𝙰𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚣𝚎

"Watch out!"

A squirrel fell from the sky. Amberhaze barely managed to dodge it before the limp, brown corpse could fall on her head.

Immediately afterwards, Mushroomfur slid backwards down the trunk. "That was close," the calico tom gasped. "It almost escaped."

Amberhaze just twitched her ears wordlessly. Then you should have kept hunting.

"We should go back, don't you think? I don't want to keep Patternleaf waiting that long."

Still without saying anything, Amberhaze turned and trotted off. Her head hurt. It always did when someone felt they had to constantly talk to her.

She stopped next to a stone and dug out her prey. It was two robins and a wood mouse — a measly achievement in her eyes. Usually her hunts were much more successful, but today she was completely scatterbrained.

Once again, her thoughts wandered to Larkwing. Yesterday's sunrise, she and Lakepelt had set off on a journey together with a few cats from the other Clans. What it was about, Amberhaze didn't remember exactly. All she knew was that they suspected there was information about the Shadowless' origins out there somewhere.

Actually, Amberhaze didn't want to admit it to herself, yet she was afraid for Larkwing. As fearless and confident as she could be at times, she was still too inexperienced.

But she's not alone, Amberhaze reminded herself. Then she sighed heavily. She would only prefer it if Lakepelt wasn't there. What did Larkwing see in him? When they were still a kit, shortly after their arrival in RoseClan camp, he had mocked her bi-coloured eyes. In the moons that followed, he had never missed an opportunity to make it clear to Larkwing and Amberhaze as well that he didn't approve of their presence, and he had even refused to recognise them as true RoseClan she-cats, despite being born and having family here.

So you're those 'given away' kits? Although it had been many moons ago, Amberhaze could still remember the very first words that Lakepelt, then still Lakepaw, had said to them. His tone, his eyes had been full of abhorrence.

Since then, Amberhaze had tried to avoid him as often as possible, and Larkwing had done the same. But at some point, something had changed. Suddenly she had started talking to Lakepelt, spending time with him. Amberhaze couldn't understand that. Until today, she hadn't forgiven him for calling Larkwing disfigured because of her eyes, a trait that Amberhaze secretly found gorgeous.

The rustling of the dry leaves covering the ground showed her that Mushroomfur had come running after her. "Wait for me!" he meowed indistinctly through the squirrel's fur in his mouth.

Amberhaze gritted her teeth in annoyance. She wasn't really in the mood to talk to any cat right now. She swivelled her head around and glared at him as angrily as she could, hoping that he would leave her alone.

Indeed, her gesture seemed to have an effect, because Mushroomfur now remained silent. Amberhaze gave him a quick, unobtrusive glance from the side. For some reason she couldn't figure out, she found the fact that he was a calico strange. She knew quite a few cats with tricoloured fur, but all of them were she-cats — except for Mushroomfur. Sometimes she felt the urge to investigate, but this idea always fizzled out immediately. Mushroomfur's pelt pattern was probably just a coincidence.

At the Fernpath, they met Patternleaf, Ravenleap and Fennelleaf. Judging by their prey, it seemed that they too had been successful in the hunt. That reassured Amberhaze immensely. Now that newleaf was returning, they were finding more and more prey. Soon the Clan would recover from the cold, arduous leaf-bare.

Patternleaf stood up and approached them. "You are the last ones," she meowed in such a tone that it was impossible to tell whether she was angry about it or not.

Although Amberhaze could actually be pretty positive that the tortoiseshell warrior wasn't. Not with Mushroomfur, and not with Mottletail and Birchpelt either, her beloved kits.

A while ago, Mushroomfur had followed the example of his mother, who was also the cat-in-command of that subrank, and had joined the Hunters' Circle. It hadn't been hard to see how proud Patternleaf had been of his decision at the time. Of course, she didn't want to make Mushroomfur's life unnecessarily difficult by criticising him every time for something trivial.

On the last stretch back to camp, Amberhaze strolled at the rear of the patrol. The meowing of her Clanmates seemed like nothing more than an unimportant background noise as she was already at her nest in her mind.

First I'll have something to eat, then I'll see if my nest material needs replacing, and if not, I'll go to sleep. Amberhaze had to bite down hard on her load of prey to stifle a yawn. Today she seemed unusually tired.

After wriggling through some dense, leafless undergrowth, the Birchtunnel appeared before her, mostly hidden by tufts of grass and branches. Crouching, she crawled down the hollow trunk. As usual, she placed her catch in the fresh-kill hollow, then took two shrews, her favourite prey.

With that, the dark reddish-golden tabby she-cat settled down halfway up the hill with the warriors' den. She usually preferred to have an elevated and therefore better view of the camp.

Amberhaze lowered her muzzle to tear a bite out of the one shrew. It had a chewy, dry flavour. Sometimes she had heard other cats say that shrews tasted like what they imagined tree bark tasted like, and that they would only eat them in exceptional circumstances. However, Amberhaze didn't mind the chewiness. She wasn't as picky as some others.

