Today, Moonpaw was ready.
The shadows that surrounded him reached towards the stars in the form of great oaks, and he whispered to the treetops in a hoarse meow, "It is time."
Tonight was his first hunt alone in the great Dark Spyre Forest.
he crouched low. To his left, an expense of vole and sweet mouse meat. To his right, a landscape of shuffling birds. He could hear every stir, every shift in movement. He could smell their stinking fear, their fur raised high to the moon.
Teeth bared to the silhouettes surrounding him, eyes sparkling emerald clouded with the blindness of night, Moonpaw sprinted into the underbrush. There was fresh kill to be had, here- he could smell it. Crawling on his stomach in the dirty woods, he prowled, white tail held close to the rest of his snowy body. His black paws slipped deep into mud with the stench of vole droppings and mouse fur.
The woods were full of prey tonight.
It would be a good kill.
Just as he slung himself towards a particularly delicious looking scrap of mouse, he heard a high cry that brought his fur to a stand- what was that? Alarmed, he stumbled right into the mouse, which fled from his confused and fumbling paws.
It cried again. There was the source- a hawk outlined in the silhouette of moon- and he screamed as it dove for him, calling his name, over and over!
When his emerald eyes slid open, they were focused on the bright pink paws of his closest friend, Salmonpaw. Another shrill shriek- "MOONPAW!"
He rolled out of the underbrush that had become his bed with a small squeak, landing on his back, paws splayed apart.
"Salmonpaw... what do you want?!"
Salmonpaw was a sympathetic character. Fur once sleek white like his own, he was stained pink with clay and blood from a ferocious fight many say cursed him as a child. Dogs killed his entire family, and to this day, he was still pink from the fight.
NightClan had adopted him long ago, when they found him crying, broken among the bodies. He still couldn't run very well- but that's why they were in training, wasn't it?
"It's almost sun high and you're still sleeping! Typical." The pretentious facade of the tom stunk as bad as vole droppings as the pink cat paraded about their dirt hovel. "Berrynose said Redfang would toss you out of the clan if you were sleeping in again!"
"Who died and made him clan leader..."
"Moonpaw!"
Frustrated, the white cat stumbled upwards, giving himself a quick groom. He was a silky white cat, still young, but thin for his age, with white fur that hung down from his stomach. His paws were black, like gloves, and he had a tuft of fur that sprung up rebelliously from his head. Salmonpaw gave an obnoxious snort and scurried out of the tiny home. Sleepily, Moonpaw stumbled after him.
Nightclan was a deep swamp settled next to a pair of mountains that rumbled with the whispers of StarClan. Rarely did they find edible things to eat that didn't flutter away on stealthy wings, and the earth was too soft for edible or medicinal plants.
Obviously, the other clans called them Nightclan out of pity. "You can have the cool name," they were probably taunting, "but you get the poisoned grounds." Typical of them, Moonpaw grumbled to himself.
There were, of course, five regions in the Spyre Forest. A swampy region was theirs, not that it did them any good. The bordering clan to the north, the mountain dwelling clan, called themselves SkyClan. No one really approved of the name, but since they had the bird's eye view, no one was complaining. From there, SunClan lay to the east, where the hunting was good and they even had the protection of some rudimentary ruins. StarClan laid in the skies, blessed be their name, and EarthClan laid to the south, where wide fields gave them plenty of unprotected territory to theive off of.
Despite the marshiness of their home, Moonpaw loved NightClan's grounds, for all they were worth. The high mangrove gave a good place to gather, and the fresh kill pile, low as it was, was relatively uncontaminated by the squishy ground pooling beneath it. Not that anyone wanted bottom-of-the-pile moist bird.
When Redfang, a large, imposing cat with grey and blood red fur spotted Moonpaw dawdling about the pile for breakfast, he immediately gave a loud order- "MOONPAW. YOU'RE TAKING OUT THE CARRION FROM THE PILE, TODAY."
Grumbling and whining, Moonpaw slowly dug the rotten food out of the pile and slung it into the marshes. Redfang was usually louder than normal cats- his hearing had been ruined in battle, and now he screamed everything he said. Moonpaw cursed that battle. Redfang would've been so much easier to deal with if he didn't scream everything he said.
Despite his anger, Moonpaw was thankful for that day. Without Redfang and warriors like him, the entire clan might've been destroyed.
It'd be nice if he stopped yelling every once in a while, though.
Shoveling the carrion into the marshes slowly, Moonpaw paced away, head low. Today was going to be one of those days, he sighed to himself, as Redfang ordered him to walk a little faster to their training place.
He missed his bed already.