Rain dribbled onto Wapatofur’s forehead as the GaleClan deputy picked his way toward the ShoreClan border. The burly tom hopped over mud puddles as he went, wary of getting his paws too soggy, lest he wind up back in Frozenkingdom’s den with another pad infection. He wasn’t so much afraid of the pain as he was of the grouchy medicine cat’s unyielding wrath. Another stupid injury, and Frozenkingdom might drown Wapatofur in the lake.

Shivering from the cold rain – and perhaps from the thought of Frozenkingdom’s teeth embedded in his spine – the brown-and-white feline slowed to a halt several tail lengths away from the border with his former clan. Life in ShoreClan seemed so long ago, it sometimes felt as though he had never lived there at all. A cat of a mere 28 moons, he’d spent roughly half of them hunting rabbits on the windy plains and eight as deputy.

As he stared across the border, Wapatofur realized that, contrary to what he’d always told himself, he did miss a few things about ShoreClan. He could live without swimming or chowing down on fish ever again, but he did feel rather nostalgic when picturing the territory’s warm, sandy beaches and the lovely flowers that surrounded the Shimmering Pond. He spent his formative moons there – training, lounging, and, yes, hiding from his siblings. ShoreClan’s wild landscape had once been his refuge, and while he knew with certainty he would never return, a part of him ached for the reprieve of his youth.

“I wonder if Nutriabite remembers anything about this place?” He murmured, sitting back on his haunches.