"Sandpaw."
Sandpaw rolled her new apprentice name around her tongue. She looked at Dustpaw next to her, who was muttering "Dustpaw. Dustpaw." Ravenpaw just looked fidgety, as usual.
Graykit looked at her enviously. "I want to be an apprentice!" he hissed, unsheathing his claws.
"Another few days, Graykit," Sandpaw meowed, looking almost smugly at Graykit, who was larger than her. Graykit was just about a quarter-moon younger. Sandpaw remembered Fuzzykit and Maplekit with a pang, but shook it off. She was an apprentice now; she had to celebrate.
Cats came up to her, Dustpaw, and Ravenpaw, congratulating them on being apprentices. Sandpaw looked hopefully at Redtail, who was coming over, but he just grunted something to Ravenpaw and Dustpaw, and left the camp.
Dustpaw noticed Sandpaw's ears flattening, and meowed, "Don't mind him. Not much of a father, if you ask me."
Sandpaw sighed. "You're right. At least Petalstorm was a great mother to me." Sandpaw thought fondly of Petalstorm, and hoped that she was watching from StarClan.
"And Leapfoot," Ravenpaw added, scuffling the ground with his left paw as he looked at his new mentor, Tigerclaw, who was looming over Darkstripe menacingly. Sandpaw now thought of the gentle but strict Leapfoot, now in StarClan also.
"Still," Sandpaw mewed, "he's your mentor, Dustpaw. Which means if we train together, we'll be stuck together."
"I'll make sure he won't bother you," Ravenpaw meowed, more boldly than they had ever heard him. When Sandpaw and Dustpaw looked at him in amazement, he mewed quickly, "Well, you know, I know you don't like him and stuff..." Embarrassment was radiating off of him in waves, and Sandpaw and Dustpaw stifled mrrows of laughter. Ravenpaw had liked Sandpaw since she had barely opened her eyes.
"Come on, guys," Sandpaw meowed, flicking her tail. "Let's go see if we can train."
"My mentor left," Dustpaw meowed, rolling his eyes.
"Well, let's get Tigerclaw and Whitestorm," Sandpaw meowed, and padded over to the fresh-kill pile, Dustpaw and Ravenpaw at her heels.
"Hello, Sandpaw," Whitestorm meowed, setting aside his finch and looking at her, his blue eyes sparkling. "Are you ready to be an apprentice?"
"I've been ready," Sandpaw scoffed. "In my opinion, kits should be made apprentices at four moons. I was ready even before that!"
Whitestorm tipped her head. "There's a reason that the warrior code states you must be six moons."
"Okay, okay," Sandpaw mewed, "can we just go and train?"
"Where's Redtail?" Whitestorm meowed, looking around. Then, remembering that he had hit a sore spot with Sandpaw, he added quickly, "We don't need him. Dustpaw, fetch Tigerclaw." Dustpaw nodded and sped off to the other side of the camp, where Tigerclaw was deep in conversation with Darkstripe and Longtail.
Sandpaw and Ravenpaw shuffled impatiently as Dustpaw came bounding back, Tigerclaw and his followers sauntering behind him.
"So, Ravenpaw," he growled, unsheathing his unusually long claws and scraping them along the ground, "you are my apprentice. And I will teach you everything I know." Sandpaw wondered why his eyes flashed as he said this, and why he spoke so slowly and measuredly.
"Let's go," Whitestorm meowed, flicking his tail. He and Tigerclaw led the way out of the camp, Ravenpaw following them wide-eyed, and Dustpaw and Sandpaw sharing guilty glances with each other. For Ravenpaw, being outside of camp would be new, but Dustpaw and Sandpaw had snuck out of camp more times than possible to count.
Whitestorm led them up the ravine, which, after much practice, was easy to Dustpaw and Sandpaw, but difficult to Ravenpaw. He scrabbled and slipped, and finally Tigerclaw got so impatient that he hauled him by the scruff to the top, where Ravenpaw scuffled the ground and mewed smally, "Thanks." Dustpaw ducked his head away so that Ravenpaw couldn't see the snigger that was forming on his face. Whitestorm looked suspiciously at Sandpaw, who leapt nimbly and easily to the top, but he said nothing.
"That was the ravine," he meowed. "It shelters our camp and makes it harder to attack."
