"All cats strong enough to eliminate their own prey, gather before me!"
Spottedkit woke up to Deadeye yowling for yet another Gorge meeting. More and more meetings have been called as the summer grew hotter, and she'd noticed the fresh-kill pile dwindling; the prey that happens to be there is unusually scrawny. After staggering to her paws Spottedkit rushed to wake her siblings to go watch the next gathering. They stumbled out of the moss-filled cave that was the nursery into the much colder, harder main cave. "Today is a wonderful day for the Gorge," Deadeye started, his voice sending a heavy chill down Spottedkit's spine—nothing new here to anyone in the Gorge, and multiple cats below him shifted visibly. "We have three new warriors in the Gorge starting today." Before Deadeye finished speaking, triumphant howls and yowls erupted from the crowd below him.
Spottedkit noticed Thornpaw, Finpaw, and Redpaw sitting together near the front of the crowd. The three soon-to-be warriors held their chins in the air proudly, but anyone could see that they were nervous. It was common knowledge even within the Gorge that holding the role of a warrior requires more ability than the apprentices are trained for. She knew that, though they expressed pride, they were nervous deep down—they had to be. They didn't know what would be expected of them. Nobody quite did.
"Apprentices, come forward to accept your new names with honor." Deadeye's naturally soft—and eerie—voice echoed thanks to the hard cave walls. As the three young cats each stepped forward, Spottedkit felt her mind start to wander, though not for long. She quickly snapped herself back to reality and watched with a mixture of awe and tension as Deadeye prepared to don the felines with their names. "Finpaw, do you promise to uphold The Gorge's warrior code, to show no mercy when protecting those residing within this camp? Do you swear to defend our borders and pride to your last breath?"
"I do," Finpaw meowed proudly, although there was a slight waver in his tone.
"Then by my right as leader of The Gorge, I give you your warrior name. From this point on you will be known as Finclaw. May your hunts be generous and your prey short-lived." Spottedkit couldn't stop the shudder that coursed over her body; something inside her screamed that Deadeye wasn't exactly referring to the mice and rabbits they catch by the day. She took a peek at her siblings and saw that they clearly didn't feel the same way—they were watching with round eyes, in speechless awe of Deadeye on his perch. "Thornpaw, step forward. Do you promise to uphold The Gorge's warrior code, to show no mercy when protecting those residing within this camp? Do you swear to defend our borders and pride to your last breath?"
"I do." Thornpaw puffed out her chest, and her voice rang around the cave.
"Then by my right as leader of The Gorge, I give you your warrior name. From this point on you will be known as Thornheart. May your hunts be generous and your prey short-lived." Deadeye recited the same speech for Redpaw, but narrowed his one good eye at the response.
"I-I do." Though he displayed such obvious hesitation that the whole crowd began murmuring, determination flashed across Redpaw's eyes.
Deadeye was silent for a moment, and it was hard to tell whether he was waiting for the crowd to quiet down or if he was holding harsh words back. Just when Redpaw looked like he was about to burn up in embarrassment, he spoke, "Then by my right as leader of The Gorge, I give you your warrior name. From this point on you will be known as Redflight. May your hunts be generous and your prey short-lived." The crowd of cats immediately took up yowling the new warriors' names. Pride and enthusiasm filled the voices that now bounced off of the walls.
"Finclaw! Thornheart! Redflight! Finclaw! Thornheart! Redflight!" Deadeye flicked his tail for silence and his cold gaze traveled around the room until it landed abruptly on Spottedkit. The she-kit immediately felt her fur crawl under his harsh stare.
"Now," the dark tomcat began, drawing out the word, "I know this might come off as a bit hasty to some of you—" Deadeye gave a meaningful glance at a few cats, "—however, since we are just as short on fresh warriors as the four Clans, I have decided that these kits are old enough to start their apprentice training. It will only excel their learning and conduct as future warriors of The Gorge. Foxleap's kits, step forward." Spottedkit glanced nervously at Dustkit, who merely shrugged in response and walked forward with their brother and sister. She felt a gentle nudge as she hesitated—upon glancing behind her, she saw her mother giving her an encouraging glance. The golden kit turned back around and followed after her siblings carefully, stopping once all four were under Deadeye's perch. The oddly shaped rock filled her with an odd feeling; she couldn't quite decide if it were dread, awe, or both.
