Ravenpaw was weighed down by rocks of guilt. Her sister’s bird swooped above her head, wheeling above the thick ferns as they guided her back to Redwoodclan’s camp, but she could hardly find it in herself to look. She hadn’t meant to cause any trouble for the calico, she swore, but this was what she got for being a fool. She’d let the person who was quite possibly the coolest cat ever down.

It’d been ages since she stood next to her big sister. Sure, she got to see her other three siblings around camp every day, but ever since Ravenpaw was first learning to walk, Chirpbreeze had been a distant star. Standing next to her today, Ravenpaw had felt excitement buzzing through her like a hive of bees before being snuffed out by the older cat’s frustrated shouting and the obvious exhaustion she’d caught in her russet eyes. She wasn’t stupid – she knew from looking closely at Chirpbreeze that she was going through something deeper than what she allowed to show. It frustrated her that she’d made it worse today.

The shadow of a rising star was a dreary one, apparently. What she wouldn’t have given to fix it.

Ears pricked up, Ravenpaw was able to hear Mew cooing to themself in a hushed, semi-frustrated tone. Though she had no idea what the words meant, she could catch the gist of it well enough. It seemed all three of them were having a bad day.

The pigeon left her side once she was back in the little clearing her clan called home. Ravenpaw let her weary paws carry her in across the pine needles that littered the floor while they flew away on soft gray wings to go roost somewhere in the trees. She needed to find someone to talk to.

“Ravenpaw!” a warm voice called, familiar and deep. Orange and white flashed through the camp and came to settle in her vision in the shape of her brother’s smiling face. Canarywing had a habit of loudly appearing out of seemingly nowhere and lighting up the area like concentrated sunlight. Thank Starclan he was right on time like that. For a cat that thought more with his heart rather than his head, he was surprisingly close to being a mind reader.

Turning on her paws, Ravenpaw moved to begin approaching her older brother with quick steps, smiling when she reached him and was inevitably intercepted by his embrace. “Hi, Canarywing,” she greeted him with the beginnings of a smile. Just being bathed in his warm, sunny demeanor was enough to wash away all the stress and anxiety from the altercation with her sister.

Or at least, it was until Canarywing opened his mouth again. “Where’s Chirpbreeze? I thought you were supposed to be out with her today,” he inquired softly with furrowed brows. “She’s okay, right? Did she get hurt?”

Ravenpaw shook her head in a swift movement, pulling away so she could look him in the eyes while she spoke. “No, no, she’s fine,” she hurriedly half-lied, looking to smooth over the situation, “We finished early, and she needed some alone time, so she sent her bird to guide me back to camp. I’m sure she’ll be home soon.”

Canarywing made a face like he’d just been forced to eat a frog, but quickly returned to his usual smile, though this time more sympathetic. “Hey, how about we have a race around camp? C’mon, it’ll be just like we did when you were learning to walk.”

Oh, he was on. After moons of losing to her older siblings in playful contests throughout her kithood, the newly-made apprentice felt more than eager to prove herself and her newfound prowess – or at least, what she perceived as newfound prowess. Shifting her tuxedo paws into gear with a grin on her face, Ravenpaw took off wordlessly through the sunlit camp, causing Canarywing to yell indignantly and go chasing after her. Around the bend, weaving through the trees, Ravenpaw found herself soaring like her namesake, toes feeling like they barely even touched the forest floor. Now that she was older, despite her stockier build, the dark-furred molly felt like she ducked and weaved between the crowds of cats with all the grace and precision of a dragonfly.

Unfortunately, she didn’t account for one of the elders’ favorite resting spot, nor did she turn in time. Black crashed into orange with a loud yelp, and Snailputter, who might’ve been the crankiest old cat in the whole clan, pushed her off with a snarl, immediately beginning to shout.

“WATCH IT!” the flame-colored molly roared in the meanest voice Ravenpaw had ever heard, startling her backwards like a frightened squirrel. Quickly, the misty grey fur of the clan deputy, Cottonsilver, took over the apprentice’s view.

“Now, now, no need to yell,” the fluffy warrior began in a gentle, level voice. “Lay back down and rest, Snailputter. I’m sure Ravenpaw didn’t mean to run into you, accidents happen.”

Snailputter grumbled like a thunderstorm in reply. “Someone should be teaching the apprentices around here some basic respect,” she spat, voice laced with venom more potent than a rattlesnake’s.

“I’m really sorry!” Ravenpaw pleaded the second she was able to find words again, vaguely aware of her brother slowing down and approaching in her peripherals before an inky-furred shape got in the way. “I wasn’t able to turn in time.”

A paw the color of the sea past dusk landed gently on the distraught she-cat’s shoulder, blending almost seamlessly in with her own black fur. Angling her head upward, Ravenpaw was met with her father’s calm, stern russet eyes. His mouth hardly moved as he spoke, expression as still as grass untouched by wind. “If I may,” he began in his usual smooth, stern tone, “I’d like to state that while I understand that my daughter’s actions were irresponsible and unbecoming of a future Redwoodclan warrior, shouting at her was completely and utterly unnecessary.”

That stern tone would’ve quieted most cats, but Snailputter merely gave Pooldusk a withering glare and turned her nose up, moving to saunter back to the elders’ den on creaky bones. Before she knew what was happening, Ravenpaw was told something about “sitting and thinking about what you’ve done,” and shoved with little ceremony into the apprentices’ den.

