CHAPTER 3

Stormpaw leapt at the small black tom in front of her, arms outstretched. As she collided with her opponent, she forced the other cat into a tumble, rolling forward until their combined weight pulled them to a stop. Unfortunately, she was stuck beneath her ebony-furred adversary. She didn't need to plan her next move as she could tell the cat above her was hesitating, unsure of himself. With one lean movement, Stormpaw kicked him away from her. Had she been fighting a heavier warrior, this wouldn't have worked, but her opponent was not only younger than her, but also small for his age. Throwing him off had been too easy.

The other apprentice, Olivepaw, gasped for breath, sucking in air as Stormpaw rolled back onto her toes, ready to continue the mock battle. Though Olivepaw was only maybe a moon and a half younger than her, he wasn't a great fighter. He preferred keeping the peace as opposed to skirmishes, and was a great hunter, but he still needed to properly learn how to protect his clan should he have no other choice. Fighting with Stormpaw though? That was definitely not the best option—Olivepaw didn't stand a chance.

Stormpaw had already received four moons of training and probably only had one more moon to go. She was also one of ThunderClan's most talented combatants. Hunting and patrolling she could handle, but it was in the heat of battle that her true gifts shone through. She could doubtless ace many of the full-fledged warriors in a fight.

Letting Olivepaw catch his breath, despite an audible growl of annoyance from her mentor, Cedarstorm, Stormpaw sized up the smaller apprentice, watching him for signs of a developing strategy. Olivepaw's ice green eyes only flickered with uncertainty.

"Alright, wait a minute!" Cedarstorm called a halt from the sidelines. He was a large dark brown tabby, the most senior warrior in ThunderClan, and also a fierce fighter, though he could be a bit impatient at times. Of course, he was also very experienced, having trained many apprentices and fought in many battles. The scarcity of battle scars littering his pelt was proof of his abilities. He lumbered over to the two apprentices, putting a pause to their training.

Since Olivepaw's mentor, Browndapple, wasn't available, Cedarstorm had offered to help teach the young tom more about battle strategy. Stormpaw knew her own ability well, but she wasn't conceited about it; she didn't think that Cedarstorm pitting Olivepaw against her was her mentor's greatest idea. Wordlessly, she promised to go a little easy on her den mate, wanting to see the diligent, inky-furred tom get stronger too. So far though, Olivepaw hadn't proved that he had any fighting skill; he clearly doubted himself.

"Olivepaw," Cedarstorm grunted, interrupting Stormpaw's thoughts, "In a real battle, the enemy is not going to let you catch your breath."

"I know," Olivepaw sighed, his head down, "I just don't know what to do."

"Well," the massive tabby tom rumbled, "You can start by considering the facts. Stormpaw is stronger, faster, and cannier than you. She can tell what move you're going to make before you make it."

"In other words, I will never be able to beat her," Olivepaw retorted irritably.

Ignoring the black tom's sass, Cedarstorm continued, "However, Stormpaw can still be taken by surprise."

The words were barely out of her mentor's mouth when Stormpaw suddenly found herself pinned to the ground beneath Cedarstorm's paws. Grinning, he let her back up before adding, "See?"

"So, I just have to keep surprising her?" Olivepaw asked, confusion apparent in his voice.

"Yes," Stormpaw's mentor confirmed, "Also, you shouldn't aim to pin her. She'll just knock the breath out of you again. An enemy doesn't need to be immobilized for you to win the battle—they only need to be overwhelmed enough to turn tail and retreat. Now try again."

Cedarstorm wandered back to his seat on the edge of the clearing, his amber eyes narrowed with anticipation. Stormpaw faced off against Olivepaw once more, her muscles falling easily into a crouch. Her den mate began to circle her, his hackles raised and tail bushing out. Stormpaw monitored his movements, waiting for him to decide what to do. If he chose to attack first, she would have the upper paw immediately.

Luckily, Olivepaw seemed to be aware of that tactic and lowered himself into a more defensive stance, still circling slowly. Now Stormpaw knew she would have to make the first attack. She started with a simple combination: a leap followed by a back kick. This was a classic ThunderClan move that worked best against larger and heavier cats, such as many in RiverClan. Olivepaw didn't fall for it, dashing away from Stormpaw before she could kick him. What Cedarstorm had said was right though—he wasn't as fast as Stormpaw, and she felt her hind paws brush up gently against his hips as he tried to rush away.

