"There. You should be fine now, Mossfur," Starlingpaw meowed as she set down the mouse bile she had been using to free the elder tomcat's fur of ticks.
"Thank you, Starlingpaw," Mossfur replied weakly, his voice thick with the exhaustion of old age. "You're a fine apprentice, and soon you will make a wonderful warrior."
Starlingpaw's ears twitched angrily, upset at how many times older cats had patronized her unintentionally. There was no way that they could have known about her training troubles, but their comments felt like sharp claws tearing at her pelt, reminding her of her failure.
She turned to gather the soiled moss the elders had been laying on and pawed it together into a large ball, all the while listening to old Vinetail prattle on about her apprentice days.
"Back when Rainstar was the leader and Blizzardstar was only Blizzardfur, DuskClan never dared to trespass on our territory or start any disputes. Rainstar was so loyal and strong that she scared off any single cat that wasn't in her clan! You should have seen those gatherings- Featherstar was a tiny thing, and he'd barely been deputy for a moon before Blackstar died and he had to take control!"
"Oh, Blackstar, what a shame. He was a kind cat, too, and then that vicious little thing rose to power and started causing problems!" Mossfur cut in, pausing in between licks of his dark tabby-patterned fur.
"Mossfur, don't blame Featherstar for what happened! You know the loss of that battle was mostly Blizzardstar's fault." Vinetail spat back.
"Yes, but there would have been no battle without Featherstar!" Mossfur growled.
Vinetail shook her head. "Of course, mouse-brain. It's inevitable that we two Clans fight!"
Starlingpaw didn't hear the rest of the conversation, as she was busy carrying the hulking ball of moss out of the elder's den to the Dirtplace to dispose of it. She felt happy and carefree that she was exempt from training that day due to her injury, and caring for the elders meant hearing exciting stories about the past cats of DawnClan. Not to mention that she felt useful for once; changing bedding and dealing with ticks was simple enough that even she could do it. Her heart and mind ached at the thought of returning to hunting and battle training the next day.
On her way back to camp after retrieving a new chunk of moss from the woods around camp, Darkfeather crossed paths with her.
"Starlingpaw! You seem to be doing well. I'm glad that your leg is better, as your limp is gone. So do you think we could return to training after, say, sunhigh today?" her mentor meowed cheerfully.
The sable apprentice cursed herself for walking normally. If she had pretended to be injured more, she wouldn't have had to train. Placing the moss ball on the ground, she formulated a lie in an instant. "Well, it looks better, sure, but the injury is definitely still there. Honeypool said not to train at all today."
Darkfeather looked puzzled. "But... does it hurt?"
"Well, no," Starlingpaw admitted, then decided to go all in. "Look, Darkfeather, I don't think I should train. It's useless. I'm useless. No matter how much practice you throw at me, I'll never be able to catch prey or do battle."
"Not with that attitude you're not!" the older she-cat meowed stubbornly, straightening herself and pushing out her chest. "After you take that bedding to the elders, you and I are going to fix the problems you're having! I'm sure it's nothing that can't be solved with training."
"B-but..." Starlingpaw stuttered, at a loss for words. "Darkfeather, I'm over four moons into training, and I can't even pounce correctly! It's not that I don't try, I just-"
"Don't you worry about that. We'll figure out what's wrong and solve it so you can be the best warrior there ever was!" Darkfeather's tail trembled with excitement. Starlingpaw noticed her overly cheery attitude and wondered if she had been spending time with Russetstorm. The whole camp suspected that they were going to be mates soon, but Darkfeather's brother, Sootpelt, anything but approved of them.
"Fine," Starlingpaw mumbled, and picked up the moss ball again, padding off to the elders' den.
"There you are, Starlingpaw!" Vinetail crowed as the apprentice entered the large bramble bush that was the elders' den. "We've been waiting to tell you a great story about Blizzardstar's first day as leader! You positively have to hear it!"
"Sorry, Vinetail, I can't," Starlingpaw meowed sadly, nudging Vinetail with her nose in apology. "Darkfeather just sprung a surprise training session on me."
