Typed this up quickly in one day (for once) so it's probably not the best, but it gets the job done: meaning, I got done what I wanted to for this chapter. You'll see...

A set of enormous paws, one black and the other white, thumped in front of his face, while his rear limbs flopped down on the ground behind him lamely. Lakekit grunted in frustration and yanked them back up so that he was at his full height once more.

"Lakekit, you've got to understand," insisted Flintpaw, appearing quite flustered now as this was Lakekit's fifth mistake. "It's about how you control your back legs, but you're focusing on your front paws—"

"Yeah, yeah," Lakekit grumbled. "I get it. But let's face it: I'll never learn this move before I become an apprentice." Sighing, he allowed his now amber gaze to wander over to the thorn barrier. "I just wanted to learn something to use against the foxes…"

"And you will learn it," Flintpaw mewed, "if you just put in more time for practicing!"

It had been roughly three moons since FoxClan moved in, and the wretched creatures still weren't budging. Bramblestar seemed almost scared of them at seeing the wounds they had inflicted on Bumblestripe, and ThunderClan hadn't made a move against the territory-stealers since that attack. All three of the Gatherings that had come and went involved a distressed Ashstar asking Bramblestar what he was going to do.

Back when he was halfway to becoming an apprentice, Lakekit had been fiercely excited to face off against FoxClan. However, now that his rank change was visible on the horizon, he was privately terrified. He confided in Flintpaw, who along with Honeypaw and Stonepaw had become an apprentice two moons ago, but the gray apprentice wasn't exactly the best mentor.

Lakekit lifted his head to gaze at the brilliant late greenleaf sky, a bold blue softened by wispy clouds noticeably drifting over the hollow. He pummeled his wide-set paws, thinking how it looked like it was going to storm soon due to the grayish tinge to the clouds. Flintpaw was still droning on about the importance of how "practice makes perfect".

"I don't want to be perfect, though," Lakekit said suddenly, putting Flintpaw's words at a screeching halt.

"What?" demanded Flintpaw incredulously. "B- but that's what my mentor says, and Icecloud can't be wrong!"

Lakekit registered annoyance at the older tom bubbling up inside him, fizzy and bitter. "Look at her choice in mate," he grunted.

Unfortunately, Puddlepaw happened to be walking by right then, and he hissed, "Watch what you're saying, fox-heart!"

Lakekit turned his back on the dappled tom as Flintpaw added, "Yes, my father's half-WindClan, and he's the best warrior ThunderClan has seen in seasons, so… so shut your mouth!"

"I shut my mouth?" Lakekit laughed. "You were just blabbering about being perfect when that's not what anyone wants."

Sparks gleamed in Flintpaw's smoldering optics. He acted like Lakekit hadn't just said anything, and continued on, "Besides, no one even knows who your father is!"

It was a blow that stung, but Lakekit recovered himself quickly enough to retort, "Wrong. There is someone who knows…"

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

Lakekit's voice was ominously low. "My mother."

He had not noticed how dark the sky had quickly gotten, but when he spun around and stalked off, emotions swirling inside him like a whirlpool, he wasn't surprised to feel fat raindrops splashing onto his ruffled coat.

OoOoO

Lakekit despised his mother. She had promptly moved out of the nursery when she was given the opportunity to train an apprentice finally. Ivypool ended up getting Stonepaw, and because he stole Lakekit's mother from him, the black-and-white kit hated him as well.

Despite leaving them at four moons old, Ivypool still set aside time to check on her sons, but it wasn't the same, even if it made Lakekit feel more grown up. Be that as it may, Fogkit was obviously suffering worse from Ivypool's abandonment, since he had no friends from what Lakekit could tell.

The rain continued for days, as Lakekit, Fogkit, Beekit, and Morningkit slipped deeper into being overdue for apprenticeship. Perhaps Bramblestar's waiting for a clear day to do the ceremony… or he's just forgotten us… or he thinks we don't deserve to be apprentices… With each new guess for the leader's unhurriedness, Lakekit plunged further into a cold sense of dread and displeasure.

One day, he opened his eyes and looked over his surroundings. He was in a separate nest from his brother, who was in a secluded corner away from everyone us, amazingly still asleep. Dovewing was splayed in a nest, one eye a quarter of the way open and lined with crust. Her daughters were not present, not even their nests… Lakekit's puzzlement at this faded when he recalled how they had quietly moved into the medicine den to be with their father. Finally, there was Blossomfall, talking quietly with Mousewhisker while Buzzardkit and Shrewkit snoozed at her belly. The brother and sister were three moons now and weaned, but still very much attached to their mother.

