"Frostfur's kitting!"

Dustpaw blinks. He's never actually seen a kitting before. Might be interesting.

The cats around him are frantic, Lionheart in particular.

"Is she alright!?" he asks, practically sealing the entrance to the nursery. "Everything's going to go well, right!?"

"Not if you stand in my light," Spottedleaf growls. "If you want to help, get the crowd away. Don't you warriors have patrols to get done?"

"R-Right, right." It's almost funny to see the massive deputy fretting like a queen before her kit's Apprentice Ceremony. "Stand clear of the entrance! Don't crowd Frostfur!"

"But nothing else interesting is happening," Mousefur sighs.

"I'd better not see a repeat of this if Goldenflower has another litter!" Lionheart growls. "I said, 'stand clear'!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mousefur rolls aside boredly. "I don't want to deal with youandTigerclaw."

Dustpaw's not exactly the smallest apprentice, but he's still a sight skinnier than Graypaw. He pokes his head just around the corner, curious as to just why Frostfur has to be so loud about the whole ordeal.

Oh. Oh!

Dustpaw suddenly feels very violently ill. Isthatwhat happens when a molly kits!? Why is it so… slimy?

"Dustpaw," Whitestorm says. Dustpaw's too busy gagging to acknowledge his presence. "Don't you have more pressing duties than to spy on our healer?"

"W-Wait a second," Dustpaw wheezes. "I'm gonna puke…"

Whitestorm rolls his eyes. "Don't be so drama-"

Dustpaw retches dryly, thankful that he hadn't eaten.

Whitestorm eyes him incredulously.

"Kitten," Sandpaw mutters from his side. "Come on. I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

"Sandpaw…"

Dustpaw, sniffling, makes a very rude gesture with his tail.

"Dustpaw!"

"Firepaw, Graypaw," Lionheart smiles down at them, eyes a tad boggy. Frostfur kitted a few days ago, right? Seems the little buggers are already running him ragged. "I think it's time, don't you?"

"Time?" Firepaw repeats. "Time for what?"

"For you two to start a bit of solo training!" The older tom cheers. "You've grasped the basics well, so I have faith you'll come back successful. Catch… hm, three pieces of prey. I don't care what kind they are, just so long as you've got enough. Should be pretty easy, hm?"

"Alright!" Graypaw cheers, eyes sparkling. "I'll catch six, just you watch!"

"Does that mean I can lollygag?" Firepaw grins.

"No way! If I catch six, you gotta catch up, lazybones!"

"Me, lazy?" Firepaw scoffs. "I'm not the one who sleeps ten hours a day!"

"Hey!"

"Alright, alright," Lionheart laughs. "Stop talking about it and start doing it. There's only so sunlight left, you two."

"On it, Chief!" Firepaw says as Graypaw nods eagerly.

It becomes clear quite swiftly, once they're in the forest proper, that Firepaw isn't actually quite sure how a solo hunt works.

"So we split up, then?" he asks.

"Yup! Seeya!" Graypaw bounds off, not before turning to shout, "Try to catch half as much as me, okay!?"

"Piss off!" Firepaw laughs, watching him scramble away. "You'll be lucky to catch an elderly vole!"

It's nice and temperate out, at least. The winds are low, too. Sure, he won't be able to sniff out the prey as well, but they won't smell him either.'Except for the mice,'he recalls, scenting the air with his jaw wide open.'They hear you first, right?'

Firepaw sets off, the light breeze tickling his fur. The sun shines down through the glade, casting long shadows across the grass.

Firepaw grins.

"Ravenpaw," Dustpaw grunts, jaw tensing awkwardly. "I… I guess it wasn't easy-" He grits his teeth. "B-Being at Sunningrocks when- when-"

He closes his eyes tight, clawing the ground harshly.

"Dammit," he hisses, scratching another tally into the tree. "This is pointless." He cranes his neck, looking up at the sickeningly beautiful sky, not a cloud in sight. "Why should I apologize? If he wants to abandon me, then let him."

His pulse throbbed wrongly.

He steps out of the shade of the tree, the sunlight beating warmly upon his back as he looks out as his clanmates; sharing tongues, and coming back and heading out on patrols, bathing in the sun.

He shivers.

The Windclan borderdoesexist, evidently. It's just far past Fourtrees.

Firepaw feels like he's gotten a tad turned around.

"Back to the starting line," he sighs. At least he had caught that-

Suddenly, there's a nigh unbearable weight pressing down upon his back. Heart pounding in panic, Firepaw flails, calling upon his limited battle training to tuck and roll, slashing with his claws as he goes.

A throaty grunt escapes the creature trapping him. Firepaw feels mud mat his fur as he scrambles to his paws.

"What the hell're you playing at, huh!?" Firepaw screeches, hackles raising high. "Barmy fucking git!"

The other - a raggedy old tabby, he realizes - breaks into a wheezing fits, frame shaking violently. For a moment, he worries they may be having some kind of episode.

"Is that the way Thunderclan apprentices talk now?" she wheezes, fangs poking up in a sneering underbite. "What are you doing this far out, kittypet?"

"I'm no kittypet, you dried up gimmer!" Firepaw hisses, back arching as he circles her. "Get the hell out of Thunderclan territory before I toss you out!"

"Yeah?" the old bat wheezes, plopping down onto her belly, legs fully concealed. "Do it, then. I dare you, kit."

