Chapter 2

"Good form, Spiderpaw," Mousefur mewed. "Now keep it up!"

Mistyfoot shifted on her paws. Greenleaf sunlight was burning her shoulders but to complain about it to Mousefur felt like it would end in a lecture about how young cats can't handle things these days. She focused instead on watching Spiderpaw stalk.

She's good, Mistyfoot thought, but noted that Spiderpaw was struggling to keep still even when catching pretend prey. When Spiderpaw leaped onto the leaf it was too soon and she fell short, even with her longer legs.

Mousefur shook her head, sighing. "How you were born with legs like that, I don't know," the older she-cat groaned.

Mistyfoot looked to her own apprentice. Shrewpaw was doing all right, but his crouch was unbalanced. "Don't move until you're confident to do so," she instructed him, feeling proud as Shrewpaw took a moment to adjust his stance. "Much better!"

"There's so much to pay attention to!" complained Spiderpaw. Her forepaw tapped against the sandy earth. "I can't do it, Mousefur!"

Mousefur's ear flicked with mild irritation. "Yes, you can," she said sternly. "It takes time, but you'll learn to filter out what you don't need to hear."

"But what if we can't?" Shrewpaw wondered, still struggling to keep his weight balanced. Mistyfoot used her muzzle to gently coax his haunches down lower. She could feel his body having a hard time with the position.

"Like anything, hunting takes practice," Mistyfoot urged. "You kits couldn't balance on all four paws in a day – you're not going to pick up hunting in one, either."

Mistyfoot glanced at Mousefur, wondering if that was the right thing to say. The dusky she-cat nodded encouragingly, and Mistyfoot bit back a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

"Keep practicing," Mousefur meowed on. She gestured with a paw to a stick lying in the middle of the clearing. "There's your prey. Keep at it until we ask you to stop."

Spiderpaw and Shrewpaw nodded. The two apprentices took up positions tail-lengths away from the stick, both looking very determined.

"So… are you glad to have another apprentice?" Mistyfoot asked. She tried not to betray the nervousness she felt talking to Mousefur, a warrior very senior to her in the Clan. It could backfire quite easily.

"Spiderpaw – keep that tail off the ground!" hissed Mousefur. Spiderpaw let out a squeak and raised her tail. "And yes, I am, Mistyfoot. I missed this, as frustrating as it can be. How do you feel about your first apprentice?"

Mistyfoot peered at Shrewpaw, who seemed to be balancing his body well. She didn't see a need to correct him yet. "I don't know if I'm doing a good job," she admitted. "I knew I'd have to train an apprentice sometime – all deputies must – but I didn't think it'd be so soon."

Shrewpaw leaped, but fell short. He didn't look frustrated, though.

Mousefur turned a skeptical eye on Mistyfoot, and Mistyfoot regretted slipping in her goal of becoming deputy. Did she seem too ambitious? That was a dangerous thing to seem, when one was Bluestar's daughter.

But the brown she-cat only shrugged. "There's a lot of time to shoot for deputy; no need to rush," she pointed out. "Tinystar has a lot of faith in you, Mistyfoot – he'd never give you an apprentice if he didn't, especially with other older warriors around who haven't had one yet."

Mistyfoot swallowed. "You're… nicer than I thought you'd be," she mumbled.

Mousefur shrugged again. "I'm nice to who I want to be nice to," she grunted.

"Well I'm glad you're being nice to me," Mistyfoot admitted.

Mousefur rolled her eyes. "Keep talking like that and it won't last long!"

Mistyfoot jumped, but she saw the humor sparkling in Mousefur's eye. Maybe she's really not as cranky as every other cat thinks she is after all, Mistyfoot thought. After all, a cat can't live in a Clan without having any friends. Even Ashfur gets along with some others.

Just as Spiderpaw fumbled a leap, the ferns rustled. Mistyfoot turned her head to spot Dustpelt padding into the clearing, Nightpaw by his side. The dark tabby warrior looked at his kits with fondness for a moment before addressing Mousefur and Mistyfoot: "May we join you?"

