Nearly a quarter-moon had passed since the scuffle on ShadowClan's border. Silverpaw's wounds had healed well, as Wishfern foretold, and the cobwebs that had tightly patched together her flanks were gone. Though her fur hadn't grown back in its entirety, it was making progress, and wouldn't scar. More concerningly, however, was the rising activity on the southern border. Every day patrols found piles of crowfood and the stench of foreign cats impeding their scentlines, which only drove away nearby prey, as well as driving more fear into Silverpaw. Were they planning an attack, or something worse?

"...and that's how I defeated a fox all on my own," Sandytail purred, his foggy amber eyes glistening with a smile.

Silverpaw jolted away from her thoughts, realizing that her paws had been working on their own. She peeled away the bile-ridden moss and watched as the final tick shriveled up in death, tumbling lifelessly to the floor. "That's impressive," she mewed distractedly. She nosed through the elder's fur one final time before confirming that she'd rid him of the parasites. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Sandytail rumbled happily. "Perhaps give me a scratch behind the ol' ear?"

"Uh, sure." She moved her claws forward, but he bumped them away with his muzzle.

"I was just kidding," he grunted. "Young cats these days, can't tell what a joke is!"

Flustered, she backed away. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Sandytail shook his head. "Oh, it's whatever, Silverpaw. Thank you for getting them nasty ticks off my back. I swear, it's my family trying to take me to StarClan early!"

Silverpaw smiled and scooped up the putrid bundle of moss. "I'd hope not, I'll miss your stories when you're gone," she mewed.

"At least there's somebody who would." The old tom's eyes crinkled. "Good luck out there." He added shakily, leaning forward to rasp his tongue warmly across her cheek.

Silverpaw beamed at the rare show of affection from the grouchy old tom, and with a flourish of her tail, she left, emerging from the fallen log into the clearing. The sky was dark with clouds, and the air was as cold as ice. Spiderfrost lounged in the clearing under a fleeting stream of warm sunlight, her eye slitted shut. Her wounds were at last free from cobwebs, and past the infection she had fought through, she finally appeared to be healing well, while her gouged eye remained pinned shut under herbs. Her brother was still stuck in the confines of the medicine den.

Pigeonpaw and Finchpaw were huddled around the fresh-kill pile, arguing over which delicacy they should pick. Silverpaw's heart twisted at the sight. Owlpaw and I would argue over something stupid like that, she envied, but she dismissed the thought swiftly and made her way to the dirtplace where she deposited the vile moss.

"Cleaning the ticks again?" Mistpaw mewed from behind her, her nose wrinkled with distaste.

"Yes, but this time, it was of my own accord," Silverpaw replied cheerfully.

"Willingly?" Mistpaw gasped. "Do you have bees in your brain?"

Silverpaw shrugged, padding past her friend and towards the camp entrance. "No, I just promised Sandytail I'd visit, and dealing with his ticks is the only way Honeywhisker would allow me to."

"All that torture to visit Sandytail? Really?" Mistpaw trotted after her as they exited camp.

Silverpaw dipped her paws into the river, watching her fur sway in its current as she washed them free of bile. "Yes, he's a very sweet cat," she insisted.

"If you say so," Mistpaw mewed, thoroughly unconvinced. "Ravenfire says he's intolerable and doesn't know how to stop grumbling."

"Like you?" Silverpaw teased.

"I do too!"

"What about the time Toadpaw stuck a mouse tail behind your ear?"

"That—That's different!"

"Is it, though?" Silverpaw glanced out of the corner of her eye.

Mistpaw had dropped to a crouch, waggling her hindquarters in preparation for a pounce. The silver tabby whirled around, bursting past her friend in a sprint.

"Get back here so I can claw your ears off!" The black apprentice cried.

"Only if you can catch me!"

Silverpaw raced along what was left of the riverbank, swerving away from the camp entrance and instead hugging the sides of the river. It had been a bitter, rainy moon, and though most of the storms had come to pass, the rivers were still swollen. Racing along what should've been the shoreline, her paws splashed through shallow water.

She glanced over her shoulder. Mistpaw wasn't far behind, a determined fire in her eyes as she pursued her. Silverpaw looped around the camp until the water grew as deep as her belly fur, in which case she tucked her paws to her stomach and paddled the rest of the way.

She reached the entrance again and slipped inside, praying that Mistpaw was far enough behind to have missed her escape. She panted, and hugging the side of the clearing, she found a place near some cattails. She pushed through the shrubbery, mostly out of sight of the rest of the clearing. She shook out her pelt and sat down to groom herself.

