(Outdated) Warriors: Clouded Skies #1 - The First Storm

Chapter Nine

Rowanpaw stared into the black heap of an old Twoleg den. His pads were burning from the heavy amount of old soot under him, and he stretched his claws uncomfortably. The scent alone caused his muzzle to turn and made his eyes water, but the faint smell of a mouse persuaded him forward.

He looked back at the Thunderpath and watched Birchsplash and Hazelfur sniffing around at another den. Their pelts were darkened with the ash in the air, and they both looked tired and hard of breathing. He gave a quiet hiss to call them, and both warriors raised her heads. He jerked his own head in the direction of the den, and they both hurried over on quiet paws.

Birchsplash opened his mouth as he came close, and hunger shined in his gaze. "Mouse..." he whispered. Hazelfur came up next to him, and they flicked their ears, signaled with their tails, and slunk off to hunt. Rowanpaw, knowing he would be no use in hunting, settled down to wait. He had only successfully hunted twice in his entire apprenticeship; an old mouse, and a grounded wren. 

He waited and watched the dusty sky as the sun lowered closer and closer to the mountain peaks in the distance, and his heart twisted with the fear of being in the Twoleg Place at night. He looked down the Thunderpath at the mass of an old Twoleg den, the pile where Emberheart had hurt her pad.

It was so close, he could just run right back home and curl up next to his brother, but he also was ecstatic about getting out the murky territory he had been forced to live in. He recalled all the times he had looked at the territories of the other Clans and wished he lived there instead. He could imagine the forest; hard ground, whispering leaves, sweet-smelling ferns...

But the moor as well, he added. The solid earth, the powerful winds, the sloping hills... Why did I have to be born in BatClan? He thought, his tail twitching. Yes, he loved his Clan, and he wanted to help them, but he wanted to hunt, he wanted to fight, he wanted to enjoy everything and not just barely survive each day. If he had been born in another Clan, EchoClan, maybe, he wouldn't even think twice about his Clan starving in the shadows.

He suddenly heard a sharp mrrow of excitement, and he looked up to see Hazelfur and Birchsplash appearing, each with a small mouse in their jaws. "You caught two mice?" He stood up quickly, moving forward and sniffing to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. Birchsplash let out a bright purr.

"Yep! They got caught in the rubble and couldn't run away," his mew was muffled by the prey, which Rowanpaw now noticed was stained black, and his muzzle curled.

"Can we eat them with the soot on their fur like that?" he asked, and Birchsplash shrugged, reaching his head forward, and the apprentice understood immediately and took the mouse into his own jaws. His mouth watered from the warm blood that leaked onto his tongue, though the ashy taste of the fur burnt his throat.

"Hopefully," the tom sighed, flicking his tail. "Let's head back to the den. We'll share one mouse, and force Emberheart to eat the other." Amusement shined in his eyes. Hazelfur rolled her eyes, then she turned and trotted off to the den. The two toms followed, and they found themselves in the den in almost no time. There was definitely more prey here than in their territory, but the Clan was sick enough and the soot was awful.

Emberheart had been sleeping, curled up with her tail covering her muzzle, but she must've scented their return, for she raised her head with sleep clouding her gaze. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw their haul. "Two mice? Really?" She struggled up and held her injured paw off the ground.

"This one is for you," Rowanpaw murmured, dropping the mouse at her paws then turning away, and he sat down heavily with his back towards her. He could feel the hurt waving from her, and his heart ached to run back to his friend, but he was also still furious that she kept it from him still.