Firepaw opens his mouth, closing it soon after. "W-Well-"

"That's what I thought," she rasps. "If you aren't going to kill me, then just leave me here."

She sighs heavily, favoring her front. Even her breathing is raspy and loud, whistles coming from between her teeth.

Firepaw averts his eyes. "... Just wait here, dammit."

"Eh?"

Firepaw trots off, looking for his prey marker. Grumbling to himself, he digs up the perfectly good vole.

Marching back to the ugly old bag, he drops it in front of her.

"What's this?"

"You never seen food before, you crotchety ol' grave dodger?" Firepaw asks, scowling. "You look like you're fit to drop."

The old coot breaks into another fit. Firepaw's about to, begrudgingly, ask if she's okay before he realizes it: she's bloodylaughing.

"Well, if you don't want it-"

"Relax," she wheezes, a paw flying out to pull the vole closer. "You're too tense, kitty. That eager to prove yourself, hmm?"

Firepaw narrows his eyes, not saying a word.

"Well," she says, taking a bite from the vole. "I must say," she says through her chewing, flashing yellow teeth. Firepaw's jowl lifts in disgust. "Breaking the Warrior Code already… That won't reflect too well on you, kit."

Firepaw's stomach drops. "Wh-What!? I haven't broken any rules!"

"You just did!" she laughs. "Giving up hard-earned prey to some, what did you say, 'grave dodger'? That's a good one, I'll have to remember it. Always admired you kittypets' way with words, if absolutely nothing else."

"B-But I didn't," Firepaw gasps, the trees around him all of a sudden seeming much, much closer and thinspread. "Oh, no… No, no, no…"

The old molly grimaces. "Don't have a heart attack. I'm just messing with your head a little."

"No, you don't get it!" Firepaw whines. "They're gonna latch on to this! I'm gonna be kicked out of the clan! I can't go back to town, Ican't!"

"Firepaw?" came Tigerclaw's, of all the bloody cats on Earth, voice. "What are you doing?"

Firepaw's pupils shrink to pinpricks. The old bitch just wheezes out another laugh.

"Oh, hey!" Graypaw perks up, pausing his grooming. "It's Firepaw! I was wondering when he'd get back!"

Dustpaw looks over. Firepaw, tucked in between Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, and Longtail, looks like he's being marched into his own grave. Dustpaw quirks a brow.

"Oh?" Lionheart says, eyes narrowing. "What's going on over there? That's… Yellowfang?"

Dustpaw blinks. The Shadowclan medicine cat is limping behind the patrol, the sourest expression he's ever seen plastered upon her flat muzzle.

"Yellowfang!" Bluestar calls as she exits her den. "What brings you to Thunderclan? Last I heard, Shadowclan was doing quite well for themselves."

"I'm no affiliate of Shadowclan," Yellowfang says flatly. "I walk my own path now."

"Oh?" Bluestar's tail stiffens. "That is… quite unusual, I must admit. Is there a reason, then, that you are here in Thunderclan?"

"Ask Firepaw," Tigerclaw rumbles. "Seeing as he saw fit to feed one who, for all he knew, was a ragged old loner, long absent of any Clan scent."

"I told you," Firepaw mumbles. "She was starving and weak. It was only right."

"You fed Yellowfang, then?" Lionheart asks.

Firepaw looks away. "Yeah."

Lionheart hums deeply. "I see. I suppose that proves you could catchsomeprey, at least. Though that big heart of yours could get you in trouble one day."

"I'm sorry. Please don't kick me out," Firepaw begs, and Dustpaw outright laughs at that.

Firepaw sends him an outraged glance past his panic. Dustpaw makes no attempt to stifle his snickers.

Bluestar hums. "Firepaw, did you take any prey for yourself?"

"No!" he blurts. "No, I swear."

"I see." Bluefur laughs gently. "It is no sin to look out for those weaker than yourself. The only problem is Yellowfang's unaffiliated nature. Giving up prey that could have gone to an elder or a queen is no small offense."

"I-I'm sorry…"

"Relax, Firepaw," she says, waving her tail. "Your place in the clan is not in question. Breathe."

"R-Right…" Firepaw swallows so loudly, Dustpaw can hear it from where he's sitting. A smile creeps onto his face.

"What's got you so amused?" Graypaw asks. "I totally thought Bluestar was gonna chew him out!"

"Nothing."

"First," Bluestar continues, "I must address you, Yellowfang. What, exactly, do you intend to do?"

"Well," Yellowfang wheezes, shambling over to a spot directly beneath the peaking sun. She lays down. "This spot seems comfortable enough. Guess I'll just lay here until you throw me out."

"What!?" Longtail growls. "Get up! You can't just sit there!"

"You got a problem with it, son?" she asks, creeping open an eye. "Come over here and take care of it, then."

"Don't make me take you up on that!"

"Longtail," Bluestar says finally, sweeping her tail. "I will see no harm come to Yellowfang. If she wants to stay in Thunderclan camp, then we have no right to refuse our hospitality."

"What!? Why not?"

"Because she has serviced the clans as a healer for longer that you have been alive, Longtail. Do well to remember that."

Longtail shuts his jaw. Dustpaw snickers.

Bluestar sniffs. "Very well. Since Firepaw seems to have taken such a shine to her, he will take care of Yellowfang's needs for as long as she remains in Thunderclan."

