After a few more moments passed between them all, the group slipped quietly back into camp, and Antwhisper quickly turned and swerved away.

Adderheart watched him head toward Bearpatch, who was resting in a patch of sun, brown pelt dappled with light, with a piece of prey laid at his paws. Beside him, Finchpaw, his apprentice, skirted off toward the apprentice's den. Poppyfur practically danced toward the fresh-kill pile, Birdwish hurriedly trotting after her, and Streamfang glanced around before settling down in a different patch of sunlight.

The memory of Vixenfeather and Milkfrost snapped into the older warrior's mind and he swiftly turned away, his pale tail lashing as he found a decent place to sit in the camp. It was near the entrance, so he had a nice view of the camp.

Sunlight streamed down upon his fur as he settled down. Despite that they had been out for a while, it was still day, yet now the sun was slowly inching closer to the horizon as if it was threatening to slip beneath it and cover the world in darkness any moment, and still, a little chill entered the camp, weaving past the thorny entrance. Adderheart flicked his tail with the two white stripes over his paws and he gazed around.

Most cats weren't really around. Presumably, Palewhisker had sent them all out on patrol.

He caught a whiff of Birchpaw, Freckletuft, and Dustshade's scent. Freckletuft mentored Birchpaw, so it was usual they went out together. But Dustshade? What was he doing?

Probably just helping, Adderheart thought.

Prey-scent suddenly swarmed his senses and his dark gray eyes flashed over to his left.

Marigoldcry's thick, white fur appeared as she headed through the entrance, followed by Brindlebreeze's white, brown, and black patched pelt. Russetpelt's shiny reddish-brown fur was quick to follow.

Each cat had a piece of prey dangling from their jaws as they headed for the pile, skirting around Poppyfur, whose white fur was puffed up at the chill that entered the camp.

Now that greenleaf was ending, it was usual that there was an icy wind that would sweep by once and a while, and that there was a slightly paler light leaking from the sun. The short-furred cats would never get used to it.

Just then, a cat who looked almost identical to Cougarstar entered the camp. His thick tawny fur and large, strong build was almost a copy of the leader's. Though, this cat had dark green eyes, ones that were soft and gentle compared to the other tom's sharp, edged gaze.

This cat was Pantherleap, a highly respected senior warrior within SageClan. Most cats went to him for advice simply because of his wiseness and intelligence among a wide spread of topics. He was smart and clever, yet still had a soft side when it came to kits — of which he had none. Nobody knew why he didn't have kits — many cats would clamber to be his mate if given half a chance.

Although he was still the pale-furred, intelligent, wise cat of the Clan who was not yet an elder, and so most cats looked up to him — mostly the younger warriors and apprentices. Even some of the kits thoroughly enjoyed his company.

Now, he strolled casually past Adderheart with a mouse skewed on his claw and a thrush hanging from his jaws.

The thin warrior shifted slightly, watching as Pantherleap trotted smoothly toward the fresh-kill pile and dropped both prey pieces on the pile. Soon approached a thick-furred she-cat with dark charcoal fur.

And that was Coalbelly, the Clan's healer. A similarly pelted she-cat — though this one had shinier fur and a darker black tone — quickly trotted behind her mentor.

This cat was Twilightcloud.

Rules for being a healer was strict, so it was lucky that the Clan had two at once. Any and all deputies and healers were disallowed from having kits. Neither of the current she-cats seemed to be too upset with this rule, and if they were, they had decent masks regarding it. Though other rules had been applied too, including a rule that most cats didn't agree with; all healers must be a she-cat.

It was controversial when Cougarstar had first added the rule. Many cats had protested against it simply because it was illogical to completely deny a rank from a certain type of cat. The leader didn't have a specific piece of evidence that mainly supported it and so many called him dumb. Cougarstar, of course, hadn't cared one bit and had just continued on with ruling.

It was so strange that nothing had seemed to be happening to the tom. He appeared to be strong, sharp-minded, intelligent... All the things a cat could want in a leader. Yet he also seemed to be snappy. Moody, even. Irritable, bothered, and even completely unaccepting of others' opinions.

That didn't stop cats from being upset, though. They chattered for days about how unfair it was and how bothersome it was. Then again, Cougarstar claimed it had no effect on the warriors and apprentices since it only affected future generations. And it certainly had — yet still, cats didn't agree with it.

Adderheart shifted his position once more, watching out of the corner of his eye as the three cats ducked into the healer's den. Quiet voices drifted from where they had disappeared, sharp tones soon accompanying it, though the edged tone seemed to be hushed by far calmer voices. His dark gray eyes caught on Fluffyflame and Marigoldcry.

