The pellets clattered into his dish. Trickster awoke with a meow. His housefolk, whose name he knew to be Janie, patted his head lovingly. He rubbed his head against her hand as a sign of affection. She rumbled something in housefolk language and walked away. Trickster stretched lazily, yawning as he did so.
He thought about the previous day. The appearance of the cat from his dream...and the sickening revelation of the awful truth of the Cutter. He shivered. No...that couldn't be true. Then he thought, Well, it's been ages since I've seen Cocoa go after something other than his dish...And Sweetheart's more of a flirt than a lover now. She's always talking about her latest fling with some tomcat or another...He sighed a cat sigh.
Trickster got up from his basket and padded over to his dish. He sniffed the pellets with a grimace of disgust. He had never liked the food his housefolk fed him. That was why he had taught himself to hunt. The ginger kittypet gazed longingly outside. It was a fine summer day, the grass was green, the sky was blue, the air...He sniffed. No good. The door was there. Scratching a paw against the glass, he meowed to be let out.
Janie paused to look up from her glow-box. She gave the black blob a tap with her finger and walked over to the door. With a loving pat on Trickster's head, she tugged the door open. Trickster shot out, a streak of orange against the brown deck-wood.
"Hey Trick!" the voice of Cocoa cried. "Trick! Up here!"
Trickster padded over to Cocoa's fence. "Hey, Coke," he meowed. "Seen Sweetheart anywhere?"
"Yeah," Cocoa replied, "her housefolk aren't letting her out today. Something about a show or something. I dunno."
Trickster nodded. Sweetheart's housefolk loved to show her off. She was a pedigree Somali. None of the others knew what that meant, but it must have been important. "Hey, listen, about yesterday..."
"Yeah. Sorry we were so hard on ya," Cocoa mewed. "It's just...when ya get fixed, it changes everything. I mean, ya start seeing the world in new ways. It's not bad or anything...but it's not something you would like." Cocoa jumped down from his fence to touch his nose to Trickster's. "Which is why Sweetheart and I decided to let ya go. We're older, ya know. We don't look it, but I'm going on nineteen moons, and Sweetheart's almost fourteen."
"You know, I always thought you two smelled older," Trickster murmured. "Well, if that's the case, I guess I'll be go—"
"Wait!" Cocoa meowed suddenly. The young tom stopped. "Wait, Trickster. I'm letting ya start a new life as a wildcat...but I'm not letting you leave without a proper goodbye. Promise me you'll come with me, ya know, go around the neighborhood. Let everyone know where you're going."
Trickster nodded. "Sure thing, Cocoa," he replied. Cocoa nodded, and the two toms set off on one last round of the neighborhood.
Their first stop was the house where Sweetheart lived. She wasn't there, but her lover beneath the porch said she wanted to tell Trickster she'd never forget him. Trickster nodded, noting the jealous look on the tomcat's face. He decided to hightail it out of there before the other cat decided to make it a catfight. He and Cocoa beat a hasty retreat.
"Wasn't that Soda?" Trickster asked when they were a few houses away. Cocoa nodded. "Wow...he's way too old for Sweetheart, isn't he?"
"There are some things in life that don't matter, Trick," Cocoa meowed, giving his shoulder a quick lick. "And one of those is age."
Trickster nodded and focused on the next house. He gave his sister, Queenie, a fond lick on the head, telling her he'd come back and visit soon. Queenie's three kits looked at their Uncle Tricky one last time from behind their mother's feathery tail.
Trickster padded along the familiar streets, knowing that he might very well never come this way ever again. And even if he did, he would be scrawny like Promisepaw had been, and marked with the scars of battle. He would be a completely different cat.
The day passed with such speed that Trickster could hardly believe how quickly time had passed. The ginger tom looked around in amazement. His surprise turned to fear: cold, sickening fear. The sky was red. It shouldn't be red. It should be blue. "Uh...Coke?" he mewed hesitantly. "Is it really sundown?"
Cocoa turned back to him, an almost sinister look in his brown eyes. "Yes, Trickster. It's sundown."
