Chapter Text
Sunlight crept through the branches of thick, rustling leaves overhead, the warm light filtering through Sandstorm's waking eyes. As the sunshine cleared her sight, she could feel the drowsiness drain from her body, replaced by a new eagerness that brought her more forwards to the welcoming day.
Her pale ginger fur was ruffled, and she could feel the mere dews that clung to her body like sticky cobwebs. Greenleaf was in its prime, and not long after she'd have to expect leaf-fall and snow. The thought made her shiver. Leafbare was another season away, therefore it would not do her any good if she thought about it now.
The sun cast a warm glow on her body, and Sandstorm sat up, the sounds and scents of the forest clearing her mind, easing the sleep from the night before. She stretched her limbs, feeling them relax significantly, and gave her chest a few licks to flatten unruly hairs. Then she looked around the warrior den, accompanied by no one else except for Brambleclaw, a newly appointed warrior. His tabby fur rose and fell, and Sandstorm guessed she'd missed the dawn patrol since he'd led it.
Still reluctant to move from her comfortable sitting position, she delayed time a bit, taking in all of the forest and camp, smiling slightly with how well ThunderClan was doing. Then, she left the den, leaving the snoring tabby warrior to his slumber.
The camp was even brighter on the outside. Many pelts of different cats contrasted together, and the smells of ThunderClan flooded her senses, and Sandstorm took in all in with a small lift of her mouth. She looked at the fresh-kill pile - cleanly caught rabbits and new prey had been stocked up, and she gave a satisfactory hum. It seemed that the Clan was still flourishing finely, flowing with growth like the current in a river.
Fur gleaming in the pale sunlight, Sandstorm extended her forelimbs, her muscles ripping with the addition of milky yellow rays. Surely enough, she had caught eyes from several of her Clanmates, one including the approaching cat - Firestar. His glassy green eyes were like the stream during Newleaf, and his orange pelt flared like a brand of fire. It was obvious why his name was Firestar.
He nodded to Sandstorm, a purr rumbling in his throat with the sight of the pale ginger she-cat. Padding with weightless pawsteps, he nudged his muzzle and caressed it against hers affectionately, murmuring a greeting between his comforting purrs. Sandstorm returned it back instinctively, enjoying her mate's warm, lovely scent.
At last they parted, and Sandstorm licked his cheek, blinking with eyes weighed by fading sleep. ‘Good morning, Firestar.’
‘Good morning, Sandstorm,’ Firestar replied, his eyes fixating on her. ‘Have you taken fresh-kill yet? The pile's full.’ He flicked his tail to the slanting slope of juicy fresh-kill at the edge of the clearing. Sandstorm shook her head.
She padded forwards to the pile, the scent of freshly caught prey filling her nose and she felt her mouth water. She picked a magpie, guessing that it was brought in by an apprentice, and supped herself full. Firestar sat beside her, picking at a rabbit hungrily, devouring it in bits.
When Sandstorm finished her meal she raised her head, her gaze darting to a shaded, darker spot of the camp, the outside of the den protected by a broken stump of a tree that was eroded by an ancient river, as the elder's tale mentioned. She was looking for the one and only Sorrelpaw, also her apprentice, and one that was always too excited for a training session with her.
She looked at the emptiness, waiting patiently, and when she rose to her paws, a pale shape emerged from the apprentice den. Her fur was splashed with tawny colors, and her green eyes were as bright as they always were. Sandstorm mewed to Sorrelpaw softly, and the apprentice quickly bounded over to her mentor, stopping in her tracks to give her white chest a few rapid licks.
‘Hi, Sandstorm,’ Sorrelpaw greeted, managing well to hide the thrill in her tone. ‘What will we be doing today?’
‘We'll have you check out the borders,’ Sandstorm replied simply. ‘by yourself.’ she added. Sorrelpaw's eyes widened, looking as if her irises were the full moon during a Gathering.
‘Really?’ Sorrelpaw couldn't bury the cheer from her voice now, and Sandstorm couldn't help but let out an amused mrrow. Her apprentice was surely an interesting cat, and nonetheless eager to learn. ‘Can we hunt on the way, too?’
‘Sure,’ Sandstorm mewed. ‘Don't forget about the code - the elders and queens must be fed first.’
