SPARROW’S CRY

Sparrowpaw woke suddenly to the sound of Shadowpaw’s cries of terror “There’s no pray, were we supposed to go hunting?”
“Calm down the patrol left a few moments ago!” Ever since he became an apprentice Shadowpaw was worried over every little detail. Sparrowpaw was much more relaxed and was making quick progress with her mentor, Russetpelt. She shook herself off the moss from her nest and went to see Crowkit, her half brother, he was so tiny and only born yesterday. She ran excitedly across the camp, accidently bumping into Treeclaw.
“Were are you going in such a hurry, I remember when I was young I was taught manners, and where is my fresh kill and my beddings wet, also I have a tick and a sore throat. Go on I want it all fixed before I go to sleep.” He trotted off, probably to give the same speech to another unsuspecting victim. Sparrowpaw toddled off again towards the nursery. The whines and yelps told her that Crowkit was definitely there. Poking her head inside, Sparrowpaw saw the tiny little bundle scrabbling around.
While pushing the lost kit to its mother, she saw an unusual mark on Crowkit’s side. It was small but she could definitely make it out. A perfectly shaped star on his pelt. She stared into it, mesmerized by its sheer perfection. “Are you ok Sparrowpaw, you seem a bit weird today.” Dapplepath’s was tired and croaky in her voice but she looked, really, normal.
“No I’m fine, he is so cute isn’t he,” replying quickly, she was trying not to arouse any suspicion. She looked at the kit one more time then left.
The camp was flooded with charging warriors, the Dawn patrol. They were heading to Hoofstar’s den, what could be the matter. Sparrowpaw craftily sneaked to the side of Hoofstar’s den.
“It was Huge and really scary.”
“Stop exaggerating, Dawnpaw. We just think someone should check it out in more detail.” Sparrowpaw recognized Applepelt’s low, oaky voice. The voices soon turned into murmurs that Sparrowpaw could not understand.
The prey pile was now full; a terrible thunder like rumble came from inside her stomach. A plump thrush was an obvious choice. She sat in her favorite spot, a cool and shady spot next to the most to the widest range of the greatest smelling herbs. It always reminded her of her mother, she always smelt lovely and was as delicate as a flower. A tear trickled down her face.