“Don’t you want to hear what Sandstorm said to me while we were training?” Honeypaw prompted.

“I’m tired,” Lionpaw murmured. He wasn’t in the mood to share Clan gossip with his denmates.

“Suit yourself,” Poppypaw mewed.

Suddenly two small paws landed on his back, digging into his ribs.

“Sorry!” Foxpaw backed away as Lionpaw’s head shot up.

Lionpaw glared at the young apprentice. “Watch out!”

“I was just showing Icepaw how I was going to catch a fox and earn my warrior name,” Foxpaw mewed. “I want to be called Foxcatcher!”

“Well, you’ve proved you can catch a sleeping cat!” Honeypaw teased.

Icepaw jumped to her brother’s defense. “He’ll catch a real fox one day!”

“Yeah, right.” Poppypaw tossed a wad of moss at the white apprentice.

Foxpaw leaped and caught the moss before it reached his sister, batting it back toward Poppypaw. “I will catch one; you just wait!”

“You couldn’t catch greencough!” Poppypaw taunted him.

“Yes, I could!” Foxpaw argued.

The other apprentices purred with amusement.

“I mean I could catch anything I want,” Foxpaw backtracked quickly. “If only Squirrelflight would stop fussing over me all the time.”

“She might stop fussing if you stopped wandering off,” Honeypaw pointed out. “We had to wait for ages while she went to look for you today. The squirrel I’d been tracking was in ShadowClan territory by the time she brought you back!”

“I was exploring!” Foxpaw protested.

“Well, come explore this.” Cinderpaw had squeezed into the den. Lionpaw could smell honey, but he stayed where he was while the other apprentices scrambled from their nests to see what Cinderpaw had brought.

“Where’d you find it?” Icepaw gasped.

“Cloudtail found a hive in a hollow trunk while we were patrolling near the abandoned Twolegplace,” Cinderpaw explained. “He managed to get his paw in and grab a chunk of the honeycomb.”

“Did he get stung?” Foxpaw mewed.

“Only once.”

“I haven’t had honey for moons.” Poppypaw sighed.

“Cloudtail gave most of it to Leafpool for her stores, but he said I could have this bit,” Cinderpaw mewed.

“Can I have a lick?” Icepaw begged.

“Go on then, but not too much,” Cinderpaw offered. “It’s for everyone to share.”

Icepaw closed her eyes as she swallowed, then blinked them open, surprised. “It doesn’t taste of anything!”

Poppypaw purred. “Every cat knows that, mouse-brain.” She licked at the honeycomb and sighed. “I like the way it soothes my throat and feels all warm in my belly. It reminds me of milk.”

Lionpaw buried his nose under his paws, trying to block out the purrs of contentment as his denmates dug into the precious honeycomb. How easily pleased they were. One day all the honey in the forest would be his. He wasn’t like them—pleased by any small treat. The pang of isolation returned, stronger than ever.