Chapter 7
Shock Factor
Blackpaw sighed again, easily flipping her opponent to the ground. Bright-eyed Stormpaw leaped right to his paws again, eager for another match. Unfortunately, Blackpaw was twice his size and very irritated. The little apprentice ended up on the ground, yet again, those now not-so-bright eyes spinning.
"Very well done, Blackpaw. Stormpaw, go spar with your brother awhile," Jaggedtooth commanded. The apprentice dutifully obeyed, swaying slightly in the effort to run in a straight line. Then he turned to his apprentice.
"Well?" he demanded.
Blackpaw huffed a very melodramatic huff and gave Jaggedtooth a pointed look. Very few people had the courage to do that, but Blackpaw had been with the clan deputy long enough to know he wouldn't actually follow up his threats. "I think you know very well, sir." she said.
Jaggedtooth let out an annoyed breath. "Blackpaw, you can't keep moping around like this. It's been three moons since . . . well, since the war, and you have to pull your head out of the clouds. You are one of the most talented apprentices we have, and we need you to be the leader."
"Correction: I'm the only apprentice who's been around for more than three moons. Treepaw is a deserter, my brother is missing, Leafpaw is not long away from earning her full name, and all the other apprentices were named not more than a three moons. Who else is there to lead?" Blackpaw growled.
Jaggedtooth was silent for a moment, then spoke, more softly. "It's more than that, Blackpaw. You are one of the most talented apprentices I've ever seen, in all my life as a mentor. If you would just apply yourself, you could be one of the greatest warriors of all time." Blackpaw looked up. Iceclan's deputy was not known for being very friendly or kind. In fact, this was the first time she had ever heard him offer more than a tight-lipped word of praise. "But you have to pull yourself together and stop wishing for things that will never be. You-"
"But they could be!" Blackpaw interrupted. "Every logical part of my mind agrees that everything proves that Wetpaw is dead, but I can't believe it. There is something deep, deep down, something I can't explain, that tells me that Wetpaw is not dead."
"It's called denial." Jaggedtooth inserted.
Blackpaw was on her feet. "No! If it was just me, I would be able to accept that, but it's bigger than me. I just feel that the stars are with me on this one."
"Oh, really, and when did you become a medicine cat?"
"I never said I was! But ever since I was a little kit, I've had this feeling, more like an undeniable factthat Wetpaw and I would become warriors together. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but I just know we will be made warriors together. End of story." And with that, Blackpaw turned and ran from the practice clearing.
Jaggedtooth stared after her, frustrated at her stupidity. But he was also awed at her fierce tenacity and integrity to her dream. He had truly taught her all he could, both physically and emotionally.
Oakleaf slowly opened his eyes. He dimly looked around, trying to discern his surroundings. Okay, things he knew: It was dark. It was smelly. His head hurt. And he felt strangely ruffled. Then everything came flooding back, a surge of memories. Treestar, Treepaw, the twoleg place, Wetpaw. Smacked upside the head. Wait, Wetpaw? Oakleaf leaped to his feet. "Wetpaw!" he shouted. Momentary dizziness ensued, but he shook it off.
"Huh?" Wetpaw muttered, from his solitary corner of the twoleg place.
"We need to get out! We can't be stuck here forever," Oakleaf said, taking charge, a natural thing for him.
"Oh, really? Look at my life the past . . . Oh, Silverclan! I can't even say how long I've been in here!" Wetpaw put his head against the wall in a sign of defeat.
Oakleaf gave him a long look. Then, with no words, he stalked over to Wetpaw, and grabbed him by his scruff. Wetpaw being as short as he was, and Oakleaf being as tall as he was, he had a considerable advantage over the younger cat. He dragged the squirming apprentice to the middle of the room.
With sheathed claws, he smacked the side of his face. "Ow!" Wetpaw cried. "What in the world was that for?" Another smack. "Ow!"
Oakleaf looked Wetpaw square on. "WAKE UP!" It wasn't a scream, more of a commanding, deep-throated yell. But it made Wetpaw jerk back.
"There, now that I have your attention, repeat after me." Wetpaw nodded once. "I cannot possibly stay here."
"I cannot possibly stay here." Wetpaw responded dutifully.
"I have a clan I need to get back to, and a sister who needs me."
"I have a clan I need to get back to, and a sister who needs me."
Oakleaf smiled and relaxed his militant stance. "Good."
"Good." Wetpaw repeated.
Oakleaf gave him a withering look. Well, at least imprisonment hadn't completely destroyed the Wetpaw he knew.
"Okay, now listen up. Your disappearance has shocked the whole clan. Almost everyone has given up hope, and claimed you dead. But Blackpaw refuses to believe it, and so we still haven't had a parting ceremony yet, thank goodness."
