Sparrowcub leapt for the butterfly. It evaded her, taunting her with a flutter of bright cerise wings, and she tumbled back to earth. The cub sighed in mock despair, then rolled over onto her back to watch it flit away. Her brother sauntered over. "You can't even catch a measly butterfly," he barked, teasing.
"You're good at talking, Skycub." Sparrowcub laughed. "I'm sure you've made a lot more progress with those grasshoppers, haven't you?"
"Better than Coppercub, he won't even try," the fox muttered, with a glance at the third and smallest cub, who was sitting under a bush with a faraway expression on his face.
His sister was watching the butterfly again. It had been joined by two more; they danced in the air as if putting up a show for her. Red, blue and yellow wings blurred together in a whirl of bright colour. "Not everyone's a great hunter like you," she murmured absently.
He retorted, "Well, dreaming won't get us anywhere," but she didn't reply.
What Coppercub was, in fact, dreaming about was getting somewhere.
He was the runt. He knew he was the runt. Skycub was the biggest, the strongest, the fiercest, the one they said would make a great warrior. Sparrowcub was the friendly one - she had a way with words, and her smile could endear her to anyone and everyone; they all liked her. But he, Coppercub - he was a runt. The other cubs all had so much to give to the Clan, but he? He had nothing. And that made it so much harder to fit in. They were all different, but he was even more different.
From the moment they were old enough to know, they'd always known they were different. It was laughably obvious, in appearance and from the way the cats faced them - some with caution, some with pity, some with open hostility. The only one who treated them as if they were cats was their foster mother.
Patchedtail's words echoed in their minds all the time. You may be different outside, but that is why you have to show them all that you are no different inside. You have to be twice as good as kits and work twice as hard as apprentices. You cannot lie, or fight, or disobey. If you do, they will look at you as dirty cunning foxes and not as Clanmates. But I believe that character is shaped not by whether you're a fox or cat, but how you're brought up. Those who do not share this view - and there are many - will make your life difficult. It may seem unfair, but that's the way the world is. My dears - smile and be brave, and you will go far.
They had all seen the pain in her eyes as she spoke. She truly did care for them as she would care for her own flesh and blood.
Coppercub pricked his ears as someone called his name. Ah - it was Patchedtail.
The black-and-white she-cat beckoned her cubs with her tail. "Time for your nap," she meowed, and herded them into the nursery.
Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the thick gorse wall that surrounded the camp. The foxes' fur glowed a beautiful russet red;
Patchedtail could not help smiling as she looked at them. They were so beautiful. Skycub and Sparrowcub scuffled together, laughing.
Then the dog-fox tripped up the watching Coppercub, pulling him, albeit reluctantly, into the fray. "Ha! Take that, rogue!" Heatherfoot's four kits came tumbling out of the nursery to join in. There were four of them, as different from each other as they were from the foxes.
Their mother padded out after them and sat down beside Patchedtail, smiling companionably. They watched the young ones play. "Your kits are getting big, aren't they? When'll their ceremony be?
Heatherfoot purred. "Today. Sundown. I'll be glad to get them off my back," she added with a sigh of mock exhaustation.
"You must be really proud."
"Of course! You should be, too. Those foxes are so big. I remember when they were just little scraps of fur." Their foster mother laughed. "Aren't all young creatures the same? They-"
She stopped as she heard a fox growl. "What is it, Skycub? Flintkit?"
The big cub had his lips pulled back to show his teeth. One of Heatherfoot's kits, a dark brown tabby, faced off with him - older than the cub, but slightly smaller. Gazes locked and fangs bared, they were oblivious to the world around them.
Flintkit narrowed green eyes and hissed. He was the spitting image of his father - literally. "You dirty red creatures don't belong in our Clan!"
The three foxes flinched as one. The words hit home much too hard, perhaps because of the grain of truth they held. Skycub snarled.
"Why not? We have a right to be here as much as you do!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah! StarClan said we belong, so we do! We-"
He was cut off by a hard cuff from his foster mother. Patchedtail had a slight build but a strong paw. He didn't think he had ever seen her so angry in his young life.
"What exactly is going on here?"
There was a thunderous silence. Heatherfoot had Flintkit pinned down firmly too.
