A tiny shadow darted across the alleyway, barely visible in the shadows. It paused, lifting up its nose to sniff the still air. Satisfied, the rat bent down and nibbled greedily at a soggy french fry, discarded days ago by a Twoleg. Black clouds hung over the city, casting the it into darkness. The air was damp and quiet aside from the occasional screech of a car over the dirty pavement. The clouds cracked and a small patch of afternoon sunlight shone into the alleyway. It flickered momentarily over a patch of white fur. The rat paused only for a second, but a second too late. A paw flashed out and struck the creature, sending flying against the wall. It slumped helplessly to the ground, stunned. A lithe she-cat stepped out of the shadows, a malevolent look in her auburn eyes. She was completely white except for a large black splotch on her back. A thick red collar was strapped around her neck, a single dog tooth hanging from the front. It flashed as she passed through the patch of sunlight and approached the rat. It was just recovering from the first blow when she slammed her unsheathed paws onto it, killing it instantly with a quiet snap. She picked it up in her claws and flung it into the air, purring with satisfaction as she caught it in her jaws, bones crunching under her teeth.
"Having fun?" a smooth purr made its way through the darkness. The she-cat spun around. She recognized that voice too well.
"What do you want Rift?" she spat, glaring into the shadows. She could just barely make out a brown tabby tom sitting on a trash can, a smirk spread across his muzzle. A pale blue collar hung around his neck. Unlike the she-cat's it had two long teeth on either side of it, signifying his slightly higher rank.
Rift gave another purr and jumped down next to the she-cat, who shrank away in annoyance, "Really now Dawn, is that any way to treat your elders?"
Dawn growled, the fur on her back rising, "Elder? You're barely a month older than me!"
Rift stretched nonchalantly, another trait that made Dawn want to swipe at him, "Keep you claws in. I'm just here to deliver a message."
Dawn blinked, then glared at the tom, "A message from who?"
Rift clucked his tongue, "So impatient."
Dawn unsheathed her claws, barely keeping from springing. Rift had been chasing after her almost as long as he'd set his eyes on her when she joined the Gang as a kit. She certainly wanted nothing to do with the tom, who seemed to show up everywhere. But she was slowly learning to handle him.
"Listen Rift," she hissed "Just tell me the message or I'll rip your throat out and leave your body to be eaten by the crows, if they'll even touch a rat like you. And don't think I'm bluffing."
Rift's smirk didn't fade. He was used to her pushing him away, but it didn't dampen his affections for the cranky she-cat, "Alright, alright. Pebble sent me. He said he has a mission for you."
Dawn's ears perked. Pebble rarely sent for cats. He didn't have to. Pebble was an old grey tom that lived in an alleyway alone, though he frequently got visitors, as he was very popular among the younger cats. In exchange for a meal, or even nothing if he was in a good mood, Pebble would tell a story. They were often simple stories, but the old tom had a way of making anything he told exiting. Most of the stories had been passed down through generations, though few took place in the damp alleyways of their city. In his younger days Pebble had traveled. He went far into unknown territories and met the cats that called them home. Dawn often wondered what it would be like to travel, but that path wasn't for her. She preferred the Twoleg city, where rats practically ran into her jaws.
"What kind of mission?" Dawn mewed.
Rift shrugged, and then licked his brown chest, "I don't know, he didn't tell me. Come on"
the tom turned and trotted out of the alleyway, tail held high. Dawn opened her mouth to protest that she could go by herself, but grudgingly closed her jaws and followed.
"This is awesome!" Foxpaw mewed, looking around the camp. His heart pounded at the thought that this camp was his new home. He couldn't wait to explore.
Tigerpaw purred, "Isn't it? Come on, I still need to give you a tour."
Foxpaw nodded enthusiastically and followed the apprentice across the clearing. Tigerpaw led him around the camp, showing him the different dens. Foxpaw struggled to keep his tail from trembling with excitement. The camp was almost empty. It was the best time of the day for hunting, Tigerpaw explained as they passed the warriors den, a fallen tree similar to Highroot but smaller and hollow instead of ending in a tangle of roots, when the air was cooling from sunhigh and rodents were scavenging for one last meal of the day.