Then Olivepaw made a mistake. He attacked Stormpaw from behind before she could spin around to face him, but she countered him straightaway. Her tail came swatting into his face, blinding him. That was all the time she needed to spin on her front paws, her hind legs rearing up to clobber Olivepaw in the neck. The black tom was knocked to the side, his balance weak. Stormpaw turned on a dime and lunged at him, swiping his front paws out from under him, causing him to fall sideways. Before he could register what had happened, she was standing over him, one paw placed firmly on his shoulder, holding him down. Olivepaw lowered his head into the moss, eyes closed in defeat. Still, Stormpaw silently observed him, her paw still trapping him against the earth. As she expected, Olivepaw's eyes suddenly flew open as he vainly sought to burst upwards and throw Stormpaw off. She was ready for this, and all the other apprentice could do was squirm beneath her.

Once she was content that Olivepaw had given in, Stormpaw released him. Glowering over at Cedarstorm, the lanky, black apprentice hollered angrily at the burly tabby warrior.

"You said to take her by surprise! Well, I tried, and she wasn't surprised by it!"

Cedarstorm shook his head in frustration, "You used the oldest trick in the book. No knowledgeable ThunderClan cat is gonna fall for the 'play dead' move."

"I don't know how else to surprise her!" Olivepaw countered, his voice squeaking a little from exertion.

"You can start by better concealing the movements you're about to make," Cedarstorm pointed out, "Talented fighters like Stormpaw are able to easily read their opponents strategy by noting physical cues. For example, making eye contact, though hard to avoid in battle, can actually be detrimental, because emotions are often apparent in facial expressions. Warriors that are even more proficient can interpret your movements from how your limbs and muscles are positioned. Like if you're going to leap, your body subconsciously angles forward slightly, and the muscles of your front legs tighten as you prepare to spring. If an opponent notices even that tiny change, they can shift accordingly to take control of the skirmish."

"How can I possibly expect to stay one step ahead of Stormpaw?" Olivepaw whined, clearly wanting this humiliation to end.

Ignorant of the black apprentice's desperation, Cedarstorm continued to push, "Practice makes perfect, so try again!"

"I know you can beat me," Stormpaw encouraged her den mate, trying to be helpful. Olivepaw flashed her a look that blatantly communicated that he didn't believe her. Regardless, he dropped into a fighting stance once more, this time keeping his muzzle slightly turned so his expression was distorted.

Again, he waited for Stormpaw to take the first move. At least he's got that tactic down, the gray tabby she-cat thought.

This time Stormpaw went straight at the small raven-colored apprentice, her front paws aiming to land a blow on his cheek. Olivepaw ducked below her reach, still not quick enough to avoid her grazing his ear; then he rolled, twisting away from her before springing to his paws a few tail-lengths away. Instead of attacking her right away like he had done before, Olivepaw waited for her to face him once again, still keeping his head angled away. Once more, he waited for Stormpaw to make a move. The dark gray tabby she-cat charged at her den mate for the second time. Olivepaw repeated his move from before, ducking to the left to avoid her swipes, but this time he dropped all the way onto his back, rolling through the moss as speedily as he could. Expecting him to attack her from behind again, Stormpaw held her stance, waiting to gain control over the battle. However, Olivepaw had learned from his previous mistake and taken Cedarstorm's advice to heart; he had something else in mind.

Even though only seconds passed, Stormpaw managed to realize that Olivepaw had abandoned his previous tactic. Suddenly unaware of what her den mate was going to do, she was taken off guard when the black tom sprang up on her right side—the opposite side of the direction he had rolled. That meant, when she thought he had stopped rolling, he had actually continued until he was on her blind side. Olivepaw pummeled her flank with his paws and she hopped, trying to escape his hits. Olivepaw persisted, backing Stormpaw up against an old oak tree so she couldn't flee. That was the crucial error he made: putting Stormpaw in a position to use her surroundings for a counter attack.

