Thank you all so much for the feedback! Can we reach 30 reviews with this update? :D
So here is a longer chapter, I have to admit I'm quite proud of this one; tell me what you think ^^"
Some Brokenstar/Brownpaw mentor/apprentice bonding time before she goes off-duty...
Tell me what you think! I know I have a lot of overused things with this story, such as ShadowClan being the hostile ones. But trust me, soon they won't be the only Clan against Thunder (another cliche thing, ThunderClan being the star). Not to mention the countless enemies within TC Hare & Brown will have to worry about (and right now, they hate each other XD)!
Happy holidays, I cannot tell you how happy I am for break, to be able to sit back, relax, and ready Harry Potter (at the end of Book 5, yes!) :P
At times, Brownpaw's tiny pinpricks of wounds on his belly still stung when he stretched. Thanks to Streampaw's thorn-sharp claw-tips, they were taking forever to heal; just his luck. But Brownpaw didn't think he could get any more unlucky when he discovered who his new mentor would be…
Frostpaw's punishment for the fight had been to clean out Blackstorm's den, as well as remove any ticks lingering on the elder from earlier in greenleaf. "Blackstorm says there's nothing worse than losing the blood that keeps you warm in the dead of leaf-bare," Berryfang had said when he assigned Frostpaw his foreboding task. "He's been complaining about it since I was born, and trust me, I had to do it once too."
Streampaw, meanwhile, was only confined to camp for a few days. Brownpaw didn't think Rainsnow understood that this was more like a reward for her apprentice. The puppy growled as the pale gray tom strolled by right then, yawning as if he had slept straight through the past two days.
Brownpaw ignored him otherwise, and continued on his way to the elders' den, where Frostpaw was emerging and staggering under the weight of a ton of musty moss. The white cat took one look at him and didn't even have to croak "help" for Brownpaw to come rushing over.
"StarClan, you could at least go in trips," Brownpaw sighed as he tore off part of the rank bedding, leading his brother to the side of the clearing where they deposited the foul material.
Frostpaw just glowered as he headed to the exit to collect fresh moss. "These are medicine cat apprentice duties."
Brownpaw trailed him, gleefully breathing in the scents of the forest. He quickly brushed through a clump of ferns dripping with dew to dilute his scent and grunted, "Well, there's no medicine cat apprentice, so…"
They arrived at a large oak tree, and tore off moss from its roots and the ground surrounding it. The earthy flavor bathed Brownpaw's tongue, but it was almost tasty compared to the stringy, tasteless shrew he'd last consumed. Leaf-fall will be here before we know it, and already the prey is getting scarce.
Frostpaw found a few plush bird feathers, and added them to the pile, insisting that Blackstorm was at least better than old Mole-eye.
The two apprentices made their way back to camp, and made a beeline for the honeysuckle bush. Brownpaw ducked under the dead, crunchy tendrils and was greeted by a darkness and quietness routinely interrupted by Blackstorm's wheezing. In the sunlight that filtered through small gaps in the ceiling, the dog could see dust floating in the air. Now he coughed and felt like he could hardly breathe.
"Thank you," rasped Blackstorm, who had been standing shivering in the corner. The pair laid down the moss for him, and the elder sighed in contentment as he curled up. He eyed the bird feathers with his cracked teeth showing in a pleasant smile.
However, his grin transformed to a grimace and he mumbled, "I think I have a few of 'em ticks on my back, one on my ear, and three give or take on all my legs." Frostpaw looked about ready to race up to the Highledge and jump off as Blackstorm continued. "The last apprentice to clean me was Sandpaw, if I'm not mistaken."
Brownpaw retrieved mouse bile for Frostpaw, but when he offered to help his sibling clean, the pale-furred tom refused. "I can handle it," he grumbled. "S'pose it's good practice for… well, I don't know, being an elder?"
As Brownpaw walked out of the den, Blackstorm started another tale. "Did you ever know I had a daughter, Whitekit, along with Flashnight? She didn't make it to be a 'paw…"
Relieved that he could breathe again, Brownpaw inhaled the clear, fresh breeze, feeling extremely joyful until he received a face full of ginger fur.
