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clangenrising · 2 months ago

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Month 18 - Greenleaf

As the dusk patrol padded along the southern border, Slatepaw tried to squint into the distance to spot EarthClan’s first marker in the hopes that, any moment now, they would wrap back around to where they started and be released from duty. She was hoping that Sparrowsway would be in camp when they returned so she could offer to share a meal with him. It had been forever since they’d had any one on one time and, if she hadn’t known any better, she might have thought he was avoiding her.

Beside her, Fogpaw was going on about something or other and had been for the last several minutes. Slatepaw tried to listen but heard the words “for the spell to work” and tuned out again. As much as she loved her sister, she didn’t understand how she believed in spells and things and expressing that opinion never went anywhere good so she tended to keep her mouth shut about it.

Pantherhaze, on the other hand, was nodding along and smiling kindly. Slatepaw smiled too, fondly appreciating her amazing and compassionate mentor. He simply was the best -- not like Scorchplume who still made Slatepaw’s fur prickle with unease when they were too close to each other. There was something wrong with her, especially if Fogpaw’s ramblings on “speechcraft” were anything to go by.

Not to mention the way she treated Ghost. The worst of it was that Scorchplume’s hatred for him had rubbed off on Fogpaw somehow. It would have been enough to glare at him all the time and turn her nose up when he walked by but turning his own daughter against him and pushing their family even further apart? It made Slatepaw want to scream.

Slatepaw sighed heavily and let her gaze wander through the dry, prickly grass and over the fresh pawprints in the mud from last night’s sudden rainstorm and-

“Wait,” she said aloud, scrunching up her nose as the realization hit her. “Look at these tracks.”

“What is it?” Pantherhaze asked as he stepped closer.

“These tracks are coming from the city, aren’t they?” she asked.

Fogpaw leaned in and opened her mouth to drink in the scent of the steps, wrinkling her nose and declaring, “Ugh! They smell like onions!”

“They must have disguised their scents,” Scorchplume hummed darkly, squinting at the path. “It could be a war party.”

“There’s only three of them,” Slatepaw said. Scorchplume cocked a brow but said nothing. Instead, she glanced at Pantherhaze who nodded and Slatepaw puffed up in pride.

“If it’s a war party, it's a small one,” he said. “They’re probably hunters.”

“I thought Ghost was supposed to stop the rogues from hunting in our territory,” Fogpaw scowled.

“He’s not all powerful, Fogpaw,” said Scorchplume, somehow defending him and putting him down in the same breath -- typical Scorchplume.

“We should try and catch them,” Slatepaw said, boldly lifting her chin.

“Yeah,” Fogpaw agreed.

Scorchplume frowned. “I think you two should probably run back to camp for reinforcements.”

“I think it should be fine,” Pantherhaze countered. “They’re about ten moons old now, they can handle a fight where the enemy is outnumbered.”

“Yeah!” Fogpaw said again. “We’ve got this, Scorchplume. Come on!”

“Alright,” sighed the ginger warrior. “Just be careful.”

“We will,” Slatepaw nodded. Like Pantherhaze said, they could handle this.

“This way,” Pantherhaze said, starting after the tracks. “They can’t be too far. Stay low and quiet and follow my lead.” Both apprentices nodded and the patrol slank into the grass.

Slatepaw’s entire body was rigid with adrenaline as they stalked through the field, paws falling directly into step with the tracks they were following. She went over the maneuvers Pantherhaze and Floodstrike had taught her over and over in her head as they went, praying to StarClan that she was ready for her first real fight.

The night was dark and full of crickets but, soon enough, she could hear voices laughing nearby -- voices she didn’t recognize. Pantherhaze lifted the tip of his tail to stop them and they all stilled, swiveling their ears to try and pinpoint the location of the sounds.

“I’m serious, he’s cute!” a high, feminine voice laughed.

Another voice, lower but still feminine, replied, “You’re nuts, Minnie. Bandit’s a solid four.”

“You just don’t know him like I do,” said the first voice - Minnie. “He’s cute, I’m telling you.”

“Let her have him, Tink,” said a third, more brash feminine voice. “It’s her life.”

“Are you looking at anybody new?” said the second voice - Tink.

“No.” The third voice said with finality, bringing the whole mood down.

Pantherhaze’s hind quarters started to wiggle where he had bunched them underneath him and Slatepaw moved to copy him. There was a beat of silence that hung tensely in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike, and then the patrol shot forward and collided with the hunting party who hissed and bristled right before impact.

