"Again, Ravenpaw!" Velvetwing hisses in annoyance and gives me a scratch on my flank.
"I'm trying!" I retort, panting. I attempt to lunge again, but my nighttime mentor catches my gaze that was aimed for her throat.
"You can do better! I know you can," Velvetwing encourages. "In fact, I think we can take it up a notch... Rowanpaw, some assistance, if you will?" She calls, her electric eyes bright.
A dark brown tom with a white underbelly, paws, muzzle, and tail-tip emerges from the shadows on cue. His fur is thick and feathery, giving him the look of a much larger cat than he probably is. He is like no other cat I've ever seen. He appears powerful and masculine, and it surprises me when he parts his jaws.
"Ah, so this is Ravenpaw, eh?" He mews. His voice is young and sharp. Rowanpaw's hazel eyes look me over, and he smirks. I feel my fur prick.
"Yes, it is. Now, why don't you two have a little battle. Remember to use claws, but don't kill each other!" The crimson leader orders.
I immediately pounce upon the tom, Velvetwing stepping aside to leave space. I try to dig my claws into his belly, but his giant mass of fur acts as a shield against the attack. I bite down into his scruff, and I get the mild reaction of a muffled yowl.
Rowanpaw flashes upwards, flinging me off of him. He charges at me, eyes wild with the attack. He quickly pins me down and his weight crushes me. I struggle to breathe through his smothering fur. I let my paws shoot out stiffly, kicking sharply into his belly. I gain control as his expression turns into one of astonishment.
"Not bad," he chuffs. "You're probably about the same age as me... nine moons, I'd guess?"
"Nine moons?" I laugh. "You look like you'd take up more than three nests in the warriors' den!"
Velvetwing cuts in. "You both are very advanced for your age. Now if you'd stop carrying on this little chitchat like two finches on a branch in Newleaf..." She rolls her eyes. "It's morning. Return to your Clans."
I gaze up at the ceiling of the thorny den. My muscles are achy and tight, and I groan as I stand up. The faint sunlight illuminates the den, and I wince as a strong beam of light hits my eyes, the glare bringing a sharp pain. Nobody else is in the den with me. I figure they're about their usual routine, patrols or training. I shake my fur out, rumpled bits of moss and dirt raining from my long pelt.
I draw a paw over my ears and crown, smoothing down the fur that lies messily atop my head. I groom myself in a patch of yellow grass, and I look around the camp. Not much activity; I suspect everyone is out of the clearing for some reason. My pelt pricks as I see something that I've hated since the first time I ever saw it. Silverpaw, teasing Tigerpaw with a soft tail tickling his nose and leading him away from the camp. The dark tom is love-stricken his green eyes, the color of fresh grass in Newleaf, are wide with compassion, as if in some trance.
A growl rumbles in my throat, jealousy clawing at my insides. Silverpaw is beautiful, and ever so coy. She has great qualities, or so it would appear. Humorous, curious, smart and strong, and with a hint of mischievous tendencies, she is the image of perfection within ShadowClan. My eyelids twitch and my feelings of hatred only grows stronger.
Patience, a smooth voice whispers into my ear. All good things come to those who wait.
"The cats who will be going to the Gathering tonight are as follows: Ebonyheart, Frozenleaf, Larkbreeze, Lightstep, Silverpaw, Pebblepaw, and Ravenpaw!" Birchstar announces, his voice deep and ringing through the hollow from atop a small boulder.
A feeling of excitement rushes through me. I've been to Gatherings before, but it is always satisfying to know that you're going. I ignore the annoyance pulsing through me; the fact that Silverpaw is going as well makes me even more angry at the radiant she-cat. I take a meal of a single toad, for I'm not particularly hungry but I know that I will need some energy.
I gulp down the leathery skin slowly, the stringy sinew of the amphibian satisfying to my acquired taste for the ShadowClan prey. I see Tigerpaw carrying a thrush into the elders' den, his head held high so that the bird doesn't get dirty. I paid over to him when he emerges from the bush, trying to not seem agitated or nervous.
"Ravenpaw," the tom greets, dipping his head slightly.
"Hi, Tigerpaw..." It's a little strange; we stopped hanging out when Silverpaw came into the picture.
"Excited for the Gathering?"
"Yes."
"Well, have fun. Silverpaw is going to tell me all about it!" Tigerpaw grins as he catches the clear eyes of his wooing 'mate'. He pads off, assisting a warrior who is carrying a large heap of bramble to patch up some dens. I hear the leader announce that we will embark on the rather large trip to the island; we will have to leave early, as we are certainly a bit further than most. The option of going around the west side of the lake is not accessible at the time, for there have been some Twolegs with dogs specialized for tracking and killing had moved in. Something about the matter made one presume that the family of Twolegs wouldn't be staying long, for their camp was a shabby shelter with a few pegs to keep the dogs in place at night.
As I follow the group out of the entrance of the camp, something bumps me roughly in the side. Silverpaw glares at me with menacing eyes, and smirks as she pushes past me.
"Tigerpaw," she hisses. "Is mine!"