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----Chapter Two of One Leaf Left: A Rough Beginning----
"Spottedpaw, it's time to wake up."
The voice was not harsh, rude, or commanding; on the contrary, it was friendly, hurt, and tentative. Spottedpaw judged, by the tone, that she'd distressed him by cruelly rejecting his work. She opened her amber eyes and stared into eyes that looked like those of a kit's that wasn't sure he should have chased his moss ball into the clearing where two cats were curled up together, purring. Limpingfoot looked almost guilty.
"Good morning," she said, trying to sound upbeat. She stretched and washed, curling her tail around herself when she was finished. He rolled out a list of herbs and their uses, and only a few did she know (catnip, marigold, comfrey). She was half-listening, and only sharpened up when Limpingfoot slit his eyes and growled, "Have you been listening to a word I said?"
"Oh, yes," she lied, shuffling her paws.
"Alright—what's the use of the tansy blossom?" he quizzed her, rolling his eyes.
"Um…" She was about to guess 'to remove worms,' which was the tansy leaves, blossoms, and stems all together, but Lionheart burst in, gasping.
"Limpingfoot!" he yowled, bright golden fur glinting. "Something's happened to Brownstripe! His tail has been taken off!" (You'll find out who he is in a minute!) Limpingfoot's ears pricked, and he rounded on the apprentice.
"Well? Don't stand there, gawking! Get me some poppy seeds, marigold, cobwebs, and bramble twigs! Wrap them, and hurry up! I don't want a stupid apprentice who does nothing!" Limpingfoot hissed, turning and limping quickly away with the large golden tom.
Spottedpaw trembled, hurt. His words had stung her deeply; she went back into his den and gathered twice as many supplies as he probably would have and put them in two bundles. Then she placed them at the edge of the den and plodded, feeling downhearted, into the very back, squished into a tiny hole. "I'm never going to come out," she vowed softly. "This is just too hard."
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"Great StarClan!" came Limpingfoot's panting voice. "She left the bundles at the edge, but she didn't come." The tom growled and hobbled into the den. "Spottedpaw! What are you doing back there?"
She hissed. "Go away."
"You do not speak to your elders that way!" the brown cat snapped. He got closer, and she threw out her claws, slashing his shoulder. He howled and jumped back. "Bluestar shall hear of this! But for now, go change the elders' bedding." He spat while looking for marigold.
"Yes, Limpingfoot," Spottedpaw murmured, grabbing a wad of moss and heading over to the elders' den. She sighed, thinking of all the apprentices that were out hunting or training: Whitepaw, Tigerpaw, Darkpaw, Longpaw, Willowpaw, Brindlepaw, Frostpaw, and Goldenpaw…None of them were stuck, being yelled at, changing elders' bedding. Where was her life going? (Strange to think of her as rebellious, huh?)
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"How was your day?" Spottedpaw mumbled, exhausted. All day it was work and no rest—elders' bedding, leaders' bedding, collecting herbs, finding moss, laying out herbs to dry. She barely had the strength to eat her chaffinch, while Willowpaw was hungrily tearing at her squirrel.
"Well, mostly we hunted, but I did some battle training with Frostpaw. Lionheart said I did very well," she mewed, sounding proud, even with her mouth full. "What about yours? What'd you do?" The tortoiseshell apprentice was once again interrupted as Bluestar yowled out for the Clan to gather.
Brownstripe moved forward weakly, his tail just a bloody stub. She gasped and hurriedly finished her meal, gathering with the Clan. Willowpaw shifted to give her sister more room.
"We all know that Brownstripe was attacked by a badger that soon crossed the Thunderpath." A shiver rippled through the cats.
"Spirits of StarClan," meowed Bluestar. "You know every cat by name. I ask you now to take away the name from the cat you see before you, for it no longer stands for what he is." She paused, her gaze passing over the Clan. "By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give this cat a new name. From this moment he will be known as Halftail, for though he has been injured, we honor his bravery and loyalty to his Clan." She stepped forward and touched her muzzle to the newly named tom's head. He licked her shoulder.
"Halftail! Halftail! Halftail!" the Clan cheered. With a flick of her tail, the chanting stopped.
"I have another ceremony to perform." She looked to the setting sun, now, and mewed, "Halftail, is it your wish to give up the name of warrior and go to join the elders?"
"It is," said Halftail bravely, as if he weren't sure of what to say. Spottedpaw held her breath.
"Your Clan honors you and all the service you have given us. I call upon StarClan to give you many seasons of rest." Rosetail, his sister, purred and touched her muzzle to his.
"I'm glad you've come to join us," she said. Smallear and One-Eye came to congratulate him.
"Well, if they're done with ceremonies, I think I'll go to sleep," Spottedpaw mewed, heading to the medicine cat's den. She curled up in her mossy nest and closed her eyes, drifting off into the land of dreams.
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A small gray cat, barely larger than an apprentice, padded forward. "Spottedpaw." The tortoiseshell stared at her, cocking her head.
"Who are you?" Her mew echoed vibrantly, and she heard just how strange her voice sounded in this dimly-lit tunnel. The rock was thick and smooth, leading on for a long way in both directions. At one point it split into three tunnels, and when she squinted, she could see those branched off as well.
"I am Mountainwhisper." She stepped into a small patch of watery sunlight. The medicine cat's fur was a brilliant silver, and she had a white left forepaw and white right hind paw. Her tail-tip was white, and her face was covered in white markings. Her vibrant green eyes seemed to pierce Spottedpaw's pelt. "Come with me." She turned on one paw and padded gently down the tunnel, her paws silent.
Spottedpaw hurried after her. Mountainwhisper quietly turned down the right tunnel, and then took a left. By now Spottedpaw's head was whirling, confused by all the same bleak tunnels, leading to nowhere. Then—a bright patch of light shone at the end of the tunnel. Mountainwhisper's pace quickened, and she had to sprint to catch up.
They burst into sunlight. Dead cats, just spirits, darted around, playing or hunting or something like that. Spottedpaw gasped. "Cottonpaw!" The fluffy white apprentice turned, confused. When he saw Spottedpaw, his face broke into a smile.
"Spottedkit! Wait…does this mean you're dead?" He darted over and touched noses with her. "Did that fox kill you, too?"
"I'm Spottedpaw now, and no. But I'm a medicine cat's apprentice!" She put her mouth close to his ear. "I missed you so much." He nodded.
"Me too." (You're probably like: What's going on? Who the heck is Cottonpaw?) "So, what are you doing in StarClan?"
"I brought her." Mountainwhisper looked down upon the kits. "I'm trying to teach her there's more to medicine cats than mixing herbs and healing."
Cottonpaw nodded. "Hey, Cherryleaf, come look! It's Spottedpaw!" The old green-eyed cat padded up. His face cracked into a small smile.
"Well, when I went, you were just born. Ah, you probably didn't know I'm your grandfather, did you?" She shook her head. "Ah, yes…Dappletail is a good mother."
"Spottedpaw?" The tortoiseshell whipped around. Down the tunnel, two glowing yellow eyes pierced the dimness.
All the cats turned. The tom stood shakily, looking nervous. Spottedpaw was silent for a moment. "Limpingfoot!"