A few sunrises had passed since Silverpaw identified the rogue scent on the border. Patrols had grown more frequent on the southern boundary, and Pinestar was more transparent about the crowfood laid about. It was becoming more probable that the foxes were lured to the border by cats, which only roused more speculation to Silverpaw's intentions, much to her dismay. There wasn't much she could do to convince them she was innocent, especially with Lionpoppy's theories running rampant and her own guilty conscience.

Movement caught her eye, and in a split-second, Silverpaw hooked her claws deep into scaly flesh.

Flicking her paw, she tossed the orange fish out of the water and onto the pebbled riverbank. It flopped around, struggling to make its way back to the river. Silverpaw pounced on it, sinking her teeth into its cold, water-slick scales, her taste buds meeting its hot, savory blood. The fish stopped wriggling after a moment, and she deposited it onto the meager pile by her side.

It was a messy catch, with blood oozing where her claws had scored its side, but it would feed the Clan well. She uttered her thanks to StarClan, and turned her attention back to the river.

The gurgling current melodiously filled her ears, while above, foreboding dark clouds blotted out the sun, carrying the heavy taste of rain. Glaring up at her from the depths of the river was nothing but swirling dust and debris, still affected from the rainstorm a few days prior. Some cats were worried about flooding. After the tragedy last leaf-bare, she wasn't surprised.

Silverpaw's eyes drew back to the depths of the river, and as she waited, a fat droplet of water splattered onto her nose. She sneezed.

"That's one way to scare away all the fish," Honeywhisker hissed from a few tail-lengths downriver.

Silverpaw twitched her tail. "Wasn't my fault," she retorted.

Honeywhisker huffed and kept his eyes trained on the water. Silverpaw rolled her eyes and did the same. She had been training with the tom for nearly a moon now. His callousness, though still frequent, wasn't as harsh as it had been. He seemed to be mellowing out—as much as a frustrating cat like him could, at least.

Every night, Silverpaw snuck out of camp to practice her battle moves, enough to where the golden warrior was having a difficult time criticizing her in that regard. The only issue, however, was how tired she grew with every passing day. It could be seen in the drag of her paws on patrols, and especially in her sloppy fishing.

The surface of the river, already rippling from its current, grew rougher as rain began to cascade from the heavens. Silverpaw flattened her ears against the thunder of rain against her skull, a growl of irritation slipping from her lips.

A flash of silver darted past her paws. Silverpaw's heart skipped a beat, and in an instant, her claws flexed to graze its side. The fish smacked her wrist with its writhing body and escaped her grasp. Unwilling to give up, Silverpaw launched into the water with a splash, flicking her other paw forward as her head plunged beneath the surface. The roar of the current greeted her ears. Her eyes squinted against debris, the normally clear world below foggy and murky from the storm days ago.

A sliver of blood swept along the current while her paws found leverage, digging fiercely into the fish's scales. The fish, however, was a large one, and with a rough kick of its tail, her grip faltered. Silverpaw's paws flailed as she balanced herself in the current, and she stared in disappointment as her prey faded into the murkiness.

Kicking her paws, Silverpaw burst to the surface, her fur slicked back against her head as she paddled back ashore. Pebbles and reeds crunched underpaw as she dragged herself up, her fur soaked and clinging uncomfortably to her skin. She didn't bother to shake her pelt dry; the rain had increased to a torrential downpour. She would've been thoroughly soaked regardless of her dip.

Honeywhisker surveyed her through narrowed eyes. "Let's head back," he growled, tearing his gaze away. He grabbed his fish from the pile. "All the prey is gone by now, and this rain is only going to get worse."

Silverpaw nodded in reluctant agreement and retrieved the two fish she'd caught, the fat goldfish and a small perch.

The two cats trudged through the woods, trailing the riverbank before they at last bounded across the crossing stones and into camp. The clearing was soaked, and the only two about were Sandytail and Nightfur chatting quietly near the unusually low fresh-kill pile. Silverpaw trotted over and dropped her haul.

"Did you catch that one by yourself?" Sandytail inquired, his foggy eyes peckishly roaming the bright orange fish.

Silverpaw smiled. "I did."

"Wonderful," the old tom purred, leaning down to grab the goldfish. "You'd best run to your den now. This storm is a nasty one, and it won't be letting off anytime soon."

"Okay," Silverpaw mewed warmly, taking a step backwards. "Thank you."

Sandytail snorted in response, and with a whisk of his thick tail, he trudged towards the fallen log.

"Before you go," Nightfur drew her tail across Silverpaw's path, "get something to eat for yourself."

"Oh, but I'm not hungry," Silverpaw protested.

"Nonsense. Look at how scraggly you are! You look like a StarClan-forsaken WindClan cat," the elder admonished. She snatched a perch from the pile, dropping it at Silverpaw's paws. "Take this with you and enjoy it at your nest. If Pinestar asks why your den smells like fish, tell him I ordered you to." Her whiskers twitched in amusement.

Silverpaw blinked. "If you insist, Nightfur," she mewed reluctantly.

