The Lost Prophecy: Book 1: Ravenpaw's Secret

Bonus Scene- Dustpaw

AN: So I always wished I could have fit in a bit more on how Dustpaw and Yellowfang befriended each other, so I decided to write this bonus scene.  This starts at chapter 7, the day after Yellowfang came to ThunderClan.

And by the way, The Lost Prophecy #2: Broken Destinies is out now.

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Dustpaw began to pad toward the gorse tunnel, going over his tasks for the day in his mind. Hunt, chase off fox, then a border patrol. It would be a busy day, but he was looking forward to it. He was most anticipating driving the fox out of ThunderClan territory; he'd never actually seen one, but he knew enough about them that he was confident he could help scare it away.

But he had to hunt for the old mange-pelt first. Yellowfang. Dustpaw grumbled to himself at the thought. Bluestar had announced that his warrior training would be sped up, but then moments later informed him that he as well as the rest of the apprentices would be responsible for the care of the old rogue. It made no sense to Dustpaw, and he had no desire to talk to Yellowfang beyond what was necessary; they had already gotten into quite the spat the previous night. However, Yellowfang seemed to want to talk to him; she yowled out a mocking greeting as he passed.

"Oh hello, Voleleg." Dustpaw cringed at the name. "Off to hunt for your Clan?"

Dustpaw turned. "For you, actually."

"Oh, great. I'll just resign myself to my own starvation."

Dustpaw's pelt pricked in irritation. "Actually, you should be thankful you got me to hunt for you. If you got Ravenpaw you would probably starve."

Yellowfang scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that, Voleleg." Dustpaw flattened his ears; he hoped Yellowfang's derisive nicknaming wouldn't last. "You should get on it then. I want a thrush, by the way. Haven't had anything with feathers for a while."

"Too bad. You don't get a choice." Dustpaw stood up to walk away.

"What, a good hunter like you can't track a common bird through his own territory?" Yellowfang's mocking voice rang in his ears.

Dustpaw narrowed his eyes. "I could find any type of prey in the forest, and catch it this morning."

Yellowfang met his eyes with a challenging glare. "Bring me a thrush and maybe I'll believe you."

"I will," Dustpaw snarled, stalking away.

He pushed his way out of the ThunderClan camp, his tail swishing against the prickly sides of the gorse tunnel. He'd show her.

Breathing in the air, he began to head deeper into the woods. There were prey scents hidden among the leafy ones, but no thrush. He frowned, deciding to circle around the far end of the territory by Twolegplace. There were plenty of thrushes on that end of ThunderClan's hunting grounds.

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Finally. It had taken him most of the morning, but he had finally done it. A dead thrush lay at his paws, and not a moment too soon. Sunhigh had almost arrived, and Dustpaw needed to be back to camp by then if he wanted to take part in the patrol to drive the fox off ThunderClan territory.

This will show her. With a flash of triumph, Dustpaw picked up the thrush and carried it back to camp.

But when he dropped it in front of her, he did not get the reaction he expected.

"I thought you just hunted like a three-legged vole." Dustpaw's ears burned; the old rogue was taunting him. "I didn't think you hunted like one as well! I could have caught five pieces of prey in that amount of time when I was an apprentice!"