Deadeye stared down on them. Up close, his gaze was even more unsettling—moreso when he focused it directly on Spottedkit. She swore she could feel her skin burning up underneath her fur. "Spottedkit, until you receive your warrior name you will be known as Spottedpaw. Your mentor will be Hawkscar." Deadeye paused as Hawkscar padded up to Spottedpaw, reaching out to touch noses with her.
"You're a bit small for an apprentice," the cream-colored tom murmured jokingly. Spottedpaw felt a wave of relief crash over her—most kits in The Gorge don't often interact with the warriors, so one is never certain whether their mentor would be coldhearted or friendly. Deadeye's gaze rested on Spottedpaw for a moment longer before he continued.
"Dustkit, from this day until you receive your warrior name you will be known as Dustpaw. Your mentor will be Rocksplash." Once again, a pause while mentor and apprentice met. "Riverkit, from this day until you receive your warrior name you will be known as Riverpaw. Fireclaw will guide you on the path of a warrior." He watched as the dark-furred kit touched noses with the deep ginger tabby; Riverpaw immediately moved to sit next to his brother and sister afterwards. "Fernkit, from this day forward until you receive your warrior name you will be known as Fernpaw. Your mentor will be Coldstep." The crowd's silence dragged on for a moment after the final pair touched noses, as if they were still recovering from the shock of the early apprentice naming ceremony. Slowly, the cats began chanting the names of the new apprentices.
"Spottedpaw! Dustpaw! Riverpaw! Fernpaw! Spottedpaw! Dustpaw! Riverpaw! Fernpaw!" Despite her previously uncomfortable state, Spottedpaw felt the tiniest bit of pride rising in her chest as her name was chanted. Slowly her tension ebbed away, but when she glanced at her siblings she noticed they shared an oddly ambitious glint in their eyes rather than one of pride. The chanting died down and Spottedpaw's faint feeling of pride was replaced by one of unease—her fur itched once again and she felt as though she was being watched. After giving a quick glance around the cave, she spotted Frostheart with his gaze locked on her. The apprentice did her best to shrug it off as her mentor nudged her and beckoned for her to follow him.
"Just because your apprenticeship ceremony came a little early doesn't mean I'll go easy on you," Hawkscar jested. "We're going to go right into the basics of being a warrior. Follow me." The tomcat didn't give Spottedpaw a chance to respond before whisking towards the training wing of the cave systems, where all new apprentices began their training before they could truly experience the world outside of the caves. The golden tabby hurried after him, though she still had room to grow and as a result had to move her legs nearly thrice as fast to keep up.
"Your first lesson," the cream cat called over his shoulder, "you cannot fall behind. You leave yourself vulnerable and possibly even a target to anycat and anything else that might be out there." As they entered the training sector, Hawkscar flipped around to face Spottedpaw without so much as a heads up—the young molly came skidding to a halt at the sudden action, nearly tripping over her own tail in the process.
"Second lesson," Hawkscar snapped without a moment of hesitation, "is to never let your guard down. If I were to turn on you just now, I'd have you beat." Spottedpaw held her tongue and gave a hurried nod, but her gaze soon wandered off to new noises echoing in the training cave. In a corner opposite to her and her mentor were Riverpaw and Fernpaw and their mentors; the four of them had jumped straight into learning how to stalk prey and what appeared to be fighting. A pang of what felt like jealousy grew deep in the pit of her stomach. Hawkscar noticed her attention drift off and lifted his paw, nudging her nearly hard enough to tip her over.
"Come now," he murmured. "Those hot-headed warriors rush into everything and everyone ends up saving their tails. You'll get the same training in due time. You need some of that Gorge warrior knowledge in you first." Spottedpaw reigned her attention back in and gave a nod once again.
