"Put your weight into it, Thrushpaw!"
Stonetail can't help but sigh from her seat at the edge of the clearing. The air is warm, the sky clear, the world still. By all rights, the day should be a perfect one. But a small brown tabby struggles to knock her tortoiseshell opponent off balance in the clearing's center, and the other cat quickly retaliates with a heavy paw to the head, putting the tabby into the dirt almost effortlessly. This is enough to spoil whatever is left of Stonetail's day.
"Don't expose your belly!" the grey warrior shouts as the apprentices begin to roll across the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt as they go, but the tabby seems unable to hear her mentor. Soon the other apprentice has her pinned down by the shoulders, belly up. It's almost pathetic how easily Thrushpaw has been trumped despite her twelve moons, especially since Redpaw is four moons her junior. If she can't muster up enough strength to train with a Clanmate, then the likelihood she'll survive a fight against full-grown warriors is slim to none. Stonetail's gut twists at the thought.
With a grunt, Redpaw springs away from Thrushpaw, who lies panting in the dust for a moment. "I'm sorry, Stonetail," the little apprentice murmurs, rolling onto her side. "I'm just not strong enough… Can't do it…"
It looks like Redpaw wants to stuff her fellow apprentice's pessimism back down her throat, but an intervention from her own mentor, Sunpelt, cuts her off just as she opens her mouth.
"How about Redpaw and I go check up on the BreezeClan border? You wouldn't mind telling Greystar where we went, would you, Stonetail?" But Sunpelt's request isn't so much a question as it is a polite way of saying that her apprentice would be better off doing something useful.
Stonetail resents that.
"Go on, then," she says, getting to her paws and forcing her pale fur to lie flat. "Do what you will." And that's the end of that. While Redpaw and Sunpelt make their escape (it's mighty kind of them to refrain from discussing Thrushpaw's poor performance until after they're out of earshot), Stonetail pads over to her apprentice, nudging her to her feet.
"I'm sorry," Thrushpaw repeats, but Stonetail sweeps her tail across the tabby's mouth, putting an end to whatever further apologies might lie in wait.
"What have I told you about apologizing?" the grey warrior asks, tail falling away to curl over her paws.
Thrushpaw hesitates, then mews, "That I don't have to."
"And what have I told you about saying that you can't?"
Again, a hesitation. "That I shouldn't."
"That's right. So why do you keep doing it?" Gently Stonetail begins to guide her apprentice towards the worn forest trail that leads to the ShadeClan camp. "I know you've beaten Redpaw before, and I know that you aren't just skin and bones, so why is it so hard for you to knock her off balance or pin her down lately? You have weight. You move well enough. You can win these fights, but it's like you choose not to."
Thrushpaw ducks her head at this, suddenly finding her paws a fascinating subject. She and Stonetail pad along in silence for some time, slowly getting closer to their home deep in the pines, and it seems as if the air grows thicker and thicker between them with each pawstep. Communication has never been easy for them, but as of late, it's like pulling claws.
Stonetail's been through that before, of course. In her own apprentice days, she and her mother had fought about everything save for the real problems at hand. All of ShadeClan had known to steer clear of the pale leader and her hotheaded daughter when they began to snap at one another, and never in Clan history were so many patrols sent out under the guise of needing "extra border checks." In reality the borders were spotless, whereas the camp's atmosphere was positively toxic.
But that is the difference between Stonetail and Thrushpaw. While the grey she-cat has always been inclined to argue her way through a conflict, the tiny tabby simply bows out, allowing her aggressor to win. These fundamental differences have done nothing but pull mentor and apprentice farther apart over the moons, and with warrior assessments looming, there could be no worse time for such strain.
At the mouth of the hollow log leading into the heart of ShadeClan camp, Stonetail stops, barring the way. Thrushpaw, not looking where she's going, collides with her mentor's side and mumbles another apology before falling silent.
"Look," Stonetail begins, "I get that you don't like to fight. So be it. But this can't go on. Your Clan needs you to be ready for anything, whether 'anything' is better hunters in leafbare or stronger fighters when the borders are weak. ShadeClan takes care of you, and you have to take care of it in return.
"A warrior should represent their Clan to the best of their ability, and until you're willing to fulfill your obligations, I can't promise you'll receive a warrior name." As soon as the words leave her mouth, Stonetail wants to bite them back. Thrushpaw is her apprentice, and part of the responsibility for the tabby's training rests on her shoulders. Somehow, her mentoring has lacked a crucial component, an element that could transform Thrushpaw from docile to determined. Condemning the young cat for failures in Stonetail's teaching is unreasonably harsh, even cruel.
It's also what Greystar would do. It's what Greystar did.
By the time an apology gets caught in Stonetail's throat, Thrushpaw is gone, vanished into the pine forest without so much as a word. The temptation to chase after her is strong, and the growing need to protect her even stronger. If she can't fend off a fellow apprentice, a truly malicious threat could end her life. Someone has to be there!
"She won't learn to defend herself if you're always doing it for her." Stonetail is tensed to streak into the forest when her mother's voice puts a halt to such action. Rocking back on her haunches, she only just turns her head to watch the other she-cat pad past her and take a seat. It's kit-like conduct, but showing any more willingness to listen would feel wrong, even weak.
"Jumping after her isn't the answer," Greystar continues, tail swishing across pine needles to expose the forest floor. "Thrushpaw knows nothing of independence because you coach her too much. She doesn't explore, she doesn't challenge, she doesn't try a thing."
"And you're saying that's on me." Stonetail can't meet her mother's eyes and instead ducks her head like a kit caught stealing from the freshkill pile. If she were to look up, she knows she'll find cool green eyes staring back at her, coupled with Greystar's stoic, unreadable posture. She also knows she'll continue to say things that will bring nothing but regret come the following sunrise. As such, she remains absolutely silent, relying on the quiet to nurse her wounded pride.
Remarkably, Greystar does not push the subject. Instead she simply slides past Stonetail into the fallen tree, calling over her shoulder, "We can discuss it later. There are more important things to consider."
"What could possibly be more important than my apprentice?" Stonetail spits, following her leader nonetheless. Greystar does not respond, though, choosing instead to slip out of the log and step aside so that she no longer obstructs the view.
And what a view it is, too. In the center of camp, four warriors are needed to press two thin forms into the dirt. The cat on the right is broad-shouldered with a thick brown tabby pelt. One eye is swollen shut, likely from a blow to the head, and the other continues flicking sideways, desperately tracking every sudden movement his companion makes. Stonetail finds herself doing the same, fascination flickering in her chest. Though two of her Clanmates are pressing his muzzle into the dirt, the other tom bucks his shoulders and sinks his claws into the earth as if seeking purchase. All the while, his amber eyes seem to burn with untamed fire. Even with two healthy warriors on his back, this intruder knows nothing of defeat.
"They came into our camp," Greystar explains, striding towards the toms. "Two loners, claiming they need asylum from a murderer. When they refused to leave…" Her tail flicks sharply, and she expectantly fixes her eyes on Stonetail, a cue to finish where she left off.
"When they refused to leave, you did this," the warrior says, moving away from the camp entrance. Both of the toms briefly fix on her as if to assess whether she is a threat to them, but then resume their previous activities, the tabby watching helplessly and the black tom writhing as fiercely as before.
Greystar's patience must be wearing thin. With all the speed of a snake, she brings her paw down on the black tom's head, stunning him enough that he goes limp. "When they refused to leave," she corrects her daughter, "they became more important than your apprentice."
Stonetail finds herself inclined to agree.