Basics

I recall the day starting out harmless enough, or perhaps that was a bit dishonest to say. It was meant to be a return to the beginning for some and a peek into the past for myself.

It was an odd atmosphere to behold in the training hollow. Assembled in tandem stood a coalesced group of warriors in the sandy grounds, standing somewhat awkwardly among each other, sharing shifty glances between them. Rare would be an understatement to convey how scarce it was for several of the Clan's warriors to find themselves amassed together in this capacity, and it showed in their respective body language.

Very few seemed to know what to make of their current predicament. The training hollow was barely an area they frequented, and of those that did it was not without the presence of apprentices. Around this time of day most would either be patrolling, hunting, or resting, not gathered to gander at some oddly constructed mess of whatever it was currently being presented to them.

"What in StarClan's name am I looking at, Swiftstep?" Bluefoot could be heard grumbling.

"I'm told it's a course," the silver warrior replied with a shrug, not sounding wholly certain himself. "A way to refine our skills or so I'm led to believe."

Bluefoot stared at the tom incredulously, her eyes stretched wide in disbelief, mouth etched into a long frown. "But it's just a line of stones stacked on top of each other and sticks stuck in the ground!"

"Oakclaw's the one that concocted it, not me," Swiftstep said, somewhat defensively. "You can confront him about it when he finally gets h-."

Redpaw could barely follow the conversation in his sleep deprived state. Eyes half-lidded and tail laying uselessly by his side, exhaustion reeked from the ginger tom in waves. The course of Oakclaw's they'd been discussing was actually constructed by him, having took the better part of last night to collect all the stones and sticks, and then all morning to accurately assemble to the tabby's preferred height and spacing.

It'd been tedious, grueling work for the apprentice while Oakclaw had supervised the progress. A strenuous workload that had kept Redpaw from acquiring a proper opportunity to sleep, and even now, his duties still weren't fulfilled. From his vantage point near the outskirts of the trees, he languidly observed the warriors treading curiously around the obstructions now, giving light pokes and the occasional odd sniff to the towers of stones while others circled the sticks wedged in the dirt. They were like bees attracted to the sweet aroma permeating from a field of flowers.

A big yawn escaped Redpaw's mouth as he sat tiredly while attempting to fight off the creeping weariness, feeling his whiskers and ears involuntarily drooped before snapping back up into a rigid state. Sleep wasn't an option just yet. Oakclaw's instructions had been explicit and he wasn't to leave until after he'd given the demonstration. That was all fine and good for the most part, he thought, but where in the world was Oakclaw right now?

Redpaw, as well as the rest of the warriors, had been dawdling about for quite some time now without any sign of the tabby's arrival. He desperately wanted to head to his nest as much as they probably wanted to get on with the reason they'd been brought out there. With the temperature slowly continuing to decrease as the days grew shorter, it really wasn't ideal to linger around when you could safely be within the warmth and comfort of the Clan's walls. The very last thing BoulderClan needed was a camp of sick cats.

"And now he finally decides to join us," Bluefoot announced, contemptuously, drawing the attention of the warriors as Oakclaw could be seen leisurely strolling into the hollow.

"Sorry I'm late," the burly tabby said, casually. He padded into the center of the hollow, an air of content floating around him, before turning to face them. "I was going over a few details with Crowstar and lost track of time. So!" he said brightly, "who's ready to start?"

Several of the warriors cast each other peculiar looks, almost in homage of the peculiar tom currently residing in front of them. Start what, seemed to be the unspoken question shared among their group. It was clear as day from Redpaw's point of view that next to none of them exactly understood how the makeshift rubble was meant to work.

"What's the point of all this, Oakclaw?" Swiftstep decided to be the one to step forward and ask. "Most of us were ushered outside the Clan with little to no explanation. Mind finally telling us what's going on?"

"It's quite simple," Oakclaw replied, cheerfully, "we're going back to the basics. Crowstar agreed that the time for licking our wounds is over. That it's time BoulderClan resumed back to our original glory. If you'll recall, a few moons ago there was a procedure we went through where Crowstar split the apprentices and warriors up into two separate training groups. Brackentail was in charge of overseeing the warriors last time, but for obvious reasons he can't fulfill that duty as he once did, and so Crowstar has appointed me in that position. To put it bluntly, you're all going to be practicing prowling and pouncing today."

There was a silence as his words slowly sunk in for them. "Practice?" Bluefoot growled in astonishment, glowering at Oakclaw as though he'd lost his mind. "We don't need any practice!"

