Daylight

Chapter 17

A brown-and-white blur of fluff flew at Firepaw, an attack from Cloverpaw which he barely avoided. Whirling around, careful not to trip on any of the pebbles beneath his paws, Firepaw leapt to the side at a sudden strike from behind as some cat's paw jabbed at his leg.

"Got you!" Graypaw crowed, yellow eyes lighting up. His dark tail whisked back and forth over the dampened rocks and his ears perked at the excitement of winning a battle. Well... a training session.

Their mentors—Runningwind included—had decided it was important to train them on different terrains. Last time it had been marsh-like battling, near a cool spring close to the Thunderpath, and the time before that it had been amidst thick grasses near an abandoned twoleg place. This time, it was a dried up creek bed with lots and lots of pebbles. One had to be careful where he stepped... otherwise, he could wrench a paw.

The fiery tom couldn't help but grin at Graypaw. "Nope!" he laughed, turning around from Cloverpaw, whom he had initially been focusing his attention on, to attack Graypaw, leaping at him, and this time not missing.

Good thing Whitestorm made the foreleg-and-under doesn't count rule, he thought as he tumbled over the dusty riverbed, claws tangled in Graypaw's thick fur. Graypaw kicked at his stomach, forcing Firepaw to flip away.

Panting hard, fur fluffed out still, Firepaw turned to face his opponent, taking note of Cloverpaw, who sat a few tail-lengths away, drawing a paw through the kicked-up dust, eyes locked still on Graypaw's. "Think you've got me still, Graypaw?" he taunted, unable to suppress a snicker at his friend's disheveled appearance.

"Still think you've got me?" Graypaw questioned back, grinning. He straightened up, allowing his fur to de-fluff.

From between a tree's roots, the golden frame of Lionheart shifted as he stood up. "Well done, Graypaw! Good technique, Firepaw." His amber eyes flitted to Cloverpaw. "And—Cloverpaw, good teamwork."

Cloverpaw glanced up and gave a small nod, indicating he had heard. Weird. He used to take training more... seriously. Firepaw thought to himself, dodging a light cuff to his shoulder from Graypaw absent-mindedly.

Finally, Lionheart spoke again. "Cloverpaw... a word," he meowed, nodding with his shaggy head for the apprentice to follow him.

Graypaw looked to Firepaw, who shrugged, watching his brother go. "Where do you think he's going?" the tom asked, watching the apprentice trot behind a tree to speak to Lionheart.

"Doesn't matter," Mousefur stiffly mewed. "Come on. Back to camp, both of you." 

Something was definitely up, decided Firepaw as he dragged himself out of the riverbed, directing Graypaw with his tail to a more gradual slope when the tom nearly fell flat on his face. Subsequently padding back to camp, he couldn't help but think. I wish Cloverpaw would put his heart into it... he sighed, and before he could think another word, another thought, Graypaw broke in.

"Um, well," he mewed, glancing to the left. "I'd better go. I uh—have training and stuff to work on..." he trailed off. If it's fighting, I could help him—.

"What type of training?"

Graypaw seemed to be having trouble speaking. "Oh, you know," he finally mewed, a horrible liar. "I've gotta go... work on my... climbing... skills."

Firepaw decided to play into the lie. "Huh. I thought you did a pretty good job climbing out of the riverbed." He allowed a smile to break out onto his face, but Graypaw was already laughing, giving him a hard nudge with his shoulder.