ASPIRATIONS AND IMAGININGS

"When they said we- were- gonna- train to fight,-I didn't- think they meant- this," Risingpaw panted as he and Falconpaw ran around the large pond north of the camp. This was the third time they'd had to sprint around the lake, wishing each time that it was only a small pond. With sore paws that sank slightly in the cold, damp ground, they finished their lap and attempted to catch their breath; these attempts were of course futile because Savageclaws was training them today. They wouldn't get any breaks until the training session was over.

Darkkit and Silentkit joined them a moment later with similar gasps for air. Their sides heaved as the large gray tabby waiting for them instantly launched into their next task— reviewing five basic fighting moves. "We're not moving on until you perfect the upper and lower strikes and blocks and show some decent variations of the fake pounce then strike attack I showed you. Pair off and practice," he instructed. These were just a few strategies of attack and simple blocks so Falconpaw's allowed mind roam as he and Risingpaw sparred lightly with each other.

Nobody had told the apprentices that the encounter with WildClan was the reason for all this new emphasis on fighting, but Falconpaw had put two and two together and informed Risingpaw of his suspicions. Thought the brown pelted apprentice had been skeptical at first, he'd thought about it a moment, then meowed, "they must think there's real danger for us then." They felt more than a little unnerved at that thought.

Falconpaw must've heard of Savageclaw's 'accident' with the WildClan apprentices over a dozen times now, but he was still muddled as to what had exactly happened and no one would explain it. It was a topic that seemed almost forbidden to the youngest generation of DarkClan. As curious as the foursome of apprentices was, no one would enlighten them on the subject. All they knew on the subject was that two WildClan apprentices had died. The how and why were still mysteries. And there the secret sat, nagging and pestering him at the back of his mind.

"Ugh," grunted the leopard spotted apprentice as he was struck by one of his brother's blows.

"Look sharp," Riverfawn meowed to him as he padded into the small clearing and joined Savageclaws. The two toms conversed quietly near one of the large rocks scattered over this section of DarkClan territory as the apprentices continued to practice. Falconpaw felt his pelt prickle with a slight warmth in embarrassment at his blunder; it had been an easy block too.

He tried to make up for his slip of attention by focusing intently on the next few swipes he threw at Risingpaw, one of which caught him squarely in the jaw. The fiercer swing took the apprentice by surprise, but he was determined to retaliate. However, the commencement of another typical, spirited tussle between the pair was interrupted by Savegeclaws' irritated growl. "Listen up." A few more clouts were flung and the apprentices gradually stilled.

"Riverfawn has informed me that greencough has made its first appearance this leaf-bare." Savageclaws paused and there were murmurs at this news. The apprentices had heard enough terrible stories about this illness that Silentpaw had, as a kit, had many an accident in the nursery while frightened from a nightmare of it. The apprentices waited with baited breath. Who had been touched by the gaze of that plaguing sickness? The large gray striped tom continued. "The cat sick with it has taken up residence of the hollowed oak, so it would be wise to avoid being in that area." A sadness seemed to pass over his face, but he carefully composed himself, "You may return to training."

There was a stunned silence as the four cats took in this information and tried to understand the situation.

"Savageclaws?" a soft, timid voice quavered.

"Hmm?"

"Who… who caught greencough?" asked Silentkit.

"Nightfall."

And training continued, but with a somber, desperate atmosphere as DarkClan's situation seemed to grow bleaker by the minute.

***

Even with the unpleasantly cold wind running through the DarkClan territory, a slight sheen of sweat prickled Falconpaw's spotted pelt by the time he was back in camp. His usually bright eyes were dulled by exhaustion, the result of a day of hard, strenuous training. It was all he could manage to place one paw in front of the other and force himself to the apprentice den rather than curl up in a worn out ball of fur in the middle of the camp clearing. With a groan, he crawled into the apprentice den and, after finding a vacant space, he gave into the weariness that he'd been dragging around all day by a frazzled mouse tail. Sleep, however, was not destined to give him relief.

From the moment unconsciousness took him to the moment he opened his groggy eyes, his mind was filled with confused and buzzing images.

Droplets splashed, spluttered, and spun around him. Paws sinking, drawn downwards. Unable to move, breathe, think. Only that feeling, that feeling of helpless loss as spattering currents flowed over his head, obscuring hope. The mangled fragments all knit together into a suppressing cover of terror. All the while he felt the dark green gaze, intense and intent, focused on him, trying to tell him something. Something he had to hear, but the wavering liquid light above him and the burning in his lungs deafened him to their message.

"Falconpaw," a protesting meow broke him of his disjointed dream. Darkpaw lay propped up on her paws looking down at him. Her dark brown pelt was bristling slightly with annoyance, "Can you be any louder?"

"Sorry," the leopard-spotted tom mumbled sleepily, hoping his indistinct muttering concealed the fact that his voice was shaking.

She lowered herself down to her mossy bedding again with a grunt that was intended as an acceptance of apology. Not a wink would be lost by Darkpaw because of a nighttime disturbance. It was not so for Falconpaw though.

Quite some time passed before his heart stopped hammering and even after that he still felt an undercurrent of agitation pumping through his veins. He let out a breath of frustration, he was much too restless to follow Darkpaw's example. Silently, he stepped over the deeply breathing figures of the other apprentices and slipped out of the den. Even though he was sensible enough to remain unspotted by the tom keeping watch over camp that night, his attempts to avoid an awkward conversation were hardly needed; Savageclaws already had Brownvole occupied. A walk through the comfortingly familiar forest would help the flustered apprentice compose himself. He was about to slip between two of the boulders lining the camp when he caught a phrase passing between the two brothers near the camp entrance; suddenly his fervent interest was wound up in the toms' conversation.

"They're not learning fast enough."

"You do realize it's your own fault they need this much training this early on," Brownvole pointed out to his gray tabby brother.

Savageclaws was on the verge of saying something, till he seemed to think better.

"Besides," the brown tabby continued, "the lot of them are picking up well on everything, maybe better than we did as apprentices. Especially Falconpaw. I've heard Riverfawn say he can do quite well if he's got a mind to do so."

The gray tom grunted. "He's not consistent though and he'll never be as good as Sunshade if he doesn't pick up the pace." A shiver of excitement went down Falconpaw's spine as he heard mention of his father, but it was accompanied by a sinking feeling in his stomach. From the little he'd heard spoken to him about his father he knew he had large pawsteps to fill, but the idea that maybe he'd never measure up to him— the idea that he'd be stuck in the shadow of the great Sunshade whom he couldn't even remember… The apprentice struck those thoughts out of his mind with mentally sharpened claws. No. He would honor the memory of his mysteriously absent father by striving to emulate him and he would succeed. With these thoughts lending him new determination and wiping all memory of his nightmare, he moved quietly back into the apprentice den. Dawn was not distant and the sun was ready to rise. Only one question remained— would clouds mask the sunlight?