"Burnetpaw! What in StarClan's name was that? You must try harder." A young golden tabby demanded scornfully, narrowing her eyes. She curled up her lips in a sneer, which make Burnetpaw's body flush with rage.
She was a true predator at heart, with endlessly dissatisfied saffron-colored eyes and an overabundance of lean muscle beneath her fur. It seemed as though, in another life, she had been a fierce bird of prey, who would tear apart her victims. Rather, in this life, she butchered her prey less literally, with uncivil remarks and disdainful gazes.
"Don't mentor Burnetpaw for me, Sunstreak." Nightfern interjected passive-aggressively.
Burnetpaw sighed loudly, rising back to her paws and shaking her pelt. Take that, idiot! She nearly exclaimed, but bit back the retort. I must not lose my temper. She reminded herself. Nightfern wouldn't be pleased.
She blinked her golden eyes at her sister's mentor, nodding curtly. Lifting her slender head, the lithe ticked tabby scented the air, letting out a content sigh as a warm breeze rushed over her. The weather had been foul recently, and she was grateful for such a bright day. The sun warmed her fur comfortably as the birds chirped in the hazy distance.
In the breeze was the scent of a stoat. Her heart skipped a beat as she envisioned catching such a creature. She would be praised by her entire Clan! Even so, stoats could easily kill a rabbit, and Burnetpaw figured that there was nothing stopping them from killing a cat. They were vicious and cunning. The mere thought of the little beasts made her fur stand up and her chest tighten with unease.
If I kill the stoat, maybe Sunstreak would stop teasing me. She envisioned with hope. Burnetpaw swallowed her fear, turning towards Volepaw, Foxpaw and Sunstreak. "I smell a stoat. I'm going after it." She had already felt sore from chasing down a rabbit previously. Still, she was determined to catch the tiny devil, wherever it may be.
The dark ginger she-cat raced off towards the scent, letting her lean legs carry her in big bounds. She found the stoat wandering around upon the fresh moor, and had to remind herself of how hardy stoats could be, despite their small and vulnerable appearance.
The stoat spotted her and perked up, beginning its crazed tradition of leaping about as it came towards her. Stoats were known for jumping around to confuse its prey; almost hypnotizing it. Burnetpaw was well aware of its tactics, having been educated on the subject a few moons ago, and didn't stop to watch its show. For their minute stature, stoats were infamous among her Clanmates for scathing inexperienced cats, such as herself. Burnetpaw had to remain focused.
She crouched down, making sure to protect her soft stomach by brushing it against the long glass, and sprung into action. The stoat was just as prepared, and lunged at her with all of its strength. It grasped her tender ear, tearing off a piece with its sharp teeth.
Burnetpaw let out a yowl of anguish and lashed out at the fiendish animal, slicing its throat. Although it was mortally wounded, it still tried to fight back. She easily dodged its blows as it grew increasingly more sluggish as its blood rapidly drained. The red tabby watched as it died with a feeling of triumph, while it bravely struck at her up to the very end of its life.
She picked the limp prey up by the scruff, treading back to her comrades. Her wound came with a pounding, burning sensation which made her nauseous. She could hear her blood roar, and the chirps of birds were drowned out by the cacophonous sound.
Black spots swam in her vision due to the pain, yet she gritted her teeth together and kept herself from wincing. She focused on how the silky stoat blood felt on her tongue, thick like molasses and soothing. The metallic flavor reminded her of sweet danger, something a code-abiding cat such as herself rarely got a taste of.
She often wished for a war, where she could express her instincts differently from hunting. Her talents were past hunting, but the peaceful nature of the times made it nearly impossible for her to show it. Perhaps if there were more quarrels, then her Clanmates would see past her flaws, and realize that she was a gifted fighter and a valuable warrior.
Sometimes it seemed that all her Clanmates could do was make remarks about her poor hunting abilities.
The three cats ran towards her, letting out cheers. Sunstreak sniffed, looking her up and down. "Good job. Your first battle scar." She tilted her nose towards Burnetpaw's wound.
Burnetpaw's pelt flushed at the rare compliment from the typically snide young cat, and she couldn't help but allow a smirk to creep upon her maw. Foxpaw nudged her sister good-naturedly, grinning at her while Volepaw, a cat who was known among young she-cats of all Clans for his flirtatious antics, quite obviously brushed pelts with the dainty green-eyed cat.
The group made their way back to camp. They struggled through the tall grass that occasionally bound their paws. Burnetpaw was the first to burst into camp. Despite how ill she felt from her minor yet sore wound, her chest puffed out with pride as she dropped the stoat into the prey pile.
Some of her Clanmates took a glimpse at the tall apprentice. Even less cats complimented her kill. For Burnetpaw, even the smallest amount of attention, after having been devoid of it nearly her entire apprenticeship, was rewarding. Brindlepaw walked out of the medicine cat den to congratulate her friends, but stopped mid-step the moment she saw Burnetpaw. The amiable amber-eyed tortoiseshell cat rushed forward, gawking at the huntress.
"What happened?" She gasped, lifting her head to sniff the big she-cat's ear. Burnetpaw shot the medicine cat apprentice a self-satisfied smirk and described the hostile stoat that she had caught.
Brindlepaw's eyes widened in awe at the explanation, as she was a weak and small feline with hardly any hunting or fighting skills whatsoever, and she ushered Burnetpaw into the den that she and Nuthatchface shared during the day. Nuthatchface was out collecting herbs, so Brindlepaw's mediocre skills had to be enough.
Brindlepaw still had several moons of training until she was an official medicine cat. She had always been a slow learner, and her role as a medicine cat apprentice was no different, in spite of having been in the position for five moons.
The tortoiseshell she-cat diligently chewed up a little burdock root, placing it onto the warrior apprentice's lacerated ear. "Don't paw it off." The medicine cat apprentice warned as she applied the herb, her strong catmint-like aroma swept through the compact, secure den.
Burnetpaw nodded in understanding, stirring from her sitting position. After Brindlepaw gave her poppy seeds, the ruddy apprentice walked from the den, calling out a thanks.
YOU ARE READING
Tempest || A WC Novel
Fanfiction[COMPLETE & REVISED] Burnetpaw is simply a bad hunter. After spending all of her apprenticeship attempting to improve her abilities, she is still not any better, and she is frustrated by how focused her Clanmates are on her minimal hunting skills. ...
