BLURRED | warrior cats.

part two╺ WITHOUT A TRACE

"Wolfscar, you hear about Elderfrost?"

The black she-cat paused in the midst of tearing into a mostly-eaten hare that lay between her and the tortoiseshell tom. She swallowed the chunk of meat between her jaws and licked the blood off her muzzle with a swipe of her tongue. She was a rather wolfish eater, compared to her brother, who took dainty bites and spent longer chewing his food.

"No," she grumbled, looking up at him. "What about him?"

Morningshade's sleek coat bristled, and his eyes stretched wide as he explained to her what the gossip around camp was. "He wasn't in his nest this morning, and nobody found him on the dawn patrol, or noon patrol." His whiskers began to quiver, which always happened when his anxiety spiked.

"Did they bother looking for a scent trail?" Wolfscar sniffed, nudging their breakfast closer to her littermate.

"It ends near the camp's entrance." Morningshade shook his narrow head and pushed the hare back. "It's like he vanished without a trace."

"Odd." She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

"Did you notice him leaving camp last night?" he asked, frowning. "Your nest is nearest to his."

Wolfscar shook her head. "Didn't notice a thing." She began to stand as she spotted Leafpaw heading in their direction. "We can keep a lookout for him while we're out."

The skinny tortoiseshell didn't reply, other than a small hum. He followed behind her closely as she bounded away to greet her apprentice. Wolfscar wondered how the brown tabby felt about his father's absence. Did he even know yet? She couldn't imagine what it felt like to lose a parent, or both parents. She couldn't sympathize with him. Her mother and father, Quailsmoke and Ashtooth respectively, were both very much alive and healthy. As she neared the young tom, he was evidently aware that Elderfrost was nowhere to be found; his face was darkened by a deep scowl of frustration and desperation, and his tail lashed with agitation. Though, she had to note, Leafpaw seemed to be perpetually irritated about anything and everything. The only time Wolfscar ever saw him restrain his sharp tongue and unpleasant expression was around Juniperpaw.

"We have to look for my father," he hissed as he approached the battle-scarred warrior.

Wolfscar tipped her head. "We are going to go train," she meowed sternly. When Leafpaw opened his jaws to argue, green eyes glittering fiercely with determination, she added, "And then we will search for Elderfrost, understood?"

The tabby dipped his head, breaking their gaze and staring at his wide paws. Wide paws were something very unusual for GorgeClan cats; they naturally had small, dainty paws for walking across the several thin ledges along the gorge's steep walls. No cat commented on his anomaly, respecting the young tom's touchy feelings towards his own paws. This was something Wolfscar could sympathize with; she, too, was oddly built for a cat of their Clan. She was large and muscular, with large paws similar to her apprentice's.

Unlike Leafpaw, however, there had been a case of mockery for her size. Sparrowcry– Sparrowpaw, at the time– had called her overweight and taunted her constantly. Nobody else joined in the mockery, but they hadn't stepped in to defend young Wolfpaw, either. Perhaps because Sparrowpaw was Sandstar's son, or because they knew she wouldn't appreciate their aid. She remembered getting furious about the name-calling, having been an inwardly very insecure cat in her apprenticeship. She had sprang onto Sparrowpaw and gave him a good beating for his rude behaviour. To add to her satisfaction, Sandstar had punished that pompous cur. The look of dismay on his face had made up for every tick she'd been forced to pull from Stonestep's fur and every day she had to spend organizing the medicine cat's herbs. She had the pleasure of relishing in the nasty tear in Sparrowcry's ear that day, every time she saw him.

"Let's head out," the battle-scarred she-cat grunted, whirling around to face the narrow, winding slope that lead to the moor. She could smell the heather from the bottom of the gorge. "Morning, do you still want to come with us?"

The small tortoiseshell perked up and nodded swiftly. "Yes, please." His paws rubbed against each other nervously and his whiskers quivered again.

Outsiders may have a difficult time believing that Wolfscar and Morningshade were born in the same litter. They had always been polar opposites; Wolfscar was large, bold and fierce, whilst Morningshade was skinny, doubtful and timid. The black she-cat's body was covered in scars from her many combats, and the tortoiseshell tom's body was unblemished. She stood out in a crowd and he blended in with it. There was one thing that no cat could deny about them, however, and that was their close bond. They were most always together, sharing meals, attending patrols, sitting together at Gatherings. Due to their parents being split, and their mother being swept away by all her responsibilities as deputy, they learnt to depend on each other at a young age.

The three cats exchanged a nod, and, in the order of Wolfscar, Morningshade and Leafpaw, began to pad up the slope. It was a long walk, but the winding trail wasn't as thin as the others along the gorge walls. They would be heading to a peaceful plot of land a decent distance away from camp to hone the brown tabby's battle skills. His large paws hindered his performance, unfortunately. He had not yet grown into them, and often stumbled over their girth.

"I'm sick of this!" he had cried one afternoon, fed up with his incessant tripping. "I'm done training!"

"You don't get to decide that," was Wolfscar's reply, observing the tom fling a clump of heather a couple taillengths away in a bout of frustration.

"Well," the brown tom had paused, as if trying to formulate a retort that his mentor could not rebuttal against him. His shoulders sagged and he clamped his jaws shut tightly.

The large warrior shook her head. "You will never improve if you give up like this." She had sat by his side, gazing at him. "I had the same difficulties you had when I was an apprentice, but I didn't let my many defeats stop me."

After that conversation, Leafpaw's determination to improve at battle had been evident. He had become far less clumsy than a mere moon ago. Of course, there was always room for improvement, and Wolfscar was relieved that he shared that belief. She was proud of her apprentice, for all his effort and improvement. She hoped that he would learn to use his large paws to his advantage, like she had.

When Sandstar initially gave her the responsibility of mentorship, Wolfscar had been dumbfounded. She wasn't the most qualified cat for training a future GorgeClan warrior, with her asocial nature and all. It wasn't until they had that conversation that the black she-cat realized the reasoning behind her leader's decision. Sandstar had chosen her because she and Leafpaw suffered from the same strife. Perhaps because she wanted me to grow close to a cat other than my brother, too, she mused, narrowing her eyes. If that was the leader's plan, it had definitely worked. She was close to Leafpaw, and he was one of the few cats she would lay her life down for. The day he was going to become a warrior would be one of her proudest. He would, hopefully, be ready to pass his assessment when the time came around. She wasn't ever going to have kits, nor was she interested in taking a mate, but if she was to bear her own, she would want a son or daughter like Leafpaw.

Wolfscar watched him as he walked with vigour across the moor. She promised herself to search for his father, no matter how hopeless and futile she believed the chance of finding him was. Leafpaw didn't deserve to be an orphan, and if she could help prevent that, she would.