Slatepaw struck out at a creamy tabby she-cat in a bright green collar. The kittypet jumped up on her toes and batted harshly back at her but before she could overwhelm Slatepaw, Fogpaw was leaping up to kick her side, sending her staggering. Pantherhaze was wrestling with a brown and white tabby while Scorchplume hissed at another brown tabby with dark stripes who was snarling at her uneasily. After another swipe or two, Pantherhaze’s opponent pulled back and the two groups squared off.

“Scorch, you bitch,” sneered the cat Pantherhaze had been fighting. “I’ll tear your face off.”

“We’ve got you outnumbered, Bella,” Scorchplume spat back in a very similar tone. “Go home or else.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bella reared up into an arch. “I’m the Speaker now. I’ll go wherever I damn well please!”

“Oh, really?” Scorch huffed a laugh, “Then why does everyone still report to Sardine?” Bella did not seem to like that, tail snapping side to side.

“Leave our territory,” Pantherhaze interjected before the verbal sparring could resume. “You have until the count of three. One…”

“Shut up, dog face!” Bella hissed at him.

“Two…” Pantherhaze continued, undaunted. Slatepaw tensed into her battle crouch, wishing she felt as calm as he seemed.

“Are we fighting them?” asked Minnie, the brown tabby opposite Scorchplume, her eyes darting sideways towards Bella. She and the other cat, Tink, seemed uneasy but their stances were solid enough. They weren’t the kind of kittypets Slatepaw had imagined.

Bella grit her teeth, glancing over the Clan cats. Her eyes snagged on Fogpaw and Slatepaw curled her lips and stepped forward to block her view.

“Three…” Pantherhaze said, his tone a final warning.

“Fine!” Bella snapped, tail lashing. “I’ll be back, though. You’ll all suffer for what you’ve done.”

“Make threats when you can back them up,” Scorchplume growled. “Right now, you’re leaving.”

Pantherhaze stepped towards Slatepaw in order to make room for the kittypets to pass him. After a tense, fur-prickling moment, Bella growled and stomped through the opening and the others followed her. The patrol shifted to keep eyes on them as they went.

“Don’t try looping back around,” Pantherhaze called after her. “We’ll be watching the border all night.” Bella growled lowly but kept walking. Slatepaw sighed in relief and let the tightness in her shoulders dissolve a bit.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Pantherhaze admitted softly.

“Yeah, we barely did any fighting,” Slatepaw pouted.

“Be glad for that,” said Scorchplume. “Never solve problems with claws when you could solve them with words.” Fogpaw nodded obediently and Slatepaw’s pelt prickled.

“But that’s what warriors do,” she said, “we fight to defend our Clan.”

“Only when we have to,” Pantherhaze soothed. “That’s why we have mediators -- to prevent fighting when possible.”

“Yeah,” Fogpaw chimed in, “Don’t you remember what mama said?”

Slatepaw bristled, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Yes!” she frowned deeper, “I’m just saying…” She didn’t know what she was just saying but she didn’t like the insinuation that she had forgotten her mother’s teachings.

Pantherhaze brushed his tail over her back reassuringly. “Why don’t you two run back to camp and tell someone what happened and to send another patrol to watch the border. Scorchplume and I will finish up the patrol and meet you there.”

“Okay,” Slatepaw wilted.

“You did great, Slatepaw,” Pantherhaze said, leaning in to lower his voice. “I’m really proud of you for spotting those tracks and being able to interpret them so well.”

“Yeah?” she looked up at him through her lashes, feeling small.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “You’re going to be a great warrior.” She smiled tentatively back. “Now go on and rest for the night. You’ve earned it.”

“Okay,” she nodded and turned to follow Fogpaw who had been waiting for her. They walked in silence for a few moments but eventually, Fogpaw spoke.

“Hey, did I hurt your feelings?” she asked.

“No,” Slatepaw said defensively, then softly, “A little.”

“I’m sorry,” Fogpaw said. “I didn’t mean to.” Slatepaw looked over at her sister and hated how little she could read in her flat expression. Sometimes she wondered if Fogpaw meant anything she said or if she’d just learned how to say the right things from Scorchplume. She chided herself at the thought. Of course Fogpaw was sorry! What a terrible thing to think about her own sister.

“It’s okay,” Slatepaw forced herself to smile. “I understand.”

Fogpaw smiled brightly and twined her tail with Slatepaw’s. “Come on, let’s go back to camp so we can eat something! I’m starved.”

“Yeah,” Slatepaw said, wanting to crawl into the earth, “me too…” Fogpaw didn’t seem to pick up on the disappointment in her voice and Slatepaw couldn’t figure out whether that made her feel better or worse.

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