The nursery rattled as Snowpaw slid out. Old pieces of bracken and moss were piled at the entrance and more clung to her fur.
“That’s clean enough.” Her eyes brightened when she spotted Thistlepaw, and then the fresh-kill. “I haven’t seen this many mice in a moon!” She raced across the clearing and nuzzled Thistlepaw’s cheek.
Thistlepaw fluffed out his chest. “I caught three of them.”
Snowpaw’s eyes glowed.
Bluepaw looked away. Couldn’t her sister see how arrogant he was?
Goosefeather wandered from the fern tunnel, nose twitching. “I smell mice.” He picked one from the pile and gobbled it down.
Bluepaw lashed her tail and pawed angrily at the snow. Goosefeather cared only about himself! Maybe if he cared more about his Clanmates, he wouldn’t have sent them into such a dangerous battle.
“It wasn’t his fault.”
Sunfall’s mew made Bluepaw jump. “What wasn’t?”
Sunfall blinked. “Moonflower’s death.”
“I never said it was!”
“But you think it.”
Bluepaw looked away, unable to meet his gaze.
“Eat something,” he meowed. “I’ll take you out later for training.”
She picked up a sparrow from the fresh-kill pile and carried it over to the nettle patch. Huddling in a crouch, she took a bite. It was so frozen that she had to warm it in her mouth before she could chew. As she sat and waited for the flavors to seep over her tongue, she heard her sister’s mew from the other side of the nettles.
“Get off!” Snowpaw was purring with amusement. “It tickles!”
Bluepaw pricked her ears.
A muted reply answered Snowpaw. “What do you expect if you sit on burrs?”
“I didn’t sit on any burrs!”
Bluepaw swallowed her mouthful, stood up, and started to creep around the side of the nettles.
“Well, how come your pelt’s full of them?”
“It’s not!”
“Sit still while I pull this one out.” The other mew was hard to recognize, muffled by something.
“Ow!” Snowpaw squeaked.
“Got it!” The muffled mew broke into a purr. “Now you look ready to go on patrol.”
Bluepaw sprang around the corner, knocking frost from the quivering nettles. Snowpaw spun to face her, her eyes wide and very blue.
“Oh…hi!”
Bluepaw narrowed her eyes. Thistlepaw was sitting close to her sister with a tuft of white fur caught in his whiskers.
“Thistlepaw was helping me groom my pelt,” Snowpaw explained.
Prickly anger surged into Bluepaw’s belly. “Have you forgotten how to do it yourself?”
Thistlepaw shrugged. “How was she supposed to reach the burr stuck on her back?” He sat back, relaxed, chin high.
Arrogant toad! “I could have gotten that,” Bluepaw snapped.
Thistlepaw flicked the burr into the nettles. “You weren’t around.”
Snowpaw shifted her paws. “Why don’t you check to see if the queens need you to gather some fresh moss?” she suggested to Thistlepaw. They exchanged a knowing look that made Bluepaw want to box their ears.
The moment Thistlepaw had left, she glared at Snowpaw. “What’s going on with you and him?”
“He makes me purr,” Snowpaw mewed.
“I can see that,” Bluepaw growled.
Snowpaw’s eyes flashed. “He was only being helpful!”
“A little too helpful by the look of it!”
“There’s nothing in the warrior code that says denmates can’t be friends,” Snowpaw snapped back.
“You looked like more than just friends!” Bluepaw accused her.
“So what?” Snowpaw snapped. “There’s nothing in the warrior code about that either.”
“So you’re just following the warrior code?” Bluepaw rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s nothing in the warrior code about sleeping or eating. Maybe you should give those up, just so you aren’t breaking the code!”
Snowpaw rolled her eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
Before Bluepaw could answer, Sunfall padded around the nettles. “What are you two arguing about?”
Both sisters glared at the deputy. “Nothing!”
He narrowed his eyes. “Come back to the clearing. It’ll be time for patrols soon.”
Shooting a fierce look at her sister, Bluepaw followed him back around the nettles. Her sparrow was lying on the ground, but she didn’t feel hungry anymore.
“Eat it,” Sunfall growled.
Bluepaw took a bad-tempered bite and chewed crossly.
On the far side of the clearing, Tawnyspots was finishing half a vole with the elders. Suddenly he sat up. “I know how to keep your nests dry!” he meowed.
“How?” Weedwhisker stared at him expectantly.
“There are thick, waxy leaves on a bush near the ShadowClan border,” Tawnyspots reminded them. “If we gather those and weave them among the old fern stalks, they’ll stop the water getting in when the thaw comes.”
Weedwhisker purred. “It might work!”
Tawnyspots was already on his paws. “I’ll take Rosepaw and collect some now.”
Rosepaw lifted her head, her eyes shining.
“Can we go, too?” Sweetpaw glanced at her mentor.
Smallear nodded. “The more paws, the better.” He looked over at Thistlepaw. “Do you want to join the leaf-gathering patrol?”
Bluepaw waited for Thistlepaw to explain that he was a hunter, not a leaf picker, but he leaped to his paws. “Yes, please!”
Snowpaw plucked at the snow. “Can I come?”
Sparrowpelt sat up and ran a paw over his whiskers. “A run through the forest will warm us up.” He called to the ShadowClan deputy, who had settled in a sunny spot outside Pinestar’s den. “Sunfall?”
“It sounds like a good plan.” Sunfall was nodding already. “But make sure you’re back for sunhigh.”
Bluepaw watched the patrol leave, feeling hollow. No one had invited her. Sunfall had been right. She’d grown so bad-tempered lately, none of her Clanmates wanted to be with her.
She took another bite of her sparrow, but could hardly swallow.
Crookedpaw liked me, she thought defiantly.
The apprentices’ den shivered as Lionpaw nosed his way out. “Is that prey?” He blinked in the sunshine as he looked at the fresh-kill pile. His eyes brightened for a moment. Then he glanced around the clearing. “Where are Larksong and Mumblefoot?”
“Too stiff to leave their nests,” Weedwhisker told him. “This cold’s no good for old bones.”
“They must be hungry.” Lionpaw scooped up the remaining mice and disappeared among the branches of the fallen tree. He emerged a few moments later with snow dusting his pelt.
Bluepaw could hear his belly growling. She nosed the remains of her sparrow forward. “Do you want the rest of mine?”
Lionpaw’s eyes glowed. “Yes, please,” he mewed. “I’m starving.”
Once he’d finished and washed his face, he called to Swiftbreeze. “You promised to teach me some battle moves!”
Swiftbreeze nodded. “I haven’t forgotten. We’ll go to the sandy hollow. There’ll be more room.” She flicked her tail over Goldenpaw’s flank. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Yes!”
“Can Bluepaw come too?” Lionpaw asked.
Bluepaw blinked. Did he really want her with them?
“She can show us how it’s done.” Lionpaw looked hopefully at Bluepaw. “Please?”
Bluepaw nodded.
Sunfall got to his paws. “I think I’d better come with you.” He stretched and yawned. “Three apprentices may be too many for one mentor.”
Swiftbreeze purred. “I’d welcome some help.”
Sunfall led the way through the snow-muffled forest to the training hollow. The clearing had been well sheltered from the snows, and the thin layer that coated the red earth was already beginning to melt in patches. Bluepaw raced down the short slope and across the clearing, suddenly feeling more cheerful. Battle moves would warm them all up—and give her a chance to forget about her sister mooning over Thistlepaw. She hadn’t practiced as hard as she should have since Moonflower had died, but maybe helping to train her denmates would give her a chance to catch up.