Cold days turned into even colder nights and Dewpaw's routine continued. Train, hunt, eat, sleep; and so the days passed. Interspersed were thoughts of what he'd heard from the gathered she-cats and the observations he made as he went about his day. Nightchaser truly seemed on edge but, truthfully, when had he not?

    The others carried on as they always had. Sprucetail retained her air of authority but contributed to patrols just as anyone else did. Quartz continued training her charges, though with a renewed vigour. Mira hunted, Lily sorted. Mothpelt came and went, usually with leafy greens in her jaws.

    Only Cinderblossom seemed different. Watching her from his spot near the Tumble-Down Den a few nights later, Dewpaw noticed she walked with a heaviness in her step, head down. She seemed much older, or as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Curiously, her few brighter moments took place around Killian, who the others continued to distrust. Dewpaw did not think much of it; he liked Killian well enough.

    There were others Dewpaw had grown decidedly distasteful of. With Quartz's new training regimen more rigorous than ever, Hazel, Finch, and Soren grew increasingly harder to stomach. Webpaw's competitive nature resurfaced and every time Dewpaw lost to her he ached for days.

    Despite this, Dewpaw knew the training was working. Already, he felt more confident in his fighting techniques and even more so in his hunting. Every night, he fell into his nest with the knowledge that he'd worked harder than the day before.

    "Dewpaw, who have you not yet fought?" Quartz barked. Before her, a bruised Oats was getting to his paws, Crisp prancing away happily from their mock fight. Dewpaw paused a moment before deciding.

    "Hazel."

    The brown she-cat smirked. "That's because you don't even have a chance of beating me."

    A moon prior, Dewpaw might have agreed with her. Now, he gritted his teeth against a barbed retort.

    The two took up their positions, Hazel gracefully sliding into a crouch and Dewpaw lowering himself, his leg sticking out awkwardly behind him. Hazel began to circle but the tom held his position firmly, watching her every move.

    When she attacked him she was quick, a front paw strike right to the face. Dewpaw dropped to the ground, propelling himself forward with his hind paw and smashing into Hazel's front paws. The she-cat hissed, jumping back. Dewpaw straightened.

    "Weren't expecting that, were you?" He was quite proud of himself for his strategy.

    Hazel narrowed her eyes. "You're crowfood."

    She leapt, turning mid-air to protect her stomach and slashing with the back paws. Dewpaw felt her blows connect with his back and growled deep in his throat. Turning as quickly as he could, he swept his body in a full circle, wiping Hazel's paws right out from underneath her with the deadweight that was his back leg. She fell to the ground with a surprised yelp.

    "Well done!" Quartz's voice came from somewhere near him but Dewpaw hardly took notice. He turned to face his opponent and leapt.

    Too late he realized his mistake. His back leg weighed him down and his leap was not high enough to clear Hazel. She reared up, coming back down right over him and trapping him under her weight. If this were a real battle, Dewpaw knew, she would be shredding his back and sides to bits.

    "Hazel wins," Jaystrike decided, stepping forward to observe the two fighters. Dewpaw gave a huff, but Hazel did not let him up.

    "Though you did a very good job today Dewpaw," Quartz praised. "Better than you ever have." A small cough escaped her before she told Hazel to get up. The trainee half-heartedly obeyed.

    Dewpaw's own cough rang out around their training clearing as he climbed to his paws. "Thanks," he breathed.

    "Good strategy," Crisp said, settling down beside him with some freshkill that night. "I like how you just made her crumble with a swipe of your back leg. She demonstrated, taking Oats unawares. Her littermate fell on his face, freshkill still gripped in her jaws.

    "I'm gonna get you back for that," the cream tom muttered, taking a place on the other side of Dewpaw.

    Dewpaw purred over his own mouse. Though it was small it would fill him and, besides, he was in much too good a mood to think about how hungry he was. Suddenly, he seemed quite popular.

    "It's too bad Hazel got you in the end," Robin said, coming to join them. "You were doing really well."

    "My jump was too weak," Dewpaw said. "I only really have one leg to jump with."

    Crisp nodded, looking him over. "You could always practice climbing and jumping to make it stronger?"