"I can't wait to go out hunting on my own," Tigerpaw mewed blissfully. He flattened his ears suddenly, "I hope I don't mess up."
"You'll do fine."
"I guess you should be more worried than me," Tigerpaw said hesitantly, "You haven't had any training and you're not even clanborn."
Foxpaw didn't reply. Instead he scanned the clearing, wondering where to go next. The only place they hadn't visited was one wall of the camp, which held odd, bitter smells that reminded the apprentice of the droopy plants in the yard of the home he had escaped from. From where he sat he spotted a hole in the brush, leading down a slope and out of sight.
"What's over there?" he asked, nodding to the wall.
Tigerpaw twitched his tail, "The area all apprentices dread. It has the medicine cat's den and the elder's den. You want to avoid those."
Foxpaw remembered Scarface telling him how much he had hated the elders during his time in the forest. He felt a shiver run up his spine, almost tasting the mouse bile in his mouth. Movement at the camp entrance made Foxpaw swivel his head. Two brown cats emerged, deep in conversation. Their voices were muffled from the prey they held in their jaws, but it was obvious they could hear each other from the she-cat's purrs of amusement. She was thin and pretty with ginger-tipped fur that shifted softly as she moved. The other cat was a tabby tom with bright, green eyes. The made their way across the clearing and dropped the prey in a dip in the ground. Foxpaw watched curiously as the male bent down and picked out a pair of mice by their tails. As he straightened up one of the mice swung and bumped the she-cat on the nose. He attempted to stutter out an apology, but ended up dropping the remaining mouse. The female let out a mrrow of amusement and picked up the mice. The two walked over the shade of the camp wall with the male's tail twitching in embarrassment.
Foxpaw glanced curiously at Tigerpaw.
"The she-cat is Applesong," he mewed, "and the clumsy one is Froghopper."
"Applesong? Froghopper?" Foxpaw had thought Shootingstar and Squirrelshadow were odd names, but now his head was buzzing, "Are all clan names like those?"
Tigerpaw shuffled his paws nervously, "Mostly Fireclan. Our recent leaders haven't been known for their creative names."
Foxpaw purred, "Are they just named at random or something?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, kits usually have 'kit' at the end of their names right?"
Tigerpaw nodded.
"So why was Froghopper named 'Frogkit'?"
"They sometimes wait a bit for the kits to show their personality before naming them. Once Froghopper was able to stand they say he gave a bit leap and landed on his sister, so they named him 'Frogkit'."
"Clan naming sounds fun!" Foxpaw said excitedly.
"Yeah," Tigerpaw agreed, "But sometimes it doesn't go as well as we hope. I don't know about you, but I would hate to have the name 'Shootingkit'."
"With those striped of yours they could have called you 'Stripykit'."
"Or Icekit, for my eyes!"
"Or Bluekit."
"How about Leafkit?"
"Maybe Bumblekit!"
"Speaking of kits." Tigerpaw watched a tortoise-shell tom slip into a thick wall of brambles that Foxpaw had been told was the entrance to the nursery, "Lets visit the nursery. They won't mind as long as we bring food."
Foxpaw nodded and they went to the dip in the ground that held a small pile of prey. As Tigerpaw grabbed a bird Foxpaw picked up a freshly caught mouse. It was still warm. Its tantalizing scent drifted into his nose, making him want to crunch into it. But he held his tongue. This prey was for the nursery. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten since the night before.
We'll probably eat later. Foxpaw thought hopefully, his eyes watering with the effort of not digging into the mouse in his jaws.
Tigerpaw led him to the mess of brambles. "Watch your step." Was all he said before plunging into a small gap in the brambles. Foxpaw quickly followed him. Brambles tugged and ripped at his thick fur as he attempted to squeeze through. He had just remembered Tigerpaw's advice when he felt the ground leave his paws. Scrambling to stay balanced he leapt clumsily to the ground littered with soft leaves.
"Thanks for the warning." Foxpaw growled through the mouse in his jaws. Tigerpaw blinked in amusement.
