"Gorsepaw, you'll go hunting with Slatepaw and Finchpaw today," Spruceblaze called, "I'd like Peonystrike to go with them, please." He turned to face the she-cat, his gaze unreadable.

She dipped her head. "Come on," she called to the apprentices, "let's get going. We need to catch as much as possible."

Slatepaw padded after the she-cat, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it blazed down on his pelt. He ducked after her through the camp entrance, Finchpaw at his heels with her warm breath ruffling his tail fur.

Gorsepaw gave a hiss of annoyance as her pelt caught on a straying branch, viciously swiping it away with unsheathed claws. Slatepaw suppressed a sigh. Why did she have to come? The patrol would be just fine if she had stayed behind.

As the patrol entered the forest, Slatepaw had an idea. "Hey, Peonystrike," he suggested, "do you think Finchpaw and I could go and hunt somewhere else? That way we'll cover more distance."

The she-cat hesitated. "You're my apprentice; you'll come with me," she pointed out, her voice a little strained, "I want to show you a new hunting tactic."

Finchpaw looked dismayed. "Slatepaw and I have been practicing a great new partner move," she cut in, "and it works really well on squirrels."

Slatepaw prepared himself for the fact that the excuse would be ineffective; Peonystrike would probably urge Finchpaw to share it. But to his surprise, she just heaved a frustrated sigh and nodded. "Very well," she muttered, "don't go too far. Gorsepaw, let's get started."

Relieved, Slatepaw backed away and then turned and bounded away from the two she-cats. When he could no longer hear them, he slowed to a halt and turned to face Finchpaw at his heels. The she-cat skidded to a halt.

"I'm glad we're away from them," she panted. "I can't stand Gorsepaw."

"I want us to start the plan," Slatepaw said, "while nobody notices we're away. We'll hunt on the way back. Come on, let's go!"

Finchpaw didn't need any persuasion. They both broke into a run again, bounding towards the PrickleClan border. Slatepaw prayed that there wouldn't be any patrols.

Soon, they reached it. Slatepaw motioned with his tail to stop and stay hidden. Finchpaw obeyed, diving under an elder bush. Slatepaw took in a deep breath of the air and felt relief flood over him. The PrickleClan border was well-marked, as usual, but there were no particularly fresh scents, sounds of pawsteps or pelts flashing behind the leaves.

Slatepaw crept out from behind an oak tree, cautiously placing his paws down. Just because there weren't any cats now didn't mean a patrol could appear out of nowhere at any moment.

However, as he slunk right into the open, he relaxed a little. The only sounds destroying the total silence were birdsong and the leaves rustling gently in the breeze.

Slatepaw turned to Finchpaw's bush. "Okay," he called softly, "let's quickly roll over their border; it'll disguise us if anyone comes. Then we can start scouting out places to put their scent."

Finchpaw nodded, green eyes wide, and padded out from her spot. She instantly lay down on the PrickleClan border, rolling over it and thoroughly coating her pelt in their scent.

Wrinkling his nose, Slatepaw copied her. Mud and leaves clung to his pelt, the worst was the overwhelming smell of the enemy clan, but at least now if a patrol came they wouldn't pick his scent up.

Slatepaw hesitated, then looked around. "Perhaps under that birch would be a good place to leave the scent?" he suggested. "That boulder looks good too."

Finchpaw got to work quickly and quietly. Slatepaw admired that about her - she didn't question anything, and she was willing to do anything for the rebellion.

Slatepaw padded over to a cedar tree, rubbing his flank on it to smear the scent on it. As he did, he noticed a faded claw-mark in the rough bark. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the rebellion's symbol. 

"Oh!" he exclaimed.

Finchpaw padded over, "What's wrong?"

"The rebellion symbols - they've faded." Slatepaw gazed at it in disappointment, "I guess we have to redo it."

"That's not a problem," assured Finchpaw, "let's just finish this scent thing and then we'll get started."

Slatepaw shook his head. "I'm not sure if it works at all," he mumbled, but despite that still continued spreading the PrickleClan scent.

Soon, the sun was high in the sky, blazing down vigorously on NettleClan's territory. Slatepaw sighed again as his pelt itched uncomfortably; he'd worked so much dust into it, he doubted he'd ever get clean again.

Nevertheless, he was still proud of what they'd done. Now, about a third of the border NettleClan shared with their enemy clan had signs that PrickleClan had trespassed. Now, it was time to redo the rebellion symbols in the trees.

Slatepaw glanced at Finchpaw. She had worked hard, but she looked a little frustrated as well; leaves clung to her pelt and there was a layer of dust on her pale brown pelt.

Slatepaw flexed his claws. "Time to remake the rebellion symbols," he meowed, "and we have to hurry - we have no prey and Peonystrike will wonder where we went to find absolutely nothing."

"Remember, we'll hunt on the way back," reminded Finchpaw. "But you're right - it's past sunhigh already and everybody will wonder how you didn't catch anything."

Slatepaw frowned, "We, you mean."

Finchpaw shook her head and gave a little sigh. "I can barely hunt," she pointed out, "you're a normal apprentice, unlike me."

Slatepaw opened his mouth to protest, but Finchpaw had already turned away and started marking a birch. She unsheathed her claws, slicing them through the bark and carving into it.

Following her example, Slatepaw turned to his cedar. Stretching his hooked claws, he sank them into the bark and dragged them through, creating a gash in the wood. He completed the symbol, feeling satisfied.

He turned to an alder, repeating the procedure. Then, going a little deeper into NettleClan territory, he did it again to a young oak tree.

Finchpaw steadily worked beside him; even when his claws were aching, he assumed hers were too as she still continued strongly, cutting into the wood and putting a symbol in every second or third tree.

Slatepaw longed for a rest, but he knew he couldn't. His claws felt as though they were on fire now, but he had to continue before Peonystrike started wondering what was holding him up.

Eventually, though, he couldn't take it anymore. "I'm going to catch some prey," he said, "you continue this. Instead of on the way back," he added.

Finchpaw nodded wordlessly, concentrating on the mark she was creating in a sycamore. As he turned away, though, she said, "Come back soon."

Slatepaw flicked his nicked ear in acknowledgment, turning and padding away, deeper in the forest. He could hear faint scufflings, and a bird chirruping somewhere, but he couldn't reach those. What he was looking for was a nice, strong scent, and a nearby, easy vole or mouse...

He soon found his target. A meaty, plump rat, intent on the rotting crow it seemed to have found; it dug into its find, snuffling at it with its long nose.

Swallowing back distaste at its food, Slatepaw crept up carefully on the rat, placing his paws down carefully. However, he stepped on a twig and it snapped beneath his weight, crackling as though laughing at him. The rat, alerted, lifted its head, spotted its hunter and shot away.

With a sigh, Slatepaw sat up. He didn't feel like hunting right now. The best he could do was continue marking the trees.

As he turned to pad back to Finchpaw, he saw the brown she-cat weave through the trees towards him. "Should we go?" she asked, "I think we've done it enough. We're already pretty close to camp."

She was right. Slatepaw strained his ears; he could only just faintly hear the buzz of camp. He gazed at Finchpaw, "okay then. This should probably be enough." He hesitated, "I still haven't caught anything."

Finchpaw shrugged, "Try again and I'll help. Come on, let's go."

Written by Pebble

Edited by Solstice