The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

1. The Stench of Death

I can't feel my toes! Palepaw forged onward, a scrawny bird in his jaws. He forced himself through the old tunnel entrance of the camp, yanking his thick Leaf-bare coat away from a stick. He paused for only a moment, casting glances over the camp. Cats bounded through the snow, returning from patrols or just beginning their duties. He looked on as his Clanmates continued with their lives as usual. At least I still have them, and everyone is alright. That's good, like usual. Then, as always, boredom hit, and he pressed forward through the chilling snow. When he reached the prey pile, all he could see was the stone that marked its location. He scraped the layer of snow and old leaves away before dropping his prey onto the pile, then covering it with the leaves once more. There. Now what?

He turned around and scanned over the camp. I'm free for the rest of the day, but there's nothing to do! This is the kind of day that makes me do stupid things. He sniggered to himself. Like put thorns in Patchback's nest. He remembered the memory fondly. He deserved it. He definitely deserved it.

"Palepaw?"

Palepaw snapped his head to the side to see a long-furred black she-cat approaching. Echopaw! Alarm prickled in his fur, and he darted off through the snow, leaving her. I am not helping her with another hurt cat. That's her job. Not mine. He slowed as he drew closer to the slope. Mine's to be the awesome hunter and fighter that this Clan expects. It's not as easy as hers, but it's not as disgusting either. He looked up to the ridge, immediately spotting Fallenstar's den set into the stone. Hope flared in him. Maybe she'll let me go on the dusk patrol.

Without warning, something crashed into him, sending him flying into the snow. He tumbled and wrestled with the other apprentice, who pinned him and puffed out his chest triumphantly. "Caught you," the gray and black tabby tom purred smugly.

Palepaw groaned and shoved his friend away with his hind legs. "Shove off, Scorchpaw. I'm covered in snow now! It's cold!" He snapped, shivering intensely. "I'm going to claw your ears off!"

Scorchpaw snorted and crouched. "Sure, and I'm going to be leader next moon! I'm twice your size!"

"Yeah, and it's not normal," Palepaw retorted. "You and your dad are both just big, bulky fur balls. Besides, I could catch you, even if I only had three legs!"

Scorchpaw rolled his amber eyes and turned away. "If you say so. I get to go on the dusk patrol."

Palepaw gaped at his friend, annoyance then crawling up his spine. "Lucky," he grumbled. "You get to go on all of the good patrols!"

"What can I say? Fallenstar thinks I'm a good cat." Scorchpaw laughed to himself. "And What are you doing, huh? Spending the day alone with nothing to do?"

"Actually, he's helping Echopaw," chimed a voice. Palepaw looked in horror at Fallenstar, the Clan's small brown and white she-cat leader, who sat on a rock nearby. "Aren't you?"

"I might as well be a medicine cat," Palepaw groaned. "I guess I can go help her. But it's so boring. Scorchpaw doesn't have to help Echopaw and Clearwhisker all the time."

Fallenstar narrowed her eyes at him, casting a veil of discomfort over him, and he shrunk away. "Fine. But I'm not a medicine cat, so this is incredibly unfair." With that, he turned away quickly and began bouncing through the snow. At one point, he had enjoyed the snow. Now, as prey had become more scarce and work had become more rigorous, he hated the cold fluff.

I guess I should be happy that I won't have to be outside in the cold, but I don't like being some second medicine cat. I should at least be out hunting.