Blank Slate

CHAPTER TWENTY

Within the sky's confines, a swirling darkness brewed, one that silently and swiftly captured the brightness of the day and replaced it with a smoldering gloom. Small speckles of light slowly emerged from the smoky murkiness, followed by a smooth-faced moon, providing a blaze of light to a pair of apprentices.

One, a pale gray tom with wiry fur, whose yellow eyes glowed brightly among the shadows.

The other, a fragile pale brown she-cat. Her tail flickered back and forth as she rose to her paws, trotting carefully over to the tom. Her green eyes were glittering in the light of the stars and the moon that hung in the sky.

"Slatepaw? Slatepaw? Are we gonna go yet?" She whispered. She gave him a little nudge as her ears flickered back and forth for a moment.

He jerked from his thoughts, hurriedly rising to his paws. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, blinking for a moment at the sky. Slatepaw nodded in her direction and he quickly padded through the entrance.

The two apprentices slipped from the camp, edging around a few pine trees. Finchpaw's tail angled at a flitting shape ahead of them. Slatepaw squinted at it. It looked like a mouse, with a long tail and a fat body.

Though as he trotted past, it didn't move.

Finchpaw dashed ahead, tail whipping like a flag as she ran.

"Finchpaw!" he hissed, hurrying to catch up. "Just wait! We have to get to the stream first!"

The pale brown she-cat gave a nod, slowing down to trot beside Slatepaw.

As they continued on, Slatepaw found that a slow bubbling seemed to fill his senses - a dull, soft, pleasant murmuring of water over smooth-faced pebbles and rocks. The wiry-furred tom swerved to locate it and he took off in the direction of the stream.

They could not waste any time.

He heard the speedy pawsteps of Finchpaw behind him as he spotted the stream rolling gently over a few stones and pebbles. He skidded to a stop in front of it.

Finchpaw paused behind him and soon enough, the pale gray tom had completely washed himself off. He carried no scent of NettleClan. Slatepaw watched as Finchpaw did the same, although it didn't make much difference. Her scent was light as it was.

Slatepaw trotted over to where the PrickleClan border was, as conveniently, it was close to the stream, and he laid on his back, rolling around in the scent to drench himself in it. He didn't particularly like or dislike the scent. It didn't matter, anyway.

The plan must be carried out.

The tom, now covered in the scent of the enemy Clan, rose to his paws. He glanced to Finchpaw, who was in a similar situation.

He nodded, and the she-cat trotted over to a nearby tree. She placed a paw on it and then walked around the base of the tree. Slatepaw approached it, sniffing to locate the smell. It wasn't too strong.

A brief frown surfaced upon his muzzle but he let it fall, deciding to go over her scent instead.

Soon, he had been padding around several trees, walking through the undergrowth, and overall, letting the scent seep into the territory. Finchpaw, from what he saw, was doing similarly, but he always went back to her to retrace her scent.

He pressed another paw against a section of tree bark, and then soon after traced the edges of the base of the tree. Slatepaw turned back, trotting back through another sector of undergrowth. He paused momentarily, sniffing the air. Everything was smelling just how it was meant to.

Brief excitement swirled within him at the prospect of everything finally tying together. Brightstar and her tyranny would finally be taken down. Finally, finally, finally. It was taking a while to go through the area that he and Finchpaw were marking up with the scent but it'd all go to plan.

"Slatepaw!"

The pale gray apprentice's ears twitched as he picked up the voice of the pale brown she-cat.

"What?" He called back curiously. What could she possibly need?

"I've snapped some branches since the cats wouldn't be familiar with this territory!" She shouted in return and Slatepaw could almost hear the shuffling of her paws and the flickering of her tail as she spoke.

"Good!"

The tom had nearly forgotten, being lost in his mind and dreams of the rebellion. Everything was finally settling into place. They were setting everything up. Everything was going well. Nothing was out of place or incorrect. The rebellion would work, democracy would rise...!

"Slatepaw!" Finchpaw nudged the tom, huffing. He turned and his ears twitched.

Oops.

Quickly, the pale-furred tom snapped a few branches and he dumped the remains around the area he had been in. Finchpaw turned to him.

"We need the traitor," she mewed suddenly after a moment.

Slatepaw, swerving to trot back to the stream, gave a little flickering of his tail for the she-cat to follow him. This would be crucial to the plan. He swiftly padded up to it, letting the water run coolly over his paws for a moment or two.

His yellow eyes swept toward a patch of parsley. That would work excellently and so he rolled around in that for a few moments, too. Soon enough, his scent was completely masked by the scent of the parsley, though it was clear he was from that Clan.

But of course, it wasn't clear who was the parsley-masked cat. And that was perfect.

Above Slatepaw and Finchpaw's head, the darkened blackness of night was seemingly getting a tiny bit lighter. Slatepaw's yellow gaze drifted upward.

The moon was hanging in the sky, though not in the middle as he had expected. It was more tilted over to the side, with a bright, glimmery smile upon its smooth surface. The stars around it glittered too, coolly grinning down upon him.

He flashed a smile back before turning to Finchpaw.

"Let's go," murmured Slatepaw. Finchpaw gave a nod, practically bouncing upon her paws.

They took off through the undergrowth.

Written by Lamb :)
Edited by Solstice