Firepaw crept down the slope into camp, watching the ShadowClan cats with curiosity. Upon seeing the tortoiseshell she-cat, he realized he realized that he recognized her from a meeting of the Tunnlers, and gave her a slight nod—which she didn't return, probably for the best—in greeting. To Wetpaw, he gave a flick of his tail, which the apprentice reciprocated.
Next to Wetpaw was a huge, silver, tom, who stared around at the camp, keeping up a stoic and regal gaze. When Bluestar emerged from her den, he gave a deep bow to her in greeting. The she-cat looked a little surprised at first—Firepaw could only tell, however, by the small step backwards she had taken—then bowed back, perhaps not quite as deep, but close enough.
"ShadowClan. What are you doing in ThunderClan camp?" she mewed, voice carrying across the camp. A couple queens crouched at the nursery, guarding it just in case.
The tom introduced himself as Boulder. "We are here to inform you that Brokenstar is dead." A few shocked mews sounded in the camp. "Blackfoot is dead as well. We found dog and fox scent on them. They were practically shredded, near the WindClan border. WindClan has been speaking of foxes for moons; it was a ploy. Nevertheless, I am now the leader of ShadowClan, and I journey to the Moonstone tonight. That is all." Firepaw blinked. This was absurd; even if there was a fox on WindClan's territory, and they had accidentally chased it onto ShadowClan land, why were they being blamed? The silver tom waited a moment for some cat to protest. Sure enough, Longtail spoke up.
"How did you become leader? Last I checked, Blackfoot was deputy." Bluestar shot him a look, but he had already spoken.
Boulder nodded. "A reasonable question. Our medicine cat, Runningnose, proclaimed a message from StarClan, saying that I was meant to be leader."
Longtail cast him a dubious look, but a quick glance at Bluestar made him keep his mouth shut. Bluestar finally nodded. "ThunderClan is sorry for ShadowClan's loss; he was not our leader, but he was appointed by StarClan. If that is all, we will escort you to your border."
The cats in the ShadowClan patrol glanced at each other before Boulder gave another nod. "Very well." From beside Bluestar, Redtail padded up.
"Lionheart, Graypaw—escort them to their border," the tortoiseshell mewed, glancing to Bluestar for a brief moment and registering the approving ear flick before his eyes darted back to the patrol.
Graypaw's ears perked up at the idea of escorting enemy warriors out of ThunderClan camp, and he trotted quickly to stand beside Lionheart, who stood at attention. Firepaw, meanwhile, made a beeline to Dustpaw and Sandpaw, who sat side by side, staring at the spectacle of ShadowClan warriors in ThunderClan camp.
"Why're ShadowClan and WindClan at eachothers' throats all the time?" he finally asked as the patrol made its way out, Graypaw at the rear and talking to Wetpaw. Dustpaw turned his gaze to the fire-colored tom and promptly rolled his eyes.
"Fireface, how do you not know?" Sandpaw jumped in before her friend had a chance to ask. Firepaw let out a chuckle.
"Fireface?"
"You heard me. Anyway, WindClan and ShadowClan have been enemies since the dawn of the clans."
Dustpaw gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure their rivalry goes back that far."
Sandpaw raised a brow at the tom, but said nothing, allowing him to continue. Firepaw glanced between the two, trying to read their secret language and found nothing. "WindClan and ShadowClan just aren't friends—they're on different sides of the Thunderpath, same as us and ShadowClan, but they've just always gone back and forth." He didn't seem to have much more to add, and Sandpaw gave a smug smile.
"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.
"Claws and whiskers! YES!" With a dramatic movement, she paused, whipping her head to Firepaw. "What's claws and whiskers?"
Everyone in the party, it seemed, was confused. "What do you mean 'what's claws and whiskers'? You've never played?"
Swiftkit shook his head. "Must be an outsider thing," he mewed matter-of-factly.
"Teach us!" Brightkit exploded, bouncing up and down once more. Firepaw smiled a little bit and put a paw forward.
"Everyone put your paw in the middle. The first two to be out fight, and then the other two fight." Each cat put their paw next to Firepaw's and he began to rhyme.
"Whiskers the cat went in search of a rat,
Got caught on a hook, landed flat on his back
Hooked a paw in the wall, then took a big fall,
So how many claws did he lose in all?"
With each syllable, he gestured to each cat with his head, keeping count with his tail also, before he landed on Swiftkit. The bicolor tom looked up at him. "How many claws did he lose in all?" Firepaw prompted, waiting for the tom-kit's answer.
"Three!" he exclaimed, and Firepaw counted from him onward.
"One." Brightkit's paw. "Two." His own paw. "Three!" Thornkit's paw. He nodded with his nose to a patch of dead grass a few mouse-lengths away. "Thornkit, go over there."
Thornkit nodded, padding over to the sunshine and sitting down, watching the trio. Firepaw recited the chant once more, landing this time on himself. Okay... he thought, before speaking aloud: "Six."
He counted from Brightkit to Swiftkit to himself twice, landing on himself as a final count. Guess that's me. "Alright, great. We'll have a tournament!"
Brightkit tilted her head. "What's a tournament?" the kit asked, confusion settling on her face.
Right. Kits. Firepaw straightened up and shrugged. "Whoever wins these fights gets to fight the next round. So if Thornkit wins against me, and you win against Swiftkit, Brightkit, then you two fight and whoever wins that fight is the ultimate winner."
A grin graced Brightkit's face, and she leapt at Swiftkit. "I'm gonna be the ultimate winner!" the she-kit exclaimed, bowling the black-and-white kit over.
