It has been too long. Don't forgive me; I really have no excuse for not updating in three months.
I hope you enjoy.
Lakepaw struggled ferociously against his mentor, and made sure to keep his lips peeled back in a threatening snarl despite not being able to reach the foxes.
"Let… me… fight!" he insisted, wishing he had enough developed muscle to bowl over the gray she-cat as if she were a blade of grass.
"Oh, no, you don't," Amberear shot back. She took the apprentice by surprise, snatching him up by the scruff and dragging him all the way to the apprentices' den.
Lakepaw's nerves did admittedly buzz a little less once he was no longer in the clearing, but he still resisted. "Aw, c'mon! We even learned the hunting crouch and how to pounce on prey today! You said that would help…"
Amberear's rump in the den exit blocked Lakepaw's view of the commencing battle, and he suppressed a howl of unfiltered frustration. The young warrior spun, and two piercing amber gazes met. "You're going to calm down, understand me? You're barely a day over six moons old; you think I'm just going to let you venture out there as if you're a full-grown, experienced warrior?"
"But you said—"
"One day of practicing a wretched hunting crouch isn't going to hand over the ability to slay a fox. Practice, practice, practice makes perfect."
Lakepaw jumped up and down in anger until he was out of breath and until his head was bumping the woven roof of the den and beginning to shake it. Instead, he focused on practicing to make perfect.
He tore a sizeable chunk of moss from his own nest, and placed it on one end of the den. Then he moved a fox-length away, which was about a third of the way across the den. Over and over again, the determined black-and-white tom pounced and pounced and pounced. Once he was satisfied with his performance from a fox-length away, he tried from two fox-lengths away. Then three.
What he didn't know was that his mentor was watching this entire independent session while keeping an eye on the outside happenings.
Lakepaw didn't let a single screech disturb his hardcore training until a particular one stood out, one that seemed to come from Bramblestar.
The apprentice kicked away the now nearly-disintegrated moss-ball and peeked over Amberear's shoulder.
The dark brown tabby leader was practically muzzle-to-muzzle with who appeared to be the FoxClan leader. Both rulers' ears were pulled back flat, and their hackles rose in sharp spikes all down their spines. It was truly a frightening yet enthralling sight, and Lakepaw's heartbeat quickened just watching.
"Why did you invade our territory in the first place?" Bramblestar snapped. His back was to the apprentices' den, but Lakepaw could easily imagine the defiance in the riled cat's copper eyes.
The orange-yellow fox facing him sneered, "'Cause we can."
Lakepaw felt a huge surge of respect for his leader after what happened next: Bramblestar took one step forward, then another, until his nose was literally pressed against the fox's. She could easily snap her jaws and bite his nose off, but she held back, peering directly into his eyes curiously.
"I haven't dealt with foxes much in my life— but you're setting a pretty bad example for your species." Lakepaw resisted a cheer as Bramblestar leaped back and swiped at the leader fox, opening up an old scar in her throat, all in heartbeats. The older tom could barely take another breath and admire his work before he was swallowed by a vicious storm cloud of red-and-gray-furred foxes.
"StarClan, watch he doesn't get killed," Amberear whispered as warriors scrambled forward to help unbury the tabby.
"Go," Lakepaw said, nudging her flank with his head.
"What?" She twisted to stare down at him, seeming surprised he was there. "Oh, but… I can't. I have to protect you and the den."
"Foxes only want to kill, they don't care about ravaging the den," Lakepaw argued. "As for me… I'll find somewhere else to shelter. Literally all of the foxes except one— and that one's dead— are centered on getting Bramblestar. Just go help and take them down."
He felt Amberear stiffen against his leg. Lakepaw looked up from his paws as his mentor said, "No need for my help" and pointed toward the trembling thorn entrance with her tail.
The tunnel shook unbelievably, like it was leaf-bare and it was cold. But then three cats, followed by countless others, exploded out of it: Ashstar, Crowfeather, and Whiskernose.
WindClan was here! Lakepaw watched, openmouthed, as the WindClan deputy hared over to the fox pile and began to grip foxes around the flanks, picking them off one by one with a warning bite to the neck or tail. Whiskernose joined him.
Ashstar was sneaky, introducing her Clan quietly and excluding any battle cry of "WindClan, attack!" The foxes were totally caught off-guard, and continuously yelped in shock as Crowfeather or Whiskernose removed them from the claws of an exhausted ThunderClan warrior.
Lakepaw combed through the incoming flood of moor-borne cats for the cats he had seen on the earlier patrol. He racked his brain for their names: Harespring, Leaftail, and Antpaw. No Dewpaw here, anymore…
He did see a flash of brown-and-white that might've been Harespring, but Lakepaw got distracted as his gaze snagged onto the shiny dark coat of another warrior.
The tom halted for a moment, and roughly urged on a pair of either older apprentices or new warriors who looked scared silly. "Let's go, Ticklefeather, Quickdash. This is your first battle as warriors, don't let these timid forest-dwellers down!"
The white she-cat and ginger tom pushed forward and began to grapple with a small gray fox, their swipes becoming more secure with each passing heartbeat.
Meanwhile, the black cat was frozen in the mostly empty battlefield (since the fox pile, decreasing in size, was mostly on the farther side of the clearing), staring around. Lakepaw wondered if he was looking for something.
