Chapter Seven

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"Your pad is fine now, you're free to go back to your regular duties," Shrikestripe announced after carefully examining her paw.

Was it really that serious that I had to be cooped up in the medicine den for the rest of the day? She thought with a flicker of irritation. The sharp and displeasing tang of herbs lingered unpleasantly in the air, giving her a sour mood just as strong as their taste.

Just as she began to slip out of the entrance of the den, she came to a sudden halt. The snowstorm had died down, leaving a fresh blanket of white across the ground, smooth and soft in the dim light. The uneven piles of snow she had seen earlier in that day when the snowstorm had just started was barely comparable to what lay in front of her now.

Not only that, but the Leaf-bare cold had also formed strange frozen spikes of ice that stretched down from the roof of the medicine den, clattering against one another as a bitter wind blew through the camp.

Shrikestripe had padded up beside her and gazed up at the ice.

"I'll have to talk to Lakestar about those and see if we should get warriors to remove them," she mewed, her emerald eyes anxious as she gazed up at the sharp pieces of ice, dangling precariously as if they may break off at any moment.

Suddenly worried one would fall on her, she quickly stepped away, only to freeze with shock. Her paws sank into the snow, numbing her pads with a burning cold.

That's freezing! She thought. Finally, after a moment, she took a few more cautious steps. The more quickly she moved forward, the less her pads would have to experience the discomfort of the snow-laden ground.

She stopped and looked around the clearing.

Near the Shade Rock, Goldpelt was organizing patrols. Several cats lingered near him, including Cherrypaw, clearly waiting for her mentor to finish.

"Hey, Acornpaw!" Strawpaw called.

Her brother was bounding over to her, his golden pelt flecked with snowflakes. His cobalt eyes were sparkling, reflecting the pale gray-blue light.

"I came up with a great game to play," He announced. "We can do a race, and see who can run the fastest in the snow!"

"But racing is boring," she sighed. "Why can't we play something else? Like moss-ball, except with snow?"

Strawpaw flicked her ears with his tail.

"You just don't want to admit you're a slow slug," he teased.

"Am not."

"Yes you-"

"Acornpaw."

Beetlepelt was padding over to them, his yellow gaze unreadable.

"Yes?" She mewed, turning away from Strawpaw to face her mentor.

"Just to make sure your pad completely heals up, you can stay in camp for the rest of the day," said the tom. "However, you can still be useful. You can go ahead and clean out the old nests in the nursery."

Acornpaw's tail drooped with disappointment. One little thorn couldn't be that serious! Did Beetlepelt just think that she was too distracted in battle training and that there was no use in trying to teach her any battle moves at all?

"Okay," she finally muttered.

As Beetlepelt padded away, Strawpaw glanced at her sympathetically, with a small hint of disappointment.

"I guess we can play some other time," he said. Then, he glanced over in the direction of Chaffinchflare, who seemed to be in a serious conversation with Hazyfall, their heads bent close together. "Chaffinchflare said he would be taking me hunting later, but he seems to be busy. So maybe I could help you?"

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