"That makes sense," she mumbled, albeit a little dejectedly. "If I don't have the knowledge I'll just make myself a target, right?" She remembered part of what the warrior had told her previously.
Hawkscar puffed his chest out a bit. "Looks like I got the bright one of the batch," he purred. The warmth and humor that Hawkscar carried in his tone made Spottedpaw feel much better about herself. "Seriously, though. Keep this up and you might be the first to get to experience some patrols." The kit lit up at the mention of patrols, and she eagerly paid attention to all of Hawkscar's lessons for the day.
After a countless sunrises of training, Spottedpaw was finally well versed in not only the basic warrior rules and tactics, but the basics of combat and hunting as well. As time went on, she grew more and more curious of the outside world—she'd heard stories from the elder of times before her own, and how every moon the Gorge would gather with all of the other Clans in the Gathering. She'd been told stories of hundreds of cats in one area, all at peace with each other and even congratulating other Clans for their new warriors. Spottedpaw heard tales of starlit ancestors who The Gorge no longer speak to; when Molestrike told her this specific story, her voice was hushed as though she was afraid to be heard speaking of it. The apprentice was in awe of the idea of so many cats congregating in the name of starry ancestors—something inside her gave a twinge when she thought of the stories, though she didn't know what for.
Her siblings seemed to be handling apprenticeship just as well as she. There was a silent ambition shared between the four of them—they each wanted to be the first of the litter to experience the outside world. It was an unspoken guarantee from each apprentice to the other that they would not stop their training for even a second. This ongoing competition, much to Spottedpaw's relief, didn't stop them from holding a close bond as siblings. They would still wrestle near the fresh-kill pile and groom together; the second their mentors called for them, however, they bolted.
The four of them still had several moons left of training, and the warriors responsible for them were already starting to crack down on training. As Spottedpaw nibbled on a scrawny mouse, she heard what she now easily recognized as her mentor's heavy footsteps approaching her. She lifted her head from her meal and looked to the cream tomcat expectantly.
"I see that I don't even have to call for you anymore." Though several sunrises had passed, Hawkscar still managed to jest just about every time he spoke. He nudged her softly and beckoned with his tail. "It's time to test your hunting skills. Come along." Before the young apprentice could boast to her siblings, she saw their mentors beckoning them as well—each young cat puffing out their chest proudly in turn. Spottedpaw realized that both she and her littermates were finally getting the chance to venture out into the world. The four exchanged a glance, acknowledging that they were each ready to bring their sibling rivalry out of the caves and into the wilds at last.
"Where are we going, Hawkscar?" Spottedpaw asked, unable to keep her excitement from becoming visible. She twitched the tip of her tail and shuffled a bit on her paws. Her mentor twitched his whiskers in amusement.
"As I said, we're testing your hunting skills. You're all going to be hunting in different areas, and we will observe from a distance." Without a pause, Hawkscar whisked towards the entrance of the cave system. For the first time, Spottedpaw felt anxiety well up within her rather than excitement—this was her first step into the world outside, but what if something happened to her? Or her brothers and sister? The elders spoke plenty of the old wars with the Clans and the land that Deadeye has won; what if the other Clans invaded?
Spottedpaw was so deep in her newfound worries that she hadn't realized she'd stopped right in the middle of the entrance tunnel. Dustpaw slammed into her tail and scoffed at her. "Come on, Spottedpaw," he muttered before giving her a shove. The she-cat immediately took up a quickened pace, catching up to her mentor before he got too far ahead. She had to ignore these fears of hers—this was her chance to improve beyond her littermates and impress her mentor and the rest of The Gorge.
Spottedpaw squinted harshly as the natural sunlight left her temporarily blinded. Once her eyes adjusted and she was able to view her surroundings, she froze in her spot. The outside world was much more magnificent than what she could have imagined—by leaps and bounds, even. She didn't have to see her siblings to know that they, too, were awestruck by what they were seeing.
