Frostpaw came back to herself with a start, staring down at the frog trapped beneath her paws. Right… she’d made the catch, and then… zoned out, she supposed. Everything felt like a dream. Wake up, hunt, sleep, all shrouded in a dull haze that blurred together as the nights went by. Speaking of which, it was almost dawn, and the patrol was probably well on its way back to camp. She couldn’t be more than a few minutes behind them, even close to the border as she was; picking up the frog and resisting, as ever, the urge to bite down and eat and fill her maw with delicious sweet meat-
Every single hair on her pelt suddenly stood on end. Where had that shadow come from.
Frostpaw threw herself out of the way just as an owl’s talons raked the air where she had been standing moments before. Oh stars— with a yowl, she took to her paws, zigzagging in a frantic attempt to escape those sharp talons that flashed just by her ear. Why was this blasted thing chasing her? She couldn’t fight it off alone, not without a patrol to back her up, and oh where was someplace to hide?
A wizened old tree, and a hollow halfway up its trunk— with a convulsive effort, Frostpaw threw herself into the hollow, making a jump she never would’ve dared try were there not an entire owl hot on her tail. Talons raked against bark, but the small apprentice was safe for now, crouched in a tiny hollow, pressed against the opposite side, chest heaving. It couldn’t get at her, but it would certainly try.
There were, Frostpaw decided, few things in life more terrifying than being trapped with something trying to get in at you. Every time she almost dared to poke her head outside, the horrid bird began clawing at the bark again. The sound was probably going to give her nightmares. She still had the frog in her jaws, somehow… perhaps she could throw that to the owl? It would hardly leave, then, she thought, heart pounding despite her relative safety. What—
Eggs, the small apprentice realised suddenly, tail brushing against something smooth and cold. She was in a nest; something she usually wouldn’t have dared do, but compared to an owl, an overprotective quail would be wonderful. Eggs were food, right? Maybe she could bring one home. It was very hard, however, to think of such things when she could hear that awful scraping resonating through the the hollow. Logically, she knew it would soon tire and leave. Logically, she knew it could not break through the thick wood. Logically, she knew her Clanmates would notice her absence.
Illogically, she was petrified with fear.
StarClan… please.
Frostpaw’s head snapped up as the owl suddenly ceased its endeavours, calling out in a low angry hoot. Something answered: a sudden cacophony of cawing in reply. Huddled against the bark, the small apprentice listened intently to the sudden sounds of a scuffle, hardly daring to breathe. If the owl won, she would continue to be stuck here for who knew how long… but if whatever made this nest won, in such a small space, it might try to peck out her eyes.
Please, StarClan, I won’t ever break the Code. Please, just let me get home safely.
A long, drawn-out screech, and then something large (the owl, surely) heavily flew away, driven off— or maybe it was a trick. Maybe this all was a trick, or maybe it was all a dream and she’d wake up any moment safe and sound and safe—
The marsh was dark as Frostpaw slowly poked her head out, trembling and prepared to throw herself back inside the hollow at a moment’s notice, and so for a moment the two glossy dark shapes escaped her notice, until one cawed loudly, nearly frightening the small apprentice out of the tree. Ravens. Raven eggs were a delicacy. Even one would make the other apprentices gasp with envy. These birds, unlike the owl from earlier, did not try to attack her, merely tilting their heads and cawing quietly to each other. They were… just letting her go. A cat, in their nest, just a moment earlier tempted by the thought of stealing their eggs.
Frostpaw looked into their eyes and shivered.
Ravens were prey. Uncommonly large prey, perhaps, and oft-spoke of as uncommonly intelligent prey, but prey nonetheless. They had simply been defending their nest; they had not even known of her presence. She did not owe them anything… the very thought, indeed, of a cat owing a raven a debt was laughable… and yet. Maybe it was mouse-brained of her. Honestly, it probably was. And yet…
And yet, she laid the frog on the branch, jumped down to the ground, glossy black feathers stuck to her fur, and turned for home. Rewarding prey for a service it had performed only by accident… laughable. Any ShadowClanner worth their place would’ve (well, would’ve been able to handle the owl in the first place) slain the birds and taken their eggs back to camp, to be eaten and enjoyed. It was not logical. It was the opposite of logic, to give sorely-needed prey to prey. Frostpaw would’ve thought any cat who did so the epitome of a fool… until tonight.
Maybe it was mouse-brained, she thought to herself later that night, carefully tucking the glossy feathers behind her ear, but there had been life in those black eyes, and knowledge. Hadn’t StarClan spoken through the ravens as omen-bearers and prophecy-bringers in ages past? Maybe it was mouse-brained, but… well. Any glimmer of hope was to be welcomed in these times.
She couldn’t ever stomach the idea of eating raven after that. A fool, her… and yet an unscathed one.