"Hiding from my sister?"

Silverpaw nearly leaped out of her fur, whirling around to find herself nose-to-nose with Toadpaw. "Don't scare me like that!" She hissed, batting at his face.

The tom blinked, and rubbed his muzzle with a paw. "Sorry."

Rolling her eyes, Silverpaw shuffled to the side, offering him room to join her.

"Where's Lichenpaw?" Silverpaw queried, peering through the leaves. Mistpaw had entered the clearing, and was searching high and low for her.

"Nightpatch took her out for more battle training."

Silverpaw flicked her whiskers. "That's the fifth day in a row, isn't it?"

Toadpaw sighed. "Yeah."

"Found ya!"

Silverpaw recoiled as Mistpaw butted her nose into the corner, tossing a goldfish towards the two cats. It landed square at Silverpaw's paws. She squeezed inside with a delighted mrrow, and tapped Silverpaw on the nose.

Silverpaw slapped her back, but before the two she-cats could launch into a tussle, Toadpaw flicked his tail between the two. "Silverpaw needs to save her energy," he admonished. "She can't pass her assessment if she's exhausted."

"Oh, whatever," Mistpaw grunted, snapping up a mouthful of meat from the orange fish. "You're such a worry-worm." She passed it to Toadpaw, and he dutifully took a bite.

Silverpaw looked away in embarrassment. Toadpaw was right. If she wanted to pass her warrior's assessment, she had to be more mindful of her energy. Her eyes drew up to the sky. It was nearly sunhigh. It would begin soon.

"Do you think I'll pass?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course you will," Toadpaw replied with a confident swish of his tail. "You've caught up with all the training you missed, there's no way they'll keep you as an apprentice for another two moons."

Silverpaw nodded slowly. "I hope you're right," she murmured, staring off towards the willow tree.

Inside the den, Honeywhisker, Salmonskip, and Pinestar were speaking to each other. If she peered closely enough, she swore she could see their pelts shifting around in the darkness, but she couldn't be certain.

Suddenly, Salmonskip crawled out from between the gnarled roots. Silverpaw's breath caught in her throat as his orange eyes roamed the clearing, somehow finding her amid the shrubbery, while Honeywhisker trailed a few paces behind him.

The two toms strode towards her.

"I don't think I'm ready," Silverpaw whispered, backing deeper into the shadows.

"Sure you are!" Mistpaw coiled her tail around hers. "Go show them how great of a warrior you can be."

Toadpaw's cheek brushed hers. "You're more ready than anyone. You deserve this," he vowed, confidence thickening his tone. He peeled away and held her gaze, warmth swimming in his eyes.

"Are you ready, Silverpaw?" Salmonskip lowered his head to peer past the branches.

Swallowing her anxiety, Silverpaw crawled out, her tail twitching behind her. "I... I suppose I am."

"Good, then let us begin." Salmonskip inclined his head politely. "Follow me."

Giving a nervous nod, Silverpaw glanced back at her friends one final time. They both gave her glowing smiles. Toadpaw's gaze followed her until she was out of sight, while his sister trailed alongside the silver tabby, stopping at the camp entrance to wave her tail in an animated farewell.

The water level was astoundingly high, the riverbank nearly touching the reed-woven barrier that defended the camp. The crossing stones were hidden beneath the water, forcing the warriors to wade across. Though it was cold, it was no longer angry as it had been during the storms, simply rolling along noisily and with a persistent speed.

Reaching the other bank, Silverpaw's fur was dripping. She shivered, fluffing out her pelt, only to wince as a fresh droplet of icy water splattered above her brow, swiftly climbing in number as it began to rain.

Without comment, Honeywhisker bushed out his fur and slipped into the forest. Silverpaw moved to follow him, but Salmonskip drew a paw across her path.

"He'll spectate you in secret," the tabby mewed quietly.

Silverpaw nodded, and the gray tom continued to lead her through the forest. Their journey was in silence, merely interrupted by the growing patter of rain. As time dragged on, the apprentice's thoughts roamed to Owlpaw. He would've passed the assessment, no questions asked. He was talented in every field, always bringing back mighty hauls of prey and surpassing his Clanmates in battle training.

He could even hold his own against Salmonskip, she recalled sadly, studying the deputy's well-muscled form. I could never do that. I'm far too weak.

"We're here," Salmonskip announced, drawing to a halt. "Hunt as much prey as you can. Your mentor will study your skills and report back to me to determine whether or not you're ready to be a warrior. Good luck."