He had been slouching low, and was short enough to ram directly into Harescar's chest. Just the cat I was trying to avoid, thought Brownpaw sullenly as he backed away, staring stonily while the deputy recovered himself, scrambling back to his paws with a frustrated huff.
"Oh, you," the ginger tom said breathlessly. "Look, Brokenstar will be off-duty for a while, so for now I'm your mentor. I probably will be until the end of your apprenticeship."
Brownpaw's stomach performed a backflip and a somersault. "What?" he spluttered, flabbergasted. "What do you mean, off-duty?"
"It's hardly any of your business—" Harescar started, adopting a snooty look.
"Hardly any of my business?" exclaimed Brownpaw loud enough for a few cats to glance over. "She's my mentor, and I'm concerned! She also happens to be the leader of ThunderClan, and she has been sick for nearly a moon!"
Harescar bared his teeth, but before he could speak Brokenstar herself came sauntering up to them. Her fur looked bedraggled and seemed to be groomed particularly to hide her underside. "I think I can train him one last time before I temporarily step back," the brown she-cat mewed firmly to Harescar. Her mate's hackles raised a little and he didn't object, but Brownpaw's pelt itched under that suddenly arrogant amber gaze the whole way out of camp.
It was a painful silence, and Brownpaw veered off the path somewhat to recover his scent at the dewy ferns. But the plants were drier than bracken already. Brownpaw let out a low whine of irritation and returned to Brokenstar's side. She had kept trotting, staring ahead quite absently like she hadn't even noticed he left her flank for a moment.
"Are there any places to disguise my scent besides the ferns back there?" Brownpaw settled on this question to shatter the silence.
Brokenstar startled, blinked, and swung her lightning bolt-colored eyes toward him. "Um, no," she said. "But I think you'll be fine not concealing yourself where we're going."
Brownpaw had just realized they were heading away from the usual training clearing. His paws tingled with a touch of excitement; they were padding in the direction of Carly's home. No matter how many bad experiences I have there- namely, Tuffy- I'll still always like Carly.
However, Brokenstar stopped several fox-lengths before they could reach the bushes lining the Thunderpath. She twisted herself to face him completely, which appeared to require enough effort to make Brownpaw nearly reach out and help her. The leader managed, though, and murmured, "Catch me something."
Wondering if this was an assessment of some sort, Brownpaw ventured off, heading up the very faint slope like he was going to visit Carly. Nerves fluttered in his belly like moths at a light. Did she take me near here on purpose? Usually we're on the other side of our territory. ShadowClan's border markers drifted through the undergrowth to his nose, and he shuffled farther away from the boundary, fear driving him deeper into their forest. If ShadowClan ever found out I'm here…
As he scouted out prey, he pondered over what Brokenstar could possibly need to go off duty for. She seemed to have improved drastically, and was back to sleeping in her own den. The only perplexing thing about her was that she was having trouble getting around. Brownpaw thought back over how she had walked. It had been more like a waddle, like she was carrying something heavy—
His thoughts were halted in their tracks. The mouthwatering odor of squirrel had crammed itself into his nostrils, so strong that Brownpaw practically believed he had buried his nose in a squirrel nest. The invisible trail was drifting down from a particularly tall birch.
Brownpaw hesitated at the base of the tree, frowning as he scraped his claws against the flimsy bark. Just by touching the old tree, it swayed a bit in its roots and a large amount of bark rained down on his head. Disgruntled, Brownpaw shook himself and swallowed his fear. He gripped either side of the birch like he was going to give it a hug; then he heaved himself upward, clinging to the trunk, his body cumbersome and awkward. The tree leaned warningly and although he hadn't heard a heart-stopping crack yet, he immediately thought, This is why dogs don't climb.
