“Twigpaw!” Sparkpelt’s annoyed voice dragged Twigpaw away from these dark thoughts. “When you’re
Trying to work up some enthusiasm for the basic exercise Larksong was teaching Finpaw, Twigpaw reared up on her hind legs and aimed two swift blows at the empty air.
“Hmm . . . not bad,” Sparkpelt grunted as Twigpaw landed on all four paws again.
Twigpaw suspected that Sparkpelt’s grudging praise was because she was still upset at having been made Twigpaw’s mentor.
Twigpaw wondered when Sparkpelt would get past the fact that she had switched Clans more than once. Twigpaw could understand that might have seemed a bit disrespectful of ThunderClan, and of the warrior code, but she felt different now—older and wiser—than when she was a kit, or when she was going through her first apprenticeship with Ivypool. She was certain that her place was as a ThunderClan warrior.
Twigpaw watched as Finpaw went through the exercise, and listened to Larksong instructing him on how to use his tail for balance, something the young cat had found difficult ever since the accident when he had lost part of it. Twigpaw knew that she could have repeated the instructions word for word, and when she practiced the move, she automatically flicked her tail into the right place.
“Twig
Twigpaw sighed. It was going to be a long morning.
Back in camp just after sunhigh, Twigpaw went to fetch herself a piece of prey and noticed that there was hardly anything on the fresh-kill pile. She prodded a scrawny mouse and a blackbird that was mostly bones and feathers, but neither of them tempted her.
Glancing around and tasting the air, Twigpaw guessed that most of the Clan was gathered here in camp. She knew that there were fewer cats to hunt now that the sickness was so bad. Some of her Clanmates had begun to recover, but they were still too weak and shaky to do more than totter around the camp. At least Squirrelflight had started getting better, though she wasn’t strong enough yet to take up her deputy’s duties.
Twigpaw didn’t hang around thinking. When she glanced around again, she saw that the cats who were in sight seemed more concerned with snoozing and recovering their strength than watching what one unimportant apprentice was doing. Sparkpelt and Larksong had both disappeared into the warriors’ den, and Twigpaw couldn’t see Finpaw at all.
However, Thornclaw was on guard at the entrance of the tunnel, sitting there with ears pricked alertly. Twigpaw didn’t want to explain herself to him. It wasn’t forbidden for apprentices to go out of camp on their own, but Thornclaw might ask if she had permission from her mentor, and she didn’t want to lie to a senior warrior.
Instead Twigpaw headed for the dirtplace tunnel, picked her way around the dirtplace with her nose wrinkled, then slid quietly into the undergrowth and away from the camp.
She was beginning to relax, thinking she had gotten away with it, when a cheerful voice behind her mewed, “Where are you creeping off to?”
Twigpaw whirled around to see Finpaw standing a tail-length away, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Go back to camp, and don’t tell any cat that you saw me.”