Yay, Crowpaw!
More seriously, Crowpaw attended to the squirrel. Whitetail had caught it on their dawn patrol; it had strayed over from ThunderClan territory. A ThunderClan patrol caught them, and a rude cat named 'Dustpelt' had questioned them. But they were off soon, since they'd done nothing wrong.
"You're going to have your assessment already?" snarled a familiar voice.
Crowpaw jerked around to face Nightcloud's sneering face. "Yes, because I'm far more talented than you," he retorted coolly. He'd recently developed this new skill of fending off Nightcloud. You just acted as if you were more superior than she was, and she, knowing the truth, woulkd back away.
Nightcloud hissed. "Mudclaw just wants to get rid of you," she hissed menacingly.
"Not true, hare-brain." Crowpaw meowed loudly.
Then, he took a large bite out of the squirrel, and yowled, "Delicious! Too bad you don't want it, Nightcloud."
Nightcloud's eyes widened. "What-" she spluttered.
Crowpaw sighed dramatically. "Shut up," he hissed, and gobbled up the remaining pieces of the plump squirrel.
He stood up and padded towards Mudclaw, a positive skip in his steps. "So when's the assessment?"
"You've eaten your squirrel?" Mudclaw asked curtly. "Whitetail says she gave it to you."
"She did."
"Then you must have enough strength now? Are you ready?"
"I've always been ready," Crowpaw mewed seriously.
Mudclaw nodded. "Good. Will you have a rest or would you like to start right now? Or should I give you some time?"
Crowpaw considered. "Just a bit, Mudclaw. Really. I'll come back at sunhigh, okay?"
Mudclaw nodded. After a brief hesitation, he meowed, "I am proud of how you are turning out. You will make a fine warrior."
Crowpaw's eyes shone with pride. "Thank you!" he gasped.
Padding to Ashfoot, he wondered what his warrior name would be. Perhaps not Crowprick or Crowthorn? He hoped his prickly nature wouldn't be the main consideration for his warrior name; after all, he would probably carry the name for the rest of his life, and it should be good. Crowfoot. Crowwing. Crowtail. Crowfur. Crowfeather. Crowclaw. Crowfang. Crowpelt. Crowleaf. Crowheart. Crowfrost. Crowwhisker. Crowstripe. Crowstorm. Crowcloud.
The many names were making him dizzy.
"Ashfoot! It's my assessment at sunhigh!" he called.
Ashfoot stood up. "Crowpaw! Already?" In her eyes was a mixture of pride, sadness, and joy.
"Yes yes yes! Mudclaw says I'll be a fine warrior."
"And so you will be," Ashfoot purred.
"What if I fail my assessment?" Crowpaw asked anxiously.
"Don't worry; you're getting your assessment because your mentor thinks you're ready. Assessments are just formal things. If you're getting one, you're bound to pass." Ashfoot assured him.
"Thanks."
"Why don't you go tell your friends? And I don't mean Onewhisker or Whitetail or Tornear, Crowpaw. Someone your age."
Crowpaw stiffened. "I've told you," he mewed, trying to keep his voice level, calm, and friendly as possible. "Nobody my age likes me or I like them."
"Gorsetail, Runningbrook and Emberpaw exist. And Owlkit and Weaselkit are already three and a half-moons old! They might enjoy hearing your tale," Ashfoot offered.
Like I'm some elder? Crowpaw thought, but he didn't say it aloud, and instead, meowed, "All right."
He walked towards the nursery, and quickly informed Owlkit and Weaselkit of his assessment. They were so excited.
After leaving them, he padded towards Gorsetail, who was having a chat with Runningbrook. "Guys!" he said in an unnaturally high voice. "I'm getting my warrior assessment!"
It was hard to be as excited as when he had told Ashfoot. They were not his close friends.
But their reactions were simply wonderful. "Amazing!" exclaimed Gorsetail, her eyes widened. "That's just great!"
Runningbrook purred. "When? Today?"
"At sunhigh."
"Great. Gorsetail was just telling about a friend she made," Runningbrook sniggered. "His name's Beechpaw."
"Great," Crowpaw meowed politely. In truth, he wasn't that interested in Gorsetail and Beechpaw or Birchpaw, whatever his name was.
"You should get going now. Hello? Crowpaw?" Gorsetail meowed.
"Yes?"
"I said, you should get going now," Gorsetail replied, with a friendly nudge of the shoulder. "It's nearly sunhigh. You don't want to be late!"
"I don't," agreed Crowpaw, and he flicked his tail in farewell, and started off to the training hollow, where he suspected Mudclaw would be.
Mudclaw was talking with Nightcloud there. Scowling, Crowpaw sat impatiently on the side.
