Daylight

Chapter 19

"Told you it went back to the dawn of the clans. Anyways, ShadowClan is bigger than WindClan—I get they have their pride and all of that, but if they went head-to-head..." she shook her short pelt, as if she were avoiding shivering at the thought, "WindClan would be dead."

Firepaw sat back on his haunches. "If it's been going on since the dawn of time, surely it'll be done soon," he said aloud, watching the twos' faces carefully. Sandpaw merely flicked her ear in dismissal, but Dustpaw's face clouded, brows furrowing as he thought.

"I guess," the deep brown tom mumbled, staring off into space. Sandpaw touched the tip of her tail to the tom's shoulder and shrugged.

"We're on elders' duty—and I'm not doing it by myself," she mewed, nodding towards the leaf-crowded entrance of the den. Dustpaw blinked slowly at Firepaw and then leapt off after Sandpaw, who had gotten a few steps ahead by the time he turned.

The flame-colored tom stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, until a black-and-white ball of fur flew out of nowhere, attacking him with such ferocity, he wasn't sure if it were an overgrown mouse or... ah. Swiftkit. Obligingly, Firepaw rolled over, allowing himself to be knocked by the tom, who leapt back a second later, bright smile on his face.

"Hi, Firepaw!"

The patched kit was up to Firepaw's shoulder, barely five moons, but very ready to be an apprentice already. His amber eyes—not unlike Mousefur's pale yellow ones, now that Firepaw thought about it—blinked warmly, and he squatted into a battle crouch, rakish grin spreading across his face. "Wanna fight?" he mewed, darting out a paw in challenge.

Firepaw barely kept himself from rolling his eyes, instead giving a mrrow of laughter. "Why not," he mewed, nodding towards an empty corner of camp, beckoning the kit to follow him. Glancing over to the nursery, he caught sight of Brightkit and her brother, Thornkit, watched the two go over. He gave a smile and a friendly tail flick, inviting them over with a tip of his head.

The two raced out, Brightkit a few tail-lengths ahead of Thornkit, grinning like a cheshire... well, cat. She skidded up to a stop in front of Firepaw and looked up to him, a look of excitement burning in her blue eyes. "Hi!" she half-meowed, half-yelled, bubbly excitement infectious. Her brother was a little slower to come up, normally sandy-yellow pelt caught by the sun and turning gold. He gave a nod of greeting, something apprentices and warriors usually did, catching Firepaw off-guard for a moment. He's mature for... what, three moons? 

"When're we going to fight?" Swiftkit demanded, leaping about and batting at a leaf. Brightkit rolled her eyes and bumped against him.

"We're not going to fight," she said, and Firepaw wondered what they were going to do, "we're going to spar!" The ginger-and-white she-cat paused and looked to Firepaw. "Right!?"

He blinked. Aren't fighting and sparring... the same thing? He nodded. "Riiiiiight." He looked from Thornkit to Brightkit to Swiftkit. "Okay, who wants to fight who?"

"I want to fight you!"

"Firepaw!"

"I wanna fight Firepaw!"

Firepaw felt warmth in his ears, and stifled back a laugh. I'm popular today! "Okay, okay. We'll do claws and whiskers for it."

Swiftkit tilted his head. "We'll do what?"

Thornkit's brows furrowed and he tipped his head to the side. "Claws and whiskers?" he mewed, simple confusion on his face. Brightkit bounced up and down—literally.