Sounds they had only ever heard faintly rang through the forest; plants and landforms they had only known through the tales of the elders, with their hushed voices as they spun tales for the apprentices, surrounded them. The litter was snapped from their daze as their mentors nudged briskly them onward.
"Come," Fireclaw muttered. "You're out here to hunt, not gawk at a few beetles." No more words were spoken as the group moved carefully along the ridge leading away from the camp. Now that her sense of awe had been snatched away, Spottedpaw was painfully aware of the sheer drop into the river below them.
"Don't look into the river, just look ahead of you and don't stop walking." The group slowly followed the ledge up away from the cliff and into the safety of the forest, where Hawkscar led them deeper until they reached a small clearing. The cats stopped in the center—as they came to their halt, Spottedpaw became aware of all the sounds of the forest singing together. Birds chirping and leaves rustling around them made the forest itself seem alive. She was once again in awe at sounds and sights she had never even imagined before today.
The four mentors had sat in front of their apprentices. Hawkscar cleared his throat and Spottedpaw returned her attention to them. "As we said before," the tomcat murmured, "we're testing your hunting skills today. We'll lead each of you into different spots in the forest and you'll show us what you've been able to learn inside the camp." The warriors each gave the others a look and turned away from one another, leading the kits into the forest. Hawkscar flicked his tail at Spottedpaw as if beckoning her after him, and the golden-pelted she-kit was quick to follow. Once they had reached what, to Hawkscar, was an appropriate distance away, he sat down in the brushes. "Your assessment starts now."
Spottedpaw looked to him, immediately drawing a blank; all she received in return was a dead stare. It didn't take her long to realize she would get no pointers, so she turned to the forest without a word. She tried taking one more glance back at her teacher only to discover he had vanished without a sound—she knew, however, that he would be watching her every move. The pressure was on, and it was time for her to impress.
There was no time for Spottedpaw to lose. One misstep, one wrong move and her siblings would come out ahead and she knew she'd never hear the end of it. The young cat paused, taking in the scents around her; all of the new scents were so overwhelming, the task at hand seemed nearly impossible. Spottedpaw scanned the forest around her without moving a muscle. The rustle of a leaf here, a twig dropping from the trees above there, she put every ounce of energy she had into listening and watching her surroundings.
And then, a familiar smell. What was it? Not a thrush, nor vole . . . perhaps squirrel? A twig snapped and she directed all her attention towards it—there. It was a surprisingly plump squirrel, too, carelessly lumbering about the forest floor. Without a sound, Spottedpaw dropped to a crouch while trying to remember her teachings.
'Stay downwind, or else it'll smell you before you have a chance to pounce. Keep your haunches low to the ground, glide through the foliage with the ease of the streams. And then . . . leap.'
Her mentor's words stuck with her, and she praised herself for her sharp memory. It was just Spottedpaw's luck that she started downwind of the creature, now she just had to make sure it stayed that way. Slowly, she began creeping forward through the brush—stopping every few seconds to make sure the squirrel had not heard or seen her. Just a few pawsteps closer, and she'd be close enough to go for the pounce. As she grew closer, she got too excited and felt a twig snap under her paw and, in turn, a pit formed in her stomach. The squirrel froze in its spot; so did she. She felt her fur heating up as she grew anxious. This squirrel might very well be her only chance in today's assessment.
After a few more painful seconds it seemed as though the squirrel went back to its business. Spottedpaw crept forward a few more inches and pounced, landing right on top of the small animal and delivering the killing blow quickly. Before she could bury it somewhere safe, Fernpaw burst out of the undergrowth looking panicked. Spottedpaw could hear every possible catch in the nearest vicinity flee from the sudden noise and turned on her sister.
"Mouse-brain, you just scared off all the prey!" she spat, her fur bristling up.
"Shut up," Fernpaw fretted. "It's Dustpaw. He accidentally crossed the border and ran into a SwiftClan patrol! Come, quick!" Without another word, the ginger-furred apprentice pelted back the way she came. Spottedpaw, though skeptical, picked up her lone catch and followed after her littermate carefully. She had heard from the other warriors in the caves about the tension between SwiftClan and the Gorge. If Dustpaw really had crossed some of them, it might not end well.
