Wrong Side of the Tracks (Private)

Luckily for the ShadowClan apprentice, Lightningclaw was something of a deep sleeper – and sleeping was made all the easier because she was the type who took to slumber instinctively, only a few moments passing once she had curled up. Sleep was a luxury, especially in the aftermath of the sickness. Too often chores were stretched thin, and it meant many warriors were doubling up on tasks they had left behind in apprenticehood.

And there was something to be said for sleeping beside another body, for all that the space around them demanded it. Some part of her obviously remembered the comfort that had come from being squeezed into the warriors’ den, before death had ravaged their ranks, where the soft sounds of sleep would lull her into dreamland. The apprentice didn’t offer that, being of a far twitchier sort, but it was his warmth she sought, anyway.

And her dreams were pleasantly empty – there, so that it did not seem as if the night had passed in the blink of an eye, but devoid of anything she would remember upon wakening. When she did finally stir, it was only because the little tom had moved away, taking his body heat with him.

She opened her eyes blearily, head raising up from the floor to take in her surroundings. She could see him, just outside the hollow, methodically washing every part of his body. Lightningclaw was content to stay in the nest a few moments longer, a great yawn ripping its way free of her maw, jaw cracking pleasantly.

That had probably been one of the better sleeps she’d gotten since her clan’s suffering – but considering the apprentice’s rumpled state, she doubted the same could be said for him. Feeling cold, she slipped from the hole, barely placing all four feet outside the entrance before she was stretching, tail cricking out behind her. Then she shook, pine needles falling from her coat. She wouldn’t relish the taste of them when she groomed.

But first – well, she was hungry. But she also had to feed the clan. And feeding a cat from another clan – but then again, she was also ThunderClan. And it wasn’t as if the forest would suffer from one more mouth; the death of so many cats had assured it would replenish and grow bountiful during the warmer seasons.

“Good morning,” she greeted, stepping toward the ShadowClan cat. The scent of garlic was muted now (or she’d just gotten used to the smell), but his ShadowClan scent was still mercifully obscured. “Are you hungry?”

She wouldn’t hunt for herself, of course. But she could send him off with a small meal and then hunt toward Twolegsplace. A quick roll in sharp-smelling mint, a few mice, and she would have plenty to cover up where she had been and why. Though, really, it wasn’t as if there was a leader for her to report to, no deputy to scold her for wandering outside the camp at night.

Someone had to step up, but considering the little tom that stood before her, it could never be Lightningclaw. She’d lost that right the moment she didn’t run him across the border.