As her den mate aimed another clout for her muzzle, Stormpaw ducked and then pitched forward, kicking off from the tree trunk with her hind-legs. The force caused Olivepaw to topple backwards, but not with enough momentum to somersault. His icy eyes were wide with desolation, knowing that he was about to be defeated once more. Nonetheless, he tried frenziedly to roll over and regain his footing. Though he succeeded in righting himself, Stormpaw stopped him from getting to his paws by locking his shoulders down against the lichen-covered soil.

Convinced that Olivepaw wasn't going to try to play dead again, Stormpaw let him up right away. Her heart thumped excitedly in her chest; battling gave her such a rush of pleasure. She felt like she could never be stopped!

Even so, she was still concerned for Olivepaw, who was glaring daggers at Cedarstorm from across the clearing.

"What did I do wrong this time?" the dark-furred apprentice hissed furiously.

Returning a look of annoyance, Cedarstorm interjected, "Before you get all snotty with me, you actually did very well that time."

"Clearly it wasn't well enough if I still lost!" Olivepaw shot back, his easygoing attitude abandoned.

In an attempt to cheer him up, Stormpaw rested her tail on her den mate's shoulder, "You really had me there Olivepaw, I almost didn't beat you."

Olivepaw stiffened at her touch, drawing away, "You're just saying that!"

"No!" Stormpaw insisted, "I'm being serious. Come on! Try one more time. You've got this!"

With his fern-green eyes narrowed into slits, Olivepaw sprang at her without warning. Real fear, frigid and weighty, gripped Stormpaw. She wasn't afraid of the attack from her clan mate, but she didn't want to hurt Olivepaw. He was a kind tom, and with more training, he would be a great warrior. Regardless, Stormpaw couldn't ignore it when the sharp prick of Olivepaw's unsheathed claws dug into her shoulders. The situation became grave, and for the sake her den mate, Stormpaw knew she had to put an end to this. If any cat, especially Cedarstorm, saw Olivepaw using his claws against a clanmate, the obsidian-colored apprentice would be stuck in camp removing ticks from the elders for a moon.

Stormpaw forced Olivepaw into an upright lock, both apprentices teetering on only their back legs. Lacking the strength to properly balance and defend himself, Olivepaw was overwhelmed by Stormpaw almost instantly. The gray tabby she-cat wrestled him down to the ground with pure muscle, pinning him once again.

Distress for her den mate gave way to surprise as something barreled into Stormpaw's right flank. She flew away from her former adversary, listing through the mossy carpet. Above her, her new enemy's claws dug into the flesh on her back.

It wasn't until she lurched to a halt that she identified her attacker as another of her den mates, and brother to Olivepaw: Duskpaw.

The dark ginger tabby tom's eyes were brimming with malice as he screeched in Stormpaw's face, "What in StarClan's name are you doing?! Leave him alone, you horrible piece of mouse-dung!"

Not this irritating mouse-brain, Stormpaw groaned inwardly. Duskpaw seemed to carry a constant god complex on his shoulders, bossing around everyone in his vicinity and boasting about his skills. He was a better fighter than his brother, but not quite as talented as Stormpaw. Using all her weight, Stormpaw rolled away from the vexing ginger tom, causing him to lose his balance and her to regain her footing in one sleek turn. The fiery tabby apprentice stared her down from a few tail-lengths away.

"I was only trying to help!" Stormpaw spat at her rival, "He was doing pretty well, until you interfered by jabbing your claws into me!"

Duskpaw sniffed haughtily, "It must have been so helpful using all your strength to pin a helpless cat…what a noble warrior." His voice oozed sarcasm as he drew out the last two words.

Not willing to give in to her den mate's cold remarks, Stormpaw retaliated, "At least I'll be able to call myself a warrior. No warrior behaves the way that you do; you should still be in the nursery!"

Duskpaw's face screwed up into an ugly sneer. It was clear that he was at a loss for words; Stormpaw had won. But her ginger-pelted foe could never bear to lose, be it a battle or an argument. His mind was consumed only with himself and how great he thought he was. Knowing this, Stormpaw braced herself for the rain of blows he would most certainly launch at her.

Surprisingly, the blows never came. Instead, the massive brown shape of Cedarstorm bolted in front of her. Towering over Duskpaw, the powerful tabby tom batted the young, orange-furred cat away with a sweep of his huge paw.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing to my apprentice?"

