Warriors: The Undying Flame: Into The Wild

CHAPTER TWO

Three chapters in over a year? I see this as progress. 

But seriously, sheesh. I promise y'all I'll stop being lazy . . .

. . .

. . .

One of these days.

Graypaw arched his back in a good long stretch, doing his best to stifle a huge yawn. He knew it was an honor for any cat—and much more so for an apprentice—to be chosen to patrol alongside the Clan leader, but did it have to be the dawn patrol?

He shivered. The morning mist still hung low among the trees, encasing the forest in a damp cloud as dark as the apprentice's own gray pelt. The only sound was that of the light breeze stirring the brush and branches, and the faint paw steps of the cats ahead of him. Graypaw gazed upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sun, but he could make out nothing. Great, he thought. I don't even know if it is dawn yet. It would be just like Lionheart, he decided, to make him get up before he had to.

Graypaw closed his eyes, wishing he were back in the apprentices' den in camp, with the breath of his denmates warming the air. His nest there had never seemed so cozy . . .

"Wake up, Graypaw."

Graypaw startled as the breath of some creature tickled his ear. His eyes shot wide open; he looked around him, for a heartbeat still hoping that he would find himself back in his den, but instead seeing only the darkness of the early-morning forest. Taking a wary step back, he blinked until he thought he could make out the shape of a muscular golden-furred tomcat standing a fox-length away.

"Lionheart!" he gasped. "How long was I—?" 

Graypaw's mew trailed off as Lionheart didn't immediately respond. His mentor's expression was unreadable through the fog, but he felt he had a good idea of what it was. Lionheart was not as harsh as some of his fellow senior warriors were known to be, but he knew perfectly well how to express his disapproval when he wanted to. Besides, Graypaw's own embarrassment at being called out cut deeper than any stern words ever could.

"Only moments, youngster," Lionheart grunted at last. "Though I might still say it was a few moments too many." Graypaw dipped his head in shame as the golden tabby went on. "A warrior must always remain vigilant. Prey could slip through his claws, and then his Clan would go hungry. Or worse, if an enemy came onto their territory, they might find themselves at a disadvantage that could cost them a battle. If even one Clan cat is unable or unwilling to do his duty, the others will only be weaker for it."

A lither, smaller shape moved up beside Lionheart as he spoke. This was Bluestar. She gazed impassively at Graypaw, and finally joined in the conversation when his mentor had finished.

"Lionheart is quite right," she meowed. "ThunderClan needs its warriors to be strong and alert at all times, especially now. So many of us are gone now . . ." 

Her voice trailed off, wistful and regretful at the same time, and it seemed to be a long time before she continued.

Graypaw waited patiently for Bluestar to collect herself, not wanting to interrupt whatever she was thinking of. Only a few moments passed before she seemed to stir, remember where she was, and try to put some light back into her eyes. 

"Lionheart has told me good things about you, Graypaw. I brought you with us today to observe your skills for myself. Tell me, what can you scent?" she asked.

She's changing the subject, Graypaw realized.

Graypaw was a young cat, one who had only been born at the end of the last greenleaf, but he could still remember some of the cats who had died during the cold seasons. By the time Graypaw had been old enough to leave the nursery, many of those cats had been lost to sickness, starvation, or conflicts over territory. These days, ThunderClan had precious few warriors left to defend its borders.