, shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the rays of sunlight that pierced through the small trees growing in the ravine. Whitestorm nodded, his eyes warm and supportive. "I'll wait here for you when you get back. Good luck," he meowed softly.