Firepaw inhales, quickly wilting to nod his head meekly.

Dustpaw laughs outright.

"And you may join him, Dustpaw, seeing as the two of you get along so well."

Dustpaw stops laughing. His eye twitches violently.

Graypaw's ears are going purple from how hard he's holding in his giggles. Tail-licker.

Firepaw moans in mock agony. "I'm sorry, Dustpaw," he whines. "She's the worst. She just jumped on me out of nowhere, then has the bloody gall to act likeI'mthe nuisance."

Dustpaw sighs. "Well, stay out of my nest if you've gotten yourself infested with fleas."

"Eh?" Graypaw grins. "Why would he be in your nest?"

Dustpaw goes bright red up to his ears.

"Oh, wait, I get it." Graypaw giggles, and Dustpaw wonders how easy it would be to get away with a murder in broad sunlight, smack in the middle of camp. "You're a real messy sleeper, eh, Firepaw? Maybe it's a good thing I don't sleep next to you!"

Firepaw laughs, and feels proud that it's only a tad high-pitched. "Y-Yup. That's me. Can't help myself."

Graypaw's eyes flicker over to something behind Firepaw. "Uh-oh, here comes the fun patrol."

Firepaw turns to see Darkstripe padding towards them, that seemingly permanent scowl still etched upon his muzzle.

"Mangy parasite," he scoffs directly to Graypaw, scratching an ear. "That friend of yours is a nitwit for not just killing her."

Seems he's content to ignore Firepaw's presence entirely. Fine by him.

Graypaw rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't you ever talk about anything nice, Darkstripe?"

"What's there to talk about?" Darkstripe's eyes narrowed. "The intruder is just going to sit around while the two most foolish apprentices in this clan wait on her, paw to paw. Did you want to talk about the weather?"

"See, this is why we never got along," Graypaw scoffs. "How are we even related?"

Wait, these two are related? Firepaw suddenly realizes that he has no idea what the Thunderclan family tree looks like. Maybe there was more than a few reasons they let him in.

"I'd get along with you just fine if you weren't such a nosy brat," Darkstripe grunts.

Graypaw sticks out his tongue. "Sourpuss."

"... I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"Then what was that? Just now? That response?"

Darkstripe's eyes narrow. Firepaw can almost see the family tie now.

"So," Firepaw whispers as Darkstripe storms off. "Are you two… cousins?"

"Nope! Brothers!"

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, Willowpelt's our mom. I think we got different dads though. Maybe. He's probably just bitter about you 'causeTigerclawthinks he has kittypet blood. Mom's never really said, either way."

"What's Tigerclaw's deal with house cats anyway?" Firepaw can't help but ask. "I met him once and he was already a prick."

"Eh…" Graypaw winces. "Don't think it's really my place to say… Try asking Whitestorm, I guess. Maybe he'll tell you."

Firepaw sighs. "Right. Just forget it, mate. If he's an arsehole, than that's how it is, I s'pose."

"Sorry…"

"Kit!" Firepaw hears from the medicine den. "Get in here already, would you!?"

"Duty calls," he sighs.

"And don't think I forgot about your little friend, either!" Yellowfang hacks.

Dustpaw groans, long and loud. "This is fox-dung."

"You said it."

"Now I won't hear any complaining," Spottedleaf says as they enter the den. "Yellowfang has been a respected healer since before I was even born. You two should be honored to care for her."

"But-"

"And mind you,Dustpaw,that if you hadn't found Firepaw's situation so comical, you wouldn't be in this den right now."

Firepaw snickers a bit, spotting Dustpaw's ears going as bright red as Firepaw's own fur.

"Don'tyouget started, Firepaw," Spottedleaf says, narrowing her eyes. "I won't tolerate any disrespect of my colleague."

"Still just as much of a tightass, huh?" Yellowfang wheezes. "I'm no colleague of yours any longer. I'm no better than a rogue, kit."

That was a surprisingly native-sounding insult, by Firepaw's thinking. She pronounced 'arse' awfully strange, though.

Spottedleaf sighs. "Surrounded on all sides. I give up. You three have fun with each other. You'd make great comedians."

"The clans have comedians?" Firepaw asks, blinking.

"Yeah," Dustpaw grunts. "You waste sunlight with one every day."

"Oi!"

Yellowfang hacks out another of those horrid wheezing laughs. "Another spunky one, eh? You're too good for these fools, Spottedleaf."

Spottedleaf waves her tail dismissively.

"Well, I don't need much," Yellowfang groans. "Just a splint for this damned leg and some tick removal. You can leave me to wallow in my own misery afterward."

"Stars, you're depressing," Dustpaw scoffs. "You sure don't make me look forward to old age."

"Is that so?" Yellowfang grunts, eyes narrowing. "That's good. Enjoy what you've got while you've got it, brat. You've already learned that well."

"You…"

"I see that lost look in your eyes. You're not like this one," Yellowfang gestures to Firepaw, who really is starting to feel quite uncomfortable. "All bushy-tailed and eager. What a foul thing. How old are you? Ten, eleven moons? And you remind me of myself. Foul, wretched world." Yellowfang wheezes, shifting some weight off of her injured leg.

Spottedleaf and Dustpaw are silent. Firepaw's fur begins to itch madly.

"I'll, er," he coughs, "get started on that tick care. Don't know much about splints, I'm afraid."

