The prey trails that Seedscatter had followed out of camp grew skinnier as he found himself farther and farther away from home. The grasses around him hissed as he brushed past, disturbing the fragile peace and sending prey scuffling out of his way. This far into the territory, the field was rich and teeming with all sorts of small animals. Seedscatter was itching to hunt, but his muscles burned with fatigue.

A flock of birds flew overhead, crying out loudly. Seedscatter allowed himself to stop for a moment as he watched them disappear, panting lightly. He hadn't paced himself earlier into his escapade, deciding that speed had been more important than preservation of energy. Now, he found himself short of breath. 

He sat, thumping his tail on the ground and giving his forepaw a lick. As he caught his breath, he allowed his thoughts to linger on the change that the morning had brought about.

His new resolution to pull himself away from his hare-brained fantasies had lifted a weight off of his shoulders that he hadn't even known was there. Even through his exhaustion, he found himself twitching his whiskers in a private show of eagerness; he could promise the day to himself and not worry about prophesies or doomsdays or, most importantly, the White Cat. 

Frankly, Seedscatter had a hard time thinking that the White Cat was anymore than a figment of his imagination or a hallucination drawn up by his hunger during the night. Looking back, he could almost laugh at how kit-like it all was. How did I manage to be deputy when I was off saving the clan like I was just allowed out of the nursery for the first time?

Seedscatter shook his head, scoffing. Yet, despite his elated mood, he couldn't help but think of Cloudleap's body suffocating under a mountain of soil back at camp. Seedscatter had never been particularly fond of the young tom. But with so much energy, he had brought a liveliness to his clanmates that the deputy just couldn't replicate. His head bowed, the tabby tom wondered what the price of his new realization had been.

He didn't allow himself much time to rest. As much as he would have liked to, Seedscatter couldn't force himself to grieve for his sister's mate. He had a clan to worry about. Right now, there were mouths to feed back at camp, and he wasn't about to let more cats go hungry while they busied themselves mourning the starved.

With his jaw parted and his ears pricked, Seedscatter stalked forward. If the field was as rich as he had thought it might have been earlier, he could have turned a corner and found fresh prey just waiting for him to catch.

But as minutes passed, his expectations were not met. Seedscatter wasn't interested in mice or voles; he was looking for a meal to take home, not a snack! Who would respect a deputy who disappeared only to bring back a scrap of fur? He let out a quiet hiss, giving his chest fur an embarrassed lick. He was losing his temper far too quickly. If he had gotten enough sleep, he might have proved to be a better solo hunter. Now, he felt as though he needed another warrior to lean over his shoulder and tell him what scent trails to follow. 

I'd have better luck if I wasn't on this fox-hearted prey path, he thought to himself. But if he wasn't on the prey path... With a careful glance behind him, as if he expected his old mentor to jump out and scold him for his next actions, Seedscatter pushed his head into the grass. His whiskers twitched indignantly when his face was met by the sharp stems, still dry and brittle from the drought's long-lasting effects. When nothing happened, he forced his shoulders in, and crept forward even further until his back paws left the trail.

Nerves swarmed like wasps in his stomach, and Seedscatter had to force himself not to spin around and run back to camp with his tail between his legs. He steeled his courage once more, bristling his fur against the grass

Instincts told every cat not to wade into the fields without a clanmate to accompany them. Warriors could easily get lost and never find their way back to camp, forced to wander the land forever in search of a prey trail they could follow back home. That was what his mother had told him and Goosewing moons ago when they were still relying on her milk. 

But an instinct stronger than that was driving him on in search of bigger game, and the scent of rabbit was practically curling under his nose. He padded forward.

Instantly, Seedscatter realized that it would be harder to weave his way forward in such an untouched section of territory. He could hardly see where he was going! His ears picked up every sound he made as he trudged forward, wincing. He felt like a badger, and he probably looked like one too. He could just imagine the way that his sister would laugh at him if she was there with him. And she'd be right to do so; I'm the biggest mouse-brain this side of the Thunderpath!