Silverpaw watched as the gray tabby turned around and, she assumed, began the return to camp. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to steel herself. There was little noise in the forest today, especially underneath the rainfall. She reopened her eyes to study her surroundings. The lakeshore was just beyond the trees; it had also risen in level, and had begun to creep into the forest. Its water was dark and murky, ominous in its own right.

She parted her jaws and breathed in. The tastes of the forest unfolded before her and bled into her lungs, though the smells were muted behind the overwhelming taste of fresh rain. Faintly, she could detect the dense flavor of a flooded river, and behind it, the smell of windswept grass. She must be near the Horseplace border, which meant the Training Pool would be a fair walk behind her.

She contemplated her options for a short while, keeping her attention tuned to her surroundings. The Training Pool is for apprentices, she conceded. If I want to prove I can be a warrior, I should hunt elsewhere.

With a decisive flick of her tail, she trudged onward, hugging the trunks of trees and keeping her pawsteps delicate, both in hopes to keep warm and hidden from potential prey. Still, coldness crept deep under her fur and into her bones, resulting in the faint chatter of her teeth.

Though she knew Honeywhisker was watching her from somewhere within the trees, the prospect of being alone so near to a border set her fur on end. She couldn't recall a time when she had been. Even on her nightly escapades, she never set foot past the clifftop, too afraid of the thought of running into a bloodthirsty rogue.

Her worries dwindled away as she found herself by the river. She crept towards its edge. Blades of grass poked out from the flooded banks, and even deeper she could see the reaching arms of bushes completely submerged. She waded into the dark shallows, hardly able to see a whisker-length beneath the surface.

She stood there for a while until she realized that no fish would swim up to her, and with a lash of her tail, she crawled out of the murky mess and back onto land. She followed the river upstream until it bent away, and she continued on her way towards the border.

She opened her mouth and drank in the scents on the air. She could smell nothing. It wasn't far-fetched to assume most of the land's prey had huddled up inside their burrows to shelter from the ice-cold rain, much to her chagrin.

A few flakes of bark tumbled from above, and Silverpaw flinched away, her eyes darting to a squirrel peering down at her from the forest canopy. It chattered angrily at her, not even a spark of fear in its beady eyes. She scoffed. Even a measly rodent knew that RiverClan cats refused to climb trees. She bared her teeth irritably, and with a whisk of its fuzzy tail, it flung another piece of bark at her.

Annoyance grew under her pelt as she continued on, twitching her ears. As she grew nearer to the horseplace border, strange twoleg smells wafted through her nostrils. She inhaled deeply. Her attention was snatched by the light, grassy scent of a rabbit. She narrowed her eyes. It was fresh.

Dropping into a smooth stalk, Silverpaw slunk forward, her paws drawn closely together and her tail hovering just above the ground. She skirted around a cluster of dead leaves, and precariously stepped over a fragile branch. The treeline entered her sight after a few minutes of painfully slow stalking. Her eyes slitted further as she peered out into the open field, clouds of rain swallowing the distant horizon. Long locks of grass rippled in the heavy moorland wind.

The scentline towered before her in an invisible wall of smell, and as she surveyed the land beyond, she spotted her prey hopping between tussocks of grass. Its fuzzy white tail bobbed up and down. She lifted a paw, and left it quivering just barely a claw-length above the scentline.

Heartbeats passed as temptation gnawed at her heart. The rabbit was right there, oblivious to her presence, and visibly plump.

Sighing reluctantly, Silverpaw drew her paw back to her chest, and she rose from her crouch. The rabbit spotted her movement, and immediately disappeared into the ocean of golden grass. I can't break the warrior code. I'd be no better than ShadowClan, she scolded herself. She turned around and returned to the shadows of RiverClan's woods.

Tipping her nose to the air, she tested for more prey-scent. She continued to stray in proximity to the border, but gradually dipped deeper into her territory as the smell of prey escaped her.

Finally, the soft, woodsy aroma of a mouse tickled her scent glands, and she honed in on it. Her paws prickled with anticipation as she tracked the scent further and further along. As she drew closer, she realized that it wasn't just one mouse; she could smell multiple, cloaked beneath the scent of warmth and twigs. It's a nest of them, she presumed eagerly.

On bated breath, she wove around trees and dense undergrowth until at last, she picked up the faintest of squeaks through the flush of rain. She twitched her ears and followed the noise to a dense thicket. Mouse droppings lay scattered about, and the leaflitter was scuffed by tiny pawmarks. She studied the ensemble of bushes. Deep within, barely visible through the thick maze of branches, she could see the cleverly knitted twigs, leaves, and featherdown of a mouse nest.