Cold, heavy silence. Seems Yellowfang wouldn't be the life of any parties, going forward.

Firepaw makes his escape.

"Bringing in strays, kittypet?" Longtail sneers. "I don't trust her. What kind of healer would abandon her clan?"

"Don't seem like it was the best of circumstances, mate," Firepaw sighs, continuing his trek towards the Elders' Den.

"And what were you thinking, giving her your catch? You trying to starve us out, as well as embarrass us?"

"Look, mate, if you have someconstructivecriticism to share, I'm all ears." Firepaw's ears twitch as he turns to face the warrior at the entrance to the den. "But if you're just gonna natter on about Yellowfang, why don't you go bitch at her?"

"I just want you to be well aware of what your place is, housekitty. That's all."

"Yeah, well, I get more than enough of that. Rest assured, I know just how much you want me out." Firepaw's jaw sets, and he stares straight up into Longtail's narrowed eyes. "But I'm not going anywhere. So you'd ought to get used to me."

Firepaw marches into the den.

Smallear, whose name is really quite self-explanatory, laughs as he walks in. "Longtail giving you a hard time, kit?"

"I s'pose-"

"Or is it the other way around!?" Smallear's laugh erupts into a full-fledged giggle fit. "That kit shouldn't be so judgemental of outsiders, you know."

Firepaw's ears perk in interest. "Yeah?"

"Oh, I remember…"

"One-eye?" Halftail grunts. Again with the naming scheme. Seems a bit cruel to Firepaw. He wouldn't want his warrior name to be Firepet. "You alright over there?"

One-eye, another fittingly named elder, cracks open her milky eye, staring at the ceiling of the den. "Poor… Poor Robinwing… Had just lost little Chestnutkit… Sweet, sweet kitten…"

"You sure the Twoleg pet should be hearing this?" Patchpelt huffs. "He doesn't need any weapons against Longtail."

"I'm not that kind of blok- c-cat," Firepaw insists. "This seems… personal."

Patchpelt just grunts, the old codger.

"Poor, poor kit," One-eye continues, voice still small and baggy with age. "Right… Right during the Great Hunger… Poor little Chestnutkit… Goosefeather… couldn't even save the strong- strongest warrior back then…" Her head tilts. "Then… a little kitten in the snow… with the longest tail you've ever seen… Even moody little Darkpaw was charmed, I remember… Robinwing jumped at the opportunity… Fuzzypelt… agreed. What they had lost was irreplaceable… but to let it happen again…? Unforgivable… Simply… unforgivable…"

Smallear sighs. "Oh, I remember, I remember… Poor little Cherrykit didn't see it that way. Shehatedher new brother. Nearly clawed his eyes out, if I remember!" His eyes flicker over to Firepaw. "You remind me of her. Same ginger coat, though with some white mixed in… Same fiery attitude. I do suppose your name's more fitting, kit!" he laughs again, quickly sobering. "Yes… Poor kit. Longpaw adored her, even so. Then…"

Halftail swallows. "I failed that kit. No need to soften the blow, Smallear. I know why Longtail doesn't visit, why he rarely ever talks to Dustpaw or Ravenpaw. I should've lost more than my tail that day."

"Sh- Do you want me to…?" Firepaw murmurs.

"No," Halftail sighs. "This is a part of Clan life, Firepaw. You saw as much on your very first day. I'll admit, it impressed me: some clueless kittypet standing firm even when faced with such grave realities. A sight more impressive than an old bastard like me."

"Sparrowpelt," Smallear says gently. "C'mon. We've talked about this, haven't we?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let me have my self-loathing, won't you?" Halftail, whose real name is apparently Sparrowpelt, turns to Firepaw again. His spine stiffens. "Kit. You seem like you're determined to stick around, so let me tell you this straight out: a warrior who doesn't preserve the happiness of his fellows is worth less than nothing. You're making friends, from what I see. Even that little monster Dustpaw can tolerate you. That's a damned good start."

"I- I mean," Firepaw stammers, "not everybody likes me. Longtail. Tigerclaw. Sandpaw, even, and I share a den with her."

"Aw, Sandpaw will warm up to you!" Smallear laughs. "Grumpy little thing! She belongs here with us, sporting an attitude like hers!"

"Oh, please," Rosetail, the sole elder without a rude nickname, sighs. "She's just grieving. Her and Dustpaw have always been too solid of a fit; never knew how to handle their feelings. Poor Ravenkit paid for that in earnest."

"Oh," One-eye rasps. "Little… Little Ravenkit… I haven't seen him… Where has he gone, I wonder…?"

"He's an apprentice now, darling!" Smallear laughs. "Not so little anymore! You should see the legs on him, twice as long as his body!" He sighs. "That Tigerclaw works him so hard, same as poor Darkpaw. I bet he wouldn't give his own kits such a hard time, if Goldenflower's feeling up to having more."

"Little Goldenpaw…" One-eye coos, eyes drifting closed once more. "Darling kit… Darling…"

"Oh, I made sure he treats her right, though," Smallear sighs. "Those kits had better say hello to their old grandfather, or I'll have to claw his ears off. Though, maybe not. Stars know she's got her jaws full enough with Swiftkit. Same with that son of mine. A litter of four! Ha! I could barely handle him and his sister!"

"So you're Lionheart's father?" Firepaw can't help but ask, feeling like he's forgotten something.

