Hostile

36

Frostcloud ran her barbed tongue over Needlepelt's scruffy fur. It was still two moons till leaf-bare, but sometimes Frostcloud found the dark nights were becoming just a touch too cold for her liking. She pressed her side into his scraggly ribs for warmth while she took care to groom the back of the old toms neck, nibbling at tough bits of fur.

A border patrol consisting of Whitestar, Ferretpaw, Rosedust, Buckheart, and Riverpelt padded back into camp. Unharmed. Buckheart broke away from the group and made course for Frostcloud and Needlepelt, carrying something in his mouth.

He set a lizard in front of the elders paws, "I happened to catch this by Sun Stones," he said to Needlepelt, "Probably one of the last of the season."

A rusty purr erupted from Needlepelts throat. He gently reached forward and took the bite-sized meal in his mouth. While chewing, the reptile tail poked out from his lips.

Frostclouds green eyes beamed at the oversized tom standing in front of her. She felt silly now to have waited so long to acknowledge what a mighty warrior he truly was. Once so clouded by the absence of Smudge, she overlooked the powerful, courageous tom that had always stood right next to her. Smudge was fun, sure. But Buckheart was so much more: loyal, uplifting, generous, thoughtful, brave...

He slowly blinked his orange eyes at Frostcloud, who returned the gesture with a rumbling purr.

Shadows slowly stretched across camp as dusk grew darker. Frostcloud spotted Foxpaw nudging a vole close to Ferretpaw, encouraging her sister to eat. She sat down next to the wirey grey apprentice, then gently ran her tongue along her back and haunches to groom her gently.

The air felt heavy and Frostcloud cast a glance into the sky. There was no moon tonight, and on the horizon were enormous clouds that rolled powerfully towards the forest. A storm was coming. One long overdue, though Frostcloud hated to admit it.

"Hrm." Came Mosspool gently approaching her friends with Slatethorn following. Her eyes followed Frostcloud's line of sight and her gaze fell to the nursery. "I don't like the look of that. Maybe Foxpaw can patch up the nursery in the morning?"

"Is it leaking?" Buckheart asked the queen.

Mosspool twitched her tail anxiously, but it was Slatethorn who replied, "I've noticed a draft, too. I don't want to find out what a storm would do."

Frostcloud nodded at the other warriors. "I'll ask Foxpaw to touch it up at dawn."

"The kits would love that." Mosspool mused quietly. Littlekit and Smallkit were just a couple moons shy of receiving mentors, and eagerly they followed the other apprentices around camp when they returned from patrol. To have them at their disposal in the nursery would be a dream come true for the eager little bodies.

Dustclaw anxiously paced circles around camps borders. Since his sons death, Frostcloud had hardly seen the tom rest. Leafear has spent most her time with her two remaining daughters, though much like Ferretpaw her heart has been heavy.

Slatethorn watched his brother quietly. "How has he been?" Mosspool asked her mate.

The deep grey tom shook his head lightly. "Angry. Inconsolable." He said. "I wish every day I could have stopped Badgerpaw."

Frostcloud felt her eyes soften at Slatethorn. She has felt the same guilt being unable to stop her own apprentice from chasing the Marshcat. It was luck alone Foxpaw did not take the lead of the chase that day.

"He was very brave." Frostcloud tried to console, "it could have been any of us."

There was a chilly breeze and the cats huddled closer together. Buckheart pressed his nose to Frostclouds. "Let's get some rest." He said to her. Together, they left for the warriors den.