A robin cheerfully sang from the branch of a pine tree, unaware that a threat lurked just a few trees away. Fifty foxlengths to the west, the yellow eyes of a goshawk locked onto the little bird, so sharp that they could see the individual barbs on each feather. The hawk lofted into the air, dodging between the tall, straight pine trees. At last the robin finished with its song, just in time for it to take off. It tried an evasive maneuver by flying upwards. But the hawk was agile and followed its prey above the pine forest, bringing the lower half of a magnificent mountain into sight.

The robin tried everything its small, panicked mind could think of to shake off its pursuer: zipping left, then right, dodging up, dodging down. Nothing worked. Finally, the hawk closed in, talons extended… and shrieked as something swooped in from the side, grabbing it around the neck.

Longwhisker was pleased with his catch. It was a large hawk, big enough to feed all three elders. Not only that, but he had bitten its neck in just the right spot; it was dead already. He glided back to the dead tree where his apprentice sat, fascinated. "That, Silverpaw, is how you catch a hawk. Whenever possible, make sure that your target is too busy hunting to notice that it's being hunted itself."

Silverpaw looked at the piece of fresh-kill that had minutes before been a noble bird. All she could say was, "That. Was. Awesome! It was chasing the bird, and it was all focused, and then WHAM! You come swooping in from the side and catch it, right before it was going to make its catch! When can I try that?"

The whiskers that had given her mentor his name twitched in amusement. Longwhisker knew it was hard for an apprentice to contain his or her enthusiasm, especially one as young as Silverpaw. She had only left the nursery three-quarters of a moon ago, along with her sister Spottedpaw. He reminded her, "You won't be ready to take on a hawk until you've mastered small birds, and you won't be ready for that until you've learned how to catch pikas!"

At the mention of the small animals, Silverpaw's wings drooped. She moaned, "But they're so quick! The little fluffballs just sit there right up until you're about to pounce on one, then they all disappear into the cracks!"

"Now, now," mewed Longwhisker. "We'll have plenty of time to practice that later. It's time we brought this back." Silverpaw perked up as she and her mentor leapt into the air. She never got tired of flying, not since her first successful flight two moons ago. It wasn't just the thrill of seeing the trees and streams and lakes streak below you in a blur; it was the indescribable sensation of absolute freedom, but also feeling very small compared with the grandeur of the world.

Silverpaw and Longwhisker landed on the large, flat stone that protruded from the lip of BreezeClan's cave camp, which was appropriately named the Landing Rock. Despite how much she loved the lush aromas and warm sunlight of the outside world, Silverpaw always felt comforted by the cool scents and air of BreezeClan camp. Heads turned- especially those of Ebonytail's three kits- as Longwhisker strode almost ceremoniously across the cave to the fresh-kill pile with his prize. Grouseclaw, his apprentice Dragonpaw by his side, purred, "So the hawk-hunting lesson was successful? Nobody got carried off, I presume."

"Pity," muttered Dragonpaw under his breath. Grouseclaw glared and nudged him. For some reason, the older apprentice had had it in for Silverpaw ever since she had opened her eyes.

Silverpaw padded over to her littermate. Spottedpaw had just returned from a lesson in rabbit-hunting. "Was your trip any good?" asked Silverpaw.

"It was fun!" squealed Spottedpaw. "First, we found a rabbit, and then I had to scare it so it ran towards Larchpelt. She caught it and finished it off. You must have still been off on your hawk hunt when we got back."

Silverpaw admitted, "Well, rabbits are a lot more common than hawks. It was so cool how Longwhisker caught it!" She went on to describe the adventure to her sister, but was interrupted.

Dragonpaw's voice growled, from a shadowy corner of the cave, "So Longwhisker just came from the side out of nowhere and killed it- like THIS?" The tawny tom pounced right between them and flailed his wings, hissing. The two young she-cats squealed and scrambled away. Once they had collapsed in the apprentices' den, Silverpaw meowed, "I really hate that cat."