"Th-then...I have to get back! Back to my housefolk's nest! Promisepaw's going to think I don't want to join the Clan and..." He broke off as he realized he was lost. "Cocoa...where are we?"
"Ya see, Trickster," Cocoa meowed, "Sweetheart and I made a decision that we weren't gonna let ya leave. That's why we're here in the middle of nowhere. Now, promise to be a good housecat, and I'll lead ya back home. If ya don't drop this silly notion of living with the wildcats, I'll cripple ya here and now, and take ya home myself. You're not leaving, Trickster. Never."
Trickster was stunned. He had thought the tomcat was his friend. With a flash of realization, he knew that Cocoa was his friend. He just wanted to be friends so badly that he was willing to go to extremes to keep his friendship close to home. "Coke...you're mad...crazy...insane! You need help!"
"No, Trick, you need the help. Ya've gotten a silly idea into your head that ya need to go into the wild and live with a bunch of starving, mangy, scrawny wildcats. What's wrong? Ya don't like your housefolk? We can always find ya some new ones, there's a family moving in across the way; I hear they're pretty nice." Cocoa was babbling now, desperate for anything to keep Trickster in the easy life of a kittypet.
Trickster saw this and snarled, crouching down like Promisepaw had done when Cocoa had attacked her. "I won't let you take my future away from me!" he snarled. "I'm going to the forest, even if I have to find Promisepaw's Clan myself!" He tackled Cocoa, spitting and yowling.
Cocoa was caught off-guard and struggled to free himself. Trickster let him escape, but not without a few warning scratches. Then he ran blindly, hoping that his instincts would guide him to his housefolk's nest. He could hear Cocoa's snarls and hisses as he fled. His heart sank. There was no other place for him to go now but the woods. StarClan...where ever you are...I'm coming to live with your cats...Help me find them. Please!
He skidded to a halt, panting and gasping for breath. Cocoa was out of sight and scent. Trickster leaned back against the fence. The young tomcat licked a paw and feebly brought it over his ear. "Ugh," he grunted. "I can't believe my luck. If you're really there, StarClan, and you really want me, help me out here!" He got to his paws and looked around, expecting to see some ghostly cat sent to answer his plea. Nothing but grassy lawns and housefolk nests. He sighed. "I said, help me out, StarClan!" he repeated, tail twitching impatiently.
Still there was no vision of a spiritual cat or guide of any sort. Trickster sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about everything I've ever done that was bad," he murmured with a glance up at the darkening sky. He padded along in a random direction. "I didn't believe in you guys then. If you didn't like me stealing Queenie's catnip mousie when we were kittens, I'm sorry. I'll give it back when I get home. If it's about that time I almost bit Soda's ear off, I'm sorry about that one, too! I didn't mean it!" His paws plodded along aimlessly as he ranted to the first few stars he could see. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm turning over a new leaf. From now on, I'll be a good cat. One worthy of joining one of your Clan things. I'll try my bes—" He stopped.
Right in front of him was his own fence. Trickster sniffed the boards. Yes, his scent was everywhere. He could recognize his nest. This was definitely his home. With a swift glance up at the sky, he meowed, "Thanks," and scrambled to the top of the fence.
Sitting on his old perch, the kittypet tom sighed. It's too late. Promisepaw has gone back to her Clan...Now I'll never be able to help her. But she was...so beautiful...skinny, yes, but more 'slender' than 'skinny...' I think I love her. And now she's gone, and I'll never see her again. The only way I could do that is to go into the forest and try and track her scent. He looked up at the sky again. Odd, he had never noticed that huge band of stars above his garden. There was something about it, now that he noticed it...
A wild scent reached his housecat nose. He sniffed again. It smelled of the bare reality of cold, deep space...and the freezing, driving, icy snow of winter...and something more...cat. But like no cat he had ever scented before. Most cats bore the generic cat-smell, along with their personal odor. But this smell did not speak of one individual cat...it smelled pure, natural...the true essence of cat. Trickster opened his mouth, drawing air over his scent glands on the roof of his mouth. The smell came back, and he leapt from the fence to follow it.
