𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 || 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Dovepaw heard rustling next to her and woke up. The sky was still dark, though the gray dawn light that usually spread throughout the dark night sky. She glanced at Whitefoot's nest. The black-and-white tom was muttering in his sleep and his tail-tip flicked back and forth stressfully. Dovepaw stood up and padded towards him. "Whitefoot . . . ?" she touched his side with her paw.

     Whitefoot moaned softly and curled further inward. He was muttering something to himself, but it was so soft and slurred that Dovepaw couldn't grasp what he was saying.

     "Whitefoot, wake up," Dovepaw hissed urgently in his ear. When her breath touched his ear fur, he twitched again as if he were startled by something. "Whitefoot," she hissed again.

     Whitefoot groaned hazily. He stirred, but he didn't fully wake up.

     He's not even properly awake. . . . What is he dreaming about? Curiosity pricked at Dovepaw's pelt. She gazed at Whitefoot a moment longer before backing into her nest again. I guess I'll ask him what his dream was about later.

***

     Dovepaw opened her eyes again when bright sunlight filtered into the den, spraying its colors onto the ground and onto their pelts. Badgertooth's nest was empty. He had probably gone to make dirt or something like that. She glanced at Whitefoot's nest; he was surfacing from the haze of sleep. When the time comes, I'll ask.

     Whitefoot licked his ruffled fur thoroughly. "What happened? The last thing I remember was eating that foul mouse. Was it crow-food?"

     Dovepaw eyed him. "You were fed deathberries. Luckily we saved you before you died, and now you're here. How did you get that mouse?"

     "Another cat gave it to me. I was too tired to tell who it was. Also, I was extremely hungry. But I guess that was a mouse-brained decision I made." He looked away guiltily. "Who guarded the camp?"

     "Frozenfang," Dovepaw answered hesitantly.

     Whitefoot shook his head disapprovingly. "No, no one trusts her. Lynxstar will never forgive you for that."

     "She was the only warrior awake!" Dovepaw argued. "I don't care what Lynxstar thinks. Her warrior was dying, and I was under a lot of pressure, so . . . I don't really care. By the way, what were you dreaming about last night?"

     Whitefoot looked startled. "How do you know about that?"

     "You woke me up."

     "Oh. Sorry." Whitefoot glanced at his paws. "It's hard to explain. It was about—"

     "Dovepaw!" Lynxstar was crossing the clearing, her eyes curious.

     Mouse dung! He was just about to tell me! "Yes, Lynxstar?" Dovepaw looked over to where her mother's voice came and saw Lynxstar standing at the foot of the den.