    "I can help!" Oats said excitedly. He was one of the most agile trainees.

    Dewpaw nodded, eager to spend time training. The more he trained, the stronger and more confident he became. He held his head high, even against the resenting gazes of Hazel, Finch, and Soren, who sat on the opposite side of camp with their own freshkill. Olive and Webpaw watched the exchange curiously.

    A fit of coughing overtook the tom just as Crowpaw padded up to join the small group.

    "Are you alright?" Robin asked, concern in her voice. Beside her, Crowpaw had a strange look on his face.

    "Of course," Dewpaw rasped, another cough coming out. "Just a chill, or I may have just swallowed a bone."

    Robin looked at him skeptically. Crowpaw looked him over once more before beginning his meal.

    "I wouldn't worry about it," the black tom said, voice muffled by the freshkill in his jaws. So Dewpaw didn't.

    //

    The snow reached up to nearly past his shoulders but the grey tom pressed on. Powdery and soft, it slid around him like water. His paw steps were as quiet as possible, yet he was still keenly aware of the dragging of his back leg.

    The little lake where he'd first caught a blackbird was eerily silent in the leafbare morning. Dewpaw kept himself from sighing, reminding himself that every little noise might ruin his chances of a catch.

    He crept up on a vole unawares; something was throwing off his scent lately. Stifling a cough, he crouched. The vole, too preoccupied with perhaps its own first morsel in days, did not notice him.

    Dewpaw lifted his back leg just a whiskerlength off the ground to ensure it didn't drag. Bunching his good paws beneath him, he prepared to pounce. As he rose, however, the cough burst out of him and the vole, frightened, scurried away.

    "Mousedung," Dewpaw cursed as another fit of coughing overtook him. This one lasted longer than the previous ones had and left him wheezing. He briefly thought about going to Mothpelt but quickly decided against.

    He shook out his fur, prepared to continue his hunt. Though his chest felt constricted, his empty stomach felt more important.

    The next shrew he happened upon nearly escaped him. As it moved to scurry away, Dewpaw leaped after it, driving his damaged leg into the ground and pushing himself as far as possible. He landed on top of it unceremoniously but made quick work of delivering a killing bite.

    "Good catch." The voice startled Dewpaw and he lowered himself defensively.

    "Relax, it's just me." Crowpaw appeared from amongst the snow drifts, a small green plant in his jaws.

    "Helping out the medics?" Dewpaw asked, burying the shrew quickly.

    Crowpaw tilted his head. "Not exactly." He dropped the green herb at Dewpaw's feet. "Eat it."

    Dewpaw wrinkled his nose. He hated herbs. But when he lowered his head to sniff it, he found a delightful scent. His mouth watered.

    A tell-tale constriction in his chest made him back away as another bout of coughing hit him.

    "Why do I need to eat it?" Dewpaw asked, coughing all the while.

    The older tom flicked his tail at him. "That's why. I don't think that cough is going to go away on its own, and you don't seem particularly fond of Mothpelt or Lily."

    Dewpaw scowled but said nothing. He lapped up the herb, revelling in its sweet taste.

    "If all herbs tasted like this, being sick wouldn't be so bad," Dewpaw said, swiping his tongue over his jaws.

    This time, it was Crowpaw who scowled. "Greencough is very serious and spreads easily. You're lucky you haven't infected anyone with it." The black tom disappeared into the snow drifts with a whisk of his tail, leaving Dewpaw properly ashamed.

    //

    In the following days, Dewpaw realized Crowpaw had been right. First, he noticed Quartz holding back her coughing during training. Then, Fiero returned from a long hunt coughing without pause. Finch and Olive began coughing during mock battles. Condor and Birchfrost, who often shared prey together, were now lying together in the medic's den. Mothpelt and Lily rushed about, both inside the camp and all over the Twolegplace, looking for the herb Crowpaw had brought Dewpaw. The medic's den was off limits to everyone but the sick and the two she-cats who were their caretakers.

    With Quartz, Olive, and Finch gone from training, Beaver and Jaystrike began sharing the responsibility. Dewpaw found himself under the care of Jaystrike, along with Crowpaw, Robin, and Hazel.

