The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

2. The Fallen

"How is training with Redwing going?"

Scorchpaw ignored the question, his mind ablaze with other things like the trees and brush. Many of the trees near the FireClan border were scraggly, but they did not have the same dead look as some within a portion of DarkClan's territory. Much of the brush had grown back, but it was still fresh and small. Near FireClan, it was thicker, and it strangled the grass. It was thorny and frustrating to walk on when the ground wasn't coated in a thick layer of snow.

"Scorchpaw?" Rainfall meowed, trying to get the apprentice's attention.

"Oh, it's good. It's fine," Scorchpaw answered quickly, trying to dismiss the topic. He would much rather compare the coarse, sand-like earth near FireClan's cliffs to that of DarkClan's than focus on his mentor. She was certainly a skilled warrior, and she had a great deal to offer in the way of combat, but she was prickly and easily angered, and she expected so much - too much - out of everyone.

She treats me like crowfood. But she treats everyone like that, so maybe it's not anything to worry about. Scorchpaw caught a glimpse of a fluttering squirrel tail nearby, and it took all of his willpower not to chase down the nimble rodent. He had eaten, but it had been what seemed like hours ago, and his meal had only been a mouse. He refused to admit his hunger, though.

"Well, how is Palepaw? And your sister? I don't get to talk to them very much. They're both so busy," Rainfall asked curiously. "Is their training going well?"

Scorchpaw thought for a few moments on the matter. Echopaw spent a lot of her time buzzing around Clearwhisker when she wasn't helping an ill cat, learning everything she could about the Clan's past. Meanwhile, Palepaw was constantly running about, searching for things to do that weren't involved in medicine, or he was brooding and slapping Scorchpaw away.

"I don't talk to them very much. They're too busy," Scorchpaw finally replied. And when they aren't, I am.

They broke the tree line, emerging from a thick line of odd bushes, and Scorchpaw couldn't help but feel awestruck at the sight of the massive cliffs. They sloped at the ends, one of which was just beside the border, and then climbed upwards. Their barren sides were incredibly steep, old, tattered roots poking out in spots. Rock shelves hung overhead, guarding patches of sandy ground from the snow.

"It isn't all sand, is it? FireClan's territory?" Scorchpaw inquired dumbly.

Yellowfoot shook his snow-dappled russet pelt and snorted. "'Course not. It's got a smaller chunk of forest along its twolegplace border, but it's mostly like PlainClan throughout. It's very grassy and dry."

"I'd hate to climb those cliffs," Rainfall gasped as the patrol walked closer to them. Her eyes were wide with astonishment. "Especially with my leg. Every time I have to patrol here, the rock amazes me."

Scorchpaw heard Fallenstar sniggered from the front. "You're very much like a kit."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment, Fallenstar," Rainfall replied.

"It is. You continue trying despite your injury, and you always see the good in other things. It's pleasant to see a cat find something as natural and common as these cliffs interesting," the leader answered.

Scorchpaw sent a glance towards Rainfall's hind leg. Apparently, long before he was born, she had been hurt badly in one of two battles with a fierce group of rogues. Something had been torn inside, and it had never properly healed well.

She's very determined. He purred to himself and tilted his head back to look at the cliffs again. The patrol stopped, and he bumped into Yellowfoot, who hissed silently under his breath and jumped away. "Watch It, fluff-brain."