‘Of course I won't,’ Sorrelpaw nodded, her leafy gaze betraying her seemingly steady composure. Sandstorm purred quietly and licked her apprentice's head, proud to be the mentor of such a well-behaved cat, unlike Cinderpelt, whose training Firestar took over several long moons ago, before her leg accident.
‘Alright, let's go.’ Sandstorm turned, but before she could reach the ravine that led to the horse tunnel, a bracken-coloured tom interrupted her. It was Thornclaw, followed by Sootpaw, who was his sleek, grey apprentice. Sandstorm tipped her head to the side, questioning. ‘Would you like to train with us, Sandstorm? Sootpaw's growing into a fine warrior.’ Thornclaw mewed, and Sootpaw shied away from their gazes, looking embarrassed from the compliment.
‘I don't see why not,’ Sandstorm agreed, as Sorrelpaw and Sootpaw were both littermates. Thornclaw nodded his thanks, and they both headed out of the camp, disappearing into the foliage of the gorse tunnel.
Sandstorm was sneaking on a mouse. She couldn't see the plump creature, but from the mass of rustling behind a small shrub, she could easily pinpoint the prey just with her sensitive ears. At once she encountered the clumsy mouse, she leapt, her paws not making any sound as they left the ground, and dug her claws into the wildly scuttering creature, flinging it into the ground until it lay still. She picked up the mouse, muttering thanks to Starclan through a mouthful of cold fur for granting the forest with so much prey in this late Greenleaf.
She raked the earth over her successfully caught fresh-kill, and went ahead, deeper into the forest territories to find more prey. Not long after, she saw Sorrelpaw, the young cat's haunches swaying as she approached an unaware rabbit. Sandstorm watched her pounce skillfully, and carry the heavy rabbit to a pile of prey. The elders would like that, She thought, mentally noting Sorrelpaw's specialty in hunting.
Her apprentice soon went different ways, and so did Sandstorm. She knew Thornclaw must be assessing his apprentice too, and probably was peering through the bushes. Sandstorm didn't think too much of it, and ambled further into the forest, catching a few more fresh-kill before she caught on with Sorrelpaw again. This time, her apprentice was checking out the borders that enclosed Thunderclan's territory, and the boundary that separated Riverclan and Thunderclan.
Sorrelpaw walked steadily beside Sunningrocks, and Sandstorm saw a flash of grey in the bushes. She tensed, and then Sorrelpaw launched herself at the pelt of grey, soon realizing it was Sootpaw, her brother. They both battled each other with sheathed claws, until they fought for breath in short gasps.
‘Sootpaw!’ Sorrelpaw blinked, surprised. ‘You nearly clawed off my ear there.’ Sandstorm heard her say, and bounded off to get a better view of the two apprentices. Then, she felt another cat brush past her - Thornclaw, also watching their apprentices intently, though neither of them intended to stalk the youngsters.
‘You would've took a great chunk of my fur too,’ Sootpaw remarked, licking the side of his body. 'You're a really good fighter, Sorrelpaw.’ His sister beamed.
‘You're not so bad yourself,’ the splotched apprentice mewed, and turned away from Sootpaw. ‘Next time, don't run into me - I'll have your pelt off in seconds!’ the caterwauling cat called, and was enveloped in the shadows of a bramble thicket, soon disappearing.
Sootpaw shook his head. ‘She's going to scare all the prey away from here,’ He moved on from Sunningrocks, padding away from the place he had playfought with his sister. Thornclaw shot Sandstorm an amused look, suppressing a chuckle. ‘They're both interesting creatures.’
‘And pretty fun too,’ Sandstorm put in. ‘But that might lead to weaknesses, if their play gets to their concentration.’ Thornclaw nodded, agreeing with what Sandstorm said.
Thornclaw dipped his head as if announcing his leave, and walked away to meet up with his apprentice, while Sandstorm thought about Sorrelpaw's possibilities and skill - she couldn't be more proud of her apprentice, but Sorrelpaw sometimes needed to stay a little quieter.
Still, she kept her head high. Sorrelpaw's fate was in the paws of Starclan, but Sandstorm doubted if they'd make her a faultful warrior.
