Warriors: The Trail of Centuries

Chapter 11

     The camp had been quiet ever since that horrifying day. No cat was permitted to hold a vigil for Brownpaw under Deadeye's order; the one-eyed leader decided that the apprentice had behaved too cowardly to deserve a vigil. Several sunrises had passed since his death, and Spottedpaw couldn't banish the memories of what she'd witnessed.

     Spottedpaw let out a gentle sigh as she rested by Nightpaw's side. Ironheart sat on the other side of her kit, their heads lowered together. Most of the warriors remained busy by going about their duties, and every so often Mudwing would come by to check on Nightpaw. Even though Deadeye frowned upon their mourning, the black-and-white warrior promised to give Nightpaw time to recover; the apprentice had hardly spoken a word since she lost her brother.

     The golden apprentice turned away from her friend for a heartbeat, scanning the cold, dark cave warily. Every so often she would get the telltale prickling sensation in her fur, as if some cat had her in their sights. While few cats criticized the family for mourning, Deadeye hadn't caught them yet and Spottedpaw preferred to keep it that way. 

     Oddly enough, Deadeye had hardly left his own den since the incident. Spottedpaw felt uneasy in his absence; an inexplicable sense of dread loomed over her head when she wondered what he might be up to. She tried blaming it on her dreamless nights, as she hadn't had many coherent dreams ever since she found out that StarClan truly existed—if anything, Brownpaw's death left her with new, mind-spinning nightmares that never made much sense. The excuse did little to ease her feelings, though.

     When Spottedpaw's gaze met Pearlpaw's striking green eyes, she grew uncomfortable. How long has she been staring at me? What does she want? she wondered suspiciously. The pale tabby seemed incredibly focused on Spottedpaw, and when they locked gazes, her curious expression turned into a mocking glare—a glare that threatened her. Spottedpaw's skin crawled under her intense stare. Something about the look on Pearlpaw's face made worry sprout within the golden-furred apprentice.

     "Do you think he's not scared anymore? If StarClan really exists, like you said." Nightpaw's whisper startled her from her thoughts. Spottedpaw pressed against her friend gently and turned back to her.

     "Yeah," she hummed without a moment of hesitation. "I think he's really happy now, Nightpaw. And if I ever visit those StarClan cats again, I'll be sure to find him and tell him you sent me." While her friend appeared to appreciate that, Spottedpaw couldn't shake the worry that stuck to her. She did her best to ignore it and let her mind wander while she sat peacefully with her friend. 

     Movement across the cave caught the attention of the apprentices, while Ironheart remained with her head lowered solemnly. Spottedpaw blinked in surprise when Molestrike emerged from the elders' den, her eyes glossy from the sickness she suffered. The light brown molly stumbled, her paws scuffing noisily on the floor of the cave and drawing more attention to herself. 

     Spottedpaw glanced off to the side when she noticed, once again, three curious sets of eyes peeking out of the nursery. She held back an amused chuckle when the three kits tumbled out of the den, tripping over one another as they did so. Watching them reminded her of her own time in the nursery; her siblings never used to play like that with her, but the memories of it still felt crisp in her mind. Spottedpaw wondered if Deadeye's kits knew what had happened with Brownpaw. What a stupid thought, she scolded herself. If he isn't letting us mourn him, why would he tell his own kits about it? The three kits continued to tumble around and the distance between them and the elder decreased. 

     Molestrike suddenly burst into a coughing fit when Sunkit tumbled at her paws. Spottedpaw jumped to her paws anxiously when the kit gave a yelp of surprise before scurrying back to her littermates. As Molestrike continued hacking painfully—no, she was practically choking—cats turned their attention to her. After a few uncomfortable moments of witnessing the elder suffer, Spottedpaw realized that none of the warriors planned on fetching the healers for help. Right as she moved to fetch Frozenleaf, the small, snowy-white she-cat rushed out of the medicine den with Shortpaw limping behind her.