The large tabby continued to smile, not seeming the slightest bit perturbed by the senior warrior's rebuttal. "I'd kindly disagree, Bluefoot. We were far from our best when we fought CloudClan. Why, I'd argued we came into that battle heavily under prepared. No real tactics, not enough cats, no significant coordination between each other, the faults are numerous," he listed off in rapid succession, the easygoing smile on his face never wavering for a moment. "If we're going to grow from this as a Clan, we need to be better, and that starts with the fundamentals. Things we've all learned, but have possibly slacked off on and maybe even neglected as we've grown older."

A small smattering of exchanges sprouted among the warriors then. Oakclaw sat patiently, politely allowing them to converse without interruption. Redpaw could partially understand why this would be a thing to take some of them aback. After a certain point, especially if you were a warrior, revisiting simple techniques you'd master as an apprentice wasn't the most inviting of ideas. In some cases it could almost even be perceived as insulting to be told that you needed practice.

He was well aware of how prideful Clan cats were and could be. They didn't take disrespect well. Oakclaw had to know this too, otherwise, bringing it up was just poor taste on his behalf.

"I'm not against it," Swiftstep spoke up while a few warriors nodded along side him. "In retrospect it's easy to see where we went wrong in the preparation for CloudClan. Oakclaw's right when he says that wasn't the best we're capable of."

"I agree that we've sulked long enough, as well," Duskpelt said. "It's time to move on. We're BoulderClan cats after all, aren't we?"

There was a chorus of agreement in reply, the warriors suddenly becoming extremely invested in participating. It was a wonder what enough positive reinforcement could do for one self-esteem, Redpaw thought, feeling a brief flare of warmth spread across his chest at the sight of his Clanmates. It truly was a wonderful sight to see an emotion other than disappointment dogging their features. And Redpaw couldn't help fight back the notion of pride he had for his mentor in that instance.

Oakclaw's prominence within the Clan had grown exponentially over the last couple of days. Before, Redpaw would have described his behavior as mostly removed from the daily activity, not really offering much up in terms of opinion or frankly his own presence. Days usually consisted of he and Redpaw out in the forest, overseeing the ginger tom's training. Since the battle with CloudClan, however, he had really taken a step forward to help pick up the slack that had been left behind in everyone else's haze of melancholy. Leading hunting parties, helping organize patrols, and now directing training for the warriors, all of this was so far removed from the image of the lazily carefree tom he depicted to the world.

Oakclaw gazed at the crowd of warriors, smiling. "I'm glad to see you all agree. Now if there aren't anymore questions, Redpaw, would you please show them how it's done?" That was his cue. Stifling a yawn, Redpaw rose to his paws and padded out into the center of the hollow while simultaneously conscious of the multiple pairs of curious eyes tracking his every movement. "Would you kindly start at the beginning of the course?" Oakclaw said, stepping aside to allow him access to the towers of stones. "I'd like for everyone to get a clear view of what Redpaw's about to demonstrate. This is what we'll be drilling today."

Redpaw slid into a low stalking crouch and swiftly began weaving his way in and out the pillars like a spiderweb. Even in a fatigued state, his movements were slick and deft, fluidly maneuvering throughout the spires with the agileness of a forest squirrel. Redpaw slipped across several rows without the slightest hitch in his performance, flowing directly through each space flawless, his body nor fur ever brushing against one of the towers.

He reached the end of the stone spires to now be standing in front of the line of sticks wedged into the ground, and immediately bunched his haunches. Redpaw flew over the first stick to land comfortably in-between the space of the first and second one, subsequently assuming the crouched posture from prior and launching himself airborne once again. A grunt of exertion slipped his mouth as he repeatedly jumped over stick from stick, his muscles contracting and then burning while being forced to repetitively continue the action in tandem.

The sticks demanded much more of a physical performance from Redpaw. If the ginger tom had to decide on which course he preferred, his immediate choice would've been the stone pillars. They required a level of finesse and control that he felt more in sync with. There wasn't as significant a strain on his body while completing them.

Still very much aware of the attention focused solely on him, Redpaw upheld a stoic persona, rapidly firing across each stick in one consecutive motion, never breaking in stride or intent the entire while. With one final, mighty leap, he pounced over the last hurdle in a soaring arc to land steadily on his paws before turning to face the warriors, boldly, while secretly fighting to control his breathing as his heart hammered heavily.

"Excellent work, Redpaw," Oakclaw praised, causing the apprentice to bashfully duck his head. "Anyway, there you all have it. This is what we'll be drilling over and over again today."