His nose led him to a quiet corner of the garden, one where he usually didn't venture. He saw something he had never noticed before. A hole in the fence. Curious, Trickster slipped through the opening, his body squeezing to fit through the narrow gap. He popped out on the other side of his fence. His eyes widened in awe as he gazed around reverently. He was in the forest now.
The space-ice-cat smell was stronger here now. Trickster broke into a run, his paws scattering twigs and moss as he pelted through the dark woods. He followed his nose through the forest, confident that this new scent would not lead him wrong. The kittypet tom halted, panting and gasping for breath. He wasn't used to running for so long, but something spurred him on. After a few seconds, he kept running, eager to see what was drawing him to strongly.
A streak of gingery gold he was, darting from shadow to shadow under the moon and the bright band of stars. Free, that's how it felt, free like nothing he had ever felt before. Trickster laughed loudly, throwing his head back in a triumphant caterwaul. He had done it! He was free of his Twoleg—not housefolk, Twoleg. He was going to be Trickpaw now, a loyal warrior of one of StarClan's own. What would his warrior name be? Who would teach him his warrior skills? Trickster ran, following the space-ice-cat scent. He was getting closer.
Trickster skidded to a halt, panting hard. He had found his way to a clearing in the woods. The star-band shone down on the clearing, turning everything to silver. Cat-scent was everywhere; traces of individual scents could be found, but they all blended together into one, unified smell. And, Trickster noted with relief, he could just barely make out Promisepaw's sweet smell. The former kittypet padded to the center of the hollow. A cat was waiting for him.
The cat's pelt shone brightly in the starlight. Their eyes were bright and spoke of the secrets of warrior cat Clans. Trickster sat down in front of the warrior, dipping his head respectfully. The space-ice-cat smell was coming from this warrior. "Are you...are you...a warrior of...of StarClan?" Trickster mewed quietly. The silver cat nodded.
"Welcome, Trickpaw," they meowed, in a voice that was filled with mystery and secret. "You have been chosen by StarClan to aid PromiseClan." The warrior stood up, touching their paw to their own muzzle, then to Trickpaw's. "May your nose be opened and tuned to the wild." They did the same motions with their ears and Trickpaw's. "May your ears be cleared and sensitive to the heartbeat of the wild." They touched their eyes, then Trickpaw's. "May your eyes be sharp and see the beauty of the wild." They placed their paws over Trickpaw's. "May your paws be strong and tireless, ever dancing to the music of the wild." They touched their head, then touched Trickpaw's. "May your mind be cunning and learn the ways of the wild." Finally, they laid a paw over their heart, and touched the paw to Trickpaw's chest. "And may your heart be loyal and true to the wild."
Trickpaw felt nothing at first, then a sudden rush of energy gripped his young body. Suddenly, he could smell everything. He knew how many toms and she-cats had walked across this stretch of ground in the past hour. He heard everything, the scratching of a cricket as it jumped from leaf to leaf on the forest floor. He could see far into the night, and could make out the shapes of so many things he had missed when he had first entered the camp. His paws surged with fierce energy, no longer tired and sore. He understood that these cats lived by a strict code, and he knew every detail of it. And his heart jumped. He felt the urge to defend every cat he saw here, and even those he didn't see.
"I hail you by your new name, Trickpaw," the StarClan warrior continued. "You have shown yourself willing to leave your comfortable life behind and join the true life of the wild. Trickpaw! Trickpaw!"
Trickpaw spun around as he heard the voices of other cats chant, "Trickpaw! Trickpaw!" Every time a new voice was heard, a new cat appeared in the clearing, which was soon full of the cats of StarClan. The first warrior touched his nose to Trickpaw's. "Now, young Trickpaw, you are an apprentice warrior of PromiseClan. Remember that a true warrior knows when to go against the rules and go with his heart." He stood and flicked his tail, and the rest of StarClan vanished, leaving only a trace of their eerie scent behind. The warrior remained for a few minutes longer, just long enough to take Trickpaw's collar in his mouth and snap it. Then he too vanished.
Trickpaw was awed. He had been given an apprentice name by StarClan themselves. Not only that, but they had sharpened his dull kittypet senses and replaced them with the razor-keen ones of a wildcat. His pulse roared in his ears with excitement. He was part of PromiseClan now.