Sandpaw's mind started to wander as they moved through the Twolegplace border and Tallpines, the RiverClan border and Sunningrocks, Snakerocks and the Great Sycamore, the Owl Tree and the Sandy Hollow, the Thunderpath and ShadowClan border. Finally, annoyed, she muttered, "When are we going to fight?"
"What was that?" Whitestorm asked politely.
"When are we going to have battle practice?" Sandpaw meowed, though more respectfully.
"You don't get to have battle practice on your first day as apprentices," Tigerclaw snarled, and Sandpaw was shocked to hear him mutter under his breath, "Miserable little whelp." She looked at Dustpaw, but he didn't seem to have heard.
"You all deserve to go back and choose first from the fresh-kill pile," Whitestorm meowed cheerfully. "You all did well today. You're going to make a great group of apprentices."
Tigerclaw said nothing.
"I thought that was pretty easy," Dustpaw mumbled as he chose a vole from the fresh-kill pile.
"I'm exhausted!" Ravenpaw panted, flopping down with a chaffinch. "I won't be able to remember all that stuff!" He looked at Dustpaw and Sandpaw with wide amber eyes. "Don't you agree?"
Dustpaw tucked into his vole. Sandpaw looked warily around, then mewed, "Ravenpaw, we've already seen all that stuff."
Ravenpaw gaped at her. "But how? You didn't sneak out of camp, did you?" Then understanding dawned on him. "Oh. You did."
"We asked you if you wanted to come the first time," Dustpaw whispered.
"I don't remember that."
"Maybe because you were two moons old at the time."
"I guess..."
"Hey, guys!" Graykit came bouncing over, his gray fur bristling in excitement. "How was your first day as apprentices? You don't look tired at all!"
Sandpaw jerked her head. "Apprentices have boundless energy, I suppose."
"I want to be an apprentice!" Graykit whined. "It's only a quarter-moon away, why not?"
"Maybe Bluestar thinks it'd make us feel bad," Ravenpaw meowed, chewing his chaffinch thoughtfully. "We're older, and maybe she thought we'd feel as though we weren't special or as important if we let a younger cat become an apprentice with us."
"We wouldn't think that," Sandpaw added quickly as Graykit opened his mouth to complain. "But Bluestar doesn't know."
"Maybe instead of a quarter-moon, she'll wait three days," Dustpaw meowed, his mouth full of vole.
Graykit shrugged. "Maybe."
"Anyway, I think Willowpelt will be looking for you," Sandpaw meowed, looking at the sky that was turning different shades of orange and purple. "It's nearly dusk. If not Willowpelt, Frostfur will be worrying her head off, I can tell you that." Frostfur was a queen who had a litter of two kits, Brackenkit and Cinderkit. Another queen was Brindleface, who was expecting what seemed to be four kits.
"Go on," Dustpaw urged.
Graykit twitched his ears as a final farewell, and trekked back to the nursery.
Sandpaw looked at the first star that appeared in the darkening sky. Dustpaw and Ravenpaw followed her gaze.
"Make a wish, I guess," Ravenpaw murmured, and shut his eyes tight. Dustpaw gazed amusedly at Ravenpaw, whose claws were dug in the ground and eyes were clamped shut and his teeth gritted, then lightly looked at the star also. His eyes glazed over as he was lost in his thoughts.
Sandpaw looked at the star, racking her brain for something good to wish for. Did she want to be the best warrior ever? Maybe, but maybe she just wanted to be a great warrior. What did she want more than anything?
Her gaze traveled to Redtail.
()()()()()()()()()()
Sandpaw awoke the next morning to the sweet smell of herbs.
"What's going on?" she mumbled, turning over.
"Tigerclaw sent me to come and wake you up," Spottedleaf meowed in her soothing, cool voice.
"Why would he send you?" Dustpaw murmured, looking up at Spottedleaf with wide amber eyes. Sandpaw mrrowed to herself quietly. Nearly every tom in the Clan was padding after Spottedleaf, the medicine cat, even though it was forbidden.
"Because I was there," Spottedleaf meowed, sounding slightly annoyed at Tigerclaw. "Now, you'd better get up, because you know how Tigerclaw gets." Huffing, she spun around and stalked out of the den.
Dustpaw stared after her, tipping his head and sighing. "Why do all the pretty ones have to become medicine cats?"
"Let it go," Sandpaw meowed, cuffing him over the ears. "Anyway, she's right. You know what Tigerclaw's like."
The three apprentices stretched and yawned, and stumbled out of the dens. By habit, Sandpaw immediately sat down and began her morning wash.