"Seems simple enough," Bluefoot sniffed in reply.

"Don't get too confident before you've actually tried it first," Oakclaw mildly chided. "Redpaw had a bit of an easier go then you'll probably have because of his size, seeing as I deliberately designed this to accommodate cats a lot bigger. For the rest of you, practicing restraint and being tactical with your approaches are the only way you can hope to complete the course error free."

He offered the first go to Bluefoot who seemed to have some reservations about preceding everyone else, appearing to have quite the sour disposition of being singled out by Oakclaw. With a few mumbles of insults and complaints under her breathe, the senior warrior eventually acquiesced to the call and headed for the starting position.

"You should head on back to camp now and get some rest," Oakclaw told him, turning to survey Bluefoot's progress.

Redpaw nodded tiredly, feeling thankful for the opportunity to finally go to his nest. Dipping his head to Oakclaw, he turned and exited out of the hollow, on his way in a straight line directed towards camp.

I couldn't have arrived to my nest anyway sooner. Bedraggled and sapped, I desired nothing more in that moment other than to rest. What I received instead was a thought I never would've considered in the first place if I hadn't bumped into him then.

He was trailing just outside the mouth of the gorse tunnel, completely fixated on the thought of collapsing into his nest in a heap and sleeping until sunrise, when he was brought to a halt by the sounds of another cat currently making their way out of the tunnel. Redpaw slid to the side, groggily waiting so that the cat could come by and allow him inside the camp.

"Redpaw?" a familiar voice said, grabbing at his fractured attention.

"Wah?" he mumbled, exhaustively, looking up through barely half-lidded eyes. "Oh, it's you, Sagepaw," he said, recognizing the russet apprentice. "Hey."

"Are you busy?" he asked. "Fernleaf sent me to fetch some bedding for my father's nest and I could use a bit of help."

Sagepaw stood there, watching him expectantly while indecision spliced his thoughts. But I was so close! Redpaw thought glumly, looking back at the entrance to camp morosely. He only had to say no and he'd be free to bury his head in his own nest until dawn. It was moments like then, where Redpaw silently cursed the fact that he couldn't turn down the offer to help when asked to.

It'll be quick, he promised himself while agreeing to go along with Sagepaw. I'll help Sagepaw and be in my nest in no time at all.

The two toms traversed the forest in a mutual silence. Sagepaw led while Redpaw plodded a bit further behind. It'd been a few days since Redpaw had last seen the russet cat. In that time Brackentail had finally allowed a select amount of visits, and Sagepaw had been by his side ever since. It was worth noting that in that time, Sagepaw's mood and appetite had vastly improved. Just viewing him from behind, Redpaw could see how neatly groomed and vibrant the tom's coat appeared. He'd also regained a bit of his original flare, walking now with a bit more confidence in his step than he had prior to the incident.

Redpaw supposed he was happy for him, or as happy as he could be, considering how the image of Brackentail popped in his mind whenever he remotely thought of Sagepaw. Even now, the ginger apprentice's ears still rung from the deputy's biting retort. He couldn't say it'd been the most unpleasant thing he'd heard before, but it'd certainly stung.

Redpaw hadn't told a soul about the interaction, believing it better to keep to himself and bear the sharp emotions that came with doing so. Truth be told, he hadn't exactly figured out how to handle them just yet. His thoughts were a tangled hive of noise whenever he tried.

The duo arrived in a dense area of the forest, heavily shaded thanks in parts to the small areas where the earth sloped down to create tiny trenches thick in vegetation. Sagepaw mutely flicked his tail to indicate that they'd collect from here, and then carefully tread into the trench, Redpaw following behind a heartbeat later. Redpaw joined Sagepaw in scooping clumps of moss together and then packing them into a solid mass of a ball.

It was quick and efficient work that wrapped up sooner than even he had originally envisioned. Just as his ball of moss had reached what he considered an adequate enough size, Sagepaw said something that made the ginger tom come to a careering halt in his work.

"My father mentioned you earlier."

Redpaw did his best to keep his voice natural as he responded, saying, "Oh, really? What'd he say?"

He couldn't be certain of whether or not Sagepaw could detect the apprehension laced through his tone. Sagepaw cast a thoughtful glance his direction, as though trying to predict Redpaw's next reaction before continuing with, "I don't know what prompted it, really, but he was saying something about your mother, Cedarshade, I think, and then sorta talked about your father."

