Ginger padded guiltily back to her nest. "Ginger," a gruff voice growled, "where have you been? 'Dirtplace issues' again, aye? All day? Why haven't you gone to Finchnose, then? I checked with him, but you weren't there, and he said the last time you went to see him was when Alderfern was sick with whitecough. So, Ginger, where have you been? Have you been hunting for your beloved Clan that you were born in and who your loyalties are utmost and undivided to?" The patched gray-and-white face of Adderheart stared into Ginger's amber eyes with a fire in his own green gaze. His voice dripped with undisguised sarcasm. Ginger stared right back, though her belly was squirming inside.

"Actually, Adderheart, Finchnose came to see me. He asked if I could go fetch some catmint for him, since leaf-bare is approaching quickly. He wanted to get a good supply before the first frost killed off the freshest leaves. He asked me because he knew that I know my way around and I would know the easiest and quickest way to get it. So no, I was not hunting for where I was born, but where my home is and where my loyalties now lie." Ginger glared defiantly at the senior warrior. By now, many cats were awake in their nests, watching this predicament. It was true that Ginger had brought back catmint for Finchnose, but she had not been sent on this mission. She had been in Twolegplace for food and comfort purposes only.
    
Yes, Ginger was tempted by the soft life, or as the Clans called it now, 'pulling a Cloudtail.'