"Filthy. Atrocious. Vile! Yagh!" In one angered sweep of her paw, Yellowfang knocked over a supply of herbs that Cinderpelt had spent all morning collecting. She stood there, inhaling sharp breaths and slightly shivering, while her unfortunate apprentice dared to stick her head into the den.
"Yellowfang?" Cinderpelt slowly spoke. "Are you having another one of your… moments?" Sighing, she padded into the den and began gathering the scattered herbs. Some of the precious stock had smeared like a rainbow with other healing herbs, and those were disposed not without sad looks or sighs of regret.
"Cinderpelt," muttered Yellowfang, the closest thing to acknowledgement she could give in her saddened state. Though it was the middle of greenleaf, her mood was as dark as hunting patrols in leaf-bare.
When her apprentice finished cleaning, she turned to her mentor. "Would you like to tell me what's wrong?" Cinderpelt slid down to the ground, her bad leg at an awkward angle. "I heard you call something filthy, atrocious, and vile. Well, I can assure you that I only pick the best herbs for stock, Yellowfang. I wou-" She was cut off by a slow headshake.
"It's the kits, young one," she murmured.
Cinderpelt hissed. "What? They are not!"
"Cinderpelt!" Yellowfang clawed the ground. "I'm not calling them those names; I'm talking about their grammar!"
Her words were met by a blank stare. "What are you talking about?"
"Here's an example." The old cat made her voice high pitched and mocking. "i walk out of teh den and i saw fireheart he said to sandstorm "you is vry pretty!" she spat "get a life looser!" and he wus sad lol!"
"Eww." Cinderpelt shuddered.
"Eww isn't the half of it!" Yellowfang roared. "The other kits enjoyed this error-ridden excuse for a story! They cheered! They meowed phrases I didn't quite understand like "omg upd8". I'm not quite sure what that means, but I'm sure it's praise!" The medicine cat hissed and rhythmically sheathed and unsheathed her claws. Then, moments later, she shook her head. "What are we going to do, Cinderpelt?"
"I think I have an idea."
x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x
"Yellowfang and Cinderpelt's Grammar Mentoring? What's this all about, Cinderpelt?" Yellowfang pawed at some juniper berries and nosed them over to Graystripe; he nodded in thanks and raced away.
It had been two days since that fateful afternoon, and Cinderpelt had, before that moment, refused to speak of her idea about helping the poor kits with their grammar. The only clues she would give away was being spotted muttering with the queens or watching the young of the clan play.
"I think it could work," the medicine cat apprentice mewed. "They can't be proper apprentices or warriors with the way they speak, so we could mentor them until they are six moons old!"
"I am not their mother!" Yellowfang hissed.
"Then you shouldn't have said anything in the first place," shot back Cinderpelt. "Unless you're going to do something about the problem, you should keep your mouth shut!"
"I bet it won't even work. I'm willing to bet you five mice that the kits will never speak properly." Yellowfang challenged her apprentice.
"You're on."