"I bet Grasspaw has already taken my nest in the center. I know he's just been waiting for me to move out." Wetpaw joked. But to his surprise, Oakleaf winced back as if physically struck.
"What is it?" Wetpaw asked.
Oakleaf looked down. "When we came back to camp, after the battle with Gustclan . . . all the guards were killed. The kits, queens, and elders were okay, but Treestar came through and killed all our guards."
Wetpaw pulled back a bit. He searched his mind to remember who was on guard duty. Rainstep, the quiet but devout warrior. He was young, and barely had one apprentice. Graymist, the gentle queen beloved by all. Oakleaf's mother. And Grasspaw. The poor thing was barely a kit, only a moon or two before given his apprenticeship.
Treestar. Wetpaw knew that at the heart of this was Treestar. It always was. Treestar ruined everything. And he had to stop him.
Wetpaw felt new confidence flowing through his veins. He could do this. Together, he and Oakleaf, could escape Treestar and Treepaw's odious trap.
"I'm sorry, Oakpaw. Let's get out of here. Now, what's the plan?"
Oakleaf shook his head smiling. He was glad Wetpaw was back. Who knew camp could get so quiet without one cat? "You don't have a plan?" Wetpaw asked, defeated.
"Yes, I mean no, I mean... I have a plan," Oakleaf finished. "Now I can't leap up there, it's too tall," Wetpaw nodded his understanding. "But, if I leap off a platform, then I'll be able to add the necessary couple feet!" Oakleaf exclaimed.
"Yeah, that makes sense, but where are you going to get a platform?" Wetpaw asked, figuring he had found the flaw in Oakleaf's brilliant plan.
Oakleaf smiled a wicked grin.
"Huh? Oh, no. I am not your platform," Wetpaw muttered, backing away from Oakleaf.
"How else will we get out of here?" Oakleaf asked.
"Some other way!" Wetpaw shouted.
Oakleaf flashed Wetpaw his best Bambi eyes and replied, "There is no other way. Please help. This whole plan depends on you." Oakleaf added as a clincher.
"Well... since you put it that way... I guess so," Wetpaw said, obviously flattered.
"Thank you, your awesomeness," Oakleaf added as a last second compliment.
"Well, you are welcome, lowly servant," Wetpaw announced. Oakleaf rolled his eyes in response. Wetpaw crouched down, straightening his back, becoming Oakleaf's 'platform'. Oakleaf then leaped on Wetpaw, drawing a gasp of shock from his friend, and then heaved himself up to the window ledge. Oakleaf's claws scraped the edge of the ledge and then he fell back down to the ground with a thump.
"That didn't work. We'll have to try it again," Oakleaf announced.
"Let's not and say we did!" Wetpaw wheezed. He lay gasping on the floor. "Of if we do it again, you get to be the 'platform'. I quit."
Oakleaf turned to his little friend. "Please? Just one more time?"
"All right..." Wetpaw grumbled. "Once more."
Oakleaf started running, leaped onto Wetpaw, and . . . once agian fell to the ground. "How can this not work?" he muttered.
"Let's stop before you squish me into a pancake," Wetpaw complained. "I feel like a really old cat. You know, one of the elders who always complains that 'their back hurts'."
"You sound like one, too." Oakleaf added. "Okay, this time, I'll be the platform." He took Wetpaw's place below the window.
Wetpaw stepped back, preparing to run. He measured the distance, calculated the best he could, and started to run.
He pounced just before he hit Oakleaf, and leaped of his back. He made sure every muscle gave it's full capacity, giving himself every millimeter he could. Then he was airborne, and approaching the window. Time itself seemed to slow down as his paw got closer and closer, inches, no, fractions closer.
Then his paw hit wood. His claws shot out, gripping for all it was worth. He tried to scrabble forwards, but felt himself sliding backwards. "No!" Wetpaw cried through clenched teeth.
Oakleaf, sensing his friends distress, leaped as high as he could, and head-butted Wetpaw up a few inches.
That's all he needed. Wetpaw got a grip, and pulled himself onto the sill. Claws out, he stood there for a second, clinging to the wood beneath his feet. "Hey, don't forget me down here, all alone!" Oakleaf called up, smiling in relief and victory.
Wetpaw, grinning like an idiot, tossed down the makeshift rope for Oakleaf. After a few pulls upward, we landed next to Wetpaw.
"We did it, Oakpaw! I can't believe we did it!" Wetpaw cried happily.
"Hey, Wetpaw?"
"Hm?"
Oakleaf smiled. "Call me Oakleaf."
The warrior couldn't help but laugh at the look of mixed shock, envy, and surprise on his face.