The sibilant holler came from a long-furred brown tom as he stalked into the clearing. This was Shrewtuft, Duskpaw's mentor. Tiny tassels of fur, from which he got his name, twitched from the ends of his down-turned ears—he was furious. Though significantly younger and smaller than Cedarstorm, Shrewtuft challenged the senior warrior with no sign of fear in his pale green eyes.

Of course, Cedarstorm stood his ground. Stormpaw could feel the threat heavy in her mentor's words when he spoke.

"Your 'apprentice' is about as well-behaved as a badger, and rudely interrupted the training session we were having."

Shrewtuft's eyes rolled to face Duskpaw and Stormpaw saw the look of heady defiance blazing in her den mate's yellow eyes. Though barely noticeable, Stormpaw saw Shrewtuft nod at the ginger tabby apprentice. The dark brown warrior knew that Duskpaw was being a bother, but was going to defend him anyway; probably to safeguard his dignity as a good mentor, especially in front of Cedarstorm.

Sure enough, Shrewtuft queried, his voice icy and snake-like, "Are you suggesting that Duskpaw is receiving poor training from me? That I am not fit to be his mentor?"

"If he keeps acting like an impudent kit, I might suggest something of the sort," Cedarstorm countered, voice equally as frigid.

By now, Shrewtuft was only mouse-lengths away from the solid tabby boulder of a cat that was Cedarstorm. The soil-colored tom was muzzle-to-muzzle with the Stormpaw's mentor, but glowered up into his superior's amber eyes audaciously.

Stormpaw found her legs quivering as she watched the two fearsome warriors try to intimidate one another, but she could not tell if the trembling was simply from exasperation, or if it was caused by the prospect of possibly fighting the antagonistic russet cat standing next to her into submission. A fox-length away from her, Duskpaw gazed at his mentor with admiration and overconfidence. Fury welled in Stormpaw's chest at how childish he was behaving.

Turning to him, she hissed crossly, "You're sick Duskpaw! You need your mentor to fight your battles for you… 'what a noble warrior'. When will you finally grow up and realize you aren't StarClan's gift to the world?"

It was apparent that she struck a nerve as Duskpaw focused back on her, hackles raising as he prepared to spring at her once again.

"You'll pay for bullying my brother!" he screeched, paw hoisting to slash at her muzzle.

"Enough!"

The shout came from Olivepaw himself. All four quarreling cats turned to face the small, black tom. Olivepaw bowed his head with embarrassment, mumbling an apology for interrupting.

Realizing the pointlessness of the argument, Cedarstorm shook his broad head and let out a sigh before addressing Stormpaw.

"Stormpaw, you did nothing wrong today. You will make an excellent warrior, someday soon I believe. You are dismissed."

"Nothing wrong?!" Duskpaw cut in—clearly he wasn't yet satisfied, "Are you all muscle and no smarts? That stupid, heartless, bloodthirsty battle-brain hurt my littermate!"

"Actually-" Olivepaw mewed, raising a paw in objection.

"Hush Olivepaw," Duskpaw silenced his brother, "I'm getting you the apology you deserve."

Struggling to keep his composure, Cedarstorm's response was spat out through tightly clenched teeth, "Stormpaw, you still did nothing wrong today. You will make an even better warrior by learning that some insolent apprentices will behave like cowardly brats until they get their way, and truly the only thing you can do is to tell them what they want to hear until they go away and karma exacts its sweet revenge."

Understanding what he meant, Stormpaw whipped around to face Olivepaw, her head held high. She looked the already-mortified black cat right in the eye and uttered a sincere apology.

"I am truly sorry if I hurt you today during training Olivepaw. I think that you have improved a lot, and will be a great warrior one day. Keep working hard."

Olivepaw nodded to her, his eyes simmering with shame that his brother had gone and embarrassed him by causing such a commotion.

"Stormpaw, why don't you go hunting until the sun starts to set?" Cedarstorm suggested, though it was clear to the gray tabby she-cat that it was more of an order, "After that, you can be done for the day."

Stormpaw nodded, her mind still reeling with anger at Duskpaw. Not only had he made a scene, but he had clearly humiliated his brother, who he claimed to be standing up for.

Neither Duskpaw nor his mentor said a word as she whisked off into the dense forest, though she could feel the hot gaze of the arrogant orange apprentice on her back as she disappeared into the brush. She knew that someday soon, he would get what was due.