Mousefur glanced at Mistyfoot. Too late Mistyfoot realized that Mousefur was wondering her opinion – she nodded too hastily her approval and felt her ears burn as Dustpelt's gaze bored into her for taking too long.

"They were working on stalking," Mousefur carried on, flicking her tail against Mistyfoot's flank. Calm down, kit, the gesture seemed to say. "But maybe Nightpaw can help them learn a basic battle move?"

Dustpelt twitched his whiskers. "That sounds fine," he agreed.

When they looked again at Mistyfoot for her approval, she made sure to nod more quickly.

Both Shrewpaw and Spiderpaw's eyes lit up. "What move? What move?" Spiderpaw asked, bouncing on her toes.

"I want to learn how to claw a ShadowClan cat's belly!" Shrewpaw piped up.

"Or swimming?" Spiderpaw wondered. "Will we learn swimming?"

"Swimming is for RiverClan," Nightpaw pointed out.

"But that would be useful!" Spiderpaw mewed. "Wouldn't it?"

"Maybe an evasive maneuver?" Mistyfoot suggested. She looked at both Dustpelt and Mousefur. "Spiderpaw and Shrewpaw are still young, there's no reason for them to fight in a real battle yet, should one come."

Mousefur and Dustpelt both nodded in agreement. Mistyfoot felt a flash of triumph.

"Nightpaw," Dustpelt instructed, "show them the tuck and roll."

Nightpaw nodded. "Watch me, you two," he mewed.

The small black tom trotted out into the clearing, his belly already dusted with sand. Will he ever grow into that small body? Mistyfoot wondered. Nightpaw smoothly fell onto his shoulder, rolled over, and sprang back up onto his paws.

"Like that," Nightpaw said, his icy eyes sparkling.

"Wow," Shrewpaw mewed, eyes wide. "That had to be hard to learn! How do you keep your tail from tangling up?"

Nightpaw kinked his tail to demonstrate. "Like that," he mewed. "Keep it curved just a little, that way no other cat steps on it. My tail is almost as long as I am so I need to make sure it stays out of harm's way."

Spiderpaw immediately tried the move. She tucked and rolled, but tangled her paws on the spring back up and fell onto her side in the sand. Mousefur sighed as the dust settled.

"It's not a battle right now," Mousefur advised. "Take it slow."

Mistyfoot nodded to Shrewpaw. His turn to try. Heart beating in her ears, Mistyfoot watched Shrewpaw crouch, fall onto his shoulder, roll over… and stumble like Spiderpaw when he tried to spring back onto his paws. Shrewpaw slithered onto his belly in the sand ungracefully.

"Oof," he complained. "That's harder than it looks."

"You've both got the roll down," Mistyfoot praised, lifting her tail. "But the springing up is the hard bit – it needs to be fast so that no warrior catches you when you're exposed, but careful enough that you don't tangle your own paws."

Shrewpaw's eyes blazed with determination. Spiderpaw was already trying again – and failing – when Shrewpaw got to his paws and positioned himself for another go. This time, Mistyfoot placed herself beside him.

"See how I'm standing?" she asked. "Look at my muscles. Look at which ones are tense. Try and copy."

Shrewpaw nodded and hunkered himself.

"Hey, Shrewpaw!" Nightpaw mewed. "Try this instead!"

Mistyfoot watched with frustration as Nightpaw chattered on, prodding Shrewpaw with his paws: "Put all your weight on the side you're falling on. Try to make the fall look natural, too, so that your enemy thinks you're too hurt! Yeah, like that! And tuck your tail a little – perfect! Now try!"

Shrewpaw rolled just fine, though he wobbled a little on his paws when he sprang back up. Mistyfoot opened her jaws to offer advice, but Nightpaw meowed, "Good job! You'll stick the landing with practice!" before she could.

Mistyfoot's tail flicked. To no cat in particular, she muttered, "Who's the mentor here?"

