This is a SEQUEL, so I would advise you to read the first book before hand. If your lazy, then sorry, this will contain spoilers.
Wolfpaw and Frostpaw have finally become apprentices. But as they train to become warriors, evil lurks inside the fuedi...
Wolfpaw sat and watched the sun rise as her fellow campmates filed around her, bustling themselves with duties that was asked of them from their leader. She sat and watches, its warm rays reaching her nearly frozen paws. But she didn't care that they were cold. She didn't care about anything right now. She was still grieving over Whitefoot. Frostheart and Whistlepelt were taking it significantly better then Wolfpaw was, both talking to their clanmates as if nothing had happened. Wolfpaw had been gone for moons, and right as she got there, he had died right in front of her. Her depressed state had been the same for nearly a week now. Heaving herself up, Wolfpaw shook out her fur and padded towards the entrance of camp. Multiple stares followed after her as she walked, keeping her head down. Wolfpaw frowned deeply, refusing to meet anyone's gazes. And then a certain scent hit her nostrils and she froze. Having no choice but to look up, Wolfpaw gazed into Brownpelts dark blue eyes. They were filled with a mixture of sympathy and something else Wolfpaw couldn't put a name to. "Wolfpaw." He whispered. That was all he said. "What do you want?" She snapped, rather quietly. Wolfpaw didn't even remember thinking the words before they came out.
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Brownpelts gaze turned to hurt and he looked down. "I thought you'd want to see me." He murmured. "Why would I want to see you?" Wolfpaw snarled at him, tail flicking. His eyes softened. "I figured you would know, because of what we had, or have." He looked back up at her, his eyes hopeful. "Do we still have something?" He asked. Wolfpaw snorted. "Hardly." Brownpelts ears flattened. Wolfpaw cleared her throat, continuing. "And I don't like the fact that you told Silkyfur's kits that we were mates." Brownpelts eyes widened. "How do you know about that?" He gasped. Wolfpaw straightened. "There are ears that pick up on things, Brownpelt." She hissed. "Whether or not you think that they're there." His eyes betrayed his confusion and hurt. "What do you mean?" He whispered. Wolfpaws nostrils flared. "Angelkit told me you told them, and I don't like that you said that." His eyes saddened even more. "But Wolfpaw, I thought we were-" She cut him off. "No Brownpelt, we never were." Wolfpaw by her lip, feeling the tiniest bit guilty. "At least, not officially." A trickle of hope shown back into Brownpelt's eyes. "Wolfpaw, I'm sorry that I told them we were mates, and I won't do so again unless it's decided." Wolfpaw felt tears pricking her eyes and she blinked them away, grief swamping her. No one seemed to care that her father was dead, and she had been away for so long, only to come home and have him die in front of her very eyes. And to have her stupid gift, causing all the cats around her to give her weird and distrustful looks, hearing whispering everywhere she went. "Thanks Brownpelt, and I'm sorry for the confusion, but now I need some time alone." She whispered, staring at the ground. She had forced out the words, revolted with this whole reunion and self pity. "And do not follow me." She added, hissing. Turning away without waiting for a reply, Wolfpaw bounded out of camp and into the rich, green forest. She didn't even bother looking where she was going. Stumbling through the woods almost felt comforting to her, but only slightly. She was too torn apart by depression and grief over being judged and Whitefoot to care where she was. Finally, feeling she couldn't run anymore. Stopping on a small hill of dirt, she caught her breath.
