Warrior Cats; Night Secrets #4

Chapter 3

Mottlepaw kept his head low. His shoulders tensed as the tart scent of herbs wafted past him. Marshpaw did not look up at him, instead focusing on the path up to the cave. His pale fur was slick with green juices, paws turned yellow by picking herbs all day.

"Come on, I want to get back by sunset," Furzestep nudged his shoulder, and Mottlepaw sneezed at the dust that gathered on his long fur. They had spent the morning shoring up the camp walls. The newleaf sun was strong, sucking up the moisture from camp and drying out the walls.

"Can we hunt?" Redpaw asked, eagerly waving her tail.
"On the way back," Violetpoppy shared a look with Furzestep, checking she was not overstepping her mark.
"I think that's a wonderful idea," the brown tom purred, whisking his tail and setting off. Mottlepaw hurried after his mentor, cautiously warming up his muscles. He knew Furzestep liked to test his stamina on border patrols, often making him run all the way to Tall Trees, or even chasing him across the moor. It had worked, and now Mottlepaw boasted strong muscles that rippled under his dark pelt with every movement.

"Easy now," Furzestep called down the slope as Redpaw picked up pace, "I don't want you getting tired," he flashed a serious look at both the apprentices, and they swiftly stepped back behind Furzestep.

Mottlepaw looked up, inhaling deeply. They were still well above the camp, and the air was thin and purer up on the high moor than closer to the lake. Down there, it was stagnant, cloyed with the musty scents of the marsh pools and the neighbouring forests. Up on the moor, the air was sweet with the light and fresh scents of new heather, grass and faint traces of rabbits. It was wonderful. When greenleaf rolled around, the whole moorland would be pink and purple with heather.

They headed towards the border, veering away from the lake.
"Careful," Violetpoppy mewed as she tested the ground with her paw. The grey tabby turned her head to look down, "it's steep too." The path was made of rocks, a thin ledge above a sea of thick grass and thickets. A rabbit bobbed in the grass, the stems shivering.

No time for hunting now.

Mottlepaw kept his tail as straight as possible for balance, hurrying along the ledge. His mentor walked with ease; tail stuck out like an indignant kit's, pawsteps light, barely touching the ground. Mottlepaw noticed how his pads skimmed the crumbling dirt, how he stepped high like a deer.

"That's it," Furzestep mewed, looking over his shoulder as the ledge widened, ground becoming safer. Mottlepaw exhaled, dizzy from holding his breath on the verge. The wind snatched his breath away, and he could only nod earnestly at his mentor, shocked by the sudden gust of cold air. "There's not many ledges towards the lake, but up here there are."

Redpaw trotted up, shaking clumps of dirt out her paws, her sleek fur was ruffled.
"Will we still patrol here when we return to camp?" She asked. Her eyes were watering as the wind whipped cold air in her face.
"No, we usually don't get rogues or loners bothering us up here," he replied,
"Too cold for them!" Violetpoppy added with a purr.

Mottlepaw didn't agree; he thought the wind was lovely. Cooling, carrying rich scents from far away. What was over the mountains? He felt the tug of kit-like excitement pull at him. It was a shame a flash-flood had destroyed their camp and a good chunk of their territory, but Mottlepaw knew it would regrow. He only wished the Clan was warned.

And that's what StarClan did. But Marshpaw or Stoneslip didn't try to interpet the visions.

Stifling a growl for the BreezeClan medicine cats, Mottlepaw bent his head to stiff the border. Fresh. He could smell the musty odour of SleetClan; the same dank stench that lingered in the back of the cave camp. Raising his head, he looked over towards Furzestep and twitched his tail. The brown tom was snuffling amongst the bushes, his ears pricked, wary. Mottlepaw trotted down to him.

"The patrol's just passed," Furzestep murured, just as an explosive hiss burst through the treeline.

Redpaw and Violetpoppy had found the patrol, a small group of scraggly warriors and a loud mouthed apprentice.
"Violetpoppy, it's so nice to see you," a pretty gold and grey tortoiseshell mewed, her tail twitching amicably, pale eyes warm.
"You too Honeyflower," she purred back, "I hope you haven't crossed the border,"

"Looks fine to me," Redpaw chipped in. The SleetClan warrior flicked her tail and looked at Violetpoppy,
"Wouldn't dream of it, the prey is running very well for us, no need for your rabbits!" A hint of pride ran beneath her gentle teasing, and Mottlepaw tensed. The white apprentice besides her bushed up.
"We wouldn't want your drowned rabbits anyway," he jerked his nose in the air, eyes glittering.

"And we don't want you causing trouble Blizzardpaw," a stocky tom hissed, glaring at the apprentice through slitted eyes.
"We should be off anyway, haven't you got hunting to do?" Honeyflower turned her gaze to Blizzardpaw, and briefly bid the BreezeClan patrol farewell. They waited until the thickets stopped quivering and until the air stopped smelling of SleetClan.

The patrol continued, heading down to the lakeshore. Mottlepaw could hear the shush-shush of the waves lapping against the ragged rocks and pebbles. Stones rolled under the water, bouncing along the shore.
"SleetClan," Furzestep scoffed, "that apprentice was far too big for his paws,"
"They're just tense over Greystar," Violetpoppy waved her tail dismissively as she sniffed at a frond of grass, "he's on his last life."

Redpaw turned to her mentor,
"So will Snakefang be leader?"
"Yes," and Mottlepaw couldn't not notice the glimmer in her eyes, the twitch of her whiskers.

What had her so excited about Snakefang's leadership?

////

Camp was blanketed by a soft blissfulness, the first sense of normalcy since the Clan was driven out of their old camp.

Stretching and yawning, Mottlepaw licked his lips as Meadowpaw and Marshpaw waved him over, a rabbit splayed between them. Brown tufts hung off Meadowpaw's whiskers.

"Come on, it's been ages since we shared pray," Mottlepaw didn't have to be told twice, and purred as Marshpaw licked at a scratch on his ear,
"How'd you get that?"
"Chasing rabbits," he flicked his ear and took a neat bite out the rabbit. The rich scents of heather and newleaf flooded his mouth; the moor was returning.

"You need to be careful," Meadowpaw fussed, her dark green eyes warm and comforting.
"I will,"
"Can't go and use up all my marigold on your ears,"

Mottlepaw purred louder this time, touching his tail to his littermate's flank. Even if the future was unsure, and strange forces threatened them, Mottlepaw knew he'd be okay. He had his littermates, and that was enough.