Warriors: Shattered Blossom

Chapter Five

 The next morning, Cragpaw woke with a strange feeling of emptiness in his chest. No fur brushed against his, the sweet smell of Strikefeather didn't greet him, and neither did the soft snores of his denmates. His amber eyes blinked aimlessly. Where was he?

Cragpaw glanced around. Stumpwhisker lay curled in his bed a few tail-lengths away, while Nightpaw was dozing in a pile of moss close to Cragpaw's. The emptiness that had clamped its icy claws around his chest slowly stretched open as he realized that no, he wasn't lost. He was still safely tucked away in ThunderClan camp as an apprentice. Stumpwhisker's apprentice.

Cragpaw rose to his paws and gently nudged his brother awake. Nightpaw stirred and blearily looked over at Cragpaw.

"What is it?" He grunted, golden eyes slightly unfocused with exhaustion.

"It's time to get up." Cragpaw twitched his whiskers. "I don't want to sleep in today!"

Nightpaw heaved a sigh and hefted himself to his paws. The black tom began grooming moss out of his fur, and Cragpaw replicated his movements until he was happy with how his pelt looked. Nice and clean, with no knots or mats. He licked his paws, which were still bitter from mousebile, and shuddered.

"Do you know how to get this stink out of your paws?" He muttered to Nightpaw.

Nightpaw glanced over and sniffed at Cragpaw's paws. His nose crinkled with distaste. "Honestly, I'm not sure. We should ask Stumpwhisker when he wakes up. For now, neither of us should lick our paws."

Cragpaw nodded and stretched. He glanced back to see that Nightpaw had returned to working a particularly knotted piece of moss out of his fur. Cragpaw's stomach rumbled loudly, so with a brisk shake of his pelt, the gray tom slipped out of the den and into the clearing.

The slightest sliver of light trickled into camp. A pinkish glow soared across the sky as the sun, out of sight behind the forest canopy, began to rise. Cragpaw's nose guided him to the freshkill pile where some prey leftover from the previous day lay, growing stale and cold.

Cragpaw selected a chaffinch, and padded over to the draping fern near the apprentice's den. He settled down and happily ate his meal, though he wished it were still fresh.

As he chewed on its stringy meat, cats began to slowly rise from their nests and enter the clearing. Those who were prearranged to dawn patrols quietly gathered near the camp entrance, before dispersing through the bramble tunnel.

Larkbite emerged from the warrior's den with his mouth stretched wide in a yawn. His amber eyes flitted about the clearing until he spotted Cragpaw. A small smile lit up the deputy's eyes, and he padded over to his son's side.

"Up early, I see?" He purred, settling down next to Cragpaw.

Cragpaw finished his mouthful of food and nodded happily. "Yup! I wanted to show Stumpwhisker that I can be responsible enough to wake up on time."

"Good for you." Larkbite gently shouldered the younger tom. "I'm sure you'll turn out to be an amazing medicine cat with your brother. You can't begin to imagine how proud I am."

Cragpaw's chest thrummed. "Thanks," he mewed heartily, taking another bite out of the chaffinch.

"Mind if I take a bite?" Larkbite inquired. "I forgot to eat last night."

Cragpaw nudged the chaffinch towards his father. "Go on ahead," he mewed. "It's a bit cold, but it still tastes alright."

Larkbite knelt down and happily tore off a chunk of flesh. "Soon, we won't be having leftovers like this any more. You'll be grateful for the stale prey once leaf-bare comes."