//Un//marked

// chapter 8 //

As it turned out, Dawnstar could not read Lightpaw's mind.

Five sunrises later, however, as the tortoiseshell apprentice cleaned out yet another den she could still not wrap her head around the real reason why she had been pulled into the DarkClan leader's den, or why it warranted her imprisonment within the camp walls. Her lip curled at the thought.

Dawnstar believed Lightpaw had been stealing extra prey from the freshkill pile. There was only one cat who would make up such an outrageous lie to get her into trouble.

I'd rather actually be suspected of treason than forced to remain in camp because of Beetlepaw's pettiness, Lightpaw thought as she clawed savagely at the damp nest before her. Ribbons of moss flew right and left, raining down on her head. Her fangs clenched and she had to remind herself to breathe.

A few deep breaths later she felt ready to continue her work. Grabbing a mouthful of the moss, she padded outside.

"Watch it!"

The apprentice halted abruptly, unable to see where she was going. Putting the moss down, she found herself face to face with Shademask, his expression rather cross.

"Sorry," she mumbled, aware of the bits of moss between her teeth. The usually silent tom kept his eyes narrowed but flicked his tail all the same.

"Take on smaller loads," he suggested, already walking away. "You're stuck in camp whether you like it or not."

Lightpaw narrowed her eyes at the tom's back. It wasn't her fault Spiderthorn appointed him to keep watch over her punishment. Like her, Shademask was stuck in camp for another two sunsets. At least he could sit around and do nothing.

Refusing to heed his advice, she picked up the entire load of moss once more, depositing it on the edge of the camp. Duskwhisker and Skunknose, on guard duty from sunhigh until sunset, sat with their fur fluffed up against the chill in the air. Away from the shelter of the tall rocks that surrounded the camp, the leafbare wind grew bitingly cold.

"Yewpaw just brought in some fresh moss," Duskwhisker mewed, pointing with her tail at a grey-green lump near her paws.

Yewpaw was the unlucky apprentice appointed to supply Lightpaw with the materials to carry out her punishment. For the past five days, the other apprentices were drilled on their battle technique and the loser of each session would be made to forage for moss or feathers or whatever else Lightpaw needed that day. Today was Yewpaw's fourth day; Rainpaw had lost once too.

"He's quick, that one," Skunknose commented. "And a good hunter."

"Good fighters are what we need," Duskwhisker replied, eyes on the grey sky up above. Lightpaw payed little mind to their words, gathering up the moss in one giant ball and heading back to the den she was cleaning.

She arrived at the log den without incident, despite the limited visibility caused by the moss in front of her. Though she didn't understand the point of cleaning out a den nobody used, she didn't dare complain. Seven days of being cooped up in camp was enough for her.

Still, the empty den aroused her curiosity. Who had slept here before it fell into disuse? Was it kept as a reminder of someone who had passed on?

The only thing she knew about this particular hollow log was that Spiderthorn sometimes spent his nights sitting atop it, gazing out in the direction of the Twolegplace.

Patting the last pawful of moss into place, the she-cat stepped back to admire her work. Perfect. She was almost tempted to spend the night here herself.