"What are you doing?"
Sandpaw's tongue froze on her paw.
Tigerclaw was looming over her, casting a shadow. "We are leaving right now," he growled. "No time to wash." Sandpaw stood and started padding away guiltily, looking back to see Tigerclaw make a few quick licks on his flank before getting up to follow.
Sandpaw, Dustpaw, and Ravenpaw staggered up the ravine after Whitestorm.
"What are we doing today?" Ravenpaw panted as they reached the top, Whitestorm's blue eyes sparkling.
"Today, we're going to teach you how to cut moss properly," Whitestorm mewed.
Ravenpaw nodded, but Sandpaw and Dustpaw stiffened in outrage.
"Cutting moss?" Dustpaw meowed in disbelief. "We're cutting moss?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
Sandpaw groaned as Redtail came around a tree, the dawn patrol of Darkstripe, Lionheart, and Goldenflower behind him.
Dustpaw opened his mouth to retort, but Whitestorm lightly brushed his tail over it first, then responded lightly, "Redtail. Are you going to join us to train your apprentice?"
Dustpaw looked revolted.
"I don't want that piece of dog-faced fox-dung to be my mentor!" he hissed, loud enough for everyone to hear him.
Redtail's lip curled. "Perhaps I should come along," he drawled. "It seems that Petalstorm failed to teach her son manners."
At this, Dustpaw swelled in fury, anger coming off of him in waves. "Take that back, badger-face!" he snarled, racing forward so he stood nose-to-nose with Redtail.
Redtail was silent, just rolling his eyes to the sky.
"You flea-bitten piece of crow-food!" Sandpaw shrieked, and hurled herself at her father.
Redtail deflected her with a swipe of his unsheathed paw. Sandpaw fell back, stunned and hurt, blood dripping down her side.
Tigerclaw looked as though he were thoroughly enjoying this. Darkstripe looked to see how Tigerclaw was reacting, then tried to look the same. Goldenflower gasped and buried her face in her brother's fur, as Lionheart looked at Redtail in shock and bewilderment.
Whitestorm stepped forward. "That's enough," he mewed sternly. "Redtail, take your patrol back to camp. Join us if you want; we'll be by the mossy tree."
Redtail dipped his head mockingly. He turned and padded past the fuming Dustpaw, and sneered at Sandpaw, who was wincing at the salty tang of her blood.
"Why's he such a jerk?" Sandpaw muttered as Redtail pranced away. "What did I ever do to him? I mean, I know my mother's dead, but why's that my fault?"
"It's not," Whitestorm meowed gently.
"He just thinks it is, because she died having you," Tigerclaw snorted.
Whitestorm glared at him, then added to Sandpaw, "It's not your fault in any way. Redtail really loved your mother, and since she died because of having you, he just believes--"
"That I killed her," Sandpaw meowed dully. "That I'm a murderer. Petalstorm and Leapfoot told me the whole story the day they died. They thought I should know the truth before the greencough took them forever."
Ravenpaw and Dustpaw's eyes glistened with sadness, and Sandpaw realized with a pang that they were all motherless. She couldn't shake away the savage thought, though, that no one believed they had killed their mothers on purpose.
"I wish that Redtail would just try to finish me off, then," Sandpaw growled.
"I'd like to see him try," Dustpaw meowed, the sadness being wiped away with viciousness.
Whitestorm cleared his throat, and Sandpaw remembered that she shouldn't be talking about senior warriors like that in front of other warriors. "Sorry," she meowed quickly, "I just--"
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Whitestorm meowed firmly, "I went temporarily deaf and didn't hear anything you said. Now, Tigerclaw," he mewed, glancing back at the still camp entrance, "I think this will be on us to train these apprentices, so let's head to the mossy tree."
The three apprentices followed the two mentors, twisting and turning throughout ThunderClan territory, until they arrived at a tall oak tree. Moss grew around it in soft clumps, enough to fill the nests of most of the warriors' den.
Sandpaw watched listlessly as Whitestorm told them how to use their claws correctly, and Tigerclaw demonstrated by tearing up neat clumps of moss using his unusually long ones. Dustpaw and Ravenpaw did the same perfectly, but Sandpaw's mind was still in a whirling fury at her father's neglect and abuse that she dug up huge quantities of dirt with her moss, and she cringed as she thought of what the elders would say.
"Sandpaw."
