Here you go, helloilovecats!

I hope it's not too short :)

Creekstar sat, silent, from the top of the Lookout Tree.

His mind was still whirling from the life he'd lost-- the first life he'd lost-- at the paws of a sickness that had chosen, seemingly at random, devoted and loyal members of his clan to fell with deadly claws. His deputy, an elder, and his brother had all been victims. He shuddered, seeing their convulsing bodies in his mind again, then a flash of his own suffering.

StarClan had mended his body, not his mind.

The sun was just rising, and Creekstar watched the joint SquirrelClan and FlickerClan border with a hint of trepidation. It wouldn't do to have them stray onto MossClan's territory now, not with them all still reeling from the death. They wouldn't be able to defend it, and then...well, the rival Clans might feel that the territory was fair game.

Creekstar curled his claws into the bark. MossClan would not be thought of as weak. They would not be the laughingstock of the five Clans, unable to even hold back two, small, divided Clans from crossing their border.

Not that we aren't already, he thought, with a hint of annoyance. MossClan, the Clan that doesn't use its claws...

He saw something move below him, a bush, rustling ever so slightly. Creekstar tensed, but then he saw a small brown blur shoot out from underneath it.

He relaxed. Just a mouse.

For some reason, the small brown piece of prey brought to his mind the apprentices he'd made as his first action as leader, not a moon ago. He frowned slightly, trying to see how his mind had gone there, before he recognized the answer. Mousepaw. That was the she-cat's name. And the tom, Finchpaw.

Finchpaw was...an interesting tom. Creekstar flicked his tail slowly as he recalled the tom-cat's mother coming to him in worry about her young son. She'd said that he didn't seem to want to be a warrior, a fighter, or even a hunter. He'd reassured her, of course, but had filed away the information in his head carefully just in case.

And now he seemed to be suitably devoted to training. But still...

Creekstar made a mental note to talk to Poppyfire about Finchpaw's mother's worries. Perhaps she'd have some insight to give, some sign that he didn't want to be a warrior.

Though being a medicine cat was out of the question, perhaps there'd be some other job? If he were a queen, perhaps being a permanent queen would suit him..?

The sun was above the treetops now, the orange fading into a yellow. Creekstar dug his claws into the bark of the Lookout Tree and began descending, slowly, deliberately. His claws sheathed the instant before he hit the ground, leaving only his paw-pads to strike the mossy ground.

The Clan that doesn't use claws, he snorted to himself as he raced toward the camp, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his grey tabby fur. They're right about that...they just don't know why.

The old elder's saying came to his mind: Claws out, they hear you coming, and they all go running. Claws in, quiet is your friend; paws soft until the end.

How true it is...

He burst into the MossClan camp, his paws still making nary a noise, and slowed to a stop outside of the elder's den. Hickoryfire poked his head out curiously, dipping it in respect when he saw the MossClan leader. "Hello, Creekstar," he greeted. The retired deputy then seemed to take in the slightly slumped shoulders and drooped tail, and his mew shifted to one of concern. "Something on your mind?"

Creekstar nodded reluctantly. "Just an apprentice." He hated. showing weakness, especially in front of his predecessor, who'd stepped down not long before Quailstar had died. But Hickoryfire wasn't one to gossip, so he sat down next to the golden-brown tom.

Hickoryfire tilted his head slightly. "Which one? One of the newer two, or one of the older two?"

"Finchpaw," Creekstar replied, wrapping his tail around his paws. "One of the newer two. It's just...his mother expressed some worry over his wanting to be a warrior."

Hickoryfire blinked. "Strange, especially for a tom." He paused, then added, "But what does it matter?"

Creekstar flicked his tail. "I don't know...I'm just worried. I'm going to talk to her mentor, see what she thinks." He cocked his head, then asked; "Have you seen much of him?"

Hickoryfire nodded. "Yes, indeed! He's one of the only apprentices who seems to really enjoy my stories."

Creekstar nodded slowly. "I see." He rose, then, shaking bit of dust off his fur and suppressed a yawn. He heard Hickoryfire huff disapprovingly behind him, and knew he'd be getting another lecture about getting enough sleep next time he came around.

As he headed toward his den, he half-glanced toward the apprentice den, where the four apprentices were stirring.

I hope you do want to be a warrior, Finchpaw. I don't know what I'll do with you otherwise.

Word count: 840

( I shall not be late this time!)