Silverpaw was adjusting.

Though the feat seemed impossible, it turned out not to be as the silver apprentice fell back into a routine. Wake up, clean, go to sleep. Sorrelmouse had yet to take her back on a patrol of any sorts, more out of consideration than anything else, and though Silverpaw still hated chores, she couldn't help but feel gratitude towards her mentor. After all... she still couldn't bear to look at her own reflection, and camp-bound tasks kept her as far away from it as she could get.

Silverpaw sank her claws deep into the mossy tree. Her claws hooked in expertise, she pried away a large chunk of moss and flung it to the floor. She swung her claws again and again, moving in a methodical rhythm.

The bark's gnarled surface twisted as its layer of green began to dwindle. Pinpricks of gold began to shine along its surface, the rogue's face appearing with a menacing grin and piercing, honey-yellow eyes. Bristling, Silverpaw's hacking grew more desperate, spurred on by fear as she erratically shredded now splinter-filled moss.

She stopped as quickly as she'd begun.

"Oh, StarClan," she whispered, staring at the mess beneath her claws. She slipped them back into her sheathes, her heart pounding against her chest like a trapped bird.

Glancing over her shoulder, she swept the remains under a bush, turning an apologetic stare back to the tree. Guilt shredded through her. It was as if somebody had taken over her mind, disfiguring the tree into the rogue's haunting face. Even the figment of her imagination, however, was wrong. His eyes were blue, not gold. She choked back a sob. I must be going crazy.

Flicking her tail, she circled around the trunk to where more moss flourished. She reared onto her hindlegs and dug her claws into it. She carefully pried away a few more pawfuls of moss, dropping it to a different, unaffected pile that grew with every new swipe. Once satisfied, she returned her attention to the pile. Sorting through each scrap, she gave the chunks a thorough shake, jetting little droplets of collected moisture through the air. She scooped a large mouthful into her jaw and pressed the rest between her chin and chest.

She began the awkward struggle back to camp.

Once she reached the crossing stones, she recognized that the load would be too much for a safe crossing, so she left a small pile behind. The rest clenched between her teeth, Silverpaw leaped across the stones with a prowess only a RiverClan cat could possess. Maintaining the momentum from her final bound, she pushed swiftly into camp.

There was a very slight breeze, molding the perfect day for sharing tongues. Strewn across camp, cats lounged comfortably about, sunning themselves in the company of their Clanmates as they waited for the day's peak to end and for more patrols to be assigned.

Mistpaw was huddled in a corner of the camp with Ravenfire and Lichenpaw. Her eyes darted towards the silver tabby, brightening for a moment, before she caught herself. The dark she-cat returned her green gaze to Ravenfire, saying something that made the elder laugh loudly. Silverpaw watched her for a heartbeat, conflicted with herself. Sighing, she tore her eyes away.

Sorrelmouse, alongside Dappledfang, carried old bedding out of the nursery. The two spoke affectionately, their tails gliding over each other's shoulders. Finchkit and Pigeonkit scampered around their paws, flinging a small wad of moss back and forth. Flicking an agile paw, Finchkit sent the ball flying. It landed square on Dappledfang's nose.

Dappledfang rubbed his muzzle, his amber eyes sharpening into a glare. The little she-kit mewled an urgent apology, but her fear was quickly quashed as the tom's fake scowl morphed into a mischievous smile. He grabbed the small bundle of moss and flung it far across the clearing. The kits squealed delightfully and took off in hot pursuit. Sorrelmouse laughed.

Outside of the medicine den, Wishfern shared a carp with Heatfur, while Pinestar was holding a meeting just outside of the willow tree with the more senior warriors of the Clan. Lionpoppy was among them. Her eyes periodically scanned the clearing, but she explicitly avoided her daughter.

Hurt stabbed at Silverpaw's heart. Shaking out her fur, she did her best to ignore it and trotted to the fallen oak that made up the elder's den. She gently placed her moss outside. "Excuse me?" She mewed softly, peering into the darkness.

Sandytail stirred, his thick brow pulled taut as he blinked over at Silverpaw. She could feel his blurry eyes aimlessly roaming her face.