Beyond the training clearing, trees rose around her, already blooming as the warmth of Newleaf wrapped its temperate fingers throughout the forest. Leaf-bare had been a struggle for ThunderClan even though very little snow had fallen. Prey had been extremely hard to come by, and any that was caught had gone directly to the queens, kits, and elders. Many cats fell ill with Greencough. Fulfilling his duties until his last breath, Rootsky, the former medicine cat, succumbed to the sickness, leaving behind his apprentice, Sorrelheart. Despite the elderly medicine cat's best efforts, an elder and two of Sparrowflight's young kits died, and Maplestar lost a life. It was vital that ThunderClan be well-provided for now as they recovered from their losses.

However, as Stormpaw wandered across her home territory, no scents of prey caught her attention. The ground beneath her paws was damp and cold, and though some plants were growing, cover was pretty scarce. She kicked aside prickly dead branches as she silently tread her way along familiar paths. Nearing the ShadowClan border, she finally picked up a faint scent of mouse.

Scanning the land around her, she couldn't spot the small creature and decided to climb a nearby tree to gain a vantage point. Her dark gray tabby fur blended in with the dull bark and covered the flash of bright white on her chest. When she reached a branch, she crept out onto it, searching the landscape below for any signs of life. At last she noticed a tiny gray-brown shape rubbing its paws over its nose. It was only a few tail-lengths away from her prone form seated on the sturdy bough. Creeping stealthily forward, Stormpaw launched herself from the low-hanging branch and dispatched the unsuspecting mouse with a swift bite to the neck. She silently thanked StarClan for such a clean kill and buried her catch at the foot of the tree she had previously climbed. It would only make a few bites, but it was better than nothing.

Continuing her hunt, Stormpaw meandered throughout ThunderClan territory for what must have been hours, and by the time she pattered up to the lakeshore, she could see the sun beginning to set over the vast expanse of water. So much time had passed and all she had to show for her efforts was one measly, half-starved mouse. She could already picture the look on Cedarstorm's face when she returned with her paltry catch. Regardless, it was useless to continue searching for prey when there was clearly none around. She decided to accept her losses, retrieve the fresh-kill she had caught, and return to camp.

By the time Stormpaw reached the thorn tunnel, the last rays of sunlight beamed in through the trees as night settled over the territories. With the mouse hanging from her mouth, its body now cold and stiff, she inhaled deeply through her nose and stepped in, praying to StarClan that her mentor wasn't around to see her disgrace.

Unfortunately, she had no such luck. Cedarstorm lay outside the warrior's den, sharing tongues with his sister, Browndapple. As soon as Stormpaw dropped her catch on the fresh-kill pile, the muscular brown tabby tom rose and approached her. She braced herself for her mentor's harsh words.

"Is that really all you could find?" the lack of anger in Cedarstorm's voice surprised Stormpaw. She met her mentor's eyes to see that their amber depths held only concern.

"I searched all through the forest on the ShadowClan side, from the back edge of our territory to the lake, and this was all I could find. I'm sorry, Cedarstorm…"

"Hmph," the senior warrior grunted, "There's no need to apologize. You're the best apprentice any mentor could ask for. It's just that ThunderClan needs the prey to return soon. Things are better now than they were in the middle of Leaf-bare, but the hunting patrols still didn't bring back much today either. Quickleap even sent out more than usual. You should get some rest. You've done well today, and as always, I'm very proud of you. Only about a moon more of training and you'll join me in the warrior's den."

The large tabby forced a smile at his apprentice, and Stormpaw returned it awkwardly. It was obvious that the severe absence of prey was concerning even to the most senior warriors. Even though Cedarstorm's pelt rippled with muscles, Stormpaw could still see that he was slimmer than he should be, and his ribs subtly peeked through his striped pelt. ThunderClan was still suffering.

Deciding to take her mentor's advice, Stormpaw turned to head towards the apprentice's den, but a flash of gold and silver fur caught her eye. It was her parents, Leopardcloud and Birchtooth; both were headed towards a rock ledge on the far side of the quarry, presumably to share tongues and prey before retiring to the warrior's den. Stormpaw caught the pale, yellow eyes of her mother for a second, but Leopardcloud promptly turned her muzzle away.