"Not if I win first!" the tom growled back, batting at the other kit. Firepaw swivveled on one paw, turning to face Thornkit.
"Ready?" he asked, squatting into a hunting position. I'll let him win.
Without saying anything, Thornkit crouched, giving a nod. His tail swept back and forth and he wiggled his hind quarters before leaping forward.
Firepaw dodged to the left, noticing how he favored his left side more. "Try adjusting your weight—you're off-balance. You'll get more power if you're even." Thornkit nodded solemnly, shifting his weight so that he was even on both sides.
He leapt once more, meeting his mark. He was large enough to knock Firepaw over, and the two tusseled for a second. From seemingly nowhere, Thornkit's paw came at Firepaw's eye. Ow! He closed the eye, noticing it watering, and realized he was at a significant disadvantage.
"GO FIREPAW!" a screech sounded. Brightkit. Of course. The she-kit, Firepaw was sure, was bouncing up and down with such excitement... that he was a little concerned for the ground beneath her.
With a grunt, Thornkit managed to come up on top. He blocked the sun, and all Firepaw could see was his triumphant face. "Did I win?" he asked hopefully, shifting off.
"Sure did," Firepaw mewed, feeling a grin creep onto his face. "Who won in your match?"
Brightkit's ears flattened and her tail drooped. "Swiftkit. But he's bigger so it only makes sense."
She sounds like Sandpaw, Firepaw thought to himself, before giving a small nod. "So it's Swiftkit verses Thornkit for the final." He sat back on his haunches, noticing how Brightkit was already circling the two.
Swiftkit leapt at Thornkit, who, thanks to his size, quickly avoided the tom, slithering to the side like an otter. Firepaw watched, more of a spectator than anything, making sure nobody died.
"Hey," a voice sounded beside him, from Goldenflower. The thickly-furred she-cat sat down watching the kits, too.
Firepaw nodded to her. "Hi. Where's Bramblekit and Tawnykit?" he asked taking his eyes off of the kits finally.
She lifted her shoulder, and Firepaw couldn't help but be partially blinded—especially in his paw-struck eye—by the way the light shone off her golden coat. "In the nursery. Speckletail's watching them. You're good with kits."
"Oh—thanks." A silence stretched on for a few moments as the two watched the sparring kits. Brightkit leapt around like a squirrel on the run.
"LET'S GO THORNKIT! No no- not THAT way. Go the OTHER way! SWIFTKIT GOOD BLOW YEAHHHHH—"
The she-kit was loud. And energetic. And... insane. Goldenflower changed the subject abruptly. "Got your eye on any she-cats in the clan?" she asked, nudging him with her shoulder.
So many. So, so many questions about this. Firepaw, nonetheless, felt warmth spreading through his cheeks and up to his ears. Goldenflower stared closely at him, and gave a grin.
"Aha! Your eyes betray you, Firepaw. Who is it? Tell me it's not Spottedleaf." She lowered her voice, eyes darting around conspirationally. "That's against the code, you know. Is it Sandpaw?"
Firepaw felt his face redden more. "I mean, it's not really—"
"It is Sandpaw!" She sat back on her haunches, tilting her head. She paused a moment, silence hanging in the air like rain that refused to fall. Finally, a storm poured out. "I approve."
Um. "Sorry?"
"I approve of your choice. You'd be good mates."
Too far, too far ahead! Save me, Spirits of the Sky! Firepaw was a little surprised at the thought—he hadn't considered the Spirits of the Sky for a long time—but allowed himself, nonetheless, to think it through. "Well, that's a little far in the future," he mewed diplomatically. "We'll see. I at least want to get through apprenticeship."
Goldenflower nodded. "Wise words. So after apprenticeship is still on the table?" A mischievous grin made its way onto her face and Firepaw found himself giving a little laugh.
"I guess."
Swiftkit gave a triumphant yowl a few tail-lengths away. Firepaw glanced over, seeing him over Thornkit, and gave a smile. "Well done, Swiftkit!" cried Goldenflower, hurrying forward to nuzzle him, which he quickly shied away from.
"Goldenflowerrrrr—" groaned Swiftkit, trying to get out of his mother's grip. She furiously groomed him, ruffling the fur on the top of his head with her tongue.
"Can we go again?" Thornkit asked, shaking out his short pelt. Firepaw was a little surprised—he hadn't pegged the kit as a fighter. And, hadn't he just lost a fight?
"Please, please, please?" begged Brightkit, looking up hopefully at the fiery apprentice. The tom couldn't help it; he was an older brother. He smiled.
"Of course."
"And can we do Claws and Whiskers???" Brightkit asked excitedly, bouncing up and down. A nod.
"Of course."
"Now!??"
"Of course." Thornkit cut in, mimicking the older tom's voice and eliciting an unexpected guffaw of laughter from Firepaw. He also hadn't pegged the kit as... this type of cat. He'll be good friends with Graypaw, he decided.
Swiftkit trotted over and put his paw into the ring of three other paws. "Whiskers the cat went in search of a rat..."
The rest of the day was filled with kit-training, as Firepaw resorted to calling it in his mind. Swiftkit was—unsurprisingly—a good fighter, nearly winning without aid, and Brightkit was as exciteable as a squirrel on the first day of newleaf.
Glancing over once, he caught the eye of Goldenflower, who gave a reassuring smile. You're good with kits, her voice echoed in his mind.
I guess so, he remarked to himself.