Darkest Night

Finpaw lunged after it, slapping his front paws down hard. But the mouse skittered free as he staggered and thumped clumsily against the side of the ditch.

Twigpaw saw his hackles lift. He was angry with himself.

“I’m never going to be able to hunt!” He turned on her, eyes flashing. “I’m going to be the worst warrior ever.”

Twigpaw’s heart twisted. Poor Finpaw! But she hid her pity. “You will if you think like that,” she mewed sharply. “You can be as good or as bad as you want to be.”

“How can I ever be any good when my tail throws me off balance all the time?”

“You’ll just have to train harder,” Twigpaw told him. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t make your tail grow back.”

Finpaw stared at her, emotion welling in his eyes.

“You can do it,” she urged. “You can be the best warrior in SkyClan if you practice.”

He blinked. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do! You’re clever and determined and so full of energy. Why wouldn’t you be a brilliant warrior?”

Finpaw’s fur smoothed and he lifted his chin. “I can do anything I want.”

“Yes!” Twigpaw purred, pleased to see him looking happier.

“Twigpaw!” Leafpool’s mew rang through the forest. “Finpaw!”

Twigpaw’s heart fell. They’d been discovered. She glanced guiltily at Finpaw, then turned to face Leafpool.

The ThunderClan medicine cat was hurrying toward them, swerving between the trees. “What are you two doing out here?” Her voice was hushed, as though she was worried about being overheard. “Get back to camp. Sandynose will be back soon and wondering where Finpaw is. You know how annoyed he was the last time you sneaked out.”

“Why does he care?” Twigpaw bristled with annoyance. “You’d think he’d want Finpaw to be training instead of hanging around camp all the time.”

“He’s worried about him,” Leafpool told her.

Finpaw hopped out of the ditch. “I wish he’d find something else to worry about.”

“Until he does, you’d better do as you’re told.” Leafpool whisked her tail. “Didn’t Leafstar ask you to clean out the warriors’ den?”

Twigpaw’s tail drooped. “But I’ve been doing apprentice duties for moons!”

“I’ll do it.” Finpaw padded to her side. “You’ve spent enough time in camp with me. You should have some fun.”

Twigpaw had been looking forward to a chance to hunt without Sandynose. “But what about you?”

“I can have fun later.”

Leafpool nosed Finpaw toward the camp. “Once the warriors’ den is clean,” she mewed briskly. “The sooner you get the forest smell off your fur, the better. That’s how Sandynose caught you last time.”

Finpaw glanced back at Twigpaw as Leafpool hurried him away.

She watched him go sadly. Hunting would have been more fun with Finpaw. She shook out her fur. There was no point being miserable. One day, she and Finpaw would both be warriors and they could hunt together whenever they liked. Even Sandynose wouldn’t be able to stop them then.

Why was Sandynose such an old badger? He didn’t like anything she did. He’d probably frown if she brought him a mouse.

Small paws skittered over the forest floor. Excitement sparked beneath Twigpaw’s pelt as a squirrel jumped the ditch and shot toward the ThunderClan border.

Twigpaw hared after it. She skimmed the forest floor, zigzagging between the pines. The squirrel was fast, but so was Twigpaw. And the wind was on her side. Her scent streamed out behind her, and the swishing treetops disguised the sound of her paw steps. As the squirrel neared the ThunderClan border, she ran harder. She was closing on it. As it raced across the border, she leaped. Stretching out her front paws, she sailed across the scent line.

Silver fur flashed in front of her face. With a yelp, she crashed into the muscly flank of another cat. She staggered backward and regained her balance. Catching her breath, she blinked at the cat she’d collided with. “Ivypool!”

Her mentor shook out her fur and glanced glumly at the squirrel as it leaped for the trunk of an oak and swarmed up into the branches.

“I’m sorry,” Twigpaw panted. “I chased it across half of SkyClan’s territory. I thought a few more tail-lengths wouldn’t matter.” She glanced apologetically at the border behind her.

Ivypool eyed her warily. For a moment, Twigpaw wondered if she recognized her.

“It’s me,” she mewed. “Twigpaw.”

Ivypool flicked her tail. “I know,” she snapped.

Wasn’t Ivypool pleased to see her? Twigpaw wanted to tell the silver-and-white warrior how much she missed her, but Ivypool was acting strangely. “Is everything okay?”

Ivypool scowled. “Yes. If okay means that the apprentice I spent moons training decides that she doesn’t want to become a ThunderClan warrior and leaves to join another Clan.”

Guilt clawed Twigpaw’s belly. “I had to,” she mewed. “I needed to be with Violetpaw and Hawkwing.”

Ivypool sighed heavily. “I suppose,” she conceded. “But I miss you. And it feels strange to train a cat who leaves to fight for another Clan.”

Twigpaw dipped her head. “I’ll always be grateful for what you taught me.”

Ivypool huffed. “Alderheart said you haven’t gotten your warrior name yet.”