Minimint12: Quite 'write'!

General Crimson: Thank you for the constructive criticism. I'll be a bit more careful in this chapter.

One

Owlpaw raced across the moor, the strong wind blowing through his short brown fur. His fellow apprentice, Coltpaw, was ahead of him, streaking across the ground. Owlpaw out on a burst of speed, trying to catch up with the taller apprentice.

"Go, Owlpaw!" called Sheeppaw, a fluffy white tom, from the sidelines. Owlpaw rolled his eyes, but kept going. The apprentices were racing to Outlook Rock, and so far, Coltpaw was winning. The black tom was taller, with longer legs; definitely an advantage for running.

Outlook rock was just a few fox-lengths away. Owlpaw panted, putting on an extra burst of speed to try to catch up.

I'm going to lose.

And he did. Coltpaw leaped smoothly onto one of the ledges of Outlook Rock, yowling in triumph.

"I win!" he declared, bringing Owlpaw to a halt, just a tail-length away from the Rock. He was breathing hard, trying to suck the air back into his lungs. He was exhausted; Owlpaw was better at endurance running, long distance. Short distance was hard for him, but he would have to learn; he was WindClan, and WindClan were runners.

Jaystorm, Coltpaw's mentor, leaped down from the top of Outlook Rock, looking pleased. "Very good, Coltpaw," he congratulated his apprentice. Flywing, Owlpaw's mentor, climbed down swiftly and rested his tail-tip on Owlpaw's shoulder. "You did alright," he mewed. "But we'll have to work on yours running." Owlpaw nodded, finally regaining his breath.

"Okay," he replied, flicking his tail. "But I want to rest, if that's okay..."

Flywing let out a mrrow of laughter. "Of course you can," he said. "You and Coltpaw get back to camp and find something to eat. We'll be back by sunhigh." Owlpaw nodded gratefully.

"Thanks," he meowed, and made his way over to where Coltpaw was pacing, his tail flicking. "Coltpaw," he told his fellow apprentice. "Flywing said we could go back to camp and get some fresh-kill." The black tom glanced at him, then nodded.

"Okay, Owlpaw," he meowed coolly. "Let's go." He turned and led the way over the moor and back to camp. It was quiet; the billowing of the wind fell into the background of their hearing. They spoke little to each other. Owlpaw and Coltpaw had an easy friendship. Not best friends, but there was peace between them.

They reached the WindClan camp, a sandy dip in the ground that could protect from the wind, and was hard to spot on the plain, and it was surrounded by a low gorse wall. They padded through the low gorse tunnel that formed the entrance of camp, and slipped inside.

The camp was filled with quiet activity; the kittens were playing in the small area outside of the nursery, elders were gossiping in their den, and the warriors were sharing tongues lazily in the clearing. The prey-heap was in the near-center of the hollow, brimming with hares, rabbits, and various fowl. The two apprentices approached the heap, checking it hungrily for a piece they liked. Coltpaw decided on a plump starling, and Owlpaw chose a young hare that had been freshly caught by the last hunting patrol. They sat down near the prey heap and began to eat. They chatted only a little; they were famished from the race.

They finished their midday meal just as the other apprentices, Firepaw and Sheeppaw, entered camp with their mentors, Pheasentfeather and Gorsewind. Pheasentfeather had a smug look on his face, telling Owlpaw that his apprentice, Firepaw, had won her race.

Sheeppaw raced over to them, and Owlpaw sighed. Annoying furball! He thought. Sheeppaw was a fluffy white tom, and one that constantly bugged Owlpaw. He was just constantly talking, and asking Owlpaw questions that he didn't know the answers to, like 'What are we doing today for training?' No, I don't, bee-brain, he thought. I'm not Gorsewind.

"Hey, Owlpaw," he mewed, settling down "How'd you like running against Coltpaw?"

"Fine," he replied curtly. Sheeppaw couldn't take a hint.