"Yes? Who is it?" He grunted, his voice hoarse with age.

"It's Silverpaw. I'm here to change your bedding."

Sandytail huffed. "Can't you wait until sunhigh?"

Silverpaw's ears folded slightly. "It is sunhigh."

"So soon?" He huffed. He lingered in silence for a few moments. "Oh, fine. It's about time I get this terrible thing changed, I suppose." He heaved to his paws, his muscles trembling with the effort.

Silverpaw darted inside, gently pressing up against the elder's side. He protested feebly, but didn't fight as she guided him into the clearing. The old ginger tom squinted against the sunlight, muttering something about how 'ridiculously bright' it was.

"Why don't you sit in the shade over there? It looks comfortable enough." Silverpaw gestured towards a corner of the camp, where the long, elegant leaves of the Clan's resident willow tree had settled across some branches, leaving a winding shadow across the floor.

Sandytail squinted. "And you expect me to know what you're talking about?"

"I—" Silverpaw faltered, glancing at his sightless eyes. "No. Sorry, Sandytail. Would you be happy with some shade?"

The tom wrinkled his muzzle. "Yeah, sure, whatever. As long as it gets me out of this blasted sun, I'm happy."

Silverpaw nodded, and slowly, the two cats trudged across the clearing. They dipped underneath the overarching willow leaves, and Silverpaw found what appeared to be a comfortable dip in the ground for Sandytail to lie in.

"Here we are," she mewed, gently nudging the elder towards the space.

Sandytail sniffed the dip, sliding his forepaws in first, then sinking the rest of his body in. He harrumphed, tucking his chin against his paws. "Thanks," he grumbled. "Now, when you clean my nest, make sure you get me dry bedding. That rainstorm a few sunrises ago was a nasty one, and my nest is still damp, even though Ravenfire's kin claim to have changed it! Your brother's the only one who's always been on top of it, but now he's too busy with his training to visit me anymore." The tom shook his head. "Such a shame."

Silverpaw winced. "I wish that were the case."

Sandytail's foggy amber eyes lifted, staring past Silverpaw's saddened gaze. "StarClan," he rasped, his face shifting as he was hit with realization. "He's gone, isn't he?"

"He is," she replied quietly.

Sandytail shook his head solemnly. "And nobody thought to tell me me. Come, sit with me." He beckoned her over.

Silverpaw hesitated, her eyes darting across the clearing. She didn't want to talk about this, and Sorrelmouse was still working hard.

"Silverpaw?"

She blinked, swallowing the lump in her throat, and did as instructed. She settled down beside the large ginger tom, her spine prickling with unease.

"Now... it may not seem like it, but I know exactly how you feel. Have I ever told you about my brother?"

Silverpaw shook her head. "You had a brother?"

The old tom chuckled, leaning comfortably to the side. "That I did. He was a small cat, smaller than you, even!" Silverpaw's eyes widened, and an amused purr thrummed from the old tom's chest. "You see, the Clan never thought he'd be more than just a hunter, if even that. But of course, being Littlewish, he wanted to prove them wrong. 'Just because I'm short, doesn't mean I'm any less a warrior than you,' he'd tell us. He pushed himself hard in everything. Patrolling? He'd do so at night. Hunting? He'd bring back the most prey out of anyone. And in pushing himself as hard as he did... it was no surprise when he became deputy." His eyelids drooped, sadness following his words. "And one day... a badger settled upon our hunting grounds. He wanted to lead the patrol to chase it out.

He was excited. He knew he could do it. I knew he could do it. In fact, I was there. I joined his patrol to bear witness to his success. But... of course, life isn't perfect." His voice cracked, and he looked Silverpaw in the eye. She froze. It was as if the tom could see perfectly, the fogginess in his eyes gone, if only for a moment. "He was struck down in a single bow. Shattered his skull, that wretched beast. I couldn't even say goodbye."

"What did you do?" The apprentice breathed.

"Why, I drove out that fox-dung eating pelt of fleas!" Sandytail roared. "It took my brother from me, so I took away it's home."

The silver tabby flinched at the tom's explosive words. "But why?" She whispered. "Why did you continue to fight, even after he died?"