The throaty mutter of a crow tore him from his indignant monologue, and Seedscatter fell into a crouch, his jaws wide as he drank in the location of the bird. It was clearly confident, as loud and overzealous as it was. It didn't take the tom long to find it. The crow was hobbling about in a small patch of muddy soil, pecking at the ground eagerly for bugs. He felt ants crawling through his pelt at the thought of the grubs and worms that packed the dirt. His recent struggles didn't necessarily improve his opinion of bugs.

While he was distracted, Seedscatter had failed to notice that a pair of startling yellow eyes had found themselves just across the clearing. He flinched at the sight of them, silently falling back into the grass. An unfamiliar smell hit his tongue, and he winced at the sour taste. They smell like they've been bathing in crowfood for the last moon!  

He watched indignantly as the rogue crept slowly towards the crow, its whiskers twitching in anticipation. What right does he have? What a waste of my time. But, as he watched the rogue, he didn't think that a standoff would be much of a challenge. There was a youthful cockiness to the cat's walk, and something told him that a successful catch would definitely allow Seedscatter to catch the tom off guard. Then, it wouldn't be difficult to take the catch for himself.

The cat leaped forward, and his grey tabby fur seemed to turn white as it was hit by the sun's rays. Clearly, the bird had noticed too, and the tom fell a whisker-length short of the crow. Not a second had passed before the crow had taken off into the air, a startled caw sounding from its beak.

Seedscatter felt a rush of anger flood his senses. How dare this cat come and chase off his catch! Before he could storm into the clearing, a voice rose out of the space behind the intruder.

"I guess you should stick to prey that can't run away. Do you think the clot will stoop to eating rocks?"

A well-muscled tortoiseshell she-cat stepped into the clearing, a sly, teasing glint in her eyes. Her companion didn't seem to share her sense of humor. His tail lashed with pent-up frustration.

"Very funny, Jinx. If only your skillful retorts matched your hunting. Then, maybe we wouldn't both be empty-pawed."

"Mouse-brain!" Jinx lashed at the tom's face. Quick as an adder, the grey tabby withdrew, a hiss swelling in his chest. She had just barely missed his face. "You're lucky you were even let out of camp, what with your record of success."

This time, it was Jinx's turn to duck as a barrage of slashes rained down on her. Seedscatter noted with some interest that the tabby's claws had been sheathed before they both stood back, bristling with a fury that Seedscatter hadn't witnessed in two clanmates. Though, he thought to himself, they weren't really clanmates. What had Jinx called it? A  clot? Seedscatter hadn't ever heard that word before, though something about it quickened his pulse.

Could the rogues that had killed Yellowfeather and Owltail be associated with these two? They were hardly past the typical age of an apprentice, and Seedscatter could hardly imagine them doing any real damage in a fight. Where did these cats come from, and why were they out here all alone? They were clearly young and inexperienced. His head was spinning with questions. Forgetting the crow, Seedscatter crouched lower, his ears pricked.

The rogues were on the move now, shooting glares at each other as they retreated into the grass. Seedscatter waited for a heartbeat before creeping after them, his whiskers twitching with an anxious eagerness. If he could bring back new information on the so-called clot, he would be able to make up for the deaths of his clanmates! He could rest easy knowing that FieldClan would have the upper paw.

The two cats had started talking once more, clearly bickering by their tone. Seedscatter slowed his pace, listening intently.

"They should change your name to heavy," Jinx stated, her tone snobbish. Though he couldn't see her, he could almost picture the twisted sneer she wore on her face. "Because of how horrible you are at stalking."

The tom hissed, but said nothing.

"Although I guess Furry is as good a name as any, considering how much of a hair-ball you are."

"Oh yeah?" Furry challenged, and Seedscatter had to bite back a laugh. What kind of a name was Furry? Where had these cats come from?