Mousefur purred with amusement. "He's a lot like his father, that one."

Mistyfoot's ear flicked with embarrassment. Me, complaining about an apprentice? Augh.

Mousefur nudged her. "Don't worry about it – Nightpaw is just a chatterbox know-it-all, like most young cats these days. He's helping you out because he admires you."

"He's sticking his nose into other cats' business," Mistyfoot muttered.

Mousefur shrugged. "Just like his father," she repeated.

A scent crossed the clearing. Mistyfoot's ears pricked. More cats? She thought. This hollow is getting full already.

Sandstorm and Sorrelpaw appeared from the forest, tails up in greeting. They did not lope into the hollow, however, and Sorrelpaw looked too energized to be coming for training.

"Any cat want to join us on patrol?" Sandstorm asked.

"It's my last one!" Sorrelpaw cheered. "I'm going to be a warrior tonight!"

"That's great news," praised Dustpelt.

"Finally!" Nightpaw purred. He turned to Dustpelt. "Can we go?"

Mistyfoot smiled. Sorrelpaw had fallen from a tree during training a moon and a half ago and hurt her shoulder, delaying her warrior ceremony. She'd had to watch Rainwhisker and Sootfur, her littermates, become warriors from the medicine den.

"You can go, Nightpaw," Dustpelt mewed.

Nightpaw beamed, scrabbling up the hollow to join Sorrelpaw and his mother, who greeted him with a lick between the ears.

"What about you, Mistyfoot?" Sorrelpaw wondered, her eyes wide. "Want to come?"

Mistyfoot opened her jaws to say yes, but she recalled her mentor duties. She looked back to Mousefur, who shrugged.

"Go on," the she-cat said. "Dustpelt and I can handle Shrewpaw and Spiderpaw."

"Thanks," Mistyfoot purred.

"Let's go then," Sandstorm agreed. "Time's wasting."

Heat clung between Mistyfoot's shoulders as she followed Sandstorm through the forest. She found herself spending more time tuning out the harsh buzz of cicadas than really paying much attention to the apprentices chatting behind her. Sandstorm was the one to turn her narrow muzzle and snap, "Quiet! This is still a patrol, you two!"

"Sorry, Mother," mumbled Nightpaw.

"Sorry," echoed Sorrelpaw.

Their conversation still continued, just in more hushed tones: "What do you think being a warrior will be like, Sorrelpaw?" Nightpaw asked. Sandstorm rolled her eyes and muttered something about how apprentices never listen.

Mistyfoot trained an ear back to them. Sorrelpaw's steps were sure and confident. "I think it'll be really exciting!" she mewed. "Finally I can be my own boss!"

"But you still have to listen to Oakheart, or other older warriors," Nightpaw went on, sounding confused. "How is that any different than being an apprentice again?"

Sorrelpaw made a befuddled noise. "I guess… it kinda isn't? But I'll have more respect… and I'll be able to go hunting whenever I want!"

"Huh," Nightpaw mused.

Sandstorm's tail flicked Mistyfoot's shoulder, getting her attention. The pale ginger she-cat had her bright green eyes on Mistyfoot, and the scrutiny was unexpected. Mistyfoot fought not to jump. Sandstorm was often just as scary – if not scarier – than her mate, Tinystar.

"How are things with Shrewpaw?" Sandstorm asked amicably.

Mistyfoot blinked, grateful that she wasn't about to be raked over the shoulders by the sharp tongue of the older warrior. Swallowing, Mistyfoot responded, "I'm nervous. I want to do well by him, you know?"

Sandstorm sighed. "You think way too hard about things, Mistyfoot," she stated. "You'll do just fine. Tinystar wants to see you succeed."

Mistyfoot's tail flicked. "Does he?" she wondered. "I-I mean… he knows I want to be deputy one day. Does he want me to be his deputy?"

Sandstorm's eye sparkled. "I can't say what goes through that head of his, really – but are you after your father's position so badly?"