As she drew closer to Fernpaw, new scents overwhelmed her—foreign, unknown scents. She stepped through the greenery and saw Dustpaw, arched over a mouse he had caught, facing five strange cats. Their other littermates were there as well, along with the mentors. The animosity between the cats was nearly tangible, the air heavy over them all. Spottedpaw quietly put her squirrel down at her paws and sat timidly behind the rest.
"Five is excessive for a border patrol, is it not, Grassheart?" Hawkscar was the first to speak, his voice colder than Spottedpaw had ever heard. "Especially with a fine deputy such as yourself in tow." A large, light tabby tom growled in response and stepped forward. Tensions grew even thicker between the cats; both sides were bristled with claws at the ready.
"Hardly big enough when patrolling our border with the Gorge," his deep voice echoed off the trees. A dappled she-cat next to him bristled, and a Siamese she-cat bared her teeth at the Gorge cats. The tom, whom Spottedpaw assumed was Grassheart, looked at each of the littermates. "Is Deadeye so desperate now that he's enlisting mere kits for training?" It was the Gorge warriors' turn to be offended this time.
"Don't speak on Deadeye," Coldstep hissed, crouching as if ready to pounce. "How he runs the Gorge is our business, not yours." Within moments, all cats were ready to leap at each other, claws bared—all except Hawkscar and Grassheart.
"This kit stole prey from our territory," the Siamese molly snarled. Grassheart gave her a meaningful look, and Hawkscar tapped Coldstep with his tail.
"You would do well to teach your clanmates to be as . . . level-headed as you, Hawkscar." Grassheart flicked his ears, and the SwiftClan cats around him backed up a pace or two. "It would also not be harmless for your apprentices to know where the borders lie. We'll overlook this incident this time, and you can keep the mouse; make sure it doesn't happen again. Others might not be so forgiving." He waved his tail and the cats around him started retreating into their territory. Grassheart himself took an extra moment, looking at each of the Gorge cats in turn as if to remember their faces—locking eyes with Spottedpaw, as if it were supposed to be a meaningful look, and retreated after his own clanmates.
Spottedpaw heard Fireclaw start to mutter something in response, but Hawkscar cut him off with a harsh nudge. "We'll have none of that in front of apprentices. Be grateful that it was resolved without bloodshed." He looked at the rest of the cats and shook out his pelt. "Let's call it a day and return to the camp. Riverpaw, Fernpaw, go collect anything you've caught. Fireclaw, Coldstep, go with them." The four cats bounded off into the forest, and the four who remained took up a slow pace back to the caves. There wasn't a word shared between them; Rocksplash's dissatisfaction with Dustpaw resonated in the air and made them all far too uncomfortable for small talk.
Once they arrived near the caves, the four stopped and waited for the rest of the party. Dustpaw finally broke the awkward silence that hung over them after dropping his catch. "I didn't steal it from their territory, you know," he muttered.
"You can't say that for sure, kit," Rocksplash hissed. "You lot don't even know the borders yet. You're hardly out of the nest yet!"
"M-Maybe not. But I noticed the stench when I crossed it, I was only a tail length over because the mouse ran there from our territory!" The brown tom bristled in defiance, and he raised his chin at his mentor. The tortoiseshell molly growled and swiped a paw over his head.
"Then you stole from their territory. That's just how it works, you insolent brat. And for what, a scrawny little mouse?" Spottedpaw opened her mouth to protest, but a quick look from Hawkscar stopped her—so she continued to sit quietly with her prey. Much to her dismay, however, her silence caught Rocksplash's attention. "Why can't you be more like your sister over here? She's so well behaved. Didn't cross the border and she caught us a juicy squirrel. Ne'er a peep out of her, either." The dappled golden molly felt her fur burn from embarrassment as she caught a hot glare from her brother. Spottedpaw could only hope he knew she didn't intend to be compared to him, nor for him to be scolded so harshly for a mistake.