Lakekit glanced over at the entrance to the den, but he couldn't see outside, for it was pouring… simply torrential, buckets of StarClan's tears splashing onto the bare earth in the heart of the hollow. His heart sunk even more, knowing he would be stuck inside again today, too big for his nest, too big for the nursery, too big for this life. He wanted out. He wanted to find the missing piece in his life. Every morning he thought this, yet by each evening that gap in his heart stayed, growing bigger and eroding away anything left.

Mousewhisker concluded his hushed conversation with Blossomfall and edged toward the entrance again, mumbling in annoyance how he had to go on patrol. However, the gray-and-white tom wasn't completely out of the den when he ducked back in, soaked thoroughly until halfway down his spine. His chartreuse eyes flicked down to Lakekit, who had tucked his nose under his tail in an attempt to fall asleep again. "Lakekit! It's your ceremony!"

His fur prickled; if Mousewhisker was kidding him, this would be a cruel joke. But sure enough, when he sat up, his muscles screaming in protest, he could barely hear Bramblestar's calls through the sheets of water. A thrill of unfiltered joy rushed through him, and Lakekit burst out of the nursery, ignoring the icy tendrils of liquid streaming down his pelt. He skid to a stop under the Highledge, where Bramblestar and all the other to-be apprentices were gathered.

"I apologize," the leader meowed, meeting each of them with his narrowed amber gaze. "But I didn't want any of you to have to wait any longer to become apprentices. So, without further ado, I name you Beepaw," he went on, dipping his head to Beekit. The gray tabby purred and watched as Bramblestar squinted into the crowd, and then yowled for four cats to come forward. Gradually four shapes, shoulder to shoulder, became more distinctly outlined in the rain. Then Lilyfern, Seedspeck, Amberear, and Snowtail emerged into the dry area, all shaking their pelts. Some droplets hit Lakekit, but he was already sodden and numb and didn't really care. Right now, ecstasy was warming him from the inside.

"Lilyfern, I name you the mentor of Beepaw. Millie trained you exceptionally well, especially during the second Great Journey the Clans endured. I expect you to pass on to Beepaw all you know about hardships."

The dark tabby nodded and touched noses with Beepaw. Lakekit, all of a sudden, felt very young and tiny compared to Beepaw. If there was a disturbance right then, only she wouldn't have to shelter in the nursery, trembling under her mother's belly.

Bramblestar turned to address Morningkit, as Seedspeck shuffled her paws hopefully. "From now on until you earn your warrior name, you will be Morningpaw." The brown tabby smiled and angled his ears at Seedspeck. "And your mentor shall be Seedspeck, who was trained by Brightheart. Despite her disability and age, Brightheart gave all the knowledge she could to a long overdue apprentice. May Seedspeck share all she learned with Morningpaw." The new pair tapped noses and then stepped to the side.

"Amberear, you will be Lakepaw's mentor. Amberear, you may be a young warrior, but I know I can trust that Berrynose's vigorous training will keep you in the loop with your apprentice. Good luck to you both."

The rain, abruptly, seemed much louder. The noise pounded in Lakepaw's ears, and every part of him stung a little as the numbness temporarily melted away. This all happened while his nose was connected with Amberear's. Then just as swiftly they parted, though Amberear rested her tail around his shoulders while they trotted over to watch the last bit of the rushed ceremony.

"Last but not least, Fogkit, you will be known as Fogpaw until the day you get your warrior name. Snowtail… you, too, are young but wizened by the training of Foxleap. Foxleap is an extraordinary warrior, and I have no doubt you will follow in his pawsteps, and that you will lead Fogpaw to follow your pawsteps."

The silver tabby tom, his thin fur clinging to his pelt as though plastered with honey, reached up to touch his nose with Snowtail's. The young white warrior had the same build as his father, Cloudtail, who Lakepaw could barely see out in the rain, his thick pale pelt hanging in chunks off his broad frame.

The small ceremony broke up, and Lakepaw scrambled off to the apprentices' den, beaming. Finally! After all this waiting…

He was very happy indeed, and even half-heartedly made up with Flintpaw. He and his littermates helped the newest apprentices organize their nests, and they spent the rest of the stormy day guessing what their warrior names would be between thunder booms and blinding flashes of lightning that illuminated the entire den.

"I say Puddleclaw," Puddlepaw announced.

"Of course you do," scoffed Oakpaw. "Every tom wants –claw because it sounds tough."

"Sure, Oaktree," growled Bloodpaw sullenly from the corner of the den, a bit separated from everyone else.

Lakepaw truly believed his paws were walking in the clouds as he lay curled in his own large nest between Fogpaw and Stonepaw. For once, everything was going his way, until much later that night when snoring was starting to build up to a deafening roar.

His thoughts remained on one thing besides the prospect of the name "Lakeclaw"; my father.

Lol, poor Dewclaw doesn't get an apprentice but his siblings do!