The stinging retorts between the two subsided as they wove through the grass, moving as if they had walked the trail thousands of times. Seedscatter couldn't imagine how they could worm their way home so easily without a clear path to follow. It would take him ages to find the camp again after this, so how did Jinx and Furry accomplish the task with such ease?

Seedscatter started to feel an unshakable sense of worry in his gut. If the clot cats already knew so much about the land, how long had they really been around, and how long would it be before they got tired of sharing it? Seedscatter shuddered and pushed on.

Soon, other scents mingled with Jinx's and Furry's. They were the same sour, unfamiliar smells, though they lacked any similarities beyond that. These cats weren't kin; they had no ties to one another besides the common goal of survival. Seedscatter couldn't image what growing up in this environment would do to a cat. 

Suddenly, the rogues ahead of him didn't seem like antagonists. He wondered how they would have fared had they grown up alongside Blackpaw and Nutpaw, with cats to lean on for support and a kithood that didn't leave them fighting for their lives. He felt a pang of sympathy before he washed it away with a fresh wave of adrenaline. He was close to their camp.

But suddenly, the two cats took a right, padding around the pool of scents to rest underneath a weathered old crab apple tree. They sat far apart, though they murmured to one another quietly. Seedscatter leaned in closer, very much aware of how close he was to so many dangerous cats. Still, he felt a prickle of relief. Would he be able to spy on so many cats without being detected by a single one? He was thankful that it had been these two.

"What do you think they'll do with Lucy?" That was Jinx, her voice cautiously indifferent, concealing whatever true feelings she carried. "I mean, she's expecting kits. You don't think Calico will be to harsh, do you?"

"It won't be up to Calico," Furry snorted, clearly not sharing the same concern. "She won't be bothered with that kind of stuff. Heckle will see to it that she's properly punished. It shouldn't be too much of a spectacle, not with him overseeing it. I'm sure we'll be entertained, though, so don't worry."

Jinx seemed worried, despite Furry's words. Hesitantly, she mewed, "You don't think Heckle will kill her, do you?"

Furry looked up from his tail, which he had been grooming absentmindedly. There was a cold edge to the look he gave his denmate. "Heckle will do whatever will prove to better the clot."

The discussion was clearly finished with Furry's statement. Jinx looked shaken, but she didn't argue any further than that.

Under the noonday sun, the field was hot and dry, even with Leaf-fall hanging over them. The grasses here were far too short to conceal Seedscatter any longer; the rogues' inexperience had done him a lot of good so far, but he doubted he would have much luck beyond the blessing he had been handed. Silently, he crept away from the two cats. If he ever met in battle, he promised that he would go easy on them. Though, he thought with a sly smirk, he doubted the two young cats would do him the same favor. Either way, they had helped him today.

Seedscatter set his gaze on a stubby-looking tree that would be far enough away from the clot cats' camp that he would be out of their way. The pain in his paw pads from the distance he had covered was starting to affect him, and he didn't want to injure himself when so much was at stake.

When he had arrived at its trunk, he didn't hesitate to lay down in the crook of its roots. The wood was warm and dry against his fur, a soothing presence in the never-ending expanse of flat, empty land. He was alone - truly alone - for the first time in a long time. There were no kits, no responsibilities, and no prophesy. He had his own agenda to follow, and even that wasn't concrete. It was oddly soothing.

His eyes found the horizon as he soothed his cracked pads with long, slow licks. The shade of the tree was making him drowsy, and it was taking all of his will power to not fall asleep in the lazy warmth of the day.

This may be the last rest I get for a while, he thought languidly, curling his tail around his body. I suppose a quick nap never hurt any cat. Seedscatter let his head rest on his forepaws, ignoring the sense of foreboding that seemed to loom over him like a dark cloud. He refused to let it bother him. He wasn't going to fall prey to those emotions anymore.

a/n

i probably should have edited this more but oh well, have an extra long chapter, courtesy of my love for Jinx and Furry