Amberleaf greeted his apprentice with a nod as she approached. He noted silently how Screefoot placed herself between the two apprentices, as if shielding Pearpaw from the prickly Harepaw, but made no mention of it. He knew that Pearpaw, like many other cats, had difficulty standing up for herself when it came to the irascible tom, but if they were going to coexist in the Clan then they all had to learn to patrol together. If not to like each other, then at least tolerate one another. Some movement across the camp caught his eye and he turned his head to see Snowthorn and Brimpelt having a conversation. He could have sworn that Snowthorn had been staring him earlier—nothing in particular suggested it, just the near-constant feeling of being watched in camp. Maybe he ought to send them out hunting, get the fresh-kill pile stocked today.

“Brimpelt, Snowthorn,” he mewed, calling them over with a flick of his ears. “I’d like you to go out on a hunting patrol. Feel free to take other cats, any warrior that has no other duties currently.” Now that that was taken care of, he turned back to the group of cats near him as Screefoot suggested that they hunt on the way back.

“Good idea.” The deputy nodded to acknowledge her proposal. “I was considering the same thing.” His narrowed eyes slid over Harepaw without comment and settled on Pearpaw. “Don’t apologize,” he said firmly with some warmth in his eyes. “You’ll learn. Every cat started somewhere, including you, Harepaw,” he added, flicking the apprentice tom’s ears with his tail. He waited for Boulderstar to give them the signal to head out.

[@CLIW][@OtterTerror][@ViolentViolet][@KahleenCuthald][@Pink Madness]

[hr]

Willowkit suffered Riversong’s grooming patiently—after all, she had just rolled out of her nest and her fur was a mess, and it was nice to feel cared for this way. “I slept well too,” she mewed. “The den is nice and warm with you and Ravenfeather in it.” It definitely made a change from how she was used to sleeping and living before she and Sagekit joined BoulderClan.

Nettlefang emerged from the warriors’ den, shaking out his pelt and stretching in the morning sunlight. He was ready to go out on patrol, but first he wanted to greet his mate and see how she was faring. He tended to worry about her, and now that she was carrying kits he was ever the hovering father-to-be as he often inquired about Riversong’s health. He saw the silver she-cat across the clearing and approached, smiling warmly as he noticed Willowkit sitting next to her.

“Good morning, Riversong,” he mewed affectionately, touching his nose to hers. “How are you feeling today? How are the kits?” he asked, some anxiety creeping into his tone as usual even though he could see that she was perfectly healthy.

Willowkit’s eyes widened as she saw the big warrior come over, somewhat cowed by his presence, but her awe quickly turned to disgust and she stuck her tongue out at Nettlefang’s loving gesture, as if she had just bitten into rotten crowfood. “Blech,” she commented. She wanted to be a warrior, but she couldn’t ever imagine having time for mushy romance, or wanting kits.