The two were extremely close, more so than other siblings. It was rumored that their mother, a she-cat named Juniperflight, had gotten her kits taken by a sharp-tongued rogue tom. She had gotten them back of course, but then there had been speculation that the same thing had occurred with her next litter — consequently, that litter was Dustshade and Streamfang.

That lead cats to believe Juniperflight had been... seeing the tom.

Nobody investigated it, and of course, nobody challenged her.

She was far too strong-minded for anyone to actually bring it up.

Besides, Adderheart wouldn't have been up to challenging his mentor.

He didn't mind her training. It was basic, the average training that a mentor would bestow upon an apprentice. Of course, Juniperflight would always put more stress on fighting. She loved fighting, he soon learned. Her claws were long and edged, and she had told him multiple times she loved the feel of the power coursing in her veins as she stood above an opponent.

Adderheart did not like fighting. He found no power in his veins as he stood above a fake opponent in a mock battle; rather within him rose an overwhelming need to do well. He couldn't risk a failure in front of the rest of his Clan.

So he preferred to try and get her to do more hunting training. He was good at hunting. His lean form made it easy to slip around the trees. Even among the shadows, where his pale fur seemed to be the moon among a blanket of darkness, he was able to catch prey that other apprentices had not been able to get. Juniperflight certainly found it interesting.

His mentor had never taught him any sort of climbing training or swimming, besides one time where he'd asked how to climb a tree in case of a flood. That one day she had offered to give him some basic training on swimming to deal with the flood and climbing to avoid it.

It had not been a fun day. Scrapes had littered his lean body since climbing pine trees was not necessarily safe or enjoyable. Swimming had definitely been an adventure too, as the place that Juniperflight had chosen was a pond. It had been far too shallow to actually learn how to swim in very well.

Besides, she was dead now, and it was mostly her fault.

The creamy-white she-cat had died shortly after Adderheart had been given his full name, and in that short timespan, they had grown farther apart. They hadn't necessarily been close in the first place — simply put, the relation had only been for the training, not really to make the friendship last. Strictly business.

Adderheart had not been present for the fluffy she-cat's death, though he had practically heard exactly what had occurred. Coalbelly had been able to detect the probable cause of death and what had actually happened.

Supposedly, his mentor had been hunting near the border. It had not been a pleasant leaf-bare that moon cycle, with the hunting being difficult. Snow blanketed the ground with a light, sparkling grin and clouds tended to crowd the sky with a shadowy smirk.

As Juniperflight had scented a piece of prey — rumored to be a plump pheasant — the she-cat had slunk toward it, though soon she had spotted a rogue in the bushes. Supposedly, the rogue had dark, blackish-gray fur that contrasted greatly with the snowy world around them. There had been a tuft of their fur caught between her claws when she'd been discovered.

Juniperflight, whipping to the rogue and completely forgetting about the prey, leaped for them and soon enough managed to tackle the black-furred cat. Though she had greatly underestimated the power of the other cat, and they soon surged back up against the she-cat.

The rogue managed to grasp her throat in their teeth and they pulled. The she-cat had reeled back, shock and terror clear in her eyes as she collapsed, legs buckling as she had let out a strangled cry. The rogue was nowhere to be seen when a nearby patrol had rushed to her aid, only to find that she was already gone.

The usual rituals were done, though nobody besides her kits seemed that upset. She was constantly longing for the power of battle, and most of the cats in SageClan didn't prefer to be constantly fighting with rogues or loners. Although, Cougarstar always seemed open to the idea.

A sigh escaped the pale-furred warrior as he shifted his position, gaze refocusing.

Turning slightly, Adderheart pulled himself to his paws, his back arching a little bit out of the stiffness that had crowded him while he'd stilled. His dark gray eyes glittered as he glanced around the camp. The sun above his head was now resting delicately on the horizon, gaze bright and warm as it stared upon him. Though, the light was slowly dimming.

In its place rose a darkness, a darkness only the night could hold. It had not yet completely turned, though the sky was slowly fading into pretty peachy-orange and pinkish-red tones, splattering itself across the previously pale blue sky with delicate shades and prim movements. Soon enough it would be darker — much, much darker. Yet for now, the world held the soft brightness of day still.

He stretched, a light yawn escaping his muzzle as he snapped his jaws closed a moment later.

Strolling casually to the fresh-kill pile, he surveyed his options. What was left was a decent selection — at least, he thought so. The thrush that Pantherleap had laid upon the pile was gone, though the mouse was still left.

