A Challenge for NerdClan

Firestar lay on the ground, writhing in pain as his flame colored body exploded into a blazing star and burned his organs. Cinderpelt, whose pelt that consisted of cinders scattered in the wind, kept on muttering that she couldn't stand this job. Nearby, Sandstorm watched in grief as her mate slowly died. She took a step forward and became a whirling sandstorm. Great StarClan, really, Sandstorm thought. Now?!

Whitepaw stretched out luxuriously, knowing that someday she would become a warrior and join this madness of becoming what one's name was. But for now, she was a plain old apprentice with a snowy white paw. Birchpaw, on the other hand was having difficulties. His paw would not stop becoming a tree and he constantly tripped in hunting and fighting practice. His name did come in handy, though to whack someone across the head for teasing him.

It was just a normal day in the Clan. Dustpelt shifted around on the ground in his dust form. "I always stay in the dust form," he grumbled, surprising Ferncloud and making her turn into a floating cloud of ferns. No day could be more usual. Whitepaw sighed. It was about time for her warrior ceremony, but unfortunately, Firestar had suffered a "flaming star explosion" right when he was about to call a Clan meeting and it was delayed till next morning.

When would things get less normal? Whitepaw was bored and needed some excitement. Glancing at Birchpaw, she grinned as he shook his birch branch for a paw. An idea came to her. Excitement could mean many things. She began to slink toward Birchpaw…

Meanwhile….

Yellowfang burst out laughing with her protruding yellow fangs creating a hissing sound against her mouth. "WHAT THE HECK IS WHITEPAW DOING?" she howled. "I DON'T KNOW!" Bluestar howled back. "MAYBE IF YOU STOP BEING LOUD, WE'LL KNOW!" Yellowfang scowled at the blue grey she-cat who randomly blew up into a blue star then settled her butt back down to watch.

The Next Morning…..

"I enjoyed our night together," Birchpaw meowed, stumbling out of the apprentices' den on his tree paw. Purring, Whitepaw touched her tail gently to the light brown apprentice's cheek. "See you when we're warriors," she mewed then dashed off.

Birchpaw felt drool drip out of his mouth as he watched her hips slowly sway and her white-furred tail glimmer in the early dawn light. But he wasn't the only one enraptured in her beautiful figure. Whitepaw's own father, Cloudtail just stared at his daughter like a total doofus, amazed at her beauty.

Suddenly, every tom in the Clan wanted Whitepaw. But nobody fought, they just watched her. Whitepaw was kind of creeped out by their stares and joined a group of she-cats, who chatted together about weird stuff such as claw polish and how random Twolegs were. The toms still stared then Firestar called a Clan meeting, who apparently seemed to be the only one not fazed by the apprentice.

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highledge!" Firestar yowled. Birchpaw and all the other toms were snapped out of their trance and immediately gathered around, like nothing had happened. The light brown tabby hobbled forward with Whitepaw at his side. "These two cats have reached the age of twelve moons and-"Firestar coughed out a puff of smoke from his still-burning esophagus-"and in the right given to me by StarClan, I name Whitepaw and Birchpaw warriors." He doubled over, coughing and spattering a few drops of blood on the smooth rock.

Sandstorm leaned forward, worry swirling in the depths of her green eyes. Would her mate die already? She felt her fur crumbling away as particles of sand, but concentrated and forced herself not to drift away as a sandstorm. "Whitepaw, you have trained hard in the ways of the warrior code. For that, it is in my honor to name you Whitewing. The Clan thanks you for your courage and-"he let out a series of more sharp coughs-"and loyalty."

Whitewing felt a churning sensation in her stomach and then a tiny pinprick of pain landed on her back, not even causing her to stumble. Whitewing…. She pondered for a bit while Firestar did Birchpaw's ceremony. That means I'm… She glanced over her shoulder to see two tiny slits behind her shoulder blades. She flexed the muscles on her shoulders and gasped when two magnificent snowy white wings slid out of the slits.

"What in StarClan's name am-"Her remark was cut off when she heard Birchpaw yowling her name. "Whitewing!" he mewed once he reached her, panting and out of breath. "Did you hear that? He named me-"Suddenly, Birchpaw turned into a great leafy birch tree and went tumbling down. He then returned to cat form. –"Birchfall!" Whitewing stared blankly at the tom that had just become a tree.

"Um, cool," she meowed then got excited. "He named me Whitewing and look what I got!" She stretched out her strengthening wings. "Whoa," Birchfall replied. "You look even prettier with those wings." Whitewing grinned and licked the tom's ear.

He blushed and looked into her intense green eyes. They truly were beautiful. He wasn't trapped in a trance like the other toms; he really loved her. For that, he would ask a special question that all she-cats would love to hear. "Um, it might seem a bit early," he started awkwardly. "But, will you be my mate?" Whitewing sat back and looked at the sky as if in deep thought.

"Well, let me think about it," she said with a lilting, sarcastic tone in her voice. She then looked at Birchfall, whose ears were beginning to droop in disappointment. "Of course, I'll be your mate, you mouse-brain!" She shook her head and laughed. "You toms are so air-headed sometimes," she meowed then the two walked off together, new warriors who had each other always in their hearts.

Many Moons Later….

Whitewing and Birchfall sat near the entrance of the elders' den, watching their grandkits play in the snow, their old eyes filled with wisdom. "I got you!" Thornkit squeaked, pinning his sister, Ivykit down by the shoulders. "Oh, no, you don't!" Ivypool, the namesake of the grey kit dove into the fluffy white powder and gently grappled with Thornkit.

Birchfall sighed. "The curse has been lifted, my dear," he mewed, looking over at his mate. "These cats are living normal lives." Whitewing chuckled. "Yes, indeed, normal compared to ours when we were young," she said. The two laughed together for a while then stopped, enjoying the crisp leaf-bare air and just the relief of having a peaceful day in the Clan.

Both cats stared off into the distance when suddenly, Birchfall gave a strange remark. "I think you looked prettier with those wings of yours." Whitewing looked over at the light brown tom for a moment. "Yes, and I think you were cuter when you had your tree for a paw," she replied. Birchfall smiled and sighed once again.

"Yes, dear," he started. "But no matter what you look like, I will always love you, wings or not."

"I will, too," she mewed, nestling her white head into her mate's chest. And for a moment, a tiny moment, those beautiful white wings appeared on Whitewing's back. Then they disappeared in the winter mist.