Sandstorm's mouth was full of prey, dangling lightly down her maw. She had followed the warrior code her whole life, but she couldn't resist sinking her teeth into the fresh-kill that lured her in more. She could eat, yes, but she didn't want to let Sorrelpaw envy her life as a warrior, while her as an apprentice wasn't able to eat unless the clan was full-fed.
Sorrelpaw had the rabbit she previously caught swiftly clamped between her jaws, along with a few sparrows. Sandstorm was surprised at how much she caught, and she could see Sorrelpaw beaming between the prey that hung in her teeth. Next to her was Sootpaw, who was licking a paw that had accidentally caught a few splinters coming from little thorns. She winced, but she looked at the pile of fresh-kill he caught, and decided it was worth the pain in his foot.
The two apprentices had hunted a fair amount of prey, and also seemed to fight like warriors if there were an attack coming at them. Sandstorm couldn’t help but think they’d be brave warriors when the time has come for their warrior ceremony. She ought to tell Firestar about their improving progress, and she guessed Thornclaw would too report to the Clan leader about Sootpaw’s performance.
A golden-brown tabby emerged from the depths of the bushes, shaking the leaves off his fur, and in his pale rows of teeth held only a magpie. Thornclaw blinked, and gave Sandstorm an apologetic glance. She shook her head, dismissing his unneeded apology, ready to stroll back to camp. Thornclaw flanked her as she walked to familiar path to the gorse tunnel.
‘They’re as good as any warrior now,’ he spoke through black feathers. Sandstorm agreed with a flick of her ear. ‘Firestar should make them warriors soon.’ Sandstorm could only nod, fully sharing the same thoughts as he did. There weren’t many times the two mentors conversed, so Sandstorm thought he was slightly off-putting, but she was still his senior warrior nonetheless.
A while after, Sandstorm brushed past a thick bramble bush, and trodded over it, but pain sparked in her pawpads before she could walk further. She let out a faint growl, lifting a paw only to realise it had been pressed by a thorn. Dark blood trickled from a raw side of the wound. Thornclaw peered, and pointed to the direction of the camp with his nose. ‘You ought to let Cinderpelt take a look at that. It looks deep.’
Sandstorm shrugged, and continued to walk with a paw limping.
They walked through the gorse tunnel, and crossed Dustpelt and a rush of dark ginger fur - Squirrelpaw, her daughter, who looked at the prey in their mouths with a swipe of her tongue. Sandstorm glanced at her briefly before she padded across the clearing, placing the fresh-kill in the pile. She saw Sorrelpaw bringing a pigeon into the elder’s den, which a fallen oak was protecting. Sandstorm was glad to see Sorrelpaw doing apprentice duties - maybe in a few moons, she wouldn’t have to do any more.
Her paw was still in pain, and she had gritted her teeth into the prey she held to ease the pain but it did no good. She assumed she really had to see Cinderpelt, and somehow, the thought of seeing the medicine cat didn’t comfort her.
She shook the thought away, looking for the den on one side of the camp, which was sheltered by stray ferns and thick flowers that drew nearly no scent of fragrance, saving her Clanmate’s noses. Sandstorm limped through the short tunnel, her fur dark and shadowed, and saw Cinderpelt working with a few berries and some crumpled leaves, accompanied by Leafpaw, a pale brown tabby with a white underbelly. She was also Sandstorm’s daughter.
The grey medicine cat’s eyes glowered at Leafpaw, and Sandstorm assumed she’d gotten the uses of the herbs right. Leafpaw turned, meeting Sandstorm’s gaze. ‘Oh, Sandstorm,’ Her daughter’s eyes flickered from her to Cinderpelt. ‘You have a thorn in your paw?’
‘Yes,’ Sandstorm mewed. Her pawpad was still bleeding. ‘I caught it while training Sorrelpaw. Will you take a look at it?’ She looked at Cinderpelt, who nodded and flicked her tail to the medicine cat apprentice, dismissing Leafpaw.
Sandstorm sat on the stone ground, peering closely around the dimly-lit medicine den. It smelled bitter, slightly sour, with all of the herbs cramped together. Plants and berries were placed neatly on jutting shelves, and something about the den made her chest prickle with uneasiness. Still, Sandstorm sat, until Cinderpelt had limped forwards, a wad of tangy-smelling large-leaved herbs in her mouth. Sandstorm’s muzzle wrinkled.