"I was against Firepaw," he rambled on. No, really?

"She's so fast! I don't know how she does it."

"Okay," Owlpaw sighed, standing. "I'll see you later." The brown apprentice left quickly, not wanting to be followed by his annoying companion. He didn't know why Sheeppaw didn't understand his attempts to get rid of him. It was rather obvious that he didn't want him around, but Sheeppaw was still a thorn in his side.

"Owlpaw!" Flywing's voice called from the gorse tunnel. "Come on, we're going hunting."

"Okay," the apprentice mewed, trotting to his mentor. "I'm ready." Flywing dipped his head and led Owlpaw outside onto the moor. The afternoon sun shone down on the plain, warming the ground underpaw.

I'm glad I live here, Owlpaw thought, gazing around. When he had first stepped upon the moor that made WindClan's territory, just three moons ago, he had been in awe. Soon, he would be a warrior, defending this territory proudly. He was glad to be WindClan.

"Okay," Flywing meowed, stopping on the side of a small slope. "Get three pieces of prey, then meet at Outlook Rock."

"Okay!" Owlpaw dipped his head, smirking. "I can do that." He turned and dashed off across the rocky plain.

When he returned to his mentor around sunset at the Rock, he had four pieces of prey dangled from Owlpaw's jaws. Two small hares, a plump adult rabbit, and a wren. He had a scratch across his flank from the rabbit; it had kicked at Owlpaw with his back legs, and the prey had sharp claws, normally used for digging. He had killed it a bit sloppily with a slash to the side, then returned.

"Good work!" Flywing praised, his eyes revealing surprise. "Four pieces, even better. We'll go back to camp, and you can give the hares to the elders. Then rest. No more training for today."

"Thanks!" Owlpaw sighed in relief. His sides were heaving with exhaustion from all the running.

As they turned to climb down the rock and return to camp, they saw two cats streaking across the moor. As they got closer, Owlpaw recognized the pelts of Gorsewind and Firepaw. Flywing and his apprentice jumped down from the rock, abandoning the four pieces of prey at the base of it. We can pick it up later.

"Have you seen Sheeppaw anywhere?" Gorsewind asked Flywing, digging his claws into the soil. Flywing shook his head. Owlpaw lifted his head.

"He was back in camp last time I saw him," he meowed, trying to be helpful. Gorsewind sighed.

"That was the last place I saw him, too," he hissed. "Then he just disappeared."

"Could you help us?" Firepaw asked, worried. He scowled. He had never seen Firepaw even look at Sheeppaw, and now she was worried. He pushed it aside. He would think about that later. He had to go find that annoying furball now.

The four cats dashed across the moor, calling Sheeppaw's name, trying to scent him. Every so often, they would find a faded trail, and follow it, but then it would die out quickly. "Fox-dung," he heard Gorsewind mutter. "Where could the bee-brain be?"

After a while longer of searching, the stars were already out, their light shining brightly down upon the territory. Flywing sighed as they began to slow their pace.

"Look," he mewed gently to Gorsewind. "We have to go back. It's too late, and the apprentices have to get to bed." Gorsewind hissed.

"My apprentice is missing!" he protested. "We just can't abandon him!"

Firepaw and Owlpaw shared a glance, then returned them to the warriors. Flywing was silent for a moment, then shook his head. "We'll go on for a little while more," he decided. "But if we don't find Sheeppaw soon, we go back." Then Owlpaw's mentor forged ahead, into the lengthening grass. They followed, looking even more intently.

They split up, and after a few more minutes of searching, Owlpaw was about find the others and suggest going back, until an anguished yowl got their attention. He darted towards the source of the cry.

He found Gorsewind in a low dip in the ground, his fur bristling. The young warrior was frantically licking the limp form of a cat. It was small, puffy, and white. With a sickening feeling, Owlpaw knew who it was.

Sheeppaw, the annoying furball, just a moon younger than Owlpaw, lay dead in the dip in the ground.