CHAPTER SEVEN
All Smokepaw knew about the new apprentice so far could be reduced to the fact that she was very shy. Smokepaw wasn't very outgoing herself, so their conversations were terse and infrequent, both on the trip to the shallow pools as well as on the way back. Skunkpaw was much better at being friendly than she was, so much better at cracking jokes and putting cats at ease. Smokepaw wished that she had her confidence and charm. Maybe then the uncomfortable silences between her and the newcomer wouldn't have been as thick as Fluffypaw's fur.
As they approached camp, Lightface got up from her place in the shade and approached them with quick and purposeful steps. Smokepaw noticed that at the mere sight of her, Fluffypaw's fur was already standing on end.
"That's your mentor," Smokepaw stated.
That didn't seem to reassure her. The poor thing looked awfully nervous.
"Fluffypaw," Lightface began, and though it was a preposterous name, her expression was as serious as stone. "Today will be your first training session. We will evaluate your abilities and refine the basics before we move on to more advanced practice in areas like pounce timing and tracking skills."
Fluffypaw's eyes were as wide as a full moon.
"To serve as an example," Lightface continued, "Smokepaw will be training alongside us today. Smokepaw, go fetch your mentor."
Smokepaw nodded and trotted off, spotting Peccaryfur, a gray ticked tabby, near the ocotillo plant. Her mentor was on her paws before she could get there.
"Hello, Smokepaw. Did Lightface inform you that I'll be training you alongside her today?"
"Yes. I'm ready to go."
"Good. As am I."
As Smokepaw turned around to leave camp, she was reminded of the time Darkpaw had pointed out how blunt she and her mentor were with each other. Her sister had claimed they sounded as gruff and pointed as horned lizards, but to Smokepaw, being direct and to the point was only natural.
Lightface led the group out to a dusty patch of the mesa where the cacti were few and far between. It was a regular training spot, but Smokepaw hadn't practiced here in a long time; these days Peccaryfur had her working on her footing in the sand and honing her balance on the cliffside. A warrior needed to be prepared for all kinds of terrain, not just convenient places where the ground was even and the succulents were sparse, or so Peccaryfur had told her.
"Show me your hunting crouch," Lightface instructed, turning around to face her apprentice.
Fluffypaw stared at her with fear and confusion in her eyes.
"Didn't you hear me?"
The apprentice stood there, quaking in silence, and then wailed, "I don't know how!"
"Crouch," Lightface demanded.
She crouched, but it was the crouch of submission and terror, her ears flattened and her body pressed back to the ground. There was no tightened spring in her joints, no readiness for action. She would never manage a pounce from a position like that.
"Smokepaw, show her your hunting crouch," Peccaryfur commanded.
The gray apprentice lowered onto her lean haunches with her head down, stretched forward, and a slight space between her belly and the ground, her muscles tensed, her gaze staring dead ahead.
"Good. Hold it. Fluffypaw, can you copy what she is doing?"
When Smokepaw chanced a look at her, she saw that Fluffypaw was frozen and staring at her with an expression of awe and hopelessness.
"Every cat has a hunting crouch," Lightface declared. "We are born with it. It is a natural instinct. Surely you have done it before. I'm only asking you to replicate it now."
Peccaryfur stepped in again. "Fluffypaw, look at that butterfly over there."
Fluffypaw looked around, confused, but eventually she caught sight of it, where it was perched atop the center of a firewheel flower.
"Get the butterfly," she whispered.
As easily as water finds an arroyo, Fluffypaw found her hunting crouch, sinking down and preparing her legs to spring. Her eyes fixed on the target and her haunches wobbled as she got ready. Then the butterfly took off, and Fluffypaw pounced, but she landed with empty paws.
The apprentice stood up and yowled in disappointment. "I didn't catch it!" she meowed, turning back to her mentor.
"Of course you didn't. It's a butterfly. Pull yourself together."
Fluffypaw flattened her ears again.
As the training session progressed, Lightface and Peccaryfur had their apprentices perform basic routines to strengthen their muscles, like running from one catclaw bush to the other and jumping onto tall rocks. Each and every time, Smokepaw outperformed Fluffypaw like distant lightning outpacing thunder. Though Fluffypaw was older than Smokepaw in age, they had grown up in different environments—and Smokepaw's had prepared her for this all her life. She didn't speak a word about "beating" her (it wasn't supposed to be a competition—when she and the other apprentices did these exercises, they more or less matched each other's pace) and there was no pride to be taken in being stronger than someone who had only just begun her training, but she could tell that Fluffypaw was getting frustrated. She kept swatting at pebbles as she fell further and further behind and sending Smokepaw some nasty glares, which she chose not to acknowledge. And all that was to say nothing of the fact that the new apprentice was already winded and weezing, laboring to suck in each new breath. They hadn't practiced fighting at all yet. If Fluffypaw were to show her face in battle, Smokepaw knew she would be chased off the battlefield quicker than a rattlesnake strike.
Eventually, Lightface cut the training session short and sent them back to camp while she and Peccaryfur had a talk. Smokepaw was a little tired; Fluffypaw was exhausted. The weaker cat wasn't talking to her anymore either, not even as little as she had done on the way to the shallow pools. Smokepaw wasn't hurt by it, but her belly was churning with mixed emotions. An apprentice like this would do nothing to help them turn the tide of the war. She was nothing like Skypaw, who was strong and clever and fast and died anyway. Fluffypaw was nothing close to an acceptable replacement. Smokepaw had nothing against her personally, and she understood her being upset—in fact, she almost felt bad for hurting her feelings, despite not being at fault—but the only thing that would change now that Fluffypaw had joined them was that the Clan would have that much greater of a need for water. Smokepaw felt like there was a rock sinking in her stomach as she thought about it.
Upon returning to camp, the first cat to greet them was Skunkpaw, cheerful and enthusiastic as always. Or so it seemed at first.
"Smokepaw, you're back! Hi, Fluffypaw!" the patched apprentice exclaimed. "You'll never guess what happened!"
Smokepaw stopped in her tracks and said nothing, since apparently, she could never guess.
"Icestar brought a new cat into the Clan!"