Brownpaw twisted around to view how high up he was, and was shaken to see how far one pull upward had gotten him. He was already easily a fox-length away from the ground. Just a tad farther, and falling would result in injury. First rule of climbing: never look down. But of course I wasn't taught this, since no one would expect me to do what I'm doing right now!
His claws were embedded in the timber, but seeing as they weren't as flexible as a cat's, Brownpaw could feel their grip loosening. Something resembling terror stirred in his belly. This sent a message to his heart to hammer against his chest like a woodpecker. Why did I ever do this… The dog glanced back up, and had to squint to meet a beady gaze glaring back down at him. The squirrels would be impossible to reach as long as he remained a dog and they remained up there.
With a defeated sigh, Brownpaw removed his claws from the bark, but squeezed the tree as he slid back down to the earth, landing softly on his rump. Using his special hunting technique, he hunted down a shrew that looked just as unappealing as the one he had eaten.
When he dropped the kill at Brokenstar's paws, he did not have to look at her to tell she was disappointed. "Very well, Brownpaw," she mewed gently, sounding almost sympathetic. Brownpaw tensed at this tone; had she been watching his failure with the tree? Embarrassment made his legs turn to leaf-thin birch bark for a moment, threatening to collapse. However, he reassembled himself and hastily dumped some leaf mulch on his catch before following Brokenstar onward.
They went along for a while, very slowly due to her pace, gradually inching closer to the ShadowClan border. Brownpaw was starting to recognize symptoms of being sick, as his earlier anxiety had still not left his belly. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Pardon me, B- Brokenstar, but we are getting aw… awfully close to the b- border with Shhh… ShadowClan," Brownpaw whimpered, angst distorting his voice.
"Aw, don't be such a kit," Brokenstar mewed dismissively, still striding confidently forward. "With just a few more lessons and hard practice, you could be a warrior within a moon."
Alarm sparked inside him. "B- but I don't want th- that, Brokenstar, no, I w- want to be a war… warrior with Frostpaw!"
"I understand that," Brokenstar said. "I'm just telling you. Thought it might make you feel better when I say this." Inhaling noisily, she spun unhurriedly and met his gaze. "I think it's about time you meet the enemy when we are not in battle with them. You need to heavily disguise yourself at this point, scent-wise, and completely immerse yourself in the brush up ahead to the right. I will interact with some warriors, and perhaps this will give you a slight idea of ShadowClan's personality off the battlefield."
Brownpaw nodded obediently and trudged behind her when she continued onward, although he privately thought he already had a general idea of what ShadowClan cats were like. Proud, wily, and unfortunately have their noses so high in the air that they cannot see, and therefore, not care about others besides themselves.
StarClan granted their unspoken wish, and Brownpaw found an enormous patch of wild garlic, which he saturated his pelt in. It's so strong, my offspring will inherit the smell of garlic.
Adorned with a wrinkled nose, Brokenstar dropped him off at the bush and strode ahead so that she could sit in wait with her flexing claws touching the exact edge of the boundary.
As expected, a ShadowClan patrol arrived. In the lead was a very nasty-looking gray she-cat with a distinctive ginger head and amber eyes that pierced like snake fangs. Behind her were two other scarred and smelly warriors, and each cat had a very timid yet defiant apprentice crouched at their flank.
"Brokenstar?" grunted the cinder-colored she-cat. The apprentice next to her, a scruffy black-and-brown she-cat who looked fresh from the nursery, gaped up at the ThunderClan leader.
"Ambermask," Brokenstar greeted the rival warrior evenly. She rose from her sitting position, but remained hunched with her tail swept to her side.
"What do you want?" Ambermask demanded, sounding bored. Brownpaw examined her expression through countless spiky branches. She probably thinks there's nothing more outrageous ThunderClan can do at this point.
Brokenstar didn't answer, and instead allowed her gleaming eyes to flutter over the small cats beside the warriors. "New apprentices?"
The black-and-brown cat shifted hopefully, but Ambermask snapped, "What's it to you?" Brownpaw was mildly surprised how abruptly her facial features had changed; the muscles on her face were all taut with rage.