‘Dock leaves,’ Cinderpelt mewed. Sandstorm didn’t really like dock leaves then.
She held out her paw, and Cinderpelt inspected the thorn embedded in her pawpad, sniffing curiously. Sandstorm watched the thick-furred grey cat peer at the wound, and Sandstorm couldn’t help but want to shield away. Cinderpelt brought the faintest discomfort to her, and she couldn’t wrap her mind why.
‘It’s deep. I’ll rub this over the thorn - Leafpaw, have you got marigold?’ The grey warrior called softly to the edge of the den, and the young tabby trotted over with some sickly sweet yellow petals. Cinderpelt dipped her head in thanks and took the herbs from the apprentice, who was observing intently at Cinderpelt’s movements.
Cinderpelt used a dock leaf to rub it over the thorn, also licking Sandstorm’s paw and she could feel the thorn loosen easily. Then, the medicine cat took the thorn between her teeth, angling her head so the thorn was pointing upwards, and pulled. Sandstorm gritted her teeth but let out no yowl as the pain simmered from her pawpad. A spurt of blood trailed out of the wound. She instantly felt better.
Cinderpelt nipped the marigold petals she received from Leafpaw and chewed it briefly before placing it on the wound, and the pain faded until it felt more like a prickle. Sandstorm let out a relieved sigh.
‘That should do,’ Cinderpelt told her, and turned back to her duties. Sandstorm’s eyes narrowed. She almost looked disturbed, by what or who she didn’t know, but Sandstorm had no business in medicine cat omens, or signs, or dreams. She was just an ordinary warrior that was the mate of the Thunderclan leader. ‘In a while, you should be able to walk. Check with me before you head out of camp again.’ Cinderpelt finished, and walked to the edge of the den, looking for Leafpaw.
Sandstorm gave her light pelt a few licks before walking out of the den, feeling the warmth of the sun guide her out again, and she stared up into the sky - it was sunset, and the clouds were deep grey with the sky being a vibrant orange-yellow, and the Silverpelt shed its frosty glitter over the darkening sky. Sandstorm swallowed. There would be a rainy nest, a slowly aching paw, and the excitement of a potential new warrior.
‘How’s your paw?’ Firestar spoke behind her, his voice reduced to nearly a whisper as he settled beside her. Something was hidden in his eyes and Sandstorm didn’t have an idea why, but it seemed like both medicine cat and leader of Thunderclan had more things they didn’t say than have said.
‘Better than before,’ Sandstorm looked down at the healing wound. It had stopped bleeding, and the herbs were doing their job well. She looked at Firestar, quickly sensing the dread coming off his fur. ‘What? What’s wrong with you?’
Firestar looked taken aback, and she could tell from his expression that he didn’t expect her to know so quickly. He sighed, and looked up at the sky, growing blue as each second passed. ‘Starclan hasn’t been quiet lately.’ he muttered, and there was a guarded look in his gaze. Sandstorm stiffened.
‘What are they saying?’ Sandstorm watched the Silverpelt grow brighter with him. ‘Something bad, I’m guessing.’
‘I… I don’t really know, actually.’ Was all he said before he looked down at her. There was fear. She could feel it from his presence, and noticed the fur on his pelt standing. Sandstorm gave him a comforting lick on his flank, her tail touching his flaming pelt.
‘Whatever it is, Starclan believes we can get through it,’ she told him reassuringly, and saw his muscles relax. The look in his face had gone, and now only a clouded speck of orange was in the waning navy sky. ‘Don’t worry, Firestar. It’ll all be clearer soon.’
That had made Firestar’s confidence return, though just partly. He stood up, and flicked his tail towards the leader’s den. ‘It’s nearly night, and Graystripe wants me to lead the dawn patrol tomorrow. You wouldn’t mind sharing a nest, right?’
‘Of course not, mouse-brain.’ Sandstorm cuffed his ear playfully, and walked with him into the shaded den - it felt unusually cold, though she couldn’t tell if that was a sign or just natural environment.
Firestar quickly drifted to sleep, with Sandstorm lying beside him, their bodies pressed against each other. As the orange tom actually fell into sleep, Sandstorm was still observing his face. Something kept her awake for a while, but she didn’t care much on why. Slowly, the darkness of slumber seeped into her body, and she succumbed into the calls of sleep.