The sun shone faintly down on the camp, casting its feeble rays over Slatepaw as he sat at the entrance to the apprentices' den, stiffly re-arranging himself before resuming his stone-still position.

Warriors jostled and pushed around Spruceblaze, itching to get on patrol and moving. He sat, arranging the warriors with an unreadable expression.

"Tigerthroat, you'll go to the PrickleClan border with Olivestem and Shortberry. Take your apprentice with you," he said curtly, flicking his tail to dismiss the calico she-cat. She dipped her head, waving her tail to summon the others and made her way out of camp.

"Want to go hunting?"

Slatepaw's head jerked up, but as he recognized Finchpaw's voice he relaxed. It sounded casual, relaxed, but that was forced; it thinly veiled a deliberate, carefully planned question.

Slatepaw stood up. "Sure," he replied lightly, matching her airy tone. He shook the dust from his pelt, sending a scrap of bracken to the ground, and padded towards the group of warriors. "We should ask our mentors," he meowed, beckoning her after him with a twitch of his tail.

She trotted over, motioning to Peonystrike. Slatepaw nodded, hurrying over to his mentor while Finchpaw mumbled something to Bumblepool.

"Can I please go hunting?" Slatepaw asked politely. She didn't say anything, though, just watched Spruceblaze through narrowed eyes. Slatepaw took a breath and shot out a paw, hitting her foot. She gave a start of surprise and he spun around to look as though he hadn't done anything.

She turned, scanning the cats suspiciously. She leaned forward. "Did you do that?" she growled to Slatepaw.

He turned, heart thumping. "Oh! Peonystrike!" he exclaimed, "I was looking for you. Can I please go hunting with Finchpaw?"

"Alone?" she hesitated.

"With Finchpaw," he corrected, though not rudely.

Peonystrike sighed. "Return by sunhigh," she said tiredly, turning back to the others.

Relieved, Slatepaw squeezed back through the crowd and broke out to see Finchpaw standing there, looking impatient. Bumblepool was with her. 

"Bumblepool wanted to come with us," Finchpaw explained. She almost rolled her eyes but seemed to restrain herself as she just blinked and gazed at Slatepaw.

He ducked his head. "Uh, sure," he agreed awkwardly. 

Bumblepool dipped her head. "Let's go," she meowed, and silently padded away.

Slatepaw trailed after her, Finchpaw at his paws. As he meekly followed Finchpaw's mentor, he felt hot breath billow onto his ear as a hiss sounded behind him, "We'll split away from her later." He nodded slightly, flicking an ear to make sure she knew he'd heard her.

As soon as they entered the forest, Bumblepool tasted the air, eyes filled with concentration. When she turned and opened her mouth, about to tell him what to do, he blurted out, "Uh, Bumblepool, I really need to make some dirt. Um, I'll see you later." He turned, whirling around and shooting Finchpaw a look that said follow me.

She mumbled something about wanting to go too and hurried after him. He heard Bumblepool mutter something before the crunching of bracken told him she'd padded off.

He spun around. "Let's go hunt now," he suggested, his words innocent and yet laced with meaning. Understanding filled his friend's eyes as she nodded, casually padding forward and brushing past a birch while tasting the air.

Slatepaw slunk after him, glancing around. He had to act, just in case somebody was watching; when they came to the border, he had to pretend it was accidental. He lifted his head. "I think I smell a squirrel!" he murmured - quite loudly - to Finchpaw, before pushing past her and trotting in the direction of the PrickleClan border.

He broke into a run, then skidded to a halt. "Oops, must have scared it off!" he said, trying to sound disappointed. He turned on the spot, sniffing the ground. "I think I imagined the scent. Or it just drifted towards us from the other side of the forest." 

Finchpaw nodded deeply; she almost looked as though she was enjoying the pretend-game too much. "Oh, no," she frowned, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat with her tail. "Oh well. Let's continue on."

Suddenly, Slatepaw noticed the PrickleClan scent flooding his nostrils. "We're at the border," he announced. Then, he frowned. "Something feels wrong."

Finchpaw swiveled her head around, scanning the undergrowth. "I think we're being watched!" she cried, turning on the spot, "but by who?"

Slatepaw's heart raced. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed, feigning a look of alarm and fear. "I think there's a traitor - they're spying on us! Come out," he added, making his voice shake slightly but trying to sound brave.

Finchpaw gave a wail, "They're hiding!" she choked out. "It's got to be a traitor. They're spying on us! We have to tell Brightstar!"

On shaky paws, Slatepaw pelted away at full speed. The thundering of Finchpaw's paws behind him and her ragged breath ruffling his tail reassured him, but he still felt nerves coiling in his belly like thick, scaly snakes, gnawing away at his insides.

The plan couldn't fail.

It just couldn't.

Slatepaw scrabbled to a stop, skidding to a halt right outside the camp. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He heard a murmur behind him, "Ready?"

He nodded and then bolted right into the clearing. Every cat's head shot up, surprise evident in the twenty gazes.

Approximately twenty cats, all staring at him. 

Well, alright. There was only really ten; however, ten was enough to ruin everything.

Finchpaw stepped up. "W-we..." she shook her head and cleared her throat, trying again, "w-we were just, u-um... h-h-hunting when, um, we started being watched - well - that's - that's just what it felt like..."

Slatepaw nudged her away. "We were just hunting, and we reached the border," he explained, making his eyes flash with fear to make it more believable. "Then, we felt as though we were being watched. It felt... wrong. We think there's a traitor!" he finished, "maybe, um, they were trying to kill the apprentices, because you know - easy kill - um, so that's all."

Cats began to mutter among themselves, inclining their heads to lean closer. Whispers reached Slatepaw's ears: "A traitor?" "You think they're telling the truth?" "Who, did they see?" "They're just imagining things, honestly."

Slatepaw raised his voice. "I... we would like to speak to Brightstar. There are cats we trust - if w-we take them, they can help us find the traitor!" his sentence ended in a high-pitched tone.

The muttering quieted down and Slatepaw padded on trembling legs to Brightstar's den. The entrance yawned before him, seeming dark and unwelcoming, but the wiry apprentice pushed away his misgivings as he stepped in.

Eyes glittered in the darkness and Brightstar loomed over him. "What are you doing here?" she asked coldly. Her gaze was icy as she studied him. "I don't recall inviting an apprentice to my den."

Slatepaw bristled at the way she said 'apprentice'. He forced his hackles down and mewed, "Finchpaw and I were in the forest, but we felt like we were being watched. We think there's a traitor," he admitted. "There are cats that we trust that I want to take to see, and maybe catch the traitor. Can I?"

Brightstar's eyes narrowed; she gave a soft growl, "A traitor? An apprentice is leading a party to discover a traitor?" her lip curled, "very well; name them."

Slatepaw didn't need to be told twice. "Shortberry. Duskscar, Firejaw. Lionpool and Sunbelly." 

Brightstar eyed him. "You trust these cats? Fully? Why?" she said suspiciously.

Slatepaw shuffled his paws. Perhaps he shouldn't have said it so fast, but it had been instinctive... "They're warriors who would die for their Clan and never turn on it. And they're, um... good fighters." He held his breath.

Eternities seemed to pass as dust settled on Slatepaw's fur, fluttering about and sharply contrasting against the slant of the sun as it poured past the den, filling the entrance with its ethereal glow. 

Finally, Brightstar slowly lowered her head, then raised it again in a nod. "Go."

Slatepaw didn't need to be told twice.

Turning, he padded out of the den, ready to summon the cats of the rebellion.

To bring them back to reality.