"With your leg, I would think not!" Mossfur exclaimed, flicking his sleeping mate, Willowclaw, with his tail. "Don't you think so, Willowclaw?"
Willowclaw yawned and shook her snow-white fur to wake herself up. "What did you say?" she croaked.
"I said that poor Starlingpaw shouldn't be forced to train when she's injured!"
"Well yes, of course! No cat should be pushed over the edge of their capacity. It's harmful," Willowclaw responded, then settled back down to sleep.
Starlingpaw listened to the retired warriors as she shook the moss to remove the moisture and began to shape clumps of it into nests. By the time she was done, the elders had completely derailed their conversation and had begun chatting about a battle they had fought in when they were young warriors, and Starlingpaw was able to sneak out without any more trouble. She felt a warm glow knowing that she had helped out cats that had done so much to serve their clan, and almost forgot for a moment about the training session she was headed to.
Darkfeather was waiting by the camp entrance, a break in the thicket that surrounded camp. They walked under the arching fronds, ducking their heads to avoid the dense leaves, and padded together into the forest. Starlingpaw's mentor led the way, taking her to the giant tree that grew deep in DawnClan territory, its trunk covered in a variety of mushrooms and fungi.
Darkfeather stopped and turned to face Starlingpaw, sitting down and curling her tail around her paws. "To start, I'd like you to climb this tree for me."
Starlingpaw was unsure how climbing a tree would help her, but she obliged and began to claw her way up the trunk. As she ascended, she smelled the lovely, earthy aroma of the mushrooms, though a couple of types made her scrunch up her nose in disgust at its odor. She wondered if mushrooms had any medicinal use to them, and decided to ask Honeypool about it the next time she was around.
Soon enough, Starlingpaw had made it to the first branch, which was rather high off of the ground. The climb was difficult, but she didn't feel like it was abnormally so; no cat could scramble up the colossal tree without great effort. She paused to rest on the branch, but Darkfeather called for her to return before she could continue upwards.
When Starlingpaw had finished climbing down, she marveled at the lack of pain in her leg. Honeypool must have worked wonders on her for the bite to heal so quickly. She wished that her own pursuits in training were as successful as Honeypool's healing.
"It seems that your claws are not the problem, then," Darkfeather mused, studying her apprentice with her striking orange eyes.
Starlingpaw struggled to repress an answer, wondering what her mentor was planning. Darkfeather stood up immediately and signaled for Starlingpaw to follow as she set off deeper into the woods.
After they had walked for what seemed to Starlingpaw an entirely random distance, Darkfeather stopped suddenly and dropped into a crouch. Starlingpaw didn't notice and kept walking a couple more steps until she was stopped with a soft hiss from Darkfeather.
"Starlingpaw, there is prey up ahead. I want you to try and catch it."
The apprentice felt embarrassed that she had not scented it sooner- she had been too caught up in the pungent aromas of herbs and roots as they traveled. Quickly, Starlingpaw dropped into an awkward hunting crouch, which Darkfeather attempted and failed to correct. Starlingpaw did not understand why she had to stay light on her paws or angle herself a certain way, and she ignored the advice. Sneaking up ahead, she caught the smell of a robin and began to creep toward it. She moved to leap at the bird, but she couldn't jump far enough, and it flew away before she could catch it.
Darkfeather walked up to her side. "Okay, so for the sake of figuring out what's happening, what went wrong there?"
"I fumbled my leap," Starlingpaw meowed quietly, humiliated at her failure.
"No, not that. I mean, what was going on in your head? Why is hunting hard?"
Starlingpaw blinked, shocked at the broad question. "I... I don't know. I just have no idea when is the right time to pounce, and how to know that the bird senses me. And I can't tell when is the right moment to swipe, or even how to swipe correctly. I can't memorize those things, and I can't think of them on the spot either."
Darkfeather looked thoughtful for a while. "I've deduced it. You must be missing your hunting instincts."
"What do you mean?" Starlingpaw inquired, familiar with the term but unsure of how a cat could lose their instincts.