"Well, I will assume they are new apprentices," Brokenstar meowed, unfazed. "Congratulations," she purred, smiling at the siblings. "Young cats are... the future of the Clan."
They all beamed back up at her, only to be smothered by, Brownpaw guessed, their mentors. A tortoiseshell she-cat stood rigidly over a thinly-framed ginger tom, lip curled. "You can teach whatever you want to your apprentices, Brokenstar, but ShadowClan is not going to show its opponents softness that can be compared to a kittypet's way of life!"
Brokenstar did not even twitch a whisker. After a short-lived pause, she chirped, "Well, I suppose that's one of Coldstar's new rules. Anyhow, I did not come here to sever our ties even more. I'm trying to make peace."
Ambermask's hackles had spiked, and she spat, "You think we're going to 'make peace' with you after one of you warriors killed my sister?"
Brownpaw recalled how a ShadowClan she-cat, Graystorm, had nearly killed Birdspring while she was expecting kits for the first time. Beechflight had let his claws go too wild on the gray warrior, and she died a little while after that horrific battle.
"It was an accident," Brokenstar shot back, her eyes flashing. "You think he meant to kill her?"
A petite orange tom stepped forward and snarled, "And what about that other warrior- your brother, isn't it- who took a life from Coldstar?"
Brownpaw gulped inaudibly and added a new word to his list of ShadowClan adjectives: clever. They sure know the most convincing reasons to stir up trouble… most of the time.
Brokenstar appeared to be struggling to hold herself back from attacking the other warriors. "Creekmeadow, you know Birchfur had every intention not to harm your leader."
The tom's vibrant blue gaze glittered with malice but he did not add anything to his argument.
Ambermask sighed an exaggeratedly angry sigh. "Well, what a way to start off Flowerpaw, Pouncepaw, and Blossompaw's tour of the territory!"
The only cat Brownpaw hadn't noticed was extremely undersized, in the shadow of even her stout mentor. She was solid back save for white patches shaped like blossom petals; he had no doubt this was Blossompaw.
Brokenstar wore a severe look on her face now. "I would have set a good example for them, Ambermask," she uttered to the senior warrior. "Strong bonds between Clans are important, especially as we approach leaf-bare. When times are rough, it's good to have an ally."
Ambermask laughed. She swung her head and smirked at the tortoiseshell, her words dripping with sarcasm. "Isn't she right, Ivywing?"
"Absolutely right," Ivywing agreed, snickering.
"We can fend for ourselves. You always have WindClan," sneered Creekmeadow.
Harshly, Ambermask shoved Flowerpaw to her paws and led the skinny apprentice away. Ivywing followed with Pouncepaw, and Creekmeadow with Blossompaw. None of them looked back except for Blossompaw, whose jaws gaped open in what appeared to be awe. She whispered to Brokenstar in what she surely intended to be an innocent compliment, "You're massive!" Then she scampered to catch up with her Clanmates before Creekmeadow would bite off her tail. They melted into the shadows, and Brokenstar watched to make sure they were gone.
Brownpaw emerged from the brush once she signaled that the coast was clear, and then they headed off to pick up his shrew.
"So, what did you learn about ShadowClan cats, besides they're battle-hungry?" Brokenstar asked him, though her voice had drastically changed. Her tone was now very distant and her mind was obviously on something else. At first Brownpaw pretended to ignore it, and answered.
"Well, they're stuck-up, and think they're the smartest of all the Clans."
"Right you are!" Brokenstar meowed through gritted teeth. She stood still all of the sudden, her paws churning the leaf mulch.
"Brokenstar?" Brownpaw leapt forward, brushing her flank. He was startled to see how bulged it was. "What's wrong—" He realized it himself just before she said it.
Her eyes were pained slits. She stared at him pleadingly, as if he could help her. "There are kits moving inside me," she rasped. "But they shouldn't even exist…" She lowered her head and drew in a shaky breath. "… if their mother doesn't want them."
Aww, poor unborn kits. Oh well, see you at the next update~