While she ate, she watched what her Clanmates were up to. In front of the elders' den at the back of the camp, Wavesplash, Jayheart, Pebblefall and Kestrelpelt sat enjoying the faint warmth of the sun. Next to the Birchtunnel, Reddapple and Ravenleap had settled down to groom each other's fur.

With a soft, longing sigh, Amberhaze rolled the half-eaten shrew around. Somehow, she too would like to have a mate one day. It was her biggest wish to fall in love, and maybe to have kits in the distant future.

But who was she kidding? She bit her tongue. She didn't even have friends. No one had ever approached her, and when they did, it was always just to admire her for her hunting skills and her extraordinarily good sense of smell.

That's fine by me. Embittered, Amberhaze forced herself to turn her gaze away from Reddapple and Ravenleap. I don't need friends, and come to think of it, I don't need a mate either. At this thought, she felt her heart grow heavy like a rock. It's better if I don't make any connections anyway. They'll betray me in the end — or die.

"No, no, no! Your posture is all wrong, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Bramblepaw's voice sounded feignedly stern. By the looks of it, she and Blossompaw were training fighting techniques next to the apprentices' den.

Instead of listening to the light brown ticked she-cat, Blossompaw plopped down flat on the ground. "You're talking like Lilacclaw," she replied mischievously and wiggled her rump. "When I train with Owlpaw, she's always so fussy too."

Amberhaze almost purred. Then a wave of jealousy washed over her. Every cat in the Clan had someone to talk to, only she was the odd one out.

Suddenly her hunger seemed to have disappeared. Amberhaze was about to get up and put the second shrew back when she saw Mottletail and Yellowthorn walking straight towards her. Unsure, she moved to the side. They probably just want to go into the den, she surmised.

"Oh hello, Amberhaze!" Mottletail meowed.

Amberhaze's heart stopped in shock for a tiny moment.

"How are you today?" Mottletail dropped onto the grass and stretched out her legs. Her amber gaze fell on the shrew that still lay between Amberhaze's paws. "Hey, tell me, are you still eating that?"

"Uh... no. You can have it if you want," Amberhaze mumbled, pushing the shrew over to Mottletail.

Slowly and carefully she wanted to make her escape, but Mottletail fixated her with her piercing eyes. "Do you want to leave already?" the dark reddish-brown speckled she-cat inquired with a slight yet recognisable trace of reproach.

Confused, Amberhaze just stared at her. What does she want from me?

Now Yellowthorn sat down next to Mottletail, her tail wrapped neatly around her white front paws. "We have noticed a while ago that you tend to stay in the background, and you do not really socialise with any cats," the yellowish-brown tabby she-cat explained in a serious tone. "That gave us the reason to ask if everything is alright with you."

Amberhaze's trachea seemed to tighten as she was overwhelmed. She couldn't make a single sound, didn't even know what to say. For her head was full of thoughts, so chaotic that she couldn't grasp any of them.

Despite her hesitation, Yellowthorn was not deterred in the slightest. "It is essential to bond with your Clanmates. We are a community and must be able to rely on and trust each other."

"Exactly!" Mottletail interjected, munching. "And it seems to us that you have problems with that."

Immediately, Amberhaze shook her head violently. She's right. I have no idea how to approach other cats at all. I don't know if they even care about me as a cat or if they all just see my abilities.

At that moment, she felt cornered, helpless. She was afraid to admit that other than Larkwing and maybe Sootfeather, she had no one she could talk to without feeling like the biggest mouse-brain after every sentence she said.

An almost pitying expression appeared in Yellowthorn's light amber eyes. "Oh, Amberhaze," she sighed, "you give the impression of being a very likeable cat. How do you feel about the suggestion that Mottletail and I could help you find your place in the Clan?"

At the mention of her name, Mottletail perked her ears up attentively. "We could be your first friends. Maybe even your best," she meowed jovially. "What do you think?"

Friends. This word filled with longing and yet hatred — it struck Amberhaze like a bolt of lightning with such force that it took her breath away.

How was she supposed to know that she could trust Yellowthorn and Mottletail? How was she supposed to know if they were really interested in her? It all came so suddenly. Even when the two of them were still apprentices, Mottletail had never given a mousedung about Amberhaze. And Yellowthorn hadn't even looked at her until today.

Friends. Friends. Friends. The more this word repeated itself in her head, the more frightening, even more repulsive it sounded.

Then Amberhaze did something terribly cowardly. She whirled around and fled the camp, away from the truth.

The truth that she was a miserable Clanmate and an incompetent warrior at that. Again, her emotions had been too strong. Yellowthorn and Mottletail were probably just trying to help. But she had to be so mouse-brained and run away — as if she was a helpless kit.