She sat there thoughtfully, and an idea sparked in her mind. Backing carefully out of the brush, she looked around. There. She gripped a branch between her teeth and hefted it up. With a swing of her shoulders, she tossed the limb towards the bush. It crashed upon the thicket, violently shuddering the leaves. Shrill squeals of terror erupted from within the nest.

Dropping immediately into a crouch, she struggled to keep her tail from lashing. Mice scrambled to escape the confines of their nest, darting out in all directions. Silverpaw flicked out a paw and smacked a mouse before it could escape her, and she dragged it close to rapidly dispatch it. Another flew past. She snagged it by its tail and hooked it towards her, but before she could snap its neck, another shot by. She managed to scoop it up with her teeth, and swiftly she ended the lives of the final two mice.

Her breathing accelerated, Silverpaw pricked her ears and returned her attention to the nest, keenly listening for the scuffle of more paws. No more noise greeted her. With a content twitch of her whiskers, she dug a hole to hide her catch, but realized that the earth was too damp for the safe storage of prey.

Picking up her fresh-kill by the tails, she looked around. She spotted a rather low hole in a tree trunk. She padded over, rearing onto her hind legs to reach the cavity. She leaned forward and placed the mice inside, where she hoped no predators would find them.

Silverpaw dropped back to the ground to continue her meandering. She traveled a fair distance, nose to the air as she sought out new scents, but nothing fresh would greet her. Raindrops spattered uncomfortably against her nose, and her body began to tremble from the cold. She fluffed out her pelt once again in a feeble attempt to fight the cold, but regardless of her efforts, she could feel her skin growing numb.

"Your time is up."

Silverpaw whirled around in surprise. Honeywhisker emerged from the undergrowth.

"Did I do all right?" She mewed tentatively, standing taller.

"That will be discussed with Salmonskip," Honeywhisker said. "Go fetch your mice and bring them back to camp, I'll meet you there."

Silverpaw nodded slowly. "Okay."

Honeywhisker stared at her for a brief moment, then he turned around and began the trek back to camp. Silverpaw retraced her steps to the tree, and as she grew closer, she caught a flash of movement.

Alarm sparked through her pelt and she dropped to a crouch, moving carefully, yet swiftly through the undergrowth until she could get a clear view on the hollow. She rose taller as she noticed the rear of a white and gray she-cat, the rest of her inside of the tree-trunk where the mice were stored. Indignation burned beneath the apprentice's skin, and she rose from her stalk with a lash of her tail.

"Hey!" Silverpaw shouted, putting on a burst of speed. "That's my fresh-kill, get away!"

The strange she-cat struggled. Her shoulders, visibly stuck, thrashed as she kicked her hind claws against the bark of the tree, pelting a spray of splinters at Silverpaw's face. The apprentice snarled just as she popped free, stumbling to the ground with three mouse-tails swinging from her jaw.

Silverpaw backed away a few paces, immediately testing the air. Not one of the rogues, she realized in relief, her confidence growing. In fact, the she-cat's scent was so faint, she could hardly distinguish it. "Those are my mice, give them back."

"Your mice?" The she-cat spat, dropping them carelessly to the ground. Her lip curled as her eyes burned over Silverpaw's scars. "I found them, fair and square, flesh-face."

Silverpaw hackles rose. "Found them? I caught them! You're stealing and trespassing." A growl rolled from her chest as the wind shifted in her direction, bringing more clarity to the stranger's smell. Faintly, she could pick up the scent of hay and dust. A horseplace cat. She should have plenty of mice in her barn, so why is she hunting here? The realization only made her angrier, and she took a threatening step forward. "You'd better give those back and leave now, or you'll regret ever stepping on RiverClan land."

The white and gray she-cat bristled, a flash of understanding in her eyes. "RiverClan," she muttered. "You're a Clan cat."

Silverpaw lifted her head boldly. "Of course I am. Didn't you smell the border?"

The rogue's blue eyes flashed in an expression Silverpaw couldn't pinpoint, and she backed a step away, her gray-striped tail sweeping up to cuff her haunches. "I apologize, I must not've noticed it."

Before Silverpaw could respond, the she-cat turned tail and bolted away, leaving the three mice crumpled sadly on the forest floor, collecting rainwater in their soft coats.

Silverpaw's eyes followed her until she passed over the border. With a disgruntled huff, she picked up her prey. Though now soaked and cold, they still tasted delicious. It'll have to do, she thought unhappily, lashing her tail and stomping back to camp.