Nightfur curtly nodded and returned to the fresh-kill pile. Silverpaw lingered for a heartbeat longer, and with one final glance at the elder, she grabbed her perch and slipped away to the apprentice's den. She wriggled inside, the constant barrage of rain fading into the background. Pigeonpaw, Finchpaw, Mistpaw, and Toadpaw dozed in their respective nests, tired from the Gathering the night prior.

Silverpaw quietly made her way through the den, careful not to wake her denmates. She arrived at her own pile of moss, weeded with pink shells. Before settling down, she gave her fur a light shake in hopes to dry it.

Once her fur was slightly less soaked, she sighed and flopped into the nest. She winced as a shell dug into her side, and she twisted her neck to rip it free of the moss. The shell was splintered and sharp, with a small bead of red where it had penetrated her skin. Dejectedly, she tossed it to a far corner of the den where nobody would hurt themselves on it.

She returned her attention to the perch and gave it a light sniff. It smelt fine. Delicious, in fact, but her stomach wouldn't have it. Her appetite had faded once more with the realization that the rogues were still around, her stomach twisting with guilt and discontent every time she sat to eat fresh-kill. The thought of them being associated with the fox attack on Spiderfrost and Cloudgaze sent shivers down her spine. What if she could've done something to prevent it?

She groaned, nudging it away with her nose and resting her head on her paws. Perhaps she'd eat it later.

"Hey, cloud-fluff!"

She blinked and turned her head slightly. Mistpaw's head was craned in her direction, her green eyes bright in the darkness. "Are you going to eat that?"

Silverpaw hesitated. "No," she admitted. "You can have it."

Mistpaw stretched luxuriously to her paws, letting her tail arch with the curve of her spine, and gave her toes a little wiggle before she padded cheerfully to Silverpaw's side. Pushing the perch back towards the nest, she gave her friend a brisk, reassuring lick between the ears and snuggled up next to her.

"I know you said you're not going to eat it, but you look like a WindClan cat," she mewed brightly, unknowingly echoing the words of Nightfur. "You won't become a warrior if you're all skin and bones!" She tore a bite out of the perch and let out a contented purr. "It's delicious," she mumbled around the mouthful of food, "I promise."

Silverpaw stared at her, tempted to refuse, but the worry shining in Mistpaw's eyes encouraged her. With a sigh, she relented, and she took a tender bite out of the perch. Though the back of her mind knew the meat was sweet and succulent, the forefront detected it as dry and tasteless, struggling down her throat like a slab of bark.

Finally swallowing, Silverpaw bore a grimace.

"See?" Mistpaw purred. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Silverpaw shrugged. "I guess."

Eating another piece, Mistpaw's eyes meandered across her friend's face. "Remember what I told you the morning after Sorrelmouse died?" She mewed abruptly. "Regardless of what happens, you won't be alone. Lichenpaw, Toadpaw and I are always going to be here for you, but we can't help you if you don't let us." Pausing briefly, she continued, more forcefully, "Tell me what's wrong, Silverpaw."

Silverpaw's gut squirmed, and she looked away from her friend, tearing off a small strip of fish. She was quiet while she chewed it, taking her time. "I... don't know."

Mistpaw scoffed. "Of course you know. You're thinking about it now, Silverpaw."

Silverpaw flinched. Mistpaw was right. Her thoughts were swimming in circles, taunting her with the face of the rogue tom, leading foxes in a mission to maim, or even kill, one of her Clanmates.

"I wish I could've done more," she admitted at last, her ears pinned against her skull. "It's my fault the rogues are here, the reason Spiderfrost and Cloudgaze are hurt."

"How is that your fault?" Mistpaw scoffed, picking a claw between some teeth. "You can't control what other cats do."

"I know, but—"

"Stop right there!" Mistpaw interrupted. "Why are you so adamant on believing you're the reason the rogues are by the border?"

"I'm the one who wanted to sneak out and find them! If I never did that, Owlpaw would've never died, and everything would be okay!" Silverpaw retorted, her tail lashing.

"You can't seriously believe that, can you?" Mistpaw growled. "Any cat could've done the same thing, and they would've met the same demise, but it wouldn't have been their fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for things outside of your control."

Silverpaw shivered. "Why should I?" she mumbled. "Not even my own mother loves me anymore because of it, and now, Sorrelmouse is gone, too. And if I never fell behind in my training... maybe I could've saved her." Her eyes stung, and it took a moment for her to realize that tears were beginning to spill down her cheeks. "Sorry," she mumbled, looking away and rubbing a paw across her face.

"Their deaths aren't your fault, you fish-brain! Owlpaw followed you of his own volition, and there's no way either of you would've known what the rogues would do. Sorrelmouse's death wasn't your fault, either. Killing is against the warrior code."

"But—"

"No!" Mistpaw thrust her muzzle in Silverpaw's face. "You're not to blame. You're as innocent as any of us."

"How can I be? I was directly involved in it all..."

"That's just terrible luck, and after everything happened, you did your best to get help."

Silverpaw fell silent, her heart racing so fast that her throat throbbed. She couldn't bear to look her friend in the eye.

