Scarlet blood, matted in your fur, it's on my claws, that will leave a scar

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Chapter five 

Frostheart watched his clan mates wander around camp, sitting in a patch of sunlight and munching on a squirrel. He was really waiting for Stormlight to sneak out of camp, so he could follow. Hopefully it happened before Mistfeather returned from a patrol, or else she would probably ask where he was going. I think I'll ask her to be my mate soon. Willowlight says I should. She was his mother, as well as an elder. I've decided I do really like her, no matter what Sageweed says about needing kits to continue my legacy. She's kind, sweet, and energetic. Sometimes she's short-tempered, but at least that means she's not soft and is not easily pushed around. Frostheart scanned the camp. The elders Willowlight and Pineshadow were basking outside their den, while Pigeonpaw, a soft gray tom with patches of white, and many other shades of gray, was checking them for ticks. He glanced longingly at Silverpaw and Quickpaw, who were play-fighting. Pebblepaw, a blonde she-cat with faded ginger stripes and green eyes was coaching them. They liked to stay active, it keep their mind off of Hopelight. Splashstar is not helping. He's still mad with grief, and he's determined to find out which Clan did it. He's constantly on patrols, when he should be with his daughters. Frostheart glanced at the nursery, and imagined Mistfeather in there, curled around his sons and daughters. I would be a better father. As he was looking at the nursery, three little shapes bundled out. "Let's play Clan! I'll be leader," squeaked Stormkit, a stormy gray-blue she-cat.

"You were leader last time," pointed out her sister, Nightkit, a white and black she-cat. Stormkit hesitated.

"Trueeee," she finally said. "Well, I'll wake Amberkit, then we can play," both kits scampered into the nursery again. Frostheart looked over at Robinflight, a brown she-cat with robin's egg blue eyes, who was arguing with Mossypelt, a small fluffy black tom with green eyes.

"Robinflight, you have to move into the nursery!" Mossypelt argued.

"No, I don't," snapped the she-cat. "My kits aren't due for a quarter-moon, and I'm not going to lie, the nursery is crowded! I don't want those other kits tripping over me all day. Nightkit and Stormkit won't be apprentices for another few moons. I'm staying on warrior duties until I can't pull my weight anymore," then she dashed out of camp, pelt spiking with anger. Mossypelt sighed, then chased after her. Mouse-brain. Don't you know most queens never move into the nursery until, like, the last heartbeat? Frostheart pricked his ears at the rustle of ferns at the entrance to the warrior's den, and Stormlight slipped out. He yawned and stretched, then trotted towards the camp entrance. Yes, yes! My chance has come! Frostheart slowly rose to his paws, then Stormlight stopped. His whiskers twitched, and then he leaped back with a surprised yowl as Splashstar's patrol burst into camp.

"WindClan scent is in our territory! It must be them who killed Hopelight! We must attack, at once!" Frostheart was hurrying over at this, along with many others. I missed my chance with Stormlight! But this.... might be worth it. Mistfeather bounded over to him, pelt bristling.

"It's true, Frostheart! There is scent on our side of the border!" She exclaimed. Frostheart nodded.

"I believe you, and Splashstar," he told her. Splashstar has REALLY lost it now.

"Mossypelt! Honeyflower! Flowerpaw! Pebblepaw! Pigeonpaw! Larktalon! Thrushfeather! Frostheart! Mistfeather! Ivyclaw! Coldrose, and of course Stormlight," Splashstar yowled. "You will be in my battle patrol. The rest of you, stay here and guard the camp. Kits are not to leave the nursery until I return," he ordered. He quickly turned and dashed out of camp, and the other warriors had to hastily scramble after him, giving each other bewildered looks. 

Frostheart, do not be discouraged that you weren't able to kill Stormlight today. I've done something to help you out. 

Oh, really? What's that? Sageweed hissed before answering.

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