Then Tallkit - the eldest of the two litters - mumbled, "We were - playing and Sparrowcub said let's play a game. And Flintkit said - he said let the foxes be enemies and we cats drive them out of here. And Skycub got really really angry and they started shouting at each other." There was a pause. Patchedtail and Heatherfood exchanged glances. In silent agreement, they each gathered their young ones with sweeps of the tail and Heatherfoot disappeared into the nursery with her kits. "It wasn't fair. Did you hear what he called us? What he said?" Skycub's eyes were burning. Sparrowcub looked guilty, while Coppercub just stared at his paws.
"Shut up," Patchedtail hissed sharply. Then she looked shocked at herself for a moment, and bowed her head. When she lifted it again, the rage was gone.
"I'm sorry, cubs. I know you must think that everyone treats you unfairly, and maybe you are right. But StarClan has given you this destiny...now you are scorned and hated, but remember what I said to you. You have to prove them all wrong, for your own sake."
"Flintkit was wrong. But so were you when you flared up against him, Skycub. Please - oh, you have to learn to control yourselves. All of you. You are going to have such a hard time..."
She shook her head, at a loss for words. How could she explain to them? StarClan, give them strength, courage and a knowledge of just when to keep their muzzles shut and sit tight, she prayed.
At sunset, Stonestar called the Clan together. The cubs were too young to attend, but they watched from the nursery entrance.
"Tonight," he began gravely, "we are gathered here to welcome four young cats into the Clan."
His gaze swept the assembled cats. "Tallkit, Lightkit, Flintkit, Barkkit - come forward."
They obeyed, whiskers trembling with excitement and pride. Heatherfoot looked just as proud as her kits.
Stonestar's voice rang out across the camp as he spoke the time-honoured words.
"I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. He would like to become a warrior of WindClan, but must first become an apprentice. Tallkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Tallpaw." The leader's gaze found Swiftstep, the kits' father. "Swiftstep, you are an intelligent and quick-witted warrior. Do your best to pass on these qualities to Tallpaw."
Mentor and apprentice - father and son - touched noses, then withdrew. The new black-and-white apprentice's eyes shone.
The huge grey leader continued. "I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. Before she can be a warrior of WindClan, she must first become an apprentice. Lightkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Lightpaw. And Greenfern, you are a loyal warrior - you will mentor her." Lightpaw touched noses with her new mentor, her trembling stilled by his reassuring gaze.
"I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. He desires to be a warrior of WindClan, but must first become an apprentice. Flintkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Flintpaw." Stonestar's eyes rested on a wiry grey striped tom. "Hillwind. You are an experienced and courageous warrior; do your best to pass on these qualities to Flintpaw."
Stonestar raised his head now, and when he spoke he spoke to the whole Clan.
"Those three will become good warriors, but StarClan has chosen a different path for Barkkit."
With some difficulty, Nightsky scrambled up on the Tallrock to stand beside Stonestar. The black tom's blue gaze swept across the Clan till it came to rest on little Barkkit. Hoarsely, he meowed, "WindClan. Quite obviously, I am getting old." There was dry amusement in his voice. "It's time for me to take on an apprentice. Barkkit needs seasoning, but in time I believe he's make a passable medicine cat. He has the passion for it; all he needs to gain," the medicine cat added with a glare at the young tom, "is the patience and skill."
Barkkit looked slightly sheepish, but very proud. It wasn't often you heard the bad-tempered healer say a good word of any cat. But it was true that Heatherfoot's youngest had spent much of his kithood poking his nose into Nightsky's den, braving scoldings and cuffs to find out more about what those mysterious-smelling herbs did.
Stonestar took over. "Barkkit, do you promise to work hard and do your best to serve the Clan as a medicine cat apprentice?"
The tiny brown tabby raised his head. "I do!"
"From this moment forth till you have proved yourself worthy of a full name, you will be known as Barkpaw. At the new moon, you will accompany Nightsky to the Moonstone to be initiated into your role."
The Clan raised their voices to welcome the four young cats, joyous and loud. "Tallpaw! Lightpaw! Flintpaw! Barkpaw!"
"I wonder when it'll be our turn," Skycub whispered to his siblings in the darkness of the nursery.