Mistpaw buried her nose in Silverpaw's shoulder, softly purring reassurance. "You mouse-brain," she muttered. "What am I meant to do with you?"

They trickled into silence. Mistpaw gently lapped at the fur between Silverpaw's ears as her tears turned to hiccups. At last, when the apprentice's shaking subsided, the black she-cat withdrew and spoke softly, "Let's finish this perch, you still haven't eaten enough."

Silverpaw, her eyes still blurry from her tears, turned her attention back to the fresh-kill. "Okay," she agreed.

She leaned forward and took a bite out of its flesh, but this time, it wasn't as difficult to swallow. A shred of comfort had weaseled its way to her aching heart, and her shoulders felt lighter, as if she weren't carrying the weight of everything all on her own. She realized with a start that she hadn't cried since Sorrelmouse's death, and especially not in front of anybody else.

The apprentices finished their meal in silence, the warmth of solace in the air. Mistpaw crawled out of the nest to groom herself, and Silverpaw watched quietly before resolving to do the same. Her fur, now dry from the rain, was matted and sticking out in all directions. She took care to meticulously smooth it out and unwind the knots in silence.

Eventually, curiosity won the best of her. "What happened at the Gathering last night?" She inquired, dragging her tongue across the base of her tail.

Mistpaw paused, her green eyes glimmering. "Pinestar had an earful for ShadowClan," she mewed between licks. "Cloudstar didn't give a rat's tail that Sorrelmouse died to one of his warriors, and they got into quite the quarrel. StarClan covered the moon before Pinestar could claw Cloudstar's ears off. If I have any say, I think they should've let him!" A small mrrow escaped her.

"He deserves it," Silverpaw agreed, anger mingled with hurt fizzling in her paws. She twisted her neck and dragged her tongue furiously along her spine, pulling away thick mouthfuls of fur. She aggressively spat it out, and released a deep sigh. "Do you think that's why the weather's been so awful today?"

Mistpaw tilted her head with a soft trill. "Perhaps, but only if ShadowClan has it worse."

Silverpaw felt a smile creep to her face at the thought. She could imagine Mossrunner and Cloudstar dripping with soddy water, but the light was chased away by the recollection of Evefrost. That traitor. I'd bet she taught them all how to swim and eat fish, she thought disdainfully.

"Silverpaw."

She was torn from her musings, and she turned to see Honeywhisker peeking in from the den entrance, water streaming from his pelt. He flicked an ear, sending a spray of droplets into the den. "Looks like you won't be having the day off," he said bitterly. "We're patrolling the ShadowClan border with Pigeonpaw and Lionpoppy. Wake him up and meet us by the camp entrance, we'll be leaving as soon as you get there."

Silverpaw frowned. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She pointedly licked a paw and drew it over her ears.

Honeywhisker narrowed his eyes, a debate clearly lingering on his tongue. "As long as you make it quick," he growled instead, dipping back outside.

Silverpaw shuddered and returned to grooming, lapping her paw and washing her whiskers, before she quickly brushed her stomach and flanks smooth. Rising to her paws, she shot a glance at Mistpaw, who was still running her tongue along her pelt.

"I'll see you later," she mewed weakly.

Mistpaw looked up. "Stay safe."

Silverpaw nodded stiffly, flicking Mistpaw's nose with the tip of her tail. "I'll try," she said, padding off to find Pigeonpaw.

Nestled in his bedding, the gray tabby was rolled onto his back, his paws splayed in the air and his mouth agape. A gurgling snore thundered from his lungs. Silverpaw gave him a sharp jab in the side. Snorting, the tom flipped onto his belly, groggily looking around.

"Whaddaya want?" He slurred, blinking rapidly until his eyes settled on Silverpaw.

"Get up, you're needed on a border patrol."

Pigeonpaw visibly brightened, and he burst to his paws. "Great! Give me a minute to clean myself. I promise I'll be quick!"

Silverpaw blinked, and as the tom robustly began to groom his fur, she turned and left him to his own devices.

Emerging into the clearing, the cold and unpleasant wall of rain melted into her fur, soaking her to the bone. She shivered, squinting to see through the downpour. She padded across the slick clearing, her pawsteps squishing against the wet ground. She could just barely pick up the hushed mumbles of conversation between Lionpoppy and Honeywhisker.

Awkwardly, she entered their range of view and sat down a few tail-lengths away. Lionpoppy's eyes flashed harshly over, her lip curling. Silverpaw stripped her gaze away and instead rested it on Honeywhisker, who's demeanor was surprisingly more welcoming.

"Shouldn't we have more warriors?" She tentatively suggested. "What if ShadowClan attacks again?"

"We'll be fine," Honeywhisker grunted. "Your skills are... acceptable."

Silverpaw's pelt prickled at the praise. Though his words were surprising, they weren't any more comforting. After all, Sorrelmouse had died on a patrol with more warriors than they had now.

Her gaze fell to the earth, where rain swirled up in muddy puddles. She could feel Lionpoppy's eyes burning into her fur, no friendlier than they had been since Owlpaw died.

She fluffed out her pelt, both to protect herself from the icy rain and her mother's intense scrutiny.