Warriors: Silverjaw's Sorrow

Chapter Thirteen

 A few sunrises had passed since Silverpaw identified the rogue scent on the border. Patrols had grown more frequent on the southern boundary, and Pinestar was more transparent about the crowfood laid about. It was becoming more probable that the foxes were lured to the border by cats, which only roused more speculation to Silverpaw's intentions, much to her dismay. There wasn't much she could do to convince them she was innocent, especially with Lionpoppy's theories running rampant and her own guilty conscience.

Movement caught her eye, and in a split-second, Silverpaw hooked her claws deep into scaly flesh.

Flicking her paw, she tossed the orange fish out of the water and onto the pebbled riverbank. It flopped around, struggling to make its way back to the river. Silverpaw pounced on it, sinking her teeth into its cold, water-slick scales, her taste buds meeting its hot, savory blood. The fish stopped wriggling after a moment, and she deposited it onto the meager pile by her side.

It was a messy catch, with blood oozing where her claws had scored its side, but it would feed the Clan well. She uttered her thanks to StarClan, and turned her attention back to the river.

The gurgling current melodiously filled her ears, while above, foreboding dark clouds blotted out the sun, carrying the heavy taste of rain. Glaring up at her from the depths of the river was nothing but swirling dust and debris, still affected from the rainstorm a few days prior. Some cats were worried about flooding. After the tragedy last leaf-bare, she wasn't surprised.

Silverpaw's eyes drew back to the depths of the river, and as she waited, a fat droplet of water splattered onto her nose. She sneezed.

"That's one way to scare away all the fish," Honeywhisker hissed from a few tail-lengths downriver.

Silverpaw twitched her tail. "Wasn't my fault," she retorted.

Honeywhisker huffed and kept his eyes trained on the water. Silverpaw rolled her eyes and did the same. She had been training with the tom for nearly a moon now. His callousness, though still frequent, wasn't as harsh as it had been. He seemed to be mellowing out—as much as a frustrating cat like him could, at least.

Every night, Silverpaw snuck out of camp to practice her battle moves, enough to where the golden warrior was having a difficult time criticizing her in that regard. The only issue, however, was how tired she grew with every passing day. It could be seen in the drag of her paws on patrols, and especially in her sloppy fishing.

The surface of the river, already rippling from its current, grew rougher as rain began to cascade from the heavens. Silverpaw flattened her ears against the thunder of rain against her skull, a growl of irritation slipping from her lips.

A flash of silver darted past her paws. Silverpaw's heart skipped a beat, and in an instant, her claws flexed to graze its side. The fish smacked her wrist with its writhing body and escaped her grasp. Unwilling to give up, Silverpaw launched into the water with a splash, flicking her other paw forward as her head plunged beneath the surface. The roar of the current greeted her ears. Her eyes squinted against debris, the normally clear world below foggy and murky from the storm days ago.

A sliver of blood swept along the current while her paws found leverage, digging fiercely into the fish's scales. The fish, however, was a large one, and with a rough kick of its tail, her grip faltered. Silverpaw's paws flailed as she balanced herself in the current, and she stared in disappointment as her prey faded into the murkiness.

Kicking her paws, Silverpaw burst to the surface, her fur slicked back against her head as she paddled back ashore. Pebbles and reeds crunched underpaw as she dragged herself up, her fur soaked and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She didn't bother to shake her pelt dry; the rain had increased to a torrential downpour. She would've been thoroughly soaked regardless of her dip.