Hello, Warriors fans! This is a little one-shot, a challenge taken from the Clan Of Clouds, suggested by Every Wolf Has It's Howl. It definitely isn't the best thing I've ever written, but... enjoy!

"Smoketooth, I... I need to talk to you."

Smoketooth looked up from his vole, gazing at the mouth of the almost-empty Warriors' Den. The ashen warrior's thick winter coat looked silver in the sunlight peeping in the area, and his sharp green eyes seemed to look straight into his son's heart. He sat up tall and proud. "Pricklekit," he said calmly. "You should be getting prepared for your apprentice ceremony."

"I-I know." his light gray son mewed, and Smoketooth noticed that the kit's paws were trembling as he remained frozen in the entryway.

"Is something wrong?" the warrior questioned, in a softer tone this time. Before Pricklekit could answer, Smoketooth said, "Come inside and sit."

Pricklekit obediently stepped inside the den, and took a seat across from his father, on the other side of the vole. He did not touch the fresh kill, but stared down at the dirt floor.

Smoketooth stared at him intensely, and unspoken thoughts ran through his mind. He leaned down and gently nudged the top of the kit's head. "Tell me, Pricklekit," he meowed. "What is troubling you?"

The young cat gave a sigh, and looked up with eyes that matched his father's. "I... Idon'tthinkIwanttobeawarrior." He said this so quickly and so shakily that Smoketooth had a hard time comprehending his son's words for a few moments, but when he finally realized what Pricklekit had said, he let out a chortle.

"Why... why are you laughing?" Pricklekit asked in bewilderment, staring at his father as if the warrior had relinquished all forms of sanity.

"Because, Pricklekit," Smoketooth chuckled. "This is perfectly normal. Every kit is nervous right before their apprentice ceremony. I know I was when I was only six moons."

Pricklekit swallowed, his bewilderment turning to nervousness, and he absentmindedly scratched at his ears with one paw. "No... Smoketooth, you don't understand. I want to be a medicine cat."

Smoketooth stopped laughing instantly, his son's words echoing in his ears. "A medicine cat?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. "Why in the name of StarClan would you want to be a medicine cat?"

The kit flinched at his father's harsh tone, and he lowered his eyes in shame. "Because... I don't think being a warrior is what I want to do. I want to help cats, not fight them."

"Warriors do help cats!" Smoketooth insisted. "Don't you think fighting for the clan is helping? We'd all be dead, or worse, if it wasn't for the warriors!"

"I-I'm sorry, I just-" Pricklekit stammered, but Smoketooth cut him off.

"Besides that, being a warrior is a family tradition!" he said fiercely. "Your grandfather was a warrior, and so was his father! You have warrior blood, Pricklekit; why would you want to waste that kind of honor?"

"Smoketooth... I'm serious about this," Pricklekit said slowly, sitting up straight and looking into his father's eyes. His near-panic was very well-hidden, and his demeanor displayed fearlessness. "I don't want to be a warrior."

Though his son was calm, Smoketooth's infamous lack of patience was beginning to reveal itself, along with his nasty temper. "No son of mine will become a medicine cat!" he yowled, loud enough for anyone within twenty feet of the den to hear.

"But, Smoketooth-" Pricklekit began to protest, but Smoketooth cut him off again.

"If you become a medicine cat, you will bring shame to this family!" he spat, eyes blazing.

"Smoketooth... please," Pricklekit mewed, his eyes shining with emotion. "Try to understand."

"I understand," Smoketooth said roughly. "I understand perfectly. But the fact is, you are absolutely not going to become a medicine cat. I won't hear another word about it."

Pricklekit hung his head, his tail drooping. "Yes, sir..."

"Now, go get ready for your ceremony." Smoketooth ordered. Pricklekit obediently stood up and turned to leave, his ears pressed against his skull. Smoketooth settled back down in front of his vole, watching his son intensely until he completely disappeared from the den.

The clan was filled with cats going about their daily business, and when Pricklekit stepped out into the bright sunshine from the darkness of the den, several pairs of eyes turned towards him. Many of the cats had heard the furious yowls of Smoketooth inside the Warriors' Den, and were waiting outside specifically to see who it was that was receiving the cat's wrath.

"Pricklekit?" a young she-kit mewed, one of Pricklekit's friends in the nursery. "Is everything all right?"

Pricklekit didn't answer, his whiskers drooping sadly as he shuffled towards her. The she-kit stared expectantly at him, but Pricklekit gave no response to her question. He walked right past her, and she frowned.

"Pricklekit?" she persisted, following after him. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

The gray kit stopped walking, his shoulders hunched. He slowly looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes dull. "Leave me alone, Icekit..." he mewed, and swiftly turned back around. Pricklekit's paws stirred up dust as he suddenly bounded away from his friend and straight into the nearby trees without another word, leaving a shocked silence behind him.

Reviews make me happy. :)

It appears that many people are insisting that I continue this an make it a multi-chapter story. I suppose if I get enough requests, I will. So I'm going to create a poll for it, and you can either vote there or just leave a review. :)