no rest for the wicked | open

As she padded into warrior den, Willowfall reflected with a yawn on how absolutely exhausted she was. She'd struggled to keep her eyes open as she tried to spot her nest among the many nooks and shelves of the old tack room. As she searched the Fireclan deputy ran through a quick check list in her mind to make sure she wasn’t missing anything important she had to do.

She'd already assigned hunting parties and border patrols, conscientiously keeping any cats with any strife between them in opposite groups. The last thing she needed was in fighting between warriors distracting from the patrols work. She’d sent mentors out with instructions for assessments; she was interested to hear the results of those. Fireclan could use fresh warriors. Yes, everything was as it should be for the morning to run smoothly. And even more importantly, she’d spotted her nest.

After a long, back-arching stretch, the gray-and-white she-cat launched herself onto the teetering wooden remnant of a saddle rack, vaulting off of it to a high shelf where she had placed her mossy nest. Curling into a tight ball, her eyes blurry with sleep, Willowfall wondered why in Starclans name she’d placed herself on guard duty that night. Surely she could have assigned that job to some junior warrior. But just as suddenly as she had these thoughts, she brushed them off. Being deputy didn’t put her above the regular duties of a warrior, and that included watching out for the clan while they slept.

With another yawn, Willowfall rested her head on her paws and closed her eyes.