Down the Rabbit Hole (Kiba)

"Hey, Patchpaw," Littleflame mewed. "You okay?"
The calico apprentice nodded, giving the Warrior a warm smile. "I'm fine. Just sitting for a moment. How's it feel to get to leave the camp again?"
The small orange Warrior let out a puff of air. "It's a relief, that much is for sure." The tom eyed her. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Patchpaw nodded again. "I would hurry though," she mewed, "Before Blackpaw finds you."
The tom was gone in a cloud of dust before she even finished the sentence, drawing out a grin from the shecat as she sat.

The tom was not the only one that likely thought something was amiss. Patchpaw -active, busy body, no-time-to-play Patchpaw was sitting in camp Just. Sitting. It was strange. Decidedly out of character. Patchpaw was a ghost in Marsh Clan, always on a patrol or training or hunting. Always moving. Never sitting still. Some cats thought the apprentice never slept. Those closest to her, namely her two brothers, took the notion as fact. Patchpaw was a force to be reckoned with, that much was true. She worked day and night. She would not stop, never stop, not until she was a Warrior. Not until she was a Deputy. Not until she was Leader, the best leader any cat had ever seen, and Honeyheart's legacy would never be forgotten by any cat that lived in these lands.

"Patchpaw! Good Mor~ning!"
The sing song purr brought another smile to the apprentice's lips. "Nice to see you, Blackpaw. Are you off to do some training with Tornpelt?" A not-so-subtle hint.
The black and orange shecat pouted, her large teal eyes in an adorable beg. "Oh, Patchpaw, you never simply enjoy the day, do you?"
"No, and you never simply enjoy your training, do you?" the calico shot back with a smirk. Blackpaw huffed.
"I do love training, as I love Tornpelt, truly. She is my Father's best friend, but she seems so skittish when I come near! And when I talk of the luxurious song of the woods and the water she does not understand at all!"
"Your Daddy is going to get you if you don't stop calling Littleflame your Father. You know that, don't you?"
The huge apprentice merely flicked her tail in dismissal. "He is just a tom who tries to deny his heartsong, although I can't imagine why. I'm off to heed the water's call and you are...?"
"Busy," Patchpaw mewed with an amused flick of her tail.
Blackpaw rolled her eyes. "As always. Well, it was nice to see you for once. Farewell~!"
"Bye.... And at least do some hunt while you're out!"
Blackpaw flicked her tail. She did not like it, but she had heard Patchpaw, and that was enough. The apprentice settled back into her thoughts.

Patchpaw was also patient. She would not become a Warrior for moons and moons, and who knew how long it would take for Duskblaze to think her worthy of an apprentice. Silver eyes glanced to the Leader's Den, narrowing slightly. With her luck, it would be ages, but Patchpaw knew this and accepted it. She could wait. She could wait as long as she had to.

Rippedpaw's head came out of the Nursery, deep green eyes cutting directly to her with a frown.
Are you okay? is what those eyes asked.
At this point, Patchpaw rolled her eyes and put her paws over her head to groan. This was the other reason why she spent next to zero time in camp. Knowing every cat on a personal level came with a price: Namely, privacy to think. Every cat knew she was a busy body so the moment she stopped to relax they all jumped on her like flies to crowfood wanting to know what was wrong!
Silver eyes pointedly looked to Rippedpaw, then back in the den as she flicked her tail in irritation. D'oh! Just go back to sleep and leave me be!
The tom shrugged his shoulders and waved his tail in a placating manner. Alright. Alright. Just checking. Yeesh.
Rippedpaw disappeared back into the den. Patchpaw took a deep breath recollected herself.

She could wait as long as she had to; however, what she would not be waiting on any longer was getting to the bottom of Steampaw's fear. Something was going on in her clan and the calico shecat was having none of it. Duskblaze might be leader, but Patchpaw was as possessive of Marsh Clan as any creature could possibly be. She talked to the Warriors and Apprentices. The kits... well, she would get to those when they were older. Kits made her uncomfortable, to be honest, but the point was, she liked to know what was going on in her clan with every cat, and Steampaw had something going on that he would not tell her.

