Untold Omen

Ch.10

The rustling of the pine trees rang in Snakepaw's ears as his paws carried him through the forest.

Hunger clawed at his belly like a sharp thorn. All traces of leaf-bare were nearly gone with only the occasional cold chill reminding Snakepaw of the harsh season that had passed.

Leaf-bare was usually a hard time for the clans. All of the prey that the cats relied on for survival tuck away in their dens at the first sight of snowfall.

RiverClan usually did not struggle much- their cats were rarely underfed due to the surplus of fish that granted every cat a full belly.

Out of all the clans, WindClan likely suffered the most, as the hares on the moor tunnel deep into the ground as early as leaf-fall.

The long, intricate passages that the rabbits sheltered in were a perfect fortress for raising their young- and keeping even the hungriest of WindClan cats out.

Despite the common patterns that the clan cats fell into, ShadowClan was definitely left with the short end of the stick when it came to this season's leafbare, Snakepaw thought.

Even after many sunrises of nothing but warmth and sunshine, there were no traces of the prey emerging from their dens in search of food.

Frogs, which were previously considered to be a ShadowClan delicacy, were now the clan's only chance at keeping fed.

Snakepaw, Bluebird and Laurelheart were making their way to the marsh, sent on a hunting mission by Elmstar.

The deputy, Rednose, still had not fully recovered from his shoulder wound. He'd finally made his way outside of the medicine den and spent much of his time sharing tongues with the senior warriors, but Mintpaws had refused to let the tom leave camp.

Elmstar had taken Rednose's responsibilities, sending out patrols more constantly than was usual.

The majority of cats were sent out hunting, and the borders were scarcely being checked. Cats were sent to mark them and nothing else- and even then they were expected to return to camp with at least a piece of prey.

Once the patrol of three reached the marsh, Bluebird took a moment to sit and catch his breath.

Since the tom had become a warrior, he was much less worried about soiling his beautiful silver pelt.

Laurelheart, however, was still picky about her long silky coat, and refused to sit anywhere near the mud.

Tiny trickling streams and thick, slippery mud made the marsh a hot spot for frogs and toads.

"It does feel a little weird," Snakepaw eventually croaked, sitting next to the taller tom.

"What's that?" piped Bluebird in response.

"You and Laurelheart being warriors. Patchpaw and I were born when you were only a few moons old, yet you're a warrior with superiority over me."

Snakepaw spoke with fondness. He wasn't bothered by Bluebird's role change, in fact, it was quite the opposite.

It was convenient to have such a close bond with a warrior. It gave him a sense of significance, and most importantly, made him a first pick for any patrols Bluebird would be allowed to lead in the future.

Bluebird gently rested his short-furred tail on the ground, lightly curling it around Snakepaw's haunches.

"I don't feel any different," he said with a purr.

Snakepaw met his gaze. "Nor do I."

He could feel fur push against him as Laurelheart forced herself between the two toms, thwacking Bluebird in the muzzle with her long-furred tail as she passed.