"Sure am! How's my kit been treating you? Well? He'd better! I raised him right, I did, but you're never too old to be a father!"

"He's amazing, sir!" Firepaw nods. "I could hardly believe the deputy wanted to teach me! Especially when he's already got Graypaw to worry about!"

"Well, don't run himtooragged. Seems responsibility's been falling into his paws like dying leaves as of late!" The elder grins wryly. "Makes me wonder if you're going to be even more amazed in the near future, kit."

"Huh?"

Smallear laughs again. Seems he does that a lot. "Oh, don't mind a flea-ridden old badger like me! Go on, you have to get your mousebile for thelovelyYellowfang, don't you?"

Right on cue, Firepaw hears Dustpaw wail, "Firepaw! Hurry up, for the love of Starclan!"

He stiffens, rushing to gather the ingredient. "Right! On it! Right away!"

"Good luck, kit!" Smallear calls as he rushes out. "You'll need it!"

"All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Highrock!" Bluestar calls.

"Well, go on," Yellowfang grunts, shoving Dustpaw away. "Don't stay on my account. Your partner in geriatric punishment isn't here, anyway."

"Like I would," he scoffs. "Don't overvalue yourself, you old coot."

She wheezes. "Can't say I've ever been accused ofthat."

Dustpaw snorts, slinking out of the Medicine Den. The clan meeting is starting by the time he strolls into the middle of camp.

"In light," Bluestar begins, "of recent events. It has become evident I must make a significant change before this moon's Gathering. Lionheart is my trusted deputy, and a fine warrior, but he now has his children to worry over. Whitestorm may be handling the responsibility of dual-apprenticeship well, yet he does not have the worries of his clan resting upon his back as well. As such, I must ask Firepaw to step forward."

Firepaw jolts, green eyes shining widely. Silently, he obeys.

"Firepaw, you have been acclimating well to clan life, better than I could have hoped in these short two moons. To speed up the training process, and ease the burdens upon my deputy's shoulders, I must make an unusual decision."

She leaps down from the Highrock, approaching Firepaw at the front of the crowd. "Firepaw, please step forward," she repeats.

What? Is she really going to-

"I shall be taking you on as my own apprentice. Your diligence and compassion have impressed me greatly, and I know you shall tackle the coming challenges eagerly."

Dustpaw's jaw flops open.

Firepaw's much the same, evidently, eyes as wide as one of his old kittypet trays.

Chuckling, Bluestar taps her nose against his own. The crowd murmurs hesitantly. "We shall start tomorrow morning, Firepaw. I trust Lionheart has taught you well."

"Y-Yeah…"

"That is all, then," Bluestar says, addressing the crowd. "As you were."

"So he gets rewarded for dragging some carcass-in-waiting into camp?" Darkstripe grumbles below his breath. Dustpaw's ear twitches. "What a wonderful judgement call, Bluestar," he huffs.

"Way to go, Firepaw!" Graypaw yips. "Apprentices of the leader and the deputy? You justknowwe're gonna be the greatest!"

Firepaw, still a little wobbly, just nods.

Dustpaw's gut feels sour.

"You know," Dustpaw growls as Firepaw practically collapses on top of him, "the leader of the clan usually only apprentices children of the deputy. That'd be Sandpaw, not you."

"Sandpaw is Lio-" Firepaw blinks sleepily. "Oh. Right."

"'Right,'" Dustpaw repeats.

"... What's crawled up your arse, Dustpaw? You're more pissy than usual."

"I just think it's weird, that's all."

"You're telling me."

Dustpaw sits up, eyes narrowing. "You seriously didn't know about this in advance."

"Did it seem like it!? I looked like a bleeding moron out there!" Firepaw hisses. "I- I mean, I'm honored, of course I am, but-" He shakes his head. "Apprentice of the leader. It's just… a lot."

"... I was apprenticed to the deputy. That doesn't mean I'm anybody special," Dustpaw grumbles. "Don't get too ahead of yourself."

"You're the one making me get ahead of myself!"

"... What-"

"Whatever, yeah." Firepaw rolls his eyes. "I've heard this a million times. I make a good point, you're too stubborn to admit it. 'Whatever.'"

Dustpaw's ears go hot, his stomach growing tight with a mix of anger and… something.

"What do I gotta do, Dustpaw," Firepaw says quietly, "to prove that I just want to be a good warrior? 'Cause I'm really drawing a blank here."

"I don't know," Dustpaw admits. "Just be careful, alright? Not everybody's so happy with the favor you've received. I'm just… trying to warn you."

"Trust me, Dustpaw. I know."

'Oh, no,'Dustpaw thinks as he gathers some fresh moss for Yellowfang's bedding.'The little terrors are up and running.'

Frostfur and Lionheart's litter - four loud scraps of kitten fluff and milk teeth; Cinderkit, Brackenkit, Brightkit, and Thornkit - seem to want to bother Swiftkit today.

"Hey, are you, are you…" Cinderkit hums. "Um… Are you… um…"

"What?" Swiftkit growls.

"Gimme a second!" she squeals. "Um… Are you… ugly?"

"... No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he shouts, tail puffing out. "Mom says I'm very handsome, so shut up!"

Thornkit snickers.

"I don't know…" Cinderkit pouts. "Hey, Brightkit, is he ugly?"

Brightkit blinks. "... I'unno…"

"I think he's okay," Brackenkit says. "White is good. I like white."