Sandpaw looked into the kind blue eyes of Whitestorm.
"I know what you're going to say," she meowed wearily. "I need to get my mind off of Redtail. It doesn't matter. Blah, blah, that sort of thing. I hear you. And I'll try to do better."
Whitestorm sighed, and mewed, "Sit." Surprised, Sandpaw sat, and looked at Whitestorm. "When I was two moons old, I lost my mother."
"I'm sorry," Sandpaw meowed sympathetically, though barely containing the bitterness she wanted to spill.
"I know how you're feeling, Sandpaw, with Redtail. My mother was Snowfur, Bluestar's sister," he added. Sandpaw's eyes widened, and she nodded for him to continue. "Snowfur was out for a walk with Bluestar, then Bluefur, and they found some ShadowClan cats on ThunderClan territory. Snowfur, tired of being stuck in the nursery, decided to chase them. Back to their border." Whitestorm locked his blue gaze on Sandpaw's bright green one. "She was hit by a monster. Bluefur had to tell me that Snowfur was never coming back. I didn't believe her." Now Whitestorm looked at the sky. "I waited. For days. Wailing in the night, for Snowfur's warmth, and her milk, and her soft, soothing voice. After about a moon, I realized that she wasn't coming back. She had left me." Whitestorm's eyes traveled to the ground. "Thistleclaw, my father, believed it was Bluefur's fault. He didn't let her near me. He loved me too much." Whitestorm's eyes fixed on Sandpaw's again. "And that was the problem."
"Why was it a problem?" Sandpaw meowed fiercely. "Your father loved you."
"Like I said, too much," Whitestorm mewed mournfully. "Whenever Thistleclaw was away, I would find Bluefur and ask her to teach me a fighting move. She always said I was too young. I didn't believe her at the time," Whitestorm looked wry, "but what kit would? Thistleclaw would take me away from Bluefur. He just wanted to make me happy, for me to follow in his footsteps of a great warrior. So he would teach me battle moves. Far too advanced for a little kit like me. You wouldn't believe how many times he hid me away somewhere, away from Bluefur who was trying to help me, and fought with me. How many times I bled. Begged for him to stop. Which made me wonder if he ever really loved me at all."
Whitestorm's story was touching Sandpaw so deep that she felt like wailing in agony for him. She could just imagine Whitestorm as a little, innocent kit, with a long scratch on his side, pleading for his father to stop. She vaguely remembered Thistleclaw, his fierce pride, and his mangled body at his vigil.
"He died at his own expense," Whitestorm meowed. "He tried to fight off a whole patrol by himself. They ripped him to shreds. You remember?" he mewed grimly as Sandpaw's face twisted in revulsion at the memory. "He was found in a pool of his own blood. I still wonder to this day if he is in StarClan."
"Where else would he go?" Sandpaw asked curiously.
"That's for later," Whitestorm meowed, standing up suddenly. "But I hope you see what I'm trying to get at, Sandpaw."
Sandpaw nodded. "I do. Other cats have had horrible lives too. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself, and live my life without being angry at Redtail all the time."
"Exactly." Whitestorm brushed his tail along her flank, and nudged her to her feet. "Let's get some nice, soft moss for the elders, shall we?"
()()()()()()()()()()
Sandpaw trotted back from the elders' den, feeling pleased. All the elders had praised her excellent moss-cutting, and told her it was the softest moss they had ever felt since Bluestar was an apprentice herself. Sandpaw hoped they meant that Bluestar had brought in moss for them in the warriors' or apprentices' dens; she thought it would be sort of frightening if elders could live that long, since Bluestar was elder-aged herself.
Sandpaw picked a plump vole from the full fresh-kill pile, and sighed contentedly as she looked up at the stars. This greenleaf had been harsher than most of the others, with less prey than usual and more Twoleg activity. But the fresh-kill pile was still usually well-stocked, and Sandpaw hadn't seen any Twolegs since her excursion out of camp when she was two moons, where she was nearly eaten by a slavering Twoleg's dog.
Tucking into her mouse, Sandpaw watched Redtail beadily out of the corner of her eye. Redtail was talking to Bluestar, and it nearly made Sandpaw sick to look how he was sucking up to her, and looking like a completely normal and kind-hearted deputy.
Sandpaw stood up, her mouse falling from her jaws. She turned to face the medicine cat's den, where she knew Spottedleaf would be sorting herbs and making wraps.