    "Today we'll practice partner sparring," Jaystrike decided, pairing them up. Dewpaw faced Robin, twitching his whiskers with amusement. He was glad Jaystrike had not paired him with Hazel.

    "If you get three hits you win," the grey tom continued. "Aim for the face, chest, and legs." Beside him, Roxanne nodded, overseeing the training.

    "Let's see what you can do," she said, flicking her tail.

    Dewpaw lunged forward, stretching out his paw to hit Robin across the face. She dodged underneath, swiping her own at Dewpaw's chest. He felt the tip of it skim across his fur before he could retreat.

    "One," she said. Then she moved again.

    This time, Dewpaw was prepared. He ducked, her paw going over his head, and scurried forward, taking Robin's paws out from underneath her.

    "One," he breathed out, scrambling out of her reach.

    Robin got to her paws quickly, a little shaken. In the moment it took her to gather her thoughts, Dewpaw rushed her again. This time, his paw connected with the right side of her face.

    "Two!" he crowed.

    Robin's face turned into a mask of determination. With one swift movement she leaped over him and before Dewpaw could turn he felt her paws rake his back.

    "Two." The mask of determination remained. Whoever made the last blow would win.

    But before they could continue their training, both became aware that neither Jaystrike nor Roxanne were watching. Confused, Dewpaw looked over at the other pair.

    Hazel had Crowpaw pinned to the ground and the black tom lay whimpering beneath her.

    "Fight back!" Jaystrike yelled at the trainee, tail lashing angrily. "Don't just lay there! You know DarkClan wouldn't even take a second look at you before slicing your throat open."

    Crowpaw only shook his head, showing no will to fight back.

    "I haven't trained you for ten moons for you to just give up like this," Jaystrike hissed. "So you will get up and you will fight." His words were slow and angry.

    Still, Crowpaw did not move.

    "Let's head back to camp," Roxanne suggested quietly, placing a gentle tail on Jaystrike's shoulders. The tom brushed her away.

    "No. I'm not going to stand here and watch Crowpaw refuse to fight."

    "Then don't." Roxanne met the tom's eyes and Dewpaw could see she was challenging him. A few heartbeats later, with one last look at Crowpaw, Jaystrike took off in the direction of camp.

    "Training's over," Roxanne decided, surveying them. "I expect you all to hunt before you return to camp." With a whisk of her tail she, too, was gone.

    //

    Dewpaw returned to camp with a measly shrew. Underneath a lavender sky, the camp seemed peaceful but he knew, a moment after stepping foot in it, that it was anything but. Jaystrike's shoulder were still tense; Roxanne watched the tom diligently, her own muscles tensing whenever he got too near Crowpaw. The black trainee avoided eye contact with anyone nearby and sat hunched over, staring at his paws.

    Dewpaw thought it strange that the black tom who he always viewed as an older littermate and mentor of sorts suddenly had no interest in fighting. Why would any cat who had the privilege to learn how to fight not want to? There were so many great cats to look up to – Condor, Bronco, Sprucetail, even Killian.

    Killian, who was once again sharing his prey with Cinderblossom. Dewpaw narrowed his eyes. If she didn't want her kit, perhaps she might want a loner instead.

    About to look away, a curious flash of black and white caught Dewpaw's eye. He looked up just in time to see Gannet draw Killian away, the two toms disappearing into a bushy area of the camp. Without hesitation, Dewpaw followed.

    "Do you think it's true?" The raspy whisper belonged to Gannet.

    "I don't know for sure," Killian replied. "But the ex-Clan cats seem to believe so. Nightchaser grows more and more agitated the longer they wait."

    "Do you think they can be defeated?" From his position behind a tangle of branches, Dewpaw saw something glint in Gannet's eyes.

    "I've seen them fight and based on the skill I've seen here..." Killian paused. "It'll be an unlikely win."

    Dewpaw's eyes widened.

    After some thought, Gannet replied. "We'll join them. Even out the odds."

    "That is all I ever asked for," Killian said, mouth stretched wide in a grin.

// I'm finding a lot of enjoyment in writing lately so here's another chapter! I'm really hoping this burst of inspiration lasts until the end of this novel.