Her mew was good-natured, but Mistyfoot felt a spike of worry. "N-No!" she insisted, keeping her voice low so that the apprentices didn't catch on. "I don't want anything bad to happen to Father; but being deputy was what I've wanted since I was a kit, and… and Tinystar was deputy. He did so many amazing things…"

Mistyfoot swallowed a lump of emotion, thinking back to those times. Tinystar had been such a young, inexperienced deputy when she had been just a kitten – but he'd brought ThunderClan out of the worst times they'd seen in seasons. Bluestar, the fire, stopping a war with WindClan, the dogs…

"… I just don't want to screw things up," Mistyfoot went on, "now that it feels like my paws are on that path."

Sandstorm huffed. "There's more to being deputy than mentoring apprentices," she pointed out. "You're overthinking things, Mistyfoot. If you don't stop yourself you'll tangle your paws before your goal has a chance of coming true."

Mistyfoot's mouth felt dry at her words. She's right, I know she is, she thought. But how do I get out of my own head? All she could manage was a simple "Thank you." After all, some advice was better than none.

"Hey, Sandstorm?"

"Yes, Sorrelpaw?" Sandstorm paused the patrol with a flick of her tail, turning her head back to look at the apprentices. Mistyfoot looked back, too, curious.

Sorrelpaw's dappled head was tilted. "I smell something odd ahead," she reported. "Harsh and… musty."

"ShadowClan?" Mistyfoot questioned. ShadowClan scent was famous for its musty, wet smell that was often searing on the nostrils – but Mistyfoot doubted ShadowClan was this far into ThunderClan territory.

Sorrelpaw shook her head. "It's faint but I know it's not ShadowClan," she admitted.

Sandstorm opened her jaws to scent the air, and Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the scent. All she saw were the regular ThunderClan trails through the heavy greenleaf forest. She loved the forest dearly but had to admit that threats must be much easier to spot on the moors or in RiverClan's grassier lands.

Nightpaw flicked his tail and started down the path, his nose to the trail, but Sandstorm grabbed him by the scruff and pulled him back.

"Stay still," she grunted around a mouthful of her son's fur, "and listen."

Nightpaw went limp, and Sandstorm let him go. The pale ginger she-cat's muzzle was twitching, and Mistyfoot marveled at her thoroughness. Sandstorm is the Clan's best hunter, Mistyfoot reflected. You don't get that way by sight alone.

"What is it?" Mistyfoot asked. She didn't recognize the scent well herself, and she cursed her youth for that – beyond the battle with BloodClan, Mistyfoot's path had crossed few threats, other than a stray fox or two last leaf-bare.

"Badger," Sandstorm decided, whiskers twitching. "Not fresh, but not stale either. We need to report this immediately."

Mistyfoot's neck bristled, and her hackles rose. "A badger?!" she repeated. "Do you think it could be the one that killed Willowpelt last greenleaf?" She hadn't been on the patrol to hunt down that badger, but she'd seen the damage it'd done to the lovely ThunderClan queen.

Sorrelpaw let out a gasp. "C-Could it be?" she fretted, eyes wide. Mistyfoot felt a pang of sympathy – Sorrelpaw and her brothers were the kits of Whitestorm and Tigerstar, ThunderClan's former deputy and leader, but Willowpelt had borne and nursed them. There had been a lot of tragedy in the young she-cat's life.

"If it is, I don't know," Sandstorm admitted, her eyes sparking with sympathy at her apprentice. "It doesn't much matter – it needs to go. Badgers might not look like a threat but they very much are… and with Ferncloud's kits coming any day I don't want it on my territory. Let's go."

"I, Tinystar, leader of ThunderClan, ask our warrior ancestors to look down upon this apprentice. She has worked doubly hard to understand the ways of the forest and your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn."

Silence descended upon the clearing. The sun was setting in a red flare, but it did little to cool the forest. The sunset turned Tinystar into an icy-eyed shadow on the Highrock as he looked down at the Clan – almost every cat gathered to watch Sorrelpaw finally become a warrior.

"Sorrelpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?" Tinystar asked.

Sorrelpaw nodded, the white patches of her pelt glowing in the orange light. "I do."

Tinystar leaped down from the Highrock and approached the apprentice. He raised his voice: "Then by the powers of StarClan I give you your warrior name. Sorrelpaw, from this moment forth you will be known as Sorreltail – StarClan honors your courage and patience, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

Sorreltail and Tinystar touched noses, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Loudest of all were Rainwhisker and Sootfur, who pushed their way to the front of the crowd to smother their littermate.

"Sorreltail! Sorreltail!"

Mistyfoot raised her voice as loud as she could. Every apprentice deserved their warrior name, but Sorreltail had worked doubly hard for hers.

"We made a nest just for you," Rainwhisker purred. "Right next to ours!"

"Enjoy holding vigil all alone tonight!" Cloudtail, Tinystar's niece, crowed.

"Keep talking like that and you'll be sitting beside her," Oakheart grumbled, nudging the orange-and-white tabby.

Mistyfoot watched the Clan descend on Sorreltail with their well-wishes. She was a very popular cat, her struggle to warriorhood an inspiration, especially to the other apprentices. Mistyfoot saw Whitepaw and Sorreltail share a heartfelt muzzle brush, as if Sorreltail was passing on the mantle of eldest apprentice to the patchy white she-cat.

When the cheering finally died down, Tinystar raised his voice again: "Cats of ThunderClan, I have one more announcement to make – ThunderClan grows stronger every day, but that does not mean we can ignore threats within our own borders. Sandstorm's patrol scented a badger heading for Snakerocks earlier today – I advise all patrols, and apprentices especially, to avoid the area until more information is gathered."

A ripple of worry spread through the gathered cats. "Why not go after it now?" signed Snowstep rapidly, his fur bristling. "My kits are due any day!"

His concern spread, especially to the gathered queens. Silverstream lashed her tail. "We can't risk it coming near the nursery!" she insisted. "Ferncloud will be very weak!"

"Patience," Tinystar soothed, his icy-blue eyes settling on his Clanmates. Mistyfoot marveled at how one word and a look could settle an entire Clan. Is that the power of being leader? Or is it just Tinystar? "A patrol will look into it tomorrow. For now, I see no reason we can't celebrate Sorreltail's accomplishment."

The Clan seemed placated, for now. Oakheart began to dole out the evening meal from the fresh-kill pile and the Clan separated to feast. Sorreltail got first pick, and went to eat with her littermates by the warrior's den. Mistyfoot was given a squirrel and wondered, briefly, if she could join Sorreltail – but the new warrior was already surrounded.

"Want to eat together?" Mistyfoot asked Oakheart instead.

Her father's eyes sparkled. "Of course, dear heart," he purred. "Let me take some prey to Tinystar, and then we can eat."

Mistyfoot nodded. She padded away, looking for a clear spot – unfortunately the only one was near the apprentice's den. Sighing, she headed over. There was no shame in eating with the apprentices, but Mistyfoot had hoped to have some privacy with her father after such a thought-provoking day.

"So… how dangerous are badgers, anyway?" Mistyfoot's ear twitched, hearing Shrewpaw's voice. Mistyfoot didn't move, tucking her paws beneath her. "Snowstep and Silverstream seemed really worried."

"They're not much bigger than cats," answered Nightpaw, "I can't imagine they're too dangerous."

Mistyfoot's tail twitched with frustration. Hadn't these cats ever listened to a single elder's story?

"Could I fight one?" Shrewpaw wondered.

"Probably!" Nightpaw purred.

Mistyfoot's fur bristled, and she could take listening no longer. She whirled on the apprentices, eyes narrowed. "Nightpaw, don't say things like that!" she hissed. "You don't know anything about how dangerous badgers are – you've never even seen one!"

