Sparrowleap's Story {Warriors CloverClan Fanfiction} (On Hold)

{ten}

Darkness enveloped the forest as CloverClan slept in the heat of the green-leaf night. Green eyes glittered in the pitch black of the medicine cat den gazing around to make sure everyone was asleep. Acronwhisker's snoring and Owlpaw's shallow breathes were the only sounds Sparrowleap could hear above the crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl in the dead of night.

Slowly he rose from his nest, the dead leaves crackled beneath his weight. Stepping out of the nest, Sparrowleap quietly padded to the entrance, looking around he saw Foxfoot was guarding the entrance of the camp, the muscular ginger and white Tom looked as serious as ever. Sparrowleap slunk in the shadows of the dens to the edge of camp where he reached the exit to the dirt place. The brown tabby carefully walked away from the camp as the forest engulfed him.

He quickened his pace once the camp was a good bit behind him; relishing the warm breeze that blew through his fur, and glad to be out of camp. His hind leg was still bandaged but Acornwhisker had given him poppy seeds earlier on in the day so the pain was slightly numbed.

Sparrowleap slowed as he heard the trickle of a stream, walking to where the sound was coming from he reached the flowing water. The moonlight reflected on it so it looked as if it glowed with stars and he bent down to lap some water up. He swiped his muzzle with his tongue as water dripped from it. Walking silently away from the stream he let his paws guide him,  going nowhere in particular.

Sparrowleap hadn't spoken with Rowanheart in the past sunrise since their dispute, and Mottlelight had avoided him too. All he needed was time alone; time to think. The sweet scent of vole distracted him from his thoughts. Padding in the direction which it came from through the undergrowth, he saw the small creature scurrying around the roots of a sycamore tree. Instantly Sparrowleap got into hunter's crouch as he slowly advanced forward towards the vole.

When he was in range the Tom bunched his mucsles and shot forward but he had misjudged his jump and sprang too far. The vole, aware of his presence, escaped. As Sparrowleap's paws hit the ground he tripped over the entangling roots and he tumbled forward towards a sheer drop. He let out a yowl of surprise as he fell down the slope and a sour stench caught in the back of his throat. The Thunderpath.

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Fernwhisker treaded carefully through the eerie forest, the tune of crickets hummed in her ears. Dark, bulky branches loomed over her and she tried her best not to get her pelt snagged by the scattered bramble bushes. The moon shone brightly overhead, which was her only source of light in this pitch black forest.

She made sure not to wander too far into the heart of the territory, for tonight Fernwhisker only wished to scout out the territory. The FeatherClan warrior had made sure to mask her scent before crossing the border by rolling in some mud and wild garlic; that grew down by the border stream.

Her thick tail caught on some thorns as she padded through the undergrowth. She yanked her tail out making sure to conceal her squeal of pain. A bit of fur was left behind on the thorns and she recalled FeatherStar's words; make sure no cat comes across you and that CloverClan doesn't become suspicious.

Padding over to the thorns she picked up the piece of fur in her teeth to make sure no evidence was left.  Fernwhisker deposited the bit of fur in a stream that glittered with moonlight and let it drift away with the current of the water.

Suddenly a panic stricken yowl filled the night. She shot her head up in surprise and fear as her veins turned cold with dread that she would be discovered. Yet whoever the yowl came from, it sounded alarming, as if the cat was in danger. As if instinct lead her, she followed the sound in which the direction it had come from forthwith.