Whisper: A Warrior Cat Fan Fiction

Chapter Seven - Part 1: Greyfeather

"I'm tired," Silverpaw moaned, "and cold. And wet. I think my paws are about to fall off."

Greyfeather growled, "Your paws are fine. Now, show me how to stalk a seagull again."

Silverpaw rolled her eyes, let out a long groan, and sank into a crouch, drawing herself forward slowly.

"Pick your tail up a little, its dragging in the mud. Look toward what your stalking, not the ground. And it wouldn't kill you if you actually bent your legs while preforming the hunters' crouch."

"Great Starclan, can we please just go back to camp?"

"Stop whining. I'll say exactly when we can go back, and it won't be until before you get this right." Greyfeather glared at her, but then turned his head toward the sky.

Dawn was well upon them and they had been training since close to the middle of night. When Greyfeather couldn't sleep, he had crawled into the apprentice den and poked Silverpaw awake with his nose. The fact that it was pitch black outside didn't concern him. In fact, he preferred it. His clanmates were still so suspicious of Greyfeather being a kit-killer, it made everything miserable. He avoided going on patrols as much as he could, spending the days hiding out by the cliffs where Rosewhisker had fallen, waiting for the clan to forget of the circumstances of the death of his two siblings.

"Okay, fine, we'll go back." Greyfeather growled, interrupting Silverpaw's half-hearted effort at the hunters' crouch. "Just remember that you're cleaning out the elders' den at sun high."

Silverpaw's eyes darkened, "You know that I have to sleep at one point, right?"

Greyfeather snapped "until you fix your attitude, you won't get sleep."

The small silver she-cat hissed, turned and stalked back in the direction of camp, tail lashing.

Greyfeather felt a twinge of guilt as he watched her leave. Really, he knew that he was working her harder than any other of the apprentices. But he just couldn't help it. He himself couldn't sleep anymore, not with thoughts of Saltkit and Rosewhisker storming through his head. It didn't really matter though, all of this work. Silverpaw would thank him for it when she became a warriors moons before her brother.

As he turned toward camp, the wind shifted and he caught a scent on the breeze. It was a cat's scent, smelling of fear, mud, and sour milk, but underneath that was a smell that he would never forget; his mother, Ploversong.

As her sent grew stronger, Greyfeather turned his head. He had desire to see his mother, possibly every again. He changed his course, skirting around the area where her smell was strongest. He couldn't iminge what she was doing in the marshes though; she had been avoiding that area ever since the night when Saltkit's body was found.

Suddenly, Ploversong's scent became overpowering, and the reeds crackled as a heavy shape barreled through them. Before Greyfeather had time to react, his mother slammed into his side, letting out a shrill yowl. He felt teeth sinking deep into his shoulder, and felt a blinding pain. He dropped to the ground, writhing, desperate to get Ploversong off of him, but she was clawing as his face now, her claws narrowly missing his eye.

"What are you doing?" Greyfeather yowled, twisting so that his paws were on his mother's side, trying to pry her off.

"Murderer! Fox-heart! I will kill you! I will kill you!" she released her grasp of his shoulder, lunged for his neck. Greyfeather scrambled backward, paws slipping in the mud, and dodged her attack.

What was she thinking? He curled his lip back. "Ploversong, calm down!"

She crouched, her eyes alive with a crazed sort of energy, and yowled. She jumped for him again, heaving her plump body at his chest.