Warriors: Silent

9

      Carrying a chipmunk, Frostpaw padded towards the leaders den. It was almost sun-high, and already the apprentice had gone on dawn patrol, a hunting patrol, and practiced battle moves with Cricketlegs. After practice, Cricketlegs asked his apprentice to bring a meal to their leader.

  The ground was damp with the drizzling rain, the storm from two nights ago still not completely subsided. Needlepelt said that it was almost greenleaf, and rain would be frequent. Frostpaw flicked her tail anxiously at the thought of more thunder.

  Entering Mothstar's den, Frostpaw paused, her hind legs still outside in the rain. The air felt cold, despite the warm weather. And a strange odor pricked at her nose, making Frostpaw's skin tick.

  Setting down the chipmunk, Frostpaw took an uneasy step towards her leader, who laid sleeping in his nest, his back towards her. "Mothstar?" She asked, raising her head and perking her ears, wanting to get a better look at the tom.

  Mothstar didn't stir, not that Frostpaw was particularly surprised. Neither he or Needlepelt had very good hearing anymore. Frostpaw took a few steps forward and pressed her muzzle into his flank.

  Ice.

  Startled, Frostpaw pulled away, and her blood ran cold. "Mothstar?" She asked, frightened.

  The fur on Frostpaws shoulders rose in alarm and she hurried towards the dens entrance, pausing to look back at her leader who still slept curled in his nest, "I'll be right back, Mothstar." She promised him.

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  Whitefeet had left camp with Dawnheart to visit Moonpool, a sacred underground pond just outside of ValleyClan territory, shortly after Mothstar's body was discovered. He left to receive his leaders name and nine lives, and wasn't expected back till dawn.

  The Clan sat near Mothstar, who laid in the clearing, wrapped in herbs Dawnheart had prepared. The clouds had parted after the sun set, and the light of the moon cast down on the camp. Frostpaw sat several foxlengths away from her old leader with her paws tucked beneath her chest, watching him warily, almost expecting him to get to his paws. She'd never seen a dead cat before, and she wondered if he was watching her Clanmates mourn from StarClan.

  Frostpaw turned towards the sky. The moon was almost full, and specks of stars glowed near it. Which star was he?

  Needlepelt was sharing tongues with Mothstar one last time. Frostpaw realized suddenly he's officially the oldest cat in camp now. Mosspaw approached Frostpaw quietly, a solemn look in her brown eyes.

  The she-cat stopped in front of her friend, pressing her forehead into Frostpaw's, sharing emotion words couldn't describe.

  Then, patiently, the Clan stood vigil for their gentle leader.