Shrewpaw flinched and shut his jaws, looking embarrassed – but Nightpaw had no such tact. The small black tom shrugged and curled his tail around his paws. "They're not such a big deal," he insisted. "A patrol of two or three cats could handle it."

Mistyfoot growled, "They kill cats – has Dustpelt taught you nothing? Didn't you hear Sandstorm earlier? It could be the same one that killed Willowpelt!"

Nightpaw narrowed his eyes, icy-blue like his father's. "Dustpelt teaches me everything!" he insisted. "He's a very good mentor!"

"Not good enough if you think an apprentice can take on a badger without consequence," Mistyfoot snapped back, digging her claws into the earth.

"Uh…" Shrewpaw backed away, tail low.

"You don't know everything, Nightpaw!" Mistyfoot went on, baring her teeth. "Acting like you do will only get you killed one day!"

"Enough!"

Mistyfoot flinched at the authoritative voice. Dustpelt thrust his muzzle between Mistyfoot and Nightpaw, his amber eyes narrowed. A shock of embarrassment flooded Mistyfoot's fur, drowning out the heat caught in her pelt with a wave of icy cold shame.

"Dustpelt, I-I-" Mistyfoot choked on the words.

"I'm sorry, Dustpelt!" Nightpaw fretted, looking scared. "W-We were just-"

"I don't care," spat Dustpelt, lashing his tail. "Nightpaw, stop behaving like a little know-it-all, and Mistyfoot!"

Mistyfoot swallowed.

"Stop letting yourself be goaded into arguments with an apprentice," Dustpelt finished. "It's not very warrior-like."

Mistyfoot looked down at her paws, unable to respond.

"Go get prey to the elders, Nightpaw," Dustpelt grunted, sounding tired. "You can eat with them, since you feel like talking so much."

Nightpaw sighed and lowered his head, picking up his prey and sulking across the clearing. Mistyfoot watched him go, and didn't move herself until the small black tom disappeared into the elder's den. Dustpelt had left by then, taking Shrewpaw with him to eat with Cinderpelt and Spiderpaw, Mistyfoot guessed.

Mistyfoot lashed her tail. I let him make a fool out of me! She thought angrily, digging her claws into the grass. But it wasn't safe for him to encourage Shrewpaw to fight badgers!

She sighed. "At least Ashfur didn't see," she muttered. She'd never hear the end of things if the dappled warrior had caught her fighting with an apprentice.

"At least Ashfur didn't see what?"

Oakheart's voice made Mistyfoot jump.

The brown warrior chuckled. "Sorry," he mewed, amber eyes soft, "Tinystar wanted to chat about the badger situation. Ready to eat?"

Mistyfoot only nodded.

"Having trouble with Ashfur lately?" Oakheart asked. "I can talk to him again if you want-"

Mistyfoot laid her tail along her father's shoulders. "Don't worry about it," she insisted. "Let's just eat."

Oakheart seemed happy with that. They settled together, pelts brushing, and shared between them a squirrel and a thrush. By the time their bellies were full, the sun had set and many cats had moved to their nests. Mistyfoot saw Sorreltail take her place below the Highrock, her white patches glowing like starlight in the darkness. Her silent vigil was beginning, and she looked very proud.

"I'm glad she's become a warrior, finally," Oakheart purred, looking at the young she-cat. "She's worked very hard."

"She has," Mistyfoot agreed. "It'll be nice to share a den again. Sootfur snores."

Oakheart purred, twining his tail with his daughter's. "Shrewpaw will sit there too, sooner than you think."

Mistyfoot leaned against her father, feeling the heat of the day and a full belly sap the last of her energy. "Yeah?" she mused. "I hope so."

Oakheart's whiskers twitched. If he wanted to say more, he didn't – leaving Mistyfoot to look at the Highrock and imagine Shrewpaw, a full grown warrior, sitting in its shadow with his sister, tall and proud and ready to welcome a new dawn with his warrior name.

I'll get him there, she promised herself, eyes feeling heavy. Everyone says I can. I can do it.

I'll make him a great warrior.