"All- well, not all, I suppose- cats have hunting instincts. Our minds just know how to hunt and we naturally chase after it. Do you ever feel the itch to hunt? The sudden need to sink your claws into a mouse?" Darkfeather explained, pacing back and forth.
"Absolutely never," Starlingpaw said with confidence.
"Then that's it. A cat that doesn't want or need to hunt is going to have trouble with it, of course! But the good thing is that you still can hunt, you just need some extra work."
"I still don't see how my drive to hunt affects my performance with it," Starlingpaw meowed doubtfully, her eyes narrowed. "Maybe we should speak to Honeypool about it. She'd know better than us."
Darkfeather seemed disappointed for a moment, but then her eyes brightened. "Of course. Let's go see her now!"
"Darkfeather is correct, Starlingpaw," Honeypool told the sable apprentice. They had entered the den and gotten a quick lecture about Starlingpaw training with an injured leg, but quickly enough Honeypool set to inspecting the apprentice and asked a myriad of questions.
"Ha!" Darkfeather yowled triumphantly. "Sorry, that was loud. But I was right!" She purred happily for a heartbeat or two before turning back to her apprentice. "Though I guess it's not really a good thing for you, Starlingpaw. What do you think, Honeypool? Can she still train?"
Starlingpaw felt uncomfortable about the diagnosis. Sure, the problem was no longer her fault, but it would only be a matter of time before her mentor expected her to overcome it. What if she couldn't?
Honeypool answered her unspoken doubts with a meow. "Likely not. I've seen the loss of drive to hunt before in cats, and they've had no trouble with hunting. Starlingpaw is an entirely different case. I wonder if there's something else, too, that is causing a problem..." The ginger she-cat sat for a moment, lost in thought, before ordering, "Walk around the den for me, please."
Starlingpaw obeyed, circling the room as she normally would, confused at the odd order.
Honeypool watched her closely, then mewed, "You have a rather clumsy gait, wouldn't you say? Is that normal for you?"
Starlingpaw nodded, aware of her slightly stiff-legged walk that she had had since birth. It never bothered her much but it did make running difficult.
"Then that's it," Honeypool announced. "You have something I've never seen before in a cat. You walk almost like a young kit might," Starlingpaw opened her mouth to respond, thinking it was an insult, but Honeypool added quickly, "It's not your fault. Something must be wrong inside you that makes you walk like that. Very curious."
Starlingpaw sat quietly under the piercing stares of Honeypool and her mentor, feeling less like a living cat and more like an anomaly. She sat down to hide her legs from scrutiny.
"Could you do a few more simple activities, maybe? Try pouncing on that stray leaf over there," Honeypool meowed with a flick of her tail, pointing at the dried leaf on the rocky ground.
Starlingpaw inhaled sharply. "It's not going to work very well. I don't see the point in-"
"Let me watch you, Starlingpaw. I'm trying to figure out what is the matter," Honeypool insisted.
Shaking her head, Starlingpaw turned to the leaf and crouched down, her back legs splayed too far outwards, and pushed off from the ground, traveling far too high and landing a mouse-length from the leaf. The apprentice turned to face the older cats, wondering what that had proven.
"All right. Try to pick up the leaf with your teeth, now," ordered the medicine cat. Darkfeather watched intently but didn't seem to know what she was looking for.
Starlingpaw reached out, extending her neck, and clamped her teeth down on the leaf. She turned obediently back, waiting for a response.
"Your head shakes," Honeypool murmured, barely loud enough for Starlingpaw to hear. "It tremors slightly- shaking back and forth. I wouldn't notice if I wasn't watching for something unusual, but I see it clearly now."
"So?" Starlingpaw meowed, her voice shaky with fear. "What? What does it mean if my head shakes and my legs are stiff and I can't pounce?"
Darkfeather and Starlingpaw watched Honeypool, waiting for an answer, until she finally stated, "Starlingpaw is afflicted with a rare disease of the likes I've never seen. She has a kit-gait. She is suffering from a loss of coordination, and likely perception of depth as well," Honeypool looked directly into Starlingpaw's wide and terrified eyes as she meowed, "Her training will be extremely difficult. It's likely that she may never become a warrior."