Warriors || Tainted Blood: Book 1

Chapter 11

For the next three days, Rowanpaw was stuck cleaning out all of the dens and bringing them new moss. Ravenwing told him that he was lucky it was only three days; he would've made him do it for a quarter moon. Wrenpaw moved into the nursery ashamed and alone. Wolfpaw still wouldn't admit that the kits were his, but he walked around camp all high and mighty.

Both Crowpaw and Rowanpaw visited her at least once a day. Somehow, her distress brought them together to act like real brothers. Crowpaw still ignored him whenever Wrenpaw wasn't around, but at least he didn't shove him around anymore. Rowanpaw grew closer with Wrenpaw than he's ever been. It felt like he finally had a sister.

Rowanpaw carried a rabbit and made his way to the elders den. Skystar had also appointed him to help out with Fernshade, the only elder. He brought her fresh-kill, groomed her pelt, and brought her fresh bedding. In exchange, though, Fernshade often told him stories about his mother.

He ducked into the elders den and found the old light brown tabby she-cat wide awake. It was just past dawn and she usually slept in longer than that. Her green eyes brightened when he walked in.

"Rowanpaw, good morning!" Fernshade purred.

"Uh, good morning?" Rowanpaw set down the rabbit at her paws. "I brought you some fresh-kill." He pushed it towards her and she sniffed it.

"Have you eaten yet, Rowanpaw?" Fernshade wondered. He shook his head. "Well, then you can share this with me. I'd never be able to finish it anyways." She motioned for him to sit down, so he obeyed. "Go on, take a bite."

He leaned over and took a bite of the rabbit. It tasted so good. "Mmm, try it, Fernshade."

The tabby she-cat purred in a raspy tone. She took a bite and her eyes lit up. They ate together with the occasional conversation. Fernshade asked about his training, how he was getting along with the other apprentices. It bewildered him that she seemed to care so much. She surprised him with how much she knew about him.

"Why do you care so much about me?" Rowanpaw asked her suddenly. "I'm the reason that Ivorymoon is dead. She was your daughter."

Fernshade stopped eating and lifted her head so that her green eyes were even with Rowanpaw's. "And you're her son, do I need a better reason? You're my kin, too, Rowanpaw. Did you not think that I wouldn't look out for you just because the entire clan blames you for something that's not your fault? Kitting is dangerous, dear Rowanpaw. That's a fact of life."

"So why does the entire clan blame me?" Rowanpaw shot back bitterly, angrily.

"Because they need someone to blame." Fernshade answered blankly. She blinked slowly at him and sighed. "Do you know what Ivorymoon would say if she were here?" He shook his head. "She would tell you to stop blaming yourself. You walk around this camp everyday as if you're guilty for existing. So stop."

Rowanpaw pondered this for a moment. Then a real question came to mind, one he's always wondered the answer to. "Fernshade, do you know who my father was?"

Fernshade started at his question. "I never met him, Rowanpaw. Your mother would sneak off to meet him near the RainClan border, so I assumed that he might be a RainClan tom. I never found out because I never asked; I assumed that if Ivorymoon wanted me to know that she would tell me."

"Oh," Rowanpaw meowed, crestfallen. "I'd better get to work. I'll visit you later, Fernshade." He got up and left the den. She hadn't given him the answer that he wanted

Rowanpaw didn't pay attention to where he was going and ran directly into Nightfang. The young black warrior growled and cuffed Rowanpaw's ear. "Watch where you're going, 'paw! That or maybe I'll feed you to the crows!" Then he stomped off.

Sighing, Rowanpaw left out of the camp entrance. He needed space from the suffocating camp. The forest welcomed him with fresh air and the smell of rain. Last night it had stormed, keeping him up almost all night long.

Ever since the fight with Wolfpaw, the clan fell back into their old ways of treating him like dirt. Sablepaw wouldn't talk to him and whenever Hollowpaw tried to reach out, either Wolfpaw or Sablepaw came along. The only apprentice that talked to him nowadays was Wrenpaw which came as a surprise.

All the warriors seemed to ignore him unless absolutely necessary. Some went out of their way, like Nightfang and Briarfrost, to push him around or make mean comments. Rowanpaw felt like a kit again, helpless against their attacks. Ravenwing trained him harder than ever, running him until he couldn't breath, fighting him until he was battered.

Now Rowanpaw walked around with a broken body and a broken heart. Maybe Wolfpaw and Crowpaw should stop calling me Deathpaw and call me Brokenpaw instead. He thought to himself. Maybe I should call myself Brokenpaw.

Rowanpaw hadn't realized it, but he stopped when he realized that he walked himself to Moonhollow. It looked different in the daylight, smaller. He walked down the slope in between the rocky cliffs into the hollow. The stream fell over his head and fell into the Moonlitpool. Stepping forward, Rowanpaw looked at his reflection in the pool, looking for any recognition.

"It's sad, isn't it?"

Rowanpaw spun around, heart racing, and came face to face with a cat he's never seen before. The tom's pelt was reddish-brown with darker tabby markings. His eyes were greener than the forest, a shade so bright that his eyes seemed to glow. The tom stepped forward, causing Rowanpaw to talk a step back.

"It's sad when you don't recognize your own reflection." The tom's face held so much wisdom and sorrow at the same time. He stared into the pool for a moment before looking back up at Rowanpaw. His eyes turned from green to black. "Hello, Rowanpaw."

"W-who are you?" Rowanpaw tried to stand straight, to make himself look strong. But his voice quivered and his fur stood on end. This tom frightened him, something about him didn't sit right with Rowanpaw.

The tom chuckled and stepped closer to Rowanpaw. There was no where else for him to go. "How rude of me? I forgot my manners!" The tom's eyes changed from black to red. "My name is Poisonblood."

Rowanpaw's jaw hung agape. He's never heard of a Poisonblood. That name would be hard to forget, and why did his eyes keep changing color?! "What clan do you belong to? I've never heard of you."

"Oh, you wouldn't have." Poisonblood's eyes turned back to green, making him seem almost normal. Almost. "That's a conversation for another time. Listen, I've been watching you, Rowanpaw. You put up with so much for no reason. Your clanmates, they push you around and make you feel worthless. If only you knew the power that runs in your blood."

Rowanpaw flattened his ears in disbelief. "I'm not powerful or special. All I want is to be the best warrior that I can be."

"And what if I could promise you that? And so much more?" Poisonblood's eyes gleamed and he unsheathed his claws, digging them into the dirt.

Now Rowanpaw was curious. "How?"

"Come back here in two nights. I'll be here and explain everything," Poisonblood promised.

Slowly, Rowanpaw nodded, "I'll be here." Then he turned to leave. When he glanced over his shoulder, Poisonblood was already gone.