Something that left him with scared, wide eyes and jerky movements, as if he thought something would pop out of the shadows to attack him at any moment. The calico apprentice twitched her whiskers in distaste.

Just as yet another clanmate was about to come up to talk to her and as her what terrible thing had befallen her to make her sit in the camp for a single afternoon, Patchpaw saw what she had been waiting for: Stagheart.

The tom did not even glance at her as he left the camp, which suited the shecat fine. Patchpaw hastily extricated herself from an unwanted conversation, promising to get back with the cat when she had time -which she would, Patchpaw always kept her word- the apprentice slipped out and away. The tom was still insight when she made her way free, but that did not mean that Patchpaw needed to be.

The shecat dropped into an crouch. Overall, Patchpaw was an above average apprentice. She had started out at the very bottom, incapable at nearly everything, but moons of sweat and grit and battle and blood had honed her skills. She was not at a Warrior's level, but she was not at the bottom anymore either. She even was a step up on Cedarpaw when it came to battle training, and Steampaw on hunting, despite both toms being her senior. It was not enough for Patchpaw though. No, it would never be enough. She was the weakest, which meant she had to work ten times as hard if she wanted to be the strongest.

Back to the crouch though, this was the one thing Patchpaw had never needed to train on much at all. She took to crouches naturally. It was the first and only thing she remembered about her first training session with Duskblaze, back before he took over, back when she still trusted him. He had praised her crouches. They were very good for a kit. She could have done minimal training and been an amazing stalker, but this was Patchpaw. She did not do minimal anything. Being 'amazing' was not enough. She needed to be the best. She had stalked and crouched and hunted and trained. She had pushed herself, even going so far as to slip into Cedar Clan territory once or twice, as a challenge. Her heart had beat in a panicked frenzy, and Patchpaw had known it was good. She had forced herself to keep going. 

Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is action in the face of it.

That what what her mother said. Patchpaw remembered it. She would not forget. The fear had been good. It had pushed her, as few things did lately. Her paws had tried to fumble, her brain had tried to cloud with panic when she heard someone coming. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had to keep her steps light, to keep her body low and not take off in a terrified run. She had been terrified, and she had overcome it. 

Now, when the shecat's paws slipped over the ground, there was hardly even the faintest whisper of movement to be heard. By comparison, it was almost too easy. This was clanmate. If she was caught now, all she would get was a scolding for spying. If she had been caught then... it would have been bad. Still, that gave her no excuse for sloppiness. Patchpaw felt the weight of her body, felt the sleek brush of fur over the ground, taking care to muffle any noise that attempted to escape from under her. Her silver eyes gleamed in the light, silent and watchful.

Stagheart did not seem to be going anywhere interesting. He was hunting most likely. Patchpaw was not sure exactly what she expected to find or see. She only knew something was wrong and she hoped Steampaw's father would lead her to the answer.

He led her to nothing.

Nothing.

...

Nothing.

...

NOTHING!

Patchpaw's muscles burned from their continued tension. They had been out here for hours now. She had never held a crouch this long. Never stayed silent this long. She knew she had to be careful. She knew the pain of coiled limbs and strain of holding her position was getting to her. She had to be doubly careful not to make any mistakes. She could be patient, yes, but being patient and being crouched were very difficult things to accomplish. At least three hours must have passed by now. Likely more. The shecat clenched her teeth quietly, refusing to grind them and potentially giving away her position. She was sweating now, the effort of holding her body in the unnatural position clearly taking its tole. Her will was like iron though. She would not move and she would not falter. Period.

Of course, for all Patchpaw's skill with stalking, she was woefully incapable when it came to scenting. It was likely Stagheart had caught on to his would-be spy not long after leaving camp. It would have just been a matter of keeping her upwind after that. The apprentice was unaware of this though, and she refused to let herself break her crouch for even a moment. She was following this. Wherever it went and as long as it took. For Steampaw. For her friend. For her Clan.

Great Stars did her muscles hurt though!