The Darkest Moons (Warrior Cats)

8. A Pleasant Gathering

     Scorchpaw was buzzing with excitement. How couldn’t he? Tonight was the night of yet another gathering, and Palepaw would be coming too! It was his first, though he had become old enough long ago. He had always been in trouble in some way or another, and Fallenstar had never seemed keen on welcoming him along with the others. 

     Cats were gathering, some chattering cheerfully. It was comforting to see a spark of happiness within the camp; it had been far too rare since Fallenstar and Tigerstripe’s death. Scorchpaw searched the camp for Palepaw. 

     Oh yeah! He’s guarding Helen until we leave. Scorchpaw’s heart sunk. So he’ll be in a foul mood. Scorchpaw started towards the warriors’ den, circling it when he reached the edge and looking towards the brush. He could see Palepaw crouched against the cliff, his glowing green eyes giving him away. Through the brush came Helen, who purred warmly to Scorchpaw. “I’m guessing you’re both ready to leave?” 

     Scorchpaw nodded and looked to Palepaw, who muttered something under his breath and padded away from Helen. “Who’s taking over?” He asked. 

     Scorchpaw shrugged. “Don’t know. I just thought-“ 

     Palepaw narrowed his eyes and glowered back at Helen. “I can’t leave her until someone says so, so you might as well bug off.” 

     He really hates her, doesn’t he? But I guess it’s understandable. She is a loner. “I guess I’ll wait with you then,” Scorchpaw mewed. He sat down by the log and studied Palepaw’s disgruntled expression. But what’s so bad about loners? Or any outsiders? I know those rogues are bad, but not everyone is like them.  

     Rainfall rounded the corner, eyes clouded with sadness, and she brushed past Palepaw and Scorchpaw. “You can go,” she muttered. Palepaw jumped to his paws, ignoring the sorrowful she-cat entirely as he tromped out from behind the warriors’ den. Scorchpaw cast a glance after the gray warrior before following his sour friend. I guess she’s sad that she’s not going to the gathering. 

     Cats were gathering in the center of the camp, most shivering from the cold. In the past three days, it had refused to snow, but the forest remained chilled and all were unhappy with it. Luckily, the spirit of the night remained high. Scorchpaw quickly spotted Echopaw sitting by Goldstreak, nervously grooming her fur as she listened to her mother. 

     “How did it go with Helen?” Goldstreak asked as the two toms approached. Scorchpaw jumped when Palepaw’s fur burst into a bristling fit, and he gestured towards Froststrike. 

     “He hates me, so he has me guarding her all day every day! I hate it! She smells like dung!” The splotched apprentice snarled, whipping his tail from side to side. “She tries to be all mothering too! And she looks at me like Patchback but in reverse! It’s like she thinks I’m someone else, but she likes me for it! ‘Oh, you remind me of someone I knew,’ is all I ever hear anymore!” 

     To Scorchpaw’s surprise, Goldstreak snorted and patted Palepaw’s shoulder with one paw. “You’ll have Shadowclaw back soon. Besides, I’ve talked to Helen. Talk to her and you may like her. She’s nice.” 

     “If she’s so nice, why is she a prisoner?” Palepaw demanded. “She’s a rogue! I can’t just talk to her! That’s- That’s conspiring with the enemy!” 

     “She’s only a prisoner because Blackstar is being cautious,” Goldstreak urged. 

     Scorchpaw looked to his sister for help with the situation. She simply stared at Palepaw, appalled. Blackstar yowled to the air for the Clan to follow, and Palepaw was the first to shoot off with the group. Scorchpaw kept beside Echopaw, who walked in the back. She looked terribly on edge, her ears perked and swiveling anxiously.