Of all the struggles Stormpaw faced, and admittedly there were fewer for her than for most, the greatest puzzle to her was that of her relationship with her parents. Sure, Duskpaw could be a bother, Cedarstorm could be wily or strict, and Olivepaw needed constant encouragement, but Leopardcloud and Birchtooth never paid much attention to their only kit.

Leopardcloud was a senior warrior like Cedarstorm and Browndapple, but she rarely spoke to anyone besides Birchtooth. Like her daughter, she had no siblings—in fact, she had no living relatives at all. Her pelt was sleek and golden with darker stripes broken up into rows of spots, and all four of her paws were mitted with white. She was large for a she-cat, a trait that Stormpaw would likely share. The only other familial resemblance Stormpaw exhibited from her mother's genes was her eye color: a bright, sunny yellow. Birchtooth on the other paw, was a little younger than his mate, built average for a tom, with a silver tabby pelt and blue eyes. He was more talkative than Leopardcloud, and extremely clever. Nonetheless, he didn't show any more liking for his daughter than his mate did.

When it came time to train and Stormpaw was given to Cedarstorm, a beloved and experienced mentor, her parents muttered a brief 'congratulations', but no more. Further along, when her talent for fighting became known and admired by the rest of ThunderClan, Stormpaw's parents didn't demonstrate a single instance of pride for their gifted daughter.

Pushing aside the brief moment of discomfort, Stormpaw stalked into the apprentice's den with her head held high. For the second time that day, she felt the smoldering, critical gaze of a clan mate piercing into her back; she knew her parents were glaring at her from their spot overlooking camp.

Why don't they even acknowledge me as their kit? Am I truly just a disappointment to them? Stormpaw wondered. This distance hurt more than any mental or physical wound she had ever suffered. It was almost like she didn't exist to her own two parents.

Regardless of how unusual and wounding it might have been, Stormpaw forced herself to ignore it. She would be a warrior soon—and not just any warrior, a great one! Her parents would have to accept her when she slept in the same den as them. Until then, she would keep working as hard as she could to show them that she was a cat to be reckoned with—one that the rest of ThunderClan was already impressed by. No matter what, she would make them be proud of her!

Even though it sparked a bit of hope in them, seeing this determination filled the cats of StarClan with shame. The chances of Stormpaw ever becoming the great warrior she was so destined to be, or instilling a sense of pride in her detached parents, were turning slimmer and slimmer still. The clans were nearing a fate that they could never recover from.

Fun Fact #1: Since it won't be addressed in later chapters, I'll fill you in on why Birchtooth and Leopardcloud don't really give a hoot about Stormpaw. For starters, Leopardcloud just doesn't really feel one way or the other about her kit. She doesn't have strong feelings for anyone or anything (not even her clan) besides Birchtooth. Furthermore, she never wanted to have kits, especially considering Birchtooth's beliefs. Birchtooth is actually a pretty talkative guy and cares a lot about ThunderClan…one might say a little too much in some aspects. He is incredibly smart, and because of that, he was in constant competition with his brother, Quickleap (the deputy). Birchtooth believes that a she-cat having kits inhibits their ability to be a good warrior. Obviously, he understands why it's necessary, and he doesn't mind the kits, he just thinks it turns she-cats too soft. In fact, when Leopardcloud was stuck in the nursery, he wouldn't speak to her at all. If not for this strange belief, Birchtooth probably would have been made deputy in his brother's stead. I definitely wanted to stray away from the beat-to-death plot of parents hating their kits for no good reason. In this case, it's more of the parents just don't really take stereotypical parental responsibilities and don't really care what Stormpaw does; ThunderClan as a whole is her parent.

Fun Fact #2: Bouncing off that last FF, Birchtooth really doesn't have a good relationship with any of his siblings. He's closest to Quickleap, but still jealous that his brother was made deputy over him, and he won't talk to either of his sisters (Grasseye and Sparrowflight) because they're both queens.

Fun Fact #3: It's kind of a miracle that all three of Birchtooth's littermates are still alive and well. Normally, in the Warriors series, a litter of kits rarely makes it to adulthood together/living, especially litters of four or larger.

Fun Fact #4: Though a cat having a litter of one is more rare than not, Stormpaw was in fact the only kit in her litter. There were no still-births in her litter; she legitimately has no siblings whatsoever.