The older warrior took it between his jaws and returned to his place, sitting down and wrapping his tail over his paws rather swiftly. He bent slightly to take a bite and then a voice broke through the silence that had blanketed his world.

"Adderheart?"

Bearpatch.

Fox-dung.

The warrior let his head bob in somewhat of an appreciative dipping of his head, "Yes, Bearpatch?"

"I heard from Antwhisper that you and a few others were on a patrol and scented blood, and it was supposedly not alike to prey's blood. Is this true?"

He nodded, letting his sharp dark gray eyes soften as too not come off to rudely as he looked up. Shadows spread across the thin-furred brown tom, already dark brown pelt appearing darker in the light that was slowly fading into the prettiness of twilight.

"It is true," Adderheart answered, another nod forming.

Bearpatch seemed to take a mental note of something, and the heir gave a warm nod, glancing down at the prey before mewing, "Did you scent anything else nearby or see any fur?"

A simple shaking of his pale-colored head did fine.

The heir shifted slightly, fur prickling, "Well, do you think you could show me where it is?"

No.

I want to rest. I want to eat my mouse in peace and without too much interruption from you or anyone, really. I want to watch the sunset and then I will go to sleep.

Would Streamfang be able to go? I think she'd know better than I would. Is that a good excuse?

Seemingly instantly his mind whipped into action. He really didn't want to get up from the comfortable position he lay in— intensified by the fact he certainly didn't want to leave the camp to show Bearpatch the place where there had been some unidentified blood. His tail with the two white stripes flickered slightly, head tipping a tad as he studied Bearpatch's expression. It was neutral and calm.

Antwhisper likely told Bearpatch that I would be able to help more since I was the leader of the patrol. Hopefully, Poppyfur was completely left out of it. We don't need this spreading amongst the rest of the Clan, and we certainly don't need Poppyfur prancing around with this sort of information at her paws, ready to be spilled at any moment.

"I think Streamfang would be able to lead you to it better than I would," he mewed carefully, being sure that his voice was smooth and even compared to his last words.

The heir seemed to take his words completely fine — "Alright, thank you."

"Thank you," Adderheart replied easily, relief crushing him. It was as if someone had lifted a weight off his chest as he watched the chunky-built heir pad away to go locate Streamfang.

Now the sun had practically slipped beneath the horizon's surface, only a slim sliver of its shimmery light remaining. Instead, now, a moon was rising in opposition, one of which seemed to be ready to take over the sky with a dark, shadowy fist.

The sky was turning much faster now. No longer did the sky hold pretty pinkish shades, peachy-orangey shades, or anything in between — now it held darker blues, and these were slowly morphing into blacker colorings. They seemed to be spreading upon the sky's surface like paint across a white page.

Soon enough the entire sky was blanketed in a similar, dark blueish-gray-black shade, and now since the sun had disappeared from the sky completely, the moon rested delicately upon the horizon. Stars dotted the dark blanket that was the sky.

In this time a few cats had passed in and out of camp, most notably those who had been on a patrol or two. Some brought prey — Shrewclaw, a pale brown tom, and Fernfall, a small, white-and-black patterned tom, had both brought back two pieces of prey each. Freckletuft, Dustshade, and Birchpaw had returned, too.

The latter held a mouse and a rabbit, which was certainly an impressive catch for the apprentice. It was nice to see the white-and-brown apprentice so pleased with one of his own actions.

Adderheart had soon finished off his piece of prey, and now he was able to comfortably settle upon the part of camp he was in. He buried his prey, watching the sky for a moment as it continued to make its daily change in colors.

The blueness from before seemingly dissipated, replaced with a dark, soul-crushing black. Now the only light came from the moon, which was steadily rising into the sky all the while shedding a pale, silvery light upon the camp, and the stars, which sprinkled minimal luminescence upon SageClan.

Eventually, the lean-bodied warrior rose to his paws, stretching once more. Arching his back, another yawn escaped his muzzle, yet this one was seemingly more tired— and so in a moment, he began to head toward the warrior's den, dipping his head to a few cats that were resting around camp and eating prey before they were off to sleep. Of course, Palewhisker had two guards set up near the camp entrance, but Adderheart was too far away to say goodbye to them.

Pushing past the combination of sticks, thorns, and brambles that made up the walls of the warrior's den, Adderheart quickly located his nest and curled up. Comfortably, he settled down, letting his fur fall flat against his lean form. Wrapping his tail around himself, the warrior laid his head on his paws.

Within moments, the pale-furred tom slipped into a pleasant slumber.