"But he's black too!"

"You're black."

"No, I'm dark gray!" Cinderkit huffs. "Ravenpaw is black! Where is he, anyway? He's more fun than Swiftkit!"

"... I like Swiftkit," Brightkit mumbles. "He smells like mouses."

"It's mice," Thornkit says haughtily. "Jeez, don't you know any grammar?"

"Yeah, it's, um, articles," Brightkit says. "Um, grunctuation."

"That's not a word!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Thornkit roars, as ferociously as a kitten on his first day out of the nursery can, at least. "Admit it's not a word!" he says, tackling her.

"No!"

They roll, bumping into Yellowfang's side. She leaps, far higher than he would have expected from a scrap of history.

"Um," Brightkit says. "Sorry…"

"Get out of my sight, you useless lumps of carrion!" Yellowfang growls. "Don't they teach you kits to respect your elders? Go running back to your fool mother!"

"U-Uh, I-I'm really s-sorry…" Thornkit squeaks, tearing up. "W-We didn't mean to, um, h-hurt your leg or anything…"

"Just run back to the nursery where you belong!" Yellowfang roars, practically hacking up a lung with the force of the words.

Thornkit and Brightkit scatter, doing as Yellowfang said.

"Hey!" Cinderkit yowls, fur puffing up. "That was really mean! Go apologize!"

"Make me," Yellowfang says, likeshe'sthe half-moon old kit.

"They just learned to talk, and you're arguing with them?" Dustpaw scoffs. "Firepaw really knows how to pick 'em."

"Oi!" Dustpaw hears from a few tail-lengths away. He rolls his eyes.

"Just don't like kits, is all," Yellowfang wheezes, collapsing back into herself. "They're better off away from me."

"Sure seems like it."

Cinderkit growls. "Don't ignore me! I'm gonna tell mom!" She storms off, Brackenkit trailing behind her, tiny legs kicking up dirt. "Mom! Moooom!"

"Great, here comes the bodyguard," Yellowfang scoffs. "Do your job and get her off my case. Better yet, make Milk Saucer do it."

"Oi, what're you saying about me!?" Firepaw growls. "We're treating you like a bloody mansion cat, and you're still gonna make fun of me?"

"I'll make fun of you as much as I want. Your leader assigned you two to me."

"Yellowfang," Frostfur says, approaching from the nursery entrance. "Would you care to explain to me why, on their first day out of the nursery, two of my kits come back withinminutes,sobbing their eyes out? And then my other two kits come back, telling me it's your fault?"

"Sounds like you got the full picture already," Yellowfang scoffs. "Don't tell me you struggle with simple mathematics."

"Yellowfang," Frostfur continues, an eerily pleasant smile on her face. "Do you have the slightest idea of just how much sleep I've gotten ever since my kits were born?"

"Oh, Stars…"

"Count it on your toes," Frostfur says, still smiling. "Then, chop one of your paws off. Then subtract five. That's how many nights of decent sleep I've had. And I do not regret one minute of that lost rest, because I love my kittens that much."

Frostfur leans in. "When you're around my kits, you willcontrol yourself.Do you understand? I won't tell you a second time."

Yellowfang huffs. "Clear as the Moonstone."

"Good!" Frostfur blinks pleasantly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have two kits to console and one to calm down. You areverylucky that Brackenkit is so hard to rattle."

She stomps back into the nursery.

Firepaw shivers. "L-Lovely lady."

"Yeah," Yellowfang says.

Dustpaw blinks.

"Now, Firepaw," Bluestar says, and Firepaw stands at attention. "It's my understanding that you have a bit of an issue with heights?"

"Oh, it's nothing… m-major," Firepaw defends. "Just… get a little dizzy, 'sall. When I'm trying to balance."

"I see. It's not the climbing that's the problem, rather the fear of the fall?"

"I s'pose. Just don't want to break my neck."

"Your caution is refreshing. There are many tragedies that could have been avoided had the cats involved only thought their actions through." Bluestar nods to herself, approaching the nearest tree - a wide, sturdy oak. "Let's try this in steps. Watch."

Firepaw watches attentively as Bluestar digs her front claws into the bark. "Dig the claws in. This is the easy part, so don't fret too much. Make sure your back legs are planted firmly before you heave."

Bluestar shoves off the ground, digging her back claws into the oak. "Legs wide. Slow and careful. There's no point if you frighten all the birds out of their nests."

She ascends the tree, swiftly and silently. In a few twitches of Firepaw's whiskers, she's already absconding onto a branch.

"Never," she says, projecting her voice well; she must have gotten a lot of practice with the Highrock, "pick an unstable branch. Lost prey can be tried for again. A broken leg takes much longer to fix."

Firepaw nods, eyes wide.

"The process of actually catching the prey may come only with experience." Bluestar grins down at him. "Now, to address your fear of heights."

"Yeah?"

Bluestar jumps off the branch. Firepaw's eyes feel fit to pop from his skull.

"BLUESTAR!"

She hits the ground in front of him, neatly rolling across her back into a laying position before him. Firepaw's mouth wobbles uselessly.

"Always," she says, grooming the dirt from her head fur, "remember to roll."

Firepaw nods limply.

