A/N: Hey, there! This is for Waterstar03's "What's In A Name?" Challenge; see the Warriors Challenge Forum by Misgiving Writer for details. Please leave a review! Enjoy~!
We call ourselves SwampClan.
They wonder how we survive.
It takes pure skill to last.
Thick, slippery mud builds on my paws as I walk. It would crust if the sun's heat could touch it long enough, but I'm up to my legs in mud: Wet, mushy mud. My golden brown pelt would blend in, should I ever need camouflage.
As I shuffle forward, my right forepaw gets sucked down. I push myself upward, heaving. My leg comes up and I pull myself onto dry land. Fogpelt greets me, his own pelt smothered in mud. It is hardly audible that his pelt was pale gray. Only his white-tipped ears gave him away.
"Sunstep, Marshstar says he'd like you back at camp. It's urgent." Fogpelt flicks his tail and moves on, not waiting for my reply. I trail after him, my mud-caked fur now crusted. My hunt in the bog was useless. I'll catch a fish later, I tell myself.
The marshy landscape of SwampClan was the very reason for its name. No cat dared pass our borders, providing us with large hunting grounds. As I walk, I remember the time when I was a kit and Swampstar had departed from ShadowClan. My mother died in the rebellion, as Swampfur and his followers tried to leave and Nettlestar objected. ShadowClan does not know where we now lurk. They've come close to our borders, but never, ever across them.
The swamp is unwelcoming. The average cat wouldn't last a day here. It takes a skillful warrior to maneuver the wetland and survive. Apprentices aren't allowed out until they've passed the expert assessment. Every kit knows the story of Snakekit, how he snuck out of camp and was snatched by either a croc or drowned in the swamp itself. No kit ventures out anymore.
"What does he want?" I ask, edging a wide, shallow pond. The freshwater is covered in algae. My paws move silently on layers of dead leaves. I draw in a breath, the scent of SwampClan overwhelming. We're near.
Instead of answering, Fogpelt glances at me, gesturing for me to take the lead. My pelt pricks with uncertainty as I cross the fallen log to camp. I squeeze through the brambles that mark our entrance to the trained eye. No outsider would know that this was where we live.
"Sunstep!"
I look up, flicking my ear in welcome as Willowkit rushes toward me. "Hello, little one." I hate Willowkit's scar. The kit has a large claw mark, running through the corner of her eye. Willowkit received a vicious mark of a traitor. The night of her birthing, her ShadowClan father scarred his kit. We hadn't known he was following us during the journey. I was five moons myself when the trip was made to SwampClan's territory, a place that Swampstar had found as an apprentice. The poor kit had to wait an extra moon before apprenticeship for her face to heal and to make sure she could see. A blind cat in the swamp was as good as dead.
The air was hot, humid. Swampfur picked the worst time for traveling. Sure, prey was plentiful, but the sun's heat was unbearable. Yet he encouraged us to press on. It was mid-greenleaf. Flowers were blossoming, the trees at their fullest green, and the prey fat.
With the curious eyes of a five-moon-old kit I tirelessly padded beside Viperfang. The sun was scorching us out in the open field, but it had little effect on me. The field was full of wonders, from the way the wind fluffed my fur to the way the stars stared down at us at night.
"We're almost there," Swampfur repeatedly assured us, keeping a steady pace.
It seemed like we trailed after him forever, until finally, there it was. The great quagmire he'd told us about. The swampy waters were cool and welcoming against our sun-baked skin. Viperfang never let me go too deep, though. We stayed at the pond for a half-moon.
Curled against Viperfang, I woke to Oakstream's yowl. Everyone was soon awake. Behind Viperfang's protective crouch beside my sister, I watched Willowkit be born. The small bundle of fur was StarClan's blessing, Swampfur told us.
My sister pads to me, a warm look on her face. "Ottertail agreed to mentor her. Marshstar thought that was best because they both have scars." Ottertail did have a noticeable scar. The dark brown tom's lip was cut and a notch in his ear gone. His nose has a long slash that has never healed properly. The lithe tom would look almost scary or bizarre to anyone who didn't know his past behind the scar.
"That's wonderful, Oakstream," I purr, studying my niece's gray-and-white fur. She looks like her father, the evil tom who gave the scar. Nightbreeze was his name. How Oakstream ever loved him was beyond me. Even before Willowkit, I could never see the good side of him. Always bragging, showing off his scars. He wasn't the handsomest either, at least not compared to the others. Yet my older sister fell for him.
"Let all cats skilled enough to survive the swamp, gather here around Stone Crest!" Marshstar yowled.
The three of us gather around Stone Crest, a large rocky structure that bears the claw marks of each warrior. When an apprentice earns their place among the ranks of a warrior, they place their mark on Stone Crest. My own claws once raked the rock like an enemy. No cat knows where their own is anymore; too many scratches to count.
Willowkit shivers in anxiety. She gazes happily up at the dark brown tom. I feel glad for her.
My father settles behind me, his musty scent giving him away. Slowly, the clearing set before Stone Crest fills with our Clanmates. Mudkit and Shallowkit run to greet Willowkit, all around the same age. Their mother, Viperfang, watches the about-to-be apprentices protectively. She is a fierce mother, black as night. No one dares challenge her. Unfortunately she was extremely tired after the day's events to protect little Willowkit.
Marshstar clears his throat, ready to begin. "My Clanmates, we've survived and thrived here at the Great Quagmire. No cat is more skilled than a SwampClan warrior. Today, I present to you our new apprentices that will learn the ways of the wetland. May they join us as expertise warriors soon." His gaze lands on Willowkit. "Great blessing of StarClan, step forward, Willowkit." Shyly, the scarred gray-and-white kit stood directly below Stone Crest. "From this moment on, until she has proven her skills as a warrior, Willowkit will be known as Willowpaw. Ottertail, my fine warrior, you will train her. Teach this apprentice the ways of the wetland and the strength of a SwampClan cat." He slightly dips his head.
Willowpaw and Ottertail touch noses. They sit side-by-side, both beaming as the Clan calls out Willowpaw's name. "Willowpaw! Willowpaw!" we yowl. Oakstream swells with pride.
"Shallowkit, my dear, step forward." The leader's daughter pads up to Stone Crest, her head held high. "From this moment on, until she has proven her skills as a warrior, Shallowkit will be known as Shallowpaw. Sootwhisker, my deputy, I entrust you to teach my daughter the ways of the wetland and the bravery of a SwampClan cat."
"Shallowpaw! Shallowpaw!" we cheer as they touch noses. The two she-cats watch as Shallowpaw's brother, Mudkit pads up to Stone Crest at Marshstar's request.
"From this moment on, until he has proven his skills as a warrior, Mudkit will be known as Mudpaw. Sunstep, as Swampstar's apprentice, you will train my son. Teach him the ways of the wetland and the honor of a SwampClan cat."
I blink, not at all having expected that. Surprised, I pad over to Mudpaw and briefly touch noses with him. The dark brown tom didn't flinch at my touch, as I expected him to. With a cheerful feeling inside, my Clanmates chant his name.
"Mudpaw! Mudpaw!" they cheer.
Though it's not for me, I feel prideful too. My first apprentice . . . Marshstar's words rang in my ears... Teach him the honor of a SwampClan cat. He called me an honorable warrior. In SwampClan, that's all any cat wants. To be honored.