He bounded over to the apprentices' den, mumbled something to Amberear, and shouldered past her, scanning through the den. He looked disappointed to only see Lakepaw in there, and Lakepaw almost felt disappointed to be disappointing the strange WindClan cat.
"Hey, what are you doing? Get out of here!" Amberear hissed, shoving the tom away. For a moment, he glared at her before plunging into battle.
Amberear shuddered and shut her optics for a long moment. "What? Who was that?" Lakepaw demanded, leaping forward so he was once again at his mentor's shoulder blade.
"That was… Breezepelt," she answered quietly, reopening her eyes. "I'm pretty sure. He- he's done some regrettable things in the past."
Lakepaw shrugged, until he remembered something Seedspeck had said at the WindClan border. "Wait… didn't he have something to do with the Dark Forest?"
"Exactly," Amberear replied.
"Tell me," Lakepaw breathed. "What did he do that was so bad?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not just gonna sit here and summarize all he did. Granted, it's not like Breezepelt's doings measured up to the same level as Tigerstar's. But it's still… horrific."
A prickle of irritation tickled Lakepaw's spine, but he ignored it as another name resurfaced in his memory. "I remember when Bramblestar got back from the Gathering that one time, and he mentioned Breezepelt returning to WindClan. Then someone asked about Nightcloud."
"Nightcloud," Amberear said, "is Breezepelt's mother, and Crowfeather's, well, former mate."
"Crowfeather? The deputy?" Lakepaw looked away from his mentor for a moment, and in his imagination he pinned down Crowfeather and Breezepelt, trying desperately to glimpse a similarity in the father-son pair. But they were so different…
"Yes," mewed Amberear. "Crowfeather the deputy. So Breezepelt is Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Hollyleaf's half-brother."
Lakepaw was astounded, and appreciated how much he now knew thanks to the gray-and-white she-cat. He grinned sheepishly at her, then briefly touched his nose with hers. He read the surprise in her amber eyes, and his grin grew into a full smile. "Hey, um." He scuffed his paws on the earth below him. "Sorry how bratty I was being earlier, about wanting to fight. I guess I really am too young yet to face even a fox kit."
He glanced up as she nudged him. "Nah, I disagree," Amberear meowed. "You could take on a fox kit, and defeat it. Maybe even a fox apprentice, if they exist. And do you wanna know a secret?"
Eagerly, he nodded.
Amberear leaned close to whisper in his ear, and a random excitement made his heart flutter a little higher in his chest. "If it was just a quarter-moon later, you would've had enough training to be able to fight." She pulled away, and surprisingly strong sadness pulled Lakepaw's heart back down to its usual place. Though his disappointment was quickly replaced by wonder.
"Really?" he murmured.
She blinked back at him, and in her face Lakepaw could view the resemblance between her and her kind father Cloudtail, and her sweet mother Brightheart. Then she broke the bliss between them. "You're… you're really nice, Lakepaw," Amberear mewed. A deep frown creased her young features. "I know what you're thinking. But we're kin."
Lakepaw was taken aback, disgusted, appalled, offended by, embarrassed with… himself. "What?" he exploded, leaping back so that he bumped his head hard on the rim of the den entrance.
Amberear gazed forlornly at her paws. "Your mother is Ivypool. Ivypool's mother is Whitewing. Whitewing is my sister from an older litter."
Now he was just flat-out ashamed. "I'm sorry I even thought about it," he sighed. "You're my mentor, and that's strictly our relationship." He looked up at the sky, hoping his lower lip wasn't trembling too much. "I thought kin couldn't mentor kin, though."
"These days, with such a huge Clan, there isn't really a choice," Amberear pointed out. "At this point, that rule can really only forbid parents from mentoring their kits."
This talk about family reminded Lakepaw of his brother. He lifted his head so suddenly, his neck cracked. "Sorry to change the subject," he apologized again, "but do you know where Fogpaw might be?" The black-and-white tom felt a pang of guilt that he had barely thought once of his littermate.
For the first time in a while, they both turned to look out at the clearing.
The fox pile had completely dispersed. In fact, no more fighting was taking place at all. Bramblestar could be seen, battered but well, and being guided by Squirrelflight to see Jayfeather. WindClan was beginning to assemble by the thorn tunnel, as were the foxes. The amount of blood on the battlefield was unsettling.
A male fox with rich russet fur and sharp black point markings emerged from the heart of the FoxClan crowd. He pushed his nose against the neck of the leader fox, his ears flattened in respect and anxiety.
A tiny light red vixen stepped forward, trembling, from the skulk. "Z- Zing…" she barked softly. "Is alive?" She gestured with a freshly-crooked tail toward her leader.
Zing raised his slyly pointed muzzle from the scarlet-stained fur. Then he turned to the timid vixen and acknowledged her question with a single, curt nod. He proceeded to bark orders. "Song, Claw, carry Aaka back camp. Pip—"
"Brother!" A dark red fox pushed his way out of the group and over to the body of the battle's only death. "Birch, gone…"
"Storm, over here," Zing commanded, showing his fangs. "No time grieve. Only care Aaka." With a wave of his bushy tail, he ensured that Storm was following with a lifeless gray fox's body on his back. Then FoxClan exited in silence, leaving bloody paw prints and devastation in their wake.
Thanks a lot, FoxClan.