Sandpaw went and buried her mouse bones, then tromped over to the medicine cat's den.
She wanted to find out why her mother had died.
()()()()()()()()()()
Sandpaw found Spottedleaf deep within her den, staring frustratedly at an herb wrap she was trying to make. A huge yawn escaped her mouth, and all the leaves and flowers fluttered around, messing up the whole wrap.
"I really need to find an apprentice," Spottedleaf muttered, her eyelids drooping. She looked sheepishly at Sandpaw. "Have you ever considered becoming a medicine cat?"
"Yes, I have, and I realize that I would hate it," Sandpaw meowed firmly. "Now, I have a question."
Spottedleaf got to her paws. "What is it?" she mewed, her soft and cool voice resuming.
Sandpaw swallowed, gazed into Spottedleaf's kind amber eyes, and mewed, "Were you there...the night I was born?"
Spottedleaf froze. "Why?" she asked sharply. Then she relaxed. "I guess I knew this was coming..." She shook her head. "No. There was no medicine cat present. My mentor, Featherwhisker, was dying. I was out fetching herbs to help him on his journey to StarClan. I didn't think of your mother, Sandpelt. You were born far too early. In fact, I was more worried about my sister--Willowpelt, you know, Graykit's mother--kitting while I was away. If all had gone well, you would be a quarter-moon younger than Graykit."
"So...why did she die?" Sandpaw murmured.
Spottedleaf looked down on her kindly. "Like I said, you were born far too early. Some things went wrong...and there was too much blood. Your mother bled her life out while having you."
"Oh," Sandpaw whispered, trying to push away the horrible image.
Spottedleaf sighed. "Is Redtail still bothering you?"
Sandpaw ducked her head.
Spottedleaf sighed again, more noisily. "I've told him, you wouldn't believe how many times I've told him, to leave you alone, it's not your fault that Sandpelt died! But no, he just has to be that big-headed brother who doesn't listen to anybody."
Sandpaw shrugged. "Whitestorm's helping me ignore him. I'll be okay."
"Alright." Spottedleaf stared hard at Sandpaw. "But you tell me if he's still bothering you, okay? Promise?"
"Okay," Sandpaw muttered, averting her eyes.
Spottedleaf yawned. "Now, I have got to get some sleep." Glancing wryly at Sandpaw, she padded back into her den, stretching.
Sandpaw made her way back into camp, and sat down next to Graykit, who was sitting outside the nursery, staring at the stars.
"Willowpelt probably wants you to go inside," she mewed softly.
Graykit sighed. "Well, she can get me when she wants me."
"What are you thinking about, Graykit?" Sandpaw asked suddenly.
Graykit started. Then he stared at Sandpaw and mewed unconvincingly, "Being an apprentice." Sandpaw knew that something else was bothering him, but she didn't push.
"Graykit!"
Graykit groaned as Willowpelt's head stuck out of the nursery.
"It's late," she scolded. "Come back inside."
As Graykit stomped into the den, Sandpaw realized she couldn't imagine being younger than Graykit.
()()()()()()()()()()
The next morning, Sandpaw awoke to wind howling through the den.
"Storm!" Dustpaw yowled, standing at the entrance, his fur flattened. Ravenpaw was huddling in the most sheltered corner, looking scared.
Rain started trickling through the thickly woven branches, landing on Sandpaw's nose. Sandpaw fought her way next to Dustpaw and hissed, "What are we supposed to do?"
"I don't know!" Dustpaw mewed fearfully. "There never seemed to be storms like this in the nursery!"
Sandpaw hissed, and leapt out into the middle of camp.
There were no cats to be seen. The fresh-kill pile was sodden and unedible. The trees were bending like they would snap, and Sandpaw had to crouch and dig her claws into the ground to stop herself from blowing away.
"Sandpaw!"
Sandpaw looked at Dustpaw, whose eyes were wide.
"Get back here!"
Sandpaw didn't need to argue. As she turned to go back to the den, there was an earsplitting crack! Sandpaw whipped around in fear and awe as a tree started to fall.
Time seemed to slow down. The tree would fall between the nursery and the elders, crushing all those beneath it. Sandpaw stared at it. Thunder crashed overhead, and lightning zigzagged down from the sky to land on the falling tree.
The tree lit up in a blaze of fire. Sandpaw could only watch as the tree fell down to the ground, flattening half the nursery. Then, in a sudden horror, she realized that she was in its way.
The world went black.