"And even then," Ravenpaw says solemnly, "there was still the gnawing in his gut. The hunger. With his clanmates dead before him, their innards spread across the ground, covered with his spit and sick, Slatejaw was unsatisfied. He wailed, no one left to answer his cries. No prey left to feed upon. Mad and starving, he threw himself into the river, never to emerge, leaving the ruined clan in his wake."

Firepaw blinks, spine a tad chilly. "Have you been hitting the nip, mate? Where the hell did you come up with something like that?"

"Oh, you know," Ravenpaw tilts his head in a shrug. "Here and there."

"So… the moral of the story is to not kill cats, right?" Graypaw asks. "I think I get it!"

"... Yeah, something like that," Ravenpaw says.

"I didn't like it," Sandpaw says, standing up. "Thanks for wasting my free time with that violent rabbit-dung."

"I thought you liked violence, Sandpaw."

"Well," Sandpaw says, stopping just before the Den exit. "I don't."

She leaves.

Ravenpaw's eyes meet the ground.

"Oh, chin up, mate," Firepaw says. "It was good! Made me a bit squirmy, but still good!"

"Thanks, Firepaw."

"Surprised even Sandpaw showed you more respect than this lump of fur!" Graypaw scoffs, gesturing to the snoozing Dustpaw. Feels weird, Firepaw thinks, to see him sleep from more than a few claw-lengths away.

"Aw, leave him be," Firepaw says. "It's good he's getting some sleep for once."

Graypaw snorts. "Riiight," he drawls. "Forgot you two were mates. How far along are the kits, again?"

"Piss off," Firepaw growls.

"All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather beneath the Highrock!" echoes into the Den before Graypaw can respond.

Dustpaw jolts awake, blinking slightly out of sync.

"Trusty set of lungs on Bluestar," Firepaw says. "Hope I don't ever piss her off. My ears'll be ringing for weeks."

"There's a clan meeting," Dustpaw grumbles, running a paw over his face. "She's going to announce who's attending the Gathering. Maybe you three, maybe all of us. She never got a chance to announce us the moon before last."

"Why not?"

Dustpaw pads past Firepaw, laughing lowly. "Shadowclan, that's why not."

"The warriors in attendance for this moon's Gathering," Bluestar says as they crowd around the Highrock, her silhouette a deep black against the perfect moon, "are as follows: Tigerclaw, Darkstripe, and Runningwind. "Accompanying their mentors, Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw will attend as well. These selections may seem scarce, especially in light of the previous two full moons."

Bluestar gazes down upon them, and Firepaw swears he can see the stars in her steel-gray gaze. "But there is an ominous air about. The events of the last true Gathering have weighed on me greatly. Keep sharp while we are away. A clan is only strong as one."

Ravenpaw swallows. "I feel it too," he whispers. "That foul air."

Firepaw rests his tail on his back. "Chin up, mate. Everything's been alright, hasn't it?"

Ravenpaw doesn't respond.

"The Gathering~!" Graypaw sings, a tad squeakily. Well, it's not like he's Windclan. Windclan does the singing, right? "The Gathering~! Ga-ther-ing!"

"Shut up," Darkstripe growls, flattening his ears. "Didn't our mother ever teach you to not be a nuisance?"

"Nope!" Graypaw hums happily. "Go groom Tigerclaw's tail like usual. Maybe it'll cheer you up!"

"Noisy little rat," Darkstripe grumbles. "He'll hear you…"

"Are you not capable of disciplining your own kin, Darkstripe?" Tigerclaw asks. "Though I suppose he has a point about the… brown-nosing."

"S-Sorry, Tigerclaw," Darkstripe whines, sending a wicked glance at his little brother. Graypaw just sticks out his tongue. "I'll get him to behave right now!"

"See that you do."

"That's it," the black-furred tom hisses, scruffing a heavily affronted Graypaw. "You are going to stick next to me and shut your trap. No playing with that pet house kitty of yours."

"What!?" Graypaw squeals, legs kicking uselessly. "That's so not fair! You suck, Darkstripe!"

"Like I haven't heardthatone before," Darkstripe mumbles around Graypaw's fur.

Well, at least Ravenpaw knows when to close his gob. Firepaw sighs.

He trots a little faster, springing to Bluestar's side. "Hey, I was wondering about something."

"Ask me anything, Firepaw," she says, gaze still straight ahead, jaw set.

"What you said on the Highrock. About the bad winds, I mean. What happened last time to set your teeth on edge?"

Bluestar stays quiet for a moment. "I have a feeling," she says, at length, "that you will soon find out." She sighs, ear perking. "We're close. Wait for my signal before you descend. We'll have a time to mingle with the other clans before the announcements are held. Ask Tigerclaw for aid if you find anything confusing."

Tigerclaw. Right. Mister 'Wipe That Stupid Accent Out Your Mouth.' He'll be cracking help.

Regardless, Firepaw nods.

Ravenpaw hums as they approach the hollow leading into Fourtrees, waiting on Bluestar's signal.

"Something wrong?" Firepaw whispers.

"No, it's just," Ravenpaw looks away, "I'm not used to so many cats, is all. This is my first Gathering too, like you and Graypaw."

He's right. There's a positivemobof cats gathered in the cove below. It's enough to make Thunderclan's modest group look positively miniscule. Firepaw wonders who the scary looking blokes on the big rocks are.

"Guess you always got that moody look on your face." Firepaw grins awkwardly as Ravenpaw blinks at him, seeming a tad hurt. "No offense. You make it work, I think."