After what felt like an excruciating eternity, the four other cats returned to them and the group made their way into the caves. Each kit went to put their prey on the now-empty fresh-kill pile—Spottedpaw saw that Riverpaw had managed a decent-sized rabbit, and Fernpaw had caught two thrushes. Spottedpaw spied their father watching from just outside the warriors' den, his scar-covered golden pelt ever noticeable. He never approached them about their training, though; their mother was no better. Briefly, she wondered if life in the other Clans was like this, but she quickly shook off the thought. She'd surely be scorned should she ever voice something like that.
Hawkscar and Coldstep beckoned the litter over to where the mentors had gathered. The four littermates, albeit somewhat hesitantly, headed over to the warriors and sat in front of them. Dustpaw sat with a defiant glint in his eye, and Spottedpaw eyed him carefully.
Fireclaw cleared his throat, speaking for the first time that day. "Despite some . . . minor issues, you four did well for your first time outside of the caves." Spottedpaw felt Dustpaw tense up beside her, clearly still flustered from the day's events. "We've come to the decision of who did best today, and I'm proud to say it's Riverpaw." The ginger tom puffed out his chest smugly, as if it had been a competition among mentors rather than an assessment of apprentices. "You're all free to rest for the rest of the night, and take your catch as your meal for the day. Dustpaw, go talk to Frozenleaf and make sure you've got no injuries from your blunder into that SwiftClan patrol." Dustpaw let out a huff and stomped off towards the medicine den, but not before getting in one more sharp glare at Spottedpaw.
The golden tabby she-kit shook off her unease and fetched her squirrel from the pile. She trudged to a small corner by the apprentices' den and settled down on the cold stone floor. As she quietly picked at her meal, she felt the presence of another and, upon looking up, saw her mentor.
"Hawkscar? Is there something I forgot to do?" she mewed quizzically, tilting her head.
The cream tom chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. Not at all. I just wanted you to know you did well today," he murmured reassuringly. "And ignore your brother's glares, he'll sulk for a while and be back to normal. You do understand why I stopped you, no?" After he got nothing but a confused stare, he continued in a hushed voice. "The behavior you saw earlier was . . . typical for the other mentors. I don't agree with those teachings, but if you had spoken out I'd have had no choice."
"I think I understand," Spottedpaw murmured. Right as her mentor turned to leave, she spoke up. "Hey, Hawkscar?" He turned around and gave her a curious look. "Are the other Clans like this, too?"
Hawkscar chuckled, then glanced around quickly and beckoned to her with his tail. "You know, I might as well show you all of our borders after today. Come along." Though now thoroughly confused, Spottedpaw followed him out of the caves and into the darkening outside world. "The river outside the cave marks the very end of our territory. It borders no other territory, and there is simply . . . nothing for us beyond it." He led her through the territory, showing her all of the other Clans' borders until they reached the spot from earlier, and he sat down there.
They were both silent for a few moments, Spottedpaw standing next to her mentor awkwardly as he sat at the border. "This," he murmured, "is the SwiftClan border. We're not permitted to speak of it under Deadeye's orders, but you should know that we are very different from the other Clans, Spottedpaw. There isn't much I can say—not yet, at least, and certainly not here. I'll see if I can't convince Deadeye to bring you to the next Gathering. You and your littermates are exceptionally young for apprentices, and he doesn't often bring apprentices, but it might be allowed. You'll be able to see, then." Spottedpaw tilted her head, but said nothing. "Let's head back to the camp, then. Don't forget the scents of the borders, either. We don't want another incident like earlier." With that, the two cats padded back to the camp and settled for the night.
Author's Note ;; Hey, everyone! I'm porting this fanfic over from Wattpad and Ao3, and though I'll try to update somewhat regularly, I'm stuck to mobile FF dot net which unfortunately seems pretty buggy and not easily navigable for me. If you get impatient, you can search it up on those other forums to read more!