Warriors: Silent

3

Mosspaw, Frostpaw, and Littlepaw drug old, dried up moss from the elders den- a hole made beneath the trunk of an old, collapsed tree. The air inside was stale. The last elders to walk PineClan's soil had died moons before she was born, and the scent they left behind in their old bedding had long ago dissipated.

She felt odd about dragging their old nests into the earthplace, even if she knew there was no reason to keep the dry, uncomfortable, dingy bedding. Cats used to sleep in these nests, and now they would be carried to the earthplace to become dirt, and with that the last trace of these cats would be gone.

With a twitch in her tail, Frostpaw set the bedding down at its destination and made her way back to the elders den.

By sunhigh, she and the two others were checking for any bugs or pests nesting in the den, and filling unwanted cracks with leaves and bramble.

After they've finished, the apprentices practiced battle moves by the warriors den- a hole made beneath the roots of the same collapsed tree. Frostpaw and Littlepaw were teaming up on Mosspaw, hissing and taunting her. Frostpaw invisioned her friend as a fox stealing PineClan prey.

Mosspaw was batting away Littlepaw when Frostpaw pounced from the side, intending to butt Mosspaw's flank and tackle her into the dirt. But Mosspaw had been watching, and leapt over Littlepaw after Frostpaw launched. Frostpaw tried to turn midair, but was barely able to catch herself when she landed. She slid, and thanked StarClan when she didn't completely fumble into the dust.

"A little rough for apprentices." Warmheart commented. Frostpaw hadn't heard the she-cat approach, and her pelt warmed in mild embarrassment when she realized the admirable warrior had witnessed her failed attack.

"We're practicing for battle." Mosspaw purred, obviously proud she was able to protect herself from two cats at once.

"Those Marshcats would attack two-on-one." Littlepaw added, further defending himself and Frostpaw for attacking Mosspaw simultaneously.

Warmheart purred. "Well, I think Mosspaw is ready for any two Marshcats wanting to launch an attack. You're very agile, even with your heavy coat."

Mosspaw raised her tail in delight upon the accolade. Then, curiously, "When are you expecting your kits?"

Warmheart perked her ears and her eyes glittered. "Any day now. That's what I came to talk about, actually. I've decided to move into the nursery, and was wondering if any of you would collect some moss for me. I would do it myself, but my paws are aching."

Littlepaw dipped his head, "I'll take care of that for you, Warmheart. I'll just let Whitefeet know."

Warmheart gave thanks before walking heavily towards Riverpelt and Leafear, who were sharing tongues. Her swollen belly looked uncomfortable to Frostpaw.

"How many kits is she having, do you think?" Frostpaw asked, turning to Mosspaw.

"Crowfur says she'll have twenty with how much she eats." Mosspaw replied in amusement.

Frostpaw couldn't keep her tail from quivering in excitement. She's the youngest cat in camp at the moment, and was looking forward to losing that reputation. In only days, there would be new, fuzzy kits for the Clan to fawn over.

She turned again to Mosspaw, who was now cleaning her face with her paw attentively. Frostpaw playfully flicked her tail, then suddenly pounced on her friend, who yowled in shock while Frostpaw wrapped her legs around her and bit her scruff.

The two tussled till the sun set.