"I did it so his death wasn't in vain," he growled. "Littlewish fought to defend his Clan. What right do I have to leave his deed unfinished?" he shook his head vehemently. "If I'd left that badger alone, wouldn't my brother's death have been worthless?"

Silverpaw paused and thought for a moment. "It wouldn't have been worthless..."

"But his death would've been for nothing," Sandytail grunted. "I finished what he started."

Finished what he started... Silverpaw echoed, guilt swarming over her as her mind revisited the fateful night of Owlpaw's death. She'd laid there, helpless as the rogues continued their assault. I never even bothered to keep fighting... was his death really in vain?

"It still hurts," Sandytail continued, stripping her from her thoughts. "I wish I'd done more to save him, but in the end, I know he's up there in StarClan, watching me and my kits as we live out our lives. He would be nothing but proud." His eyes regained their fogginess, his thick brow slowly lowering until he breathed a deep, lonesome sigh.

Silence fell between the two. Silverpaw leaned forward and gently touched her muzzle to the tom's cheek. He jolted in surprise, blinking his foggy eyes.

"Thank you for sharing this," she mewed.

Sandytail scoffed and pushed her away. "Enough with... whatever that was. I don't do 'affection.'" He rolled his shoulders, a scowl drawn across his face. "You should run along now. The day only lasts so long, and I'd like some bedding to sleep on tonight."

"Right. I'll go do that." Silverpaw gave her ruffled fur a shake and stood to her paws.

She dipped her head politely and slipped away, back to the elder's den. She brushed past the screen of lichen and emerged into the ancient log, stale air filling her lungs. She found her way to Sandytail's nest and clawed at the old bedding, recoiling as water oozed with each swipe.

"Great StarClan, how did he sleep in this?" She muttered to herself as she dragged the soaked bedding outside.

She replaced the moss with the fresh bedding she'd collected, gently fluffing it out with her claws. She gave the same treatment to the other nests within, though she had to make one more trip out of camp to fetch the rest of the material.

She finished mending the third and final nest, standing back to look proudly at her work. Not even a speck of bark tainted the beds of green, and she'd gone through an extra effort to ensure they were dry, lest Sandytail complain about his bones again.

She left the den. Already it was sunset. Her eyes followed the lines of clouds in the sky, mesmerized by its beauty. Sandytail and Nightfur quietly passed by and vanished into the ancient log, leaving the third and final elder in the company of her kin.

After some time, Silverpaw searched the darkening clearing for a familiar red figure. Spotting Sorrelmouse, she trotted over. The warrior was weaving new reeds into the nursery, patching up the weaker points where the wind would break in.

"Do you need any help?" Silverpaw offered.

Sorrelmouse shook her head. "I've got this last bit, but I'll need some help tending to the warrior's den tomorrow." Her eyes darted to the mess of brambles.

Even from where she stood, Silverpaw could see a plethora of gaps in the material, and the interwoven brambles and reeds were visibly beginning to fall apart at the seams. She nodded.

Sorrelmouse smiled, dropping to all fours and giving the apprentice a motherly lick between the ears. "Great job with Sandytail today. Not many can keep his temper under check," she purred. "Now, get yourself some rest. We have a long day waiting."

The silver tabby blinked up at the warrior, allowing a brief smile to enter her eyes. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

Without a second glance at the red she-cat, Silverpaw padded away. Inside the apprentice's den, she found her way to her nest, kneading into the shell-strewn material. She sighed, her gaze trailing to the nest beside her own, forever empty of what should've been a permanent presence.

Closing her eyes, Silverpaw scarcely noticed the pair of green eyes watching her from the depths of the den.

❀

If this chapter seems a little rushed, that's because it is! I accidentally started working on Chapter Eight and Seven before this one, and only realized on Wednesday that I still had to start this chapter—whoops! Even throughout my prior drafts, this specific chapter seems to be one of the most difficult to enjoy, and I'm not sure if it's even necessary to the story. I may come back to it in the future and either remove it or rework it once more, so please let me know your thoughts.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed! See you again next week. ~ Kitten