"Nightcloud, it's none of your business why he is already taking his assessment, I assure you." Mudclaw was snapping irritably. "You just got it late for personal reasons. My reason is simple. Crowpaw is an excellent apprentice."
"He was being difficult," Nightcloud whined.
"A warrior does not whine," hissed Mudclaw in distaste. "Now go. Crowpaw's here."
Nightcloud narrowed her eyes. "Good luck, apprentice," she sneered.
Ignoring her, Crowpaw padded to the front. "Okay," he mewed anxiously. "So what do I do?"
Mudclaw's eyes gleamed. "I'll be giving you the same task as I had done on my assessment. You will catch five rabbits without falling for anything. Do not stray, or I will know. If you spot me…" Mudclaw nodded. "That would be a bonus point."
Crowpaw nodded eagerly. "That's it?"
"I'll watch you use your techniques," warned the brown warrior. "How you use the wind, and your speed and skill."
Crowpaw nodded. "Okay! When does it start?"
"The moment I disappear." Mudclaw responded, and with brilliant speed, he disappeared to among the ferns."
It would be difficult to hide on the moor, Crowpaw thought, so I'll get some help on that. Mudclaw will be easy to spot.
It turned out, it was not easy tracking Mudclaw on the moor. But, turning his attention away from his mentor, Crowpaw scented the air for any prey-scent. No fresh prey scent was detected, and he padded lightly to another part of the great wide moor.
The breeze was blowing from behind when Crowpaw finally detected a scent of a hare.
Crowpaw decided to go around; this was the first hare he had scented all day, and he wasn't going to miss it!
Fueled with determination and a joy of being out in the moor with the breeze, Crowpaw crept silently along the tall ferns that was the only thing hiding things. Finally, he reached the right back of the hare.
Taking a deep breath, he pounced.
The pounce went farther than expected, and the hare began to run in the other direction. Growling in fury, Crowpaw chased it. Luckily, the hare had turned to its left, the low moor, which was, Crowpaw supposed, better than running off in the high slope.
Miraculously, Crowpaw caught up with it, and gave its throat a quick bite.
Looking around warily, he planted the hare in a pile of ferns.
"Ah!" he hissed.
There was a tempting smell of a juicy shrew.
With all his instincts, he wished to go and have a little snack. But, with all his might, he remembered Mudclaw's warning and ignored the shrew's call to be eaten.
His belly was growling like mad, and he decided to hunt quickly.
The other three rabbits were easy to catch. One practically crawled into Crowpaw's claws, and another was sleeping soundly. That time, Crowpaw's pounce had been wonderful. The last one seemed to be deaf.
The fifth one, however, didn't emerge. Crowpaw began to think that catching five rabbits was a little bit too much. Scowling, he opened his mouth to taste the air. Nothing but cold air soared into his mouth.
Hissing, he slunk around, trying to catch a whiff of some prey.
Finally, a feeble young hare appeared. Its eyes were confused, and it jumped to Crowpaw's direction. What luck! But finally, at the last second, the hare seemed to recognize to obvious signs of danger, and began to dash away.
Crowpaw leapt, landing in front of the hare. This was a technique he had learned recently; he didn't know if this would work. It was his worst technique so far, but he didn't any other would work, and Crowpaw was assuming this hare was his last chance on adding five rabbits to the prey pile.
He kept this along for a few times, until the rabbit seemed too confused it gradually jumped into Crowpaw's claws. He hesitated for a millisecond; this rabbit is a young animal like I am. But soon, he thought, This is my assessment! Ridiculous sympathy won't save me! and swiped his claws, sheathed, and carried it back to the lump of ferns.
No rabbit!
All four were missing. Perhaps this was Mudclaw's idea of a clever ending?
Sniff.
Crowpaw scented a familiar cat's scent and several juicy prey scent. This was enough to think that Mudclaw had stolen these and was testing Crowpaw if his tracking skills for cats was still in shape.
It sure is!
He tracked it, and found himself back in the ferns. Three rabbits lay there.
He left it, and tracked the scent.
Mudclaw was waiting, munching on the feeble young rabbit. "This is delicious!" he meowed. "Now fetch your three rabbits, and we'll eat this one together. You did an excellent job, Crowpaw. Even I barely managed to finish this one."
Mudclaw's extraordinary compliment caused Crowpaw to shine with pride and to his eyes gleam with indignation and happiness. "Thank you!" he gasped.
"No, thank you," responded Mudclaw warmly, "for being such a good apprentice."
Crowpaw thought he might cry that moment. Now soon, he would be made a warrior!
That night, he couldn't sleep.
Finally, when he drifted off to sleep while hearing the warriors shuffle to get ready for dawn patrol, he found the dream that was greeting him was not a wonderful dream about prey, warrior names, or something ordinarily happy like that.
