//Un//marked

// chapter 16 //

Lightpaw did not tell anyone what she had seen that day in the forest. She was too afraid to.

Smoketalon's eyes followed her as she crossed the camp from the apprentice den to the freshkill pile and she forced her fur to lie flat. It was sundown, just before the dusk patrols were to set out, and DarkClan's members sat in haphazard arrangements, enjoying freshkill and company. The drifts of snow throughout the camp had been flattened by numerous paws, leaving no places to hide.

She glanced over at the warrior's den, where Flamestrike and Dapplefrost sat sharing a mouse. The tom twitched his whiskers in amusement at something his pair said, giving her ear a playful lick. As Lightpaw watched, Flamestrike's ginger fur turned grey and his amber eyes took on a hazel sheen. Then, she blinked, and he was the same fiery colour as always. Her eyes did not dare slide to Smoketalon, who sat not too far off.

Lightpaw snatched a piece of freshkill off the pile, too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice what it was. As the she-cat straightened she came face to face with a worried face.

"Are you really sure you want that measly shrew?" Shademask gave the freshkill in her mouth a pointed look. There was hardly any meat on its thin bones but Lightpaw just gave a nod.

"Positive," she said through the mouthful, eager to get away. She hadn't talked to the tom since running in to him in the healer's den a quarter moon ago. In fact, she had hardly spoken to anyone since then.

She returned to the apprentice den, settling down to eat a little further away from the other apprentice's than usual. Only Stormpaw gave her a curious look. The others, preoccupied with their conversation about training, did not notice her. It was as if she had become ethereal, a spirit that walked through their ranks.

She bit into the shrew and immediately regretted the nod she gave Shademask earlier. The meat was tough and had no taste. Still, her stomach growled with hunger and she ate every last piece of the shrew, crunching the bones between her teeth for good measure.

Though hunger still gnawed at her, Lightpaw knew she could not eat more. There was hardly enough freshkill for the entire Clan; she was lucky she had gotten to eat tonight. She settled her head on her paws and her eyes slowly drifted closed as the light faded from the world around her.

A thud startled her awake. Her nose twitched furiously as she picked up the scent of fresh squirrel rising up from the freshkill before her. Glancing up she saw Spiderthorn's amused face.

"I saw that shrew," he commented. "Come, share this with me." He picked the squirrel up and began to pad in the direction of the log. Aware that the other apprentices were now watching her, Lightpaw followed.

Spiderthorn gestured for the apprentice to take the first bite and, unwilling to displease the deputy, Lightpaw took a small mouthful. The rich taste flooded her mouth, blood still warm.

"It's just the beginning of a hard leafbare," the tom mused after taking his own bite. He was sitting across the freshkill from her, looking entirely at ease. Lightpaw shifted uncomfortably.

"It's my first," she replied before realizing that, as her father, Spiderthorn would be well aware of the fact.

"Leafbare is much harder for an apprentice who tries to run away from her Clan." The deputy fixed her with a stare so intense Lightpaw shuffled backwards. In the moment she was able to hold it she saw anger and – dare she say? – disappointment deep in the depths of his amber irises.

Then, her racing mind and heart came to a sudden stop. "Running away? Why would I be running away?"

Her voice, earnestly confused, caused Spiderthorn to pause. "You're... not?" All Lightpaw could do was shake her head. Who would accuse her of such an act?