Lionheart shushes them. "Save the chatter for after the signal, kits."

Firepaw nods hurriedly, fur itching in embarrassment.

Bluestar waves her tail, and considering that Lionheart starts plodding on down the hollow, Firepaw feels safe assuming that was the signal.

"Aw, lemme go already!" Graypaw whines, still stuck in Darkstripe's jaw. "She gave the signal! You can screw off now!"

Darkstripe lets go reluctantly. "Go play with your annoying friends, you overgrown hairball. Don't bug me again."

"Whatever," Graypaw scoffs, scrambling over to Firepaw and Ravenpaw. "Jeez," he groans, cracking his neck. "That was theworst!He was acting like I'm still a little kit!"

"You don't make the greatest case, you know," Ravenpaw chuckles.

"Oh, shut up!" Graypaw shakes his head. "I gotta see everything! Look at all these cats!"

"Know who the important ones are?" Firepaw asks. "Don't want to make a pilchard of myself."

"Oh, Crookedstar and Brokenstar are already up on the Great Rock. They're the leaders of Riverclan and Shadowclan! The cats right next to them are… uh, I don't actually know the name of the new Riverclan deputy." Graypaw blinks. "But the Shadowclan deputy is Blackfoot!"

"Lemme guess," Firepaw sighs, staring at the cat besides therealnasty looking bloke, whose fur was entirely white with the exception of four black paws. "That's him?"

"Yup!"

"They're a bit scary-looking, huh? Makes me glad I joined Thunderclan."

"Oh, Crookedstar's not that bad, from what I've heard. No clue about his new deputy."

"But Brokenstar," Ravenpaw says, jaw tight. "I think there's something wrong with him. I don't know. Dustpaw told me about this Shadowclan apprentice… about half his size back then, and we were six moons." He swallows, pointing towards the amassed Shadowclanners. "There's so many of them, but a lot are… It's like they dragged the whole clan along. Nobody ever said anything about there being this many Shadowclan cats."

Firepaw shrugs, whiskers twitching. "Maybe they're just compensating."

"For what, though?" Ravenpaw asks. "I'm… going to go talk with them. Something's wrong."

"Yeesh," Graypaw huffs. "What crawled up his tailhole? Normally it's cool, but can't he take a load off for once?" He frowns. "I think he's still messed up over what happened at Sunningrocks. Can't be easy to watch your brother's mentor die. Those two have been giving each other the silent treatmentwaytoo long."

Wait, "What!?" Firepaw's jaw drops. "Dustpaw and Ravenpaw are brothers!?"

"Y-Yeah? You didn't know?" Graypaw blinks. "They're littermates!"

"I don't think I've seen them have one bleeding conversation with each other!"

"Yeah, well," Graypaw grimaces. "Maybe it's not my place to say… L-Let's just hang out with the other clans, buddy!" He grins awkwardly. "Come on… You're my last chance to salvage this whole crappy night!"

Firepaw sighs. "Alright, alright. I'll just… wrap my head around thatlater."

"Hey, you're the one sharing a nest with him! I thought he would've told you!"

"D-Do you have to put it like that, mate!?"

"It's the truth! Do you think you're, like, sneaky!?"

"Hey!" somebody says. Firepaw blinks. "Yeah, you!"

"A-Are you talking to-"

"What do you think you're doing?" some scraggly, bog-eyed tom reeking of Shadowclan stomps up to them, mud caked into his thick paw fur. "Are you some kind of joke?"

"I-I'm not-"

"'I'm not doing nuffink, no!'" The tom scoffs. Firepaw blinks in astonishment. "Is Thunderclan trying to mock us? Saying even a Stars damned kittypet could take us? Is that the case, kit?" The tom leans in, bloodshot eyes quivering with rage. Firepaw trembles. "Is it?"

"Flintfang," a tortoiseshell molly says, laying her tail across the tom's back. "Stop."

"I-" he growls, cutting himself off. "I…"

"Enough."

"... Right. I'm… sorry, Fernshade."

The molly, apparently named Fernshade, nods at them once, leading the tom away.

Graypaw coughs. "Are all Shadowclanners so friendly? He was justonyou, tom. Stars."

Firepaw's fangs grind awkwardly. He opens his mouth. He closes it.

He storms off, trying to find a quieter corner. Everybody's too bloody loud.

"Firepaw!?" Graypaw yelps. "Hey, what's wrong? Firepaw?"

Firepaw shoves his haunches into the dirt, laying his chin across his forepaws.

"Firepaw?" Graypaw asks gently. "Hey, you aren't seriously gonna let that sheathe-groomer get you down, right? Who cares what some smelly Shadowclanner thinks?"

"It's just," Firepaw tries, "I dunno. Just suddenly felt like an uphill battle. Trying to make cats take me seriously. To convince them I'm not some goofy little kittypet, playing pretend."

"I take you seriously," Graypaw says, eyes shining earnestly. "I do. I meant what I said. You're Bluestar's apprentice, for Silverpelt's sake! That can't be for nothing. Thunderclan's behind you. And even if they aren't,I'llbe. Ravenpaw, too."

Firepaw glances up at him, head and chest feeling oddly light. Graypaw's wide golden eyes boring into him, almost physical in their weight.

"Yeah?" he whispers.

"Yeah," Graypaw responds. "You're my best friend."

Wetly, Firepaw smiles.