They had entered what felt like a large rabbit hole. The brambles and leaves that made the nursery walls were tightly woven together so that barely any light escaped, making it feel as if they we underground. Only small streams of sunlight lit the den from tiny holes in the ceiling. It appeared the den was built in a dip a tail-length into the ground, with broken roots sticking out the dirt wall. Soft leaves and balls of moss were scattered around the floor along with two moss beds. One held a sleeping she-cat with dark brown fur and a splotch of black on her shoulder. Her belly was large, making it clear she would have kits in the next moon or so. The tortoise-shell tom that had come before them was watching the sleeping cat with a loving gaze. He didn't appear to even realize the apprentices had entered.
The other nest was empty, with small bits of moss scattered clumsily around it. Foxpaw glanced around to see a brown she-cat tugging at one of the roots sticking out of the wall. With a small nod to Foxpaw Tigerpaw hurried over to help. The apprentice began to follow when sudden pain shot through his tail. With a yelp of pain he twirled around to bat away whatever had latched onto him and was surprised to see a kit, her teeth attempting to dig into his fluffy tail. All he could do was blink. She was glaring at him through narrowed eyes. He could faintly hear her tiny growl, muffled by fur.
"Dapplekit!"
The she-kit quickly found her own tail being bitten and was dragged off of Foxpaw by another kit. She twirled around, freeing her tail, and glared at him, "What was that for?"
"You can't just go around biting apprentices' tails!"
"That's no apprentice! He's just a stupid kittypet!" she spat and spun around to launch another attack. The male quickly grabbed her tail again and they began to argue again. Dapplekit, her tail fluffed up with indignity, raised her voice until it filled the nursery. The male kept calm but was obviously losing the agreement to his sister's loud squeaks.
Foxpaw watched the whole scene with confused and slightly hurt eyes. It seemed that not all of the Clan quite accepted him yet, and if a kit was going to act this way about him he couldn't imagine what the warriors would say. From the moment he stepped into the clearing he knew the clan wouldn't accept him, but it all came into realization at that moment. Did I make a mistake coming here? He thought. Did I come here only to live in rejection?
A voice brought him out of his thoughts, "Dapplekit! Grasskit! Stop fighting this instance!"
A cat brushed past him and picked up Dapplekit by the scruff, who had leapt on top of the other kit. She squirmed in an attempt to free herself. By this time her tortoiseshell pelt was ruffled and dirty. Her brother, presumably Grasskit, licked his paw and glanced at his struggling sister. He rolled his eyes. The cat who had grabbed Dapplekit looked at Foxpaw and bowed her head in apology. He couldn't help but admire her soft, brown fur as a strand of sunlight hit it. White spots lined her back like snowflakes. She barely looked older than an apprentice, but seemed to be the kits' mother.
"I'm sorry," She said.
To be truthful it sounded more like "Vi'me Sowwy" with her voice muffled by Dapplekit's fur. The she-cat quickly realized this and set her down.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, "They do this all the time." She turned to Dapplekit, "Say you're sorry."
"But he-"
"Say you're sorry." She said more firmly.
Dapplekit stiffened in annoyance, her tail lashing. She barely tilted her head and muttered through clenched teeth, "Sorry."
Foxpaw flattened his ears. It wasn't just the kit's attitude that irked him, but the guilt that nibbled at his paws. He didn't do anything, why should be feel bad about it? Grasskit stepped forward and bowed his head, ears almost touching the ground, "We're sorry."
Foxpaw's guilt washed away immediately. Grasping the basics of the gesture he bowed his own head.
"It's no problem," He mewed, raising his head. Amusement flickered in his eyes, "You best keep an eye on your sister, she needs a brother like you to teach her some manners."
Grasskit's head snapped up and his eyes gleamed with pride. His sister, on the other hand, reached over and unbalanced him, sending the little to the ground with a squeak. The queen rolled her eyes as the kits began to tussle. It was only during the play fight that Foxpaw got a clear view of Grasskit's pelt. It was a soft brown, similar to his mother's, with darker criss-cross patterns on his back that seemed to mimic the shadows of grass as it waved back and forth in a gentle breeze.
'Grass pattens…Grasskit…' Foxpaw rolled his eyes, 'You'd think they could be more creative.'
But with the kit's mother in the den he found it best to keep silent.
