ᴍᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ [warrior cat fanfiction]

I

I burn, burn like a wicker cabinet.

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Cedarpaw stalked carefully up the slope, all senses strained to their limit. He knew his deep red fur would make straying from what little cover the scattered grasses and shrubbery provided risky, but no cat ever made a good catch by waiting for prey to wander into their paws. Hesitating was just a waste of time.

Can you see me, Brackenstep? Low and slow, just like you taught me.

He could see the grass rustling again now, confirming that the flickering of movement he'd spotted earlier was indeed prey. As soon as the movement stopped, he pounced, knowing that it was now or never.

A moment later he slid back out with a dishevelled gerbil. It was a plump one too, and he couldn't resist swishing his tail in satisfaction. Surely no cat could find fault in a juicy piece of prey like that?

"Excellent find, Cedarpaw," Brackenstep purred. "You're turning into a fine hunter."

Cedarpaw brushed against his father affectionately, beaming around his catch. It hadn't always been easy for Brackenstep to teach him the proper way to hunt, but what Cedarpaw lacked in patience he made up for in speed (or at least tried to).

"Why don't we head back to camp and you can show it off on the fresh-kill pile?" Brackenstep suggested lightly. "I think we've caught plenty today."

Cedarpaw nodded eagerly and followed him back down the slope. Brackenstep's pace was relaxed, and he stopped to collect the two hares they had caught earlier. RiftClan camp slowly but surely came into view as they approached. The stone-lined ravine looked almost as if some huge beast had dragged a claw through the earth to form it.

"Looks like you had good hunting," Troutdrift greeted them, his voice warm. "I was hoping to head out and catch something for Laurelbird, but I'm stuck here on watch at the moment."

"I'll swap with you after I report to Ravenmoon," Brackenstep offered.

"Oh, would you?" Troutdrift pleaded. "That's so kind! I owe you one."

"Don't mention it," Brackenstep purred. He then turned to Cedarpaw, flicking his tail. "Go on then. Drop your gerbil on the pile and you're dismissed for the day."

"Thanks, Brackenstep!" Cedarpaw chirped. My dad has such a knack for brightening things up.

Padding over to the fresh-kill pile, he placed the gerbil gently near the top so it wouldn't be hidden. Few things were more disappointing than heading there after a long day only to realise the best bits of prey all got lost at the bottom.

Have Dahliaskip's kits tried gerbil yet? It's not quite as good as vole, but maybe she'd like it...

"Catch that yourself?"

Much as he hated to admit it, 'a short fuse' did little to truly describe Cedarpaw's temper. In fact, he really felt all his emotions extra strongly, which meant most cats considered him volatile. And no cat knew how to set him off better than Breezepaw (kit to Ravenmoon and Toadbrine and by all Cedarpaw's accounts a certified pain in the tail).

"Actually, I did," Cedarpaw snapped, turning to face him. Breezepaw's short, blue-grey coat was well-groomed as usual. "It's a fine enough contribution to the Clan. But I guess you wouldn't know much about that, would you?"

Breezepaw's ears flattened as he scowled, causing a jolt of satisfaction to run through Cedarpaw. It was liberating, in some odd way, knowing that he could drag Breezepaw right down with him whenever they fought.