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| - For Crime, by the marvelous Steppy Prettypaw snarled at Dustpaw. "I saw you complimenting Smokepaw! Is there something going on?" "Of course not!", Dustpaw snapped. "You know I wouldn't do that. I only love you and no one else.", they touched muzzles unaware of a certain apprentice seething. Me. I sighed remembering Dustkit's passion for swans. Because of his departed mother, Swanfeather. All the others, including Prettykit, had thought this was another of his weird antics. I glare up at the couple, washing their pelts together, as I ate my favorite fruit, pomegranate. She liked grapefruit-like just about any popular cat. Prettypaw walked about, sashaying across the camp, she cats staring jealously. I look down at my own pelt, untidy, and dull gray-blue eyes. I felt seething seeing Dustpaw ever so smirky and show off-y as if he was the most handsome junk in the world. A week ago, he was just like me. I notice Musclepaw the same. It wasn't that he liked Prettypaw; just that he wasn't the "most" popular anymore. But something told me he wasn't the best ally. I slept peacefully at night, remembering back in the day when I would hang around Dustpaw, just chatting about the day, when a dark threatening figure loomed upon me. Prettypaw. I woke up just then to see Prettypaw standing above me. "You're on dawn patrol. Better not be late.", she showed her teeth and padded out of the apprentice den. I hissed. Can't Prettypaw at least let me dream what I want? Prettypaw snarled. "Why do you eat so much? And for the love of StarClan I hate swan feathers; get rid of those!" I bit back a gasp. Prettypaw still didn't understand? Why did he let her do that? Swan feathers were his only memory of his mother. I felt a surge of anger towards Prettypaw for making my love miserable, praying to StarClan to make things right.
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