Claws and fangs flashed as the two gray cats sprang at each other. Oh, StarClan, no. Wolfclaw was simply too old to fight a younger, stronger cat. The warrior had just a few moons left before joining Snake in the elders den.
Just as Redthorn was about to intersect and tear them a part, a flash of tabby fur flew by. Dawnstream was trying to separate the furious cats. Redthorn closed his eyes and waited for her to be shredded, but surprisingly there was just a silence. Dawnstream had stopped the fight with a mere glare.
Snowstep padded forward, gaze clear and calm. Young Bramblepaw cowered behind her.
"StarClan has spoken. I will teach Dawnstream."
Three uneventful moons had gone by, and the new SparkClan cat was learning rather slowly with another apprentice to compete with. Redthorn rolled his eyes as he watched Dawnstream storm out of the medicine den, frustrated. About the fourth time it'd happened that day.
Icepath strolled up to him and licked in between his ears. "Anything wrong?"
The deputy purred. "Nope, just a little tired," he replied, twining his tail with her fluffy white tail. "You should've been named Fluffyfur."
"You should've been named Airhead."
"You should've been named Beetlebrain."
"SHUT UP!" snapped Snake. The old brown tom hobbled away and the ginger tom padded away from his mate, glaring mischievously at the white she-cat.
"Alright, Blizzardfoot, take Crookedwind and Tigerleap on a hunting patrol. Flamestripe, Rainpaw, Skyfur, and Russetfire, patrol the ReedClan border."
As the patrols assembled and shuffled on out, a hissing noise began to sound. A small whisper at first, but then almost unbelievably loud. Redthorn whipped around.
Standing there, plain as day, was Featherheart.