Warriors: Crow's Carrion

Chapter Fifteen

     "Pool, you've proven yourself fit to serve our Clan to the fullest. By my right as leader, I grant you the title of a warrior. From this day on, you'll be known as Poolstone, for your level-headedness and loyalty. Continue to make us proud."

     Ospreypaw watched, paws tingling, as Ripplestar briefly touched her nose to Poolstone's forehead. Currentpaw sat between them, his paws pacing nervously. On a whim, Ripplestar had given all three of them their assessments, claiming that they were ready. Naturally, they all passed with flying colors.

     "Current," Ripplestar continued, moving over, "you've also proven yourself today. By my right as leader, I give you the title of a warrior. From now on, you'll be known as Currentheart, for your optimism and kindness. I know that you will continue to spread those to all you meet."

     Again, Ripplestar touched her nose to Currentheart's forehead. She paused when she locked eyes with Ospreypaw, her expression unreadable.

     "Finally, Osprey," she mewed and stepped toward them. No longer did she tower over the younger cat; instead, Ospreypaw found themself to stand taller than their leader. They could hardly believe they used to think she was huge, intimidating in size alone. "Throughout your entire apprenticeship, you have proven yourself to us time and time again. If anyone is most deserving of the warrior title, it's you. From now on, you'll be known as Ospreyjaw, in recognition of your ambition and determination. I'm certain that you will inspire the next generation of apprentices, just as you have inspired your own Clanmates thus far."

     Inspired who? Ospreyjaw thought, blinking in surprise. For all the moons of their apprenticeship, they could only name a few cats who hadn't suffered a pitying expression when looking at them.

     "In honor of receiving your full names, the three of you will feed the Clan today. As we near the end of a long greenleaf, the prey starts to dwindle, but I have faith that the three of you will hunt with StarClan at your backs."

     Ripplestar gave the three of them an affirming nod, and Poolstone and Currentheart promptly left the confines of their camp. Ospreyjaw hesitated, glancing around the crowd in search of Darkshadow. They caught his gaze quickly, and he responded by blinking his intense green eyes in encouragement. Emboldened by their old mentor's support, even after apprenticeship, they turned and followed the other two warriors out of the camp. Poolstone's scent veered north, while Currentheart's shot straight toward the south shore.

     "I guess I'll go west," Ospreyjaw mumbled to nobody. "Could keep an eye on NightClan's shore this way, too."

     They set a steady pace, their paws leading them on a path they'd traveled countless times now. Before they could near the shore—they couldn't even smell the river yet—another scent caught their focus. A cat's scent, one from their own Clan. They thought back to the ceremony and realized they hadn't seen Sleekthistle at all during it. It was an unspoken assumption that she'd simply been in her den with Reedtuft, but evidently not.

     The trail led away from the camp, toward the same shore Ospreyjaw headed for. They followed it, thoughts of the task at hand pushed to the back of their mind in favor of finding their grandmother. What was she doing so far from the camp? She rarely left for anything other than the dirtplace or the more elusive sunning stones. Surely she wouldn't opt to hunt for herself—Ospreyjaw didn't even think she could.

     Before long, the smell of the river almost overwhelmed the other. Ospreyjaw picked up the pace until they finally reached the shore and spotted Sleekthistle sitting in the sand, her back to them. Her yellow tabby fur looked unusually dull and knotted, and her ears perked in a way that seemed more . . . distant, than anything else.

     "Sleekthistle?" Ospreyjaw called. The old molly didn't give the slightest hint of a response, let alone acknowledgement, so they padded into the sand and approached her.

     Her yellow eyes remained fixed on something across the river, something distant. Ospreyjaw tried to follow her gaze and saw nothing at all, so they nudged her with their muzzle. Still no response.

     "Let's get you back to camp, okay?" they said. "I'm sure Ripple and Reedtuft are losing their tails in worrying by now."

     A scent drifted down from upstream—NightClan. Worry sprouted in their belly, but when they tried nudging Sleekthistle again, they saw a bundle of brown fur tangled at the far shore. Opsreyjaw hesitated and looked hard, trying to discern what it was; a beaver or muskrat, perhaps. When they saw patches of orange mixed in with faint stripes, their heart plummeted into their gut. They recognized that fur, and it was no beaver.

     "Sleekthistle, we need to leave," Ospreyjaw hissed quietly. "We have to get you back to the camp. Now."

     For the first time, Sleekthistle gave a faint grunt of acknowledgement and she allowed Ospreyjaw to guide her away from the shore. Ospreyjaw's fur prickled with unease the further they went. The bundle of fur was, without a doubt, the NightClan medicine cat Rowanspots. They'd seen her at every Gathering so far, there was no mistaking it. She was dead. Right? Ospreyjaw thought in horror, glancing over their shoulder. No living cat just . . . looks like that. Stars, what do I do? Should I tell Ripplestar?

     No. The voice rang out clearer even than their own subconscious, sending a shudder down their spine and ultimately settling their conflict. Briefly, they wondered if it was just their stronger subconscious voice or perhaps their dream-walking teacher. They had a hard time telling the two apart as time went on.

     "Oh, you found her!" Wavedance, Reedtuft, and Sticklefur had appeared on the path ahead of Ospreyjaw, each of their muzzles warped with worry and relief. Sticklefur rushed forward first, inspecting her closely. "Mom, what were you doing?"

     "Reedtuft just told us he lost sight of her a while ago," Wavedance murmured. "Where was she?"

     "I found her by the river," Ospreyjaw said. "Out west."

     "What?" Sticklefur looked over. "What in the name of StarClan was she doing out there?"

     "I don't know." Ospreyjaw recalled Rowanspots' body and held back a nauseated grimace. "I think she was just enjoying the view. Of the river. The weather's . . . nice."

     They glanced at Reedtuft, who had a knowing look in his eyes. Sleekthistle's behavior had been concerning for several moons, but Ospreyjaw couldn't tell if their mother and uncle had noticed it or not.

     "Let's take her to see Riverflower," Sticklefur said, confirming Ospreyjaw's thoughts. "Just in case."

     Together, Sticklefur and Reedtuft led Sleekthistle back toward the camp. Wavedance walked slower than the others, her pace matching Ospreyjaw's as they made their way along.

     Ospreyjaw looked at their mother for a moment. She watched their kin leave, her dual-colored eyes flitting with anxiety. They realized now that Wavedance and Sticklefur must have noticed Sleekthistle's behavior for quite some time; she's their mother, of course. To keep that worry to themselves for so long . . . .

     Ahead of them, their kin vanished into the camp. Shortly after, Beaverpatch burst out, his fluffy brown fur riddled with small leaves.

     "Look at you!" he purred and approached Ospreyjaw. "Our warrior. Looking after the elders, making us proud."

     It took all their effort not to wince at his words. Their father was . . . endearing, in a way, but they couldn't help but find it uncomfortable since their siblings passed. It often felt like they were the only one in the Clan who lived in reality as it was—their Clanmates, their kin, being murdered, with no justice being served. The rest of their Clanmates, even their own parents, seemed to only grieve for short hiccups in time before resuming to their normal lives. Ospreyjaw couldn't understand it.