Time-out, great, her own voice pointed out sardonically in her skull. Guess I’m still a kit to everyone, then.

---

About fifteen minutes of stewing about how she was too old for this, Ravenpaw finally found herself in the company of another cat. One of her eyelids cracked open as a muted brown shape slipped into the hollow formed by the roots of the tree that made up the shelter, half-slithering with the grace of a viper to lay down in a nest next to hers. Whoever it was settled noiselessly, only shattering the silence with a warm timbre once they were fully comfortable.

“Looks like you’ve had a less-than-stellar day, haven’t you?”

The strangely comforting sound of the individual’s accent coaxed Ravenpaw’s eyes open. Green met with blue and yellow, eerie scleras bearing a surprisingly kind expression as one of her fellow apprentices got her attention.

Bilbypaw, if Ravenpaw was recalling his name correctly, was smiling sweetly at her in the dimness of the den, head tilted to one side. His nose crinkled slightly with his expression, accentuating the scar that nicked half the bridge of his snout and ran a little under his right eye. Raising her head from its resting position and blinking the remains of a few tears from her vision, Ravenpaw did her best to process both his appearance and words at the same time. “I… Uh…” she began, words evading her like a bird on the wind. After a moment, she just nodded her head groggily. Had she dozed off in her frustration?

“If you ask me, I think Snailputter has a slug up her nose with the way she acts,” the young tom said, absentmindedly moving to lick one of his paws in what Ravenpaw assumed might’ve been some kind of subconscious habit. “No other reason she’d shout at you like that, Sheila, I swear.”

Ravenpaw flicked one ear, wrinkling her brow almost curiously at his words. The way he spoke so openly and casually distracted her nearly instantly from her messy frustrations. “What kind of slug?” she inquired, making the young tom next to her laugh.

“Probably one of those big yellow ones,” he chortled, tail flicking across the moss behind him with an overall sense of mirth. “I’d be grumpy, too, if I had one of those in my sinuses.”

“You ever tried to eat one of the big ones? I’ve always wondered what they taste like, but nobody would ever let me try,” the black molly admitted, turning her interested eyes to look Bilbypaw up and down. He was a warm individual with an infectious smile and very expressive brows, which were adorned with a little crown made of thorns. Ravenpaw wondered if it hurt to wear at all.

Grinning, Bilbypaw answered her question without hesitation. “I tried to once,” he affirmed. “Really wouldn’t recommend it – little buggers make your mouth all numb.”

“They do? I thought they’d just taste sweet or something.”

“Nope!” he laughed, shaking his head. “Couldn’t even get a read on the flavor, it set in so fast. My mum rushed me to the medicine den faster than a hungry mosquito. Apparently they’re supposed to be poisonous or something?”

“Noted; don’t try it for myself,” Ravenpaw giggled, curling her tail around herself. “Any other tips, Slug Expert?”

Bilbypaw tapped his chin with one paw for a moment, staring off into the distance as though pretending to think. “Well…” he began in a rather exaggerated fashion, “I would certainly advise against fighting bears, for starters.”

The dark-furred apprentice elbowed her new friend gently in the ribs. “Really? That’s your big piece of sage wisdom?”

“Well it’s certainly good advice!”

Ravenpaw was helpless to stop the laughter she broke out into, letting it shake her like a sapling in a storm. Bilbypaw was… special. Special in the way that he made her forget how upset she was, in the way that he cracked jokes and kept the conversation going, in the way that he humored her silly questions and matched her energy near perfectly. “Touché,” she laughed, green eyes sparkling with joy. It went completely without saying that she had a new favorite cat.

She wondered if maybe Chirpbreeze had a slug up her nose, too.

---

When Chirpbreeze came home that night, Ravenpaw was already fast asleep – or rather, she should’ve been. Full up on a newfound sense of joy, Ravenpaw watched the moon through the entrance of the apprentices’ den, surrounded on all sides by softly breathing bodies. To her right slept Mantispaw, and on her left laid Bilbypaw, who was deep in slumber and snoring very slightly with every breath. She saw when her sister’s calico pelt entered the camp, greeted quietly by the few cats in camp who remained awake, and she watched as the exhausted shape dragged itself through the dusk light to the warriors’ den with something like remorse in every step.

She’d never seen her sister look so defeated before.

She hadn’t even realized a cat could look that dejected.

Maybe it was just the shadows the dying light cast?

Regardless of why Chirpbreeze looked like that, Ravenpaw’s heart ached to see the older cat looking so wilted. Did I cause that?

She could’ve sworn that russet eyes paused long enough to meet hers for just a heartbeat before the calico molly slipped into a hollow in the redwood roots on the opposite side of camp, disappearing like a ground squirrel into its tunnels under the earth.

Should Ravenpaw go over to go check on her? To say hello? To say sorry?

She probably would’ve if her body didn’t feel so tired. For the ebony feline, knowing that her older sister was home safe was like a lullaby; a sign that she could let go of the worry that had been nagging at the back of her mind all day and just sleep.

Just close your eyes and sleep… Time to sleep…

The last thing Ravenpaw thought of before her eyes closed was how she was going to give her sister a huge hug the next morning, and how nice it would feel to tell her all about Bilbypaw. Maybe that would make her smile again.