Redpaw felt his heart jump in his chest. All traces of weariness vanished and now Sagepaw had his full and undivided attention. "About what?" he pressed, tightly, anticipation brimming as high as the tips of his ears now. His eyes shone brightly as he leaned forward, closing the gap between he and Sagepaw, desperate for information.

"It's nothing, really!" Sagepaw said, backing up a few steps, uncomfortably, as Redpaw's continued to invade his personal space. "It was almost in passing, like he was mostly talking to himself, just saying something about how you looked just like him."

Redpaw immediately deflated. That seemed to solidify a long standing theory he had held. There were no other ginger cats in the Clan besides him, leading him to guess the most likely of outcomes that his father was similarly deceased, like his mother was. It was the only conclusion to why his father had never revealed himself to him, unless of course it was the rare possibility that had frightened Redpaw as a kit where he believed his father was actually just ashamed to take credit and assume the title of his parent.

"Did you know much about him?" Sagepaw tentatively asked, noticing how Redpaw's entire form seemed to have stooped two level deeper.

"Nothing at all."

"Not even a name?"

Redpaw released a sigh. "No, and besides it's not like there's many cats I could just randomly go up to and ask about him, even if I wanted to know. No one barely talks about my mother as is."

"What about Oakclaw? You've never tried asking him?"

It was clear from the question that Sagepaw knew next to nothing about how his and Oakclaw's relationship was structured. If he wouldn't tell him anything about his mother, a cat he knew the tabby had been close to, what hope did he have of hearing something about his father from him?

"No," he replied. "I've never asked him and he's never brought it up. Why do you ask?"

That was when Sagepaw hesitated, and Redpaw realized that he had been slowly working his way up to this revelation since initiating the conversation. The russet apprentice seemed to mull over his thoughts for moment before eventually shaking his head and fixing Redpaw with a hard stare. "From what Brackentail said about him, whoever your father was, Oakclaw apparently didn't like him very much."

Redpaw's body stiffened. That was something he never would've guessed. "Did-," he paused to swallow a hard lump lodged in his throat, "did he say why?"

Sagepaw shook his head. "He didn't go into detail. Stopped talking about it entirely right after he said it. Definitely made me curious, though. I dunno, nothing against you, but I guess I just find it weird that Oakclaw would volunteer to mentor the kit of a cat that he didn't like. Doesn't really seem like something someone would d-."

"Oakclaw's not like that!" Redpaw instantly defended, feeling his temper flare. "He's not the sort of cat to hold grudges. He's-!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Sagepaw said, quickly, trying to pacify the ginger tom's sudden spark of anger. "I was just talking out loud. I'm not trying to question your mentor's motives, okay?"

Sagepaw's uncharacteristic manner of trying to diffuse the situation immediately filled Redpaw with guilt. If Sagepaw was the one attempting to smooth over things it surely meant he was the one that had acted irrationally. The apology was on his tongue when Sagepaw dismissed him with a flick of his tail.

"Forget it," he told Redpaw, bending down to gather his moss. "Let's just get back so I can give this to Fernleaf."

Redpaw accepted without a word in edgewise. He tightly gripped his own ball of moss in his jaw and followed Sagepaw out of the tiny trench, together heading back to the BoulderClan camp. His mind was interlocked in a hailstorm of noise and fleeting thoughts, pelting around his head.

All this new information seemed to have done for him was confirm the idea that both his parents were deceased while adding just another level of intrigue and mystery to who Oakclaw already was. So he'd been close friends with his mother, but apparently didn't care for his father? Something about that made Redpaw's mind wander wildly in a strange direction.

Was it possible that maybe, just maybe, Oakclaw had been in love with Cedarshade?

His initial judgment was to dismiss it as nonsense. The more he considered it a possibility, however, the less farfetched of an idea it became. The clues were right there before him-them being close friends growing up, him changing his attitude because of a suggestion made by her, disliking his father for some unknown reason, not being able to look Redpaw in the eyes because it reminded him of her, it seemed downright obvious now!

He found his heart beating at a rapid pace while trying to digest this possible revelation. Should he confront Oakclaw with his findings? No, Redpaw somehow knew that wouldn't go over well. What then? Was this really something that he should just keep to himself?

In what could most likely be the biggest secret he'd unearthed about Oakclaw, Redpaw found himself waiting at a crossroads, debating how best to use this information.

I wanted answers. Not to invade upon his personal life, and bring about painful memories, but because I was honestly interested in knowing more about him, more about my mother, and possibly even my own father, the cat that had possibly stolen Cedarshade away from him.