Cold wind swirled between the trees, disturbing the dried leaves that littered the forest floor and finding its way under Warmpaw’s fur. It made him shiver as he walked through the forest just outside ThunderClan camp. It was still greenleaf, but it certainly didn’t look or feel like it.
The three apprentices and their mentors were out again early the next day, continuing the short-lived tour they had yesterday. It would also be the day of their first training. What will we be practicing today? Hunting? Fighting? Climbing trees! Warmpaw couldn’t help but bounce on his paws a little.
Blazetail walked ahead, as usual. His tail flew behind. Beside him was Sandpaw. Flyingfeather walked behind with Twigpaw. Goldenfur and Warmpaw flanked the group.
Warmpaw wrapped his tail around his paws, trying to keep himself warm.
“The training will start here.” Blazetail meowed, “From here, we will go out into the forest and start to train you how to hunt.”
Yes! I’ll be training with my littermates! Epic!
Blazetail started heading into the dense forest when Goldenfur stopped him. “What if we train our apprentices by ourselves, for now?” he suggested, “I think it’s best if they start training without them distracting each other.”
Flyingfeather nodded. “It’s a sound idea to me.”
Blazetail seemed to be considering it for a while, his look pensive. “Okay then,” he agreed, and Warmpaw sighed both from exasperation and fear. “We can train the apprentices one by one.”
“Sandpaw, follow me.” Sandpaw bounded over to Blazetail’s side, before he started to leave some final words to his fellow mentors.
“You shall be teaching them the basics of hunting today. By tomorrow, we’ll meet up again and then check to see how much they know.” He flicked his tail before he stalked off into the forest, Sandpaw at his tail.
Flyingfeather glanced at Goldenfur and Warmpaw. “So, I guess, see you at dusk at the camp.”
“Yeah,” Twigpaw mewed, “see you.”
They bounded away, disappearing in the dense foliage surrounding the open clearing.
Goldenfur tapped Warmpaw’s shoulder with a tail, signalling that it was time for them to go. They headed in a different direction from where the other two groups went. It made Warmpaw a little uneasy, the fact that he was alone with a cat who obviously hated him. But there was another thing that made him even more scared. Goldenfur was totally silent.
They stopped in the middle of forest, trees close together and with long stalks of grass. Looking around, Warmpaw knew that anything that happened here would not be heard. He swallowed, fighting the urge to run. Calm yourself, he told himself, this is a great place to find prey. Focus!
Goldenfur faced him, and it looked like he had a good-natured smile on his muzzle. “You know? This is a great place. Don’t you think?”
Warmpaw couldn’t answer, petrified as soon as he saw that his smile had turned into a smirk.
“I’ll teach you how to hunt,” he said, letting out a laugh once he saw Warmpaw’s terrified figure.
“First lesson. half-Clan cats like you have to prove your loyalty and worth.” He turned away with a chuckle. “Learn to hunt yourself!”
He laughed as he ran off, calling back as a last claw to the face, “As if I was going to teach you! I’m disgusted!”
Warmpaw tried to run after him, but instead found that Goldenfur had climbed into the trees and used the branches to jump from one to another. He kept running, keeping his eyes to the canopy to try and keep his mentor within his vision. But soon, fatigue overtook him as he slowed down, chest burning as he saw Goldenfur leap his way out of sight among the tree leaves, without anything to show that he had been there.
Warmpaw collapsed, lying down on his back. Mentors were supposed to teach their apprentices. Yet Goldenfur didn’t want to. Why?
He crouched, head in his chest, feeling too depressed to even speak his thoughts out loud, let alone start hunting. It was a feeling of helplessness; it wasn’t like he could do anything to change who he was.
Heartbeats passed by like moons. Warmpaw was just stuck in his position, not doing much. Then, he stood up.
“I’ll try, at least,” he said to himself.
He stayed still for a few moments, trying to pick up anything other than the sound and scent of the wind. Suddenly, he heard rustling in the undergrowth. Smirking, he dropped to a crouch, stalking his way towards the scent of mouse. He could see it now, next to a tree root. He tensed, ready to leap.
A wind blew, and the mouse skittered away. He chased after it, but felt his paws catch dead leaves and soil as it disappeared behind a thick bush.
Mousedung! He cursed as he got back up. He would have wanted to have to catch that mouse, if only just to show Goldenfur that he could do just fine without him. But now, the noise he created must have scared any prey that would have been nearby.
He sighed, then moved on to another part of the forest. He walked on, hearing the sounds of mice and shrews from time to time. This is a good place to hunt, he thought, staring up at the trees overhead.
“This is it for now.” Blazetail announced, “The day’s going to end soon, and we need to rest.”
He felt his paw snag on something, and he fell over with a thud, hearing scuffling and squeaks. The prey must have heard that from way off!
Looking back, he saw that a tree root was what had tripped him. He kicked the soil with a paw frustratedly. This is going to be a long, long day.
At sunset, Warmpaw returned to camp, not a single piece of prey in his jaws. The wind kept on messing things up. If it wasn’t the wind, then it was the sound of mulch or twigs crunching under his paws.
All he wanted to do now was to go into the apprentice’s den and forget this ever happened. The only thing Goldenfur taught him today was that he hated him, and had no intention of teaching him anything else. Warmpaw’s heart burned with resentment against his mentor, clouding his mind.
As he was on his way there, he realized that there was one thing he forgot to do. He looked around. There were a few cats in the clearing. Some left for the dusk patrol, probably. He hoped that Nightfall wasn’t one of them.
He entered the medicine cat’s den. Cloudcover was there, along with her apprentice. It looked like they were sorting herbs. Warmpaw cleared his throat, getting their attention.
“Sorry for interrupting, but do you know where Nightfall is?”
Deerpaw answered, “She’s in the warriors’ den.”
Warmpaw nodded silent thanks and went off to see her. He picked two mice from the freshkill pile, feeling slightly guilty that he wasn’t even able to catch one mouse. He let go of the thought and walked over to the warriors’ den. She was there, alright.
“Nightfall.” He dropped the mice in front of her.
“Warmpaw? What’s this?” she asked, and Warmpaw guessed that she was more than a little surprised.
“A gift from Sprintpaw. He wants you to talk with him later tonight.” That wasn’t true, of course, but Warmpaw wanted Sprintpaw to figure this one out on his own. He was already too preoccupied struggling with his own problems.
He left for his nest, leaving Nightfall stunned.
“How’re you?” Twigpaw was there waiting for him, paws curled over his chest as he lay in his nest.
“Not so good,” Warmpaw admitted, lying down on his own nest.
It felt relieving to finally rest his legs after a long day of walking and tripping, only to catch nothing. He scowled. “Goldenfur’s been such a foxdung mentor.”
Twigpaw glared back. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that!”
“It’s true!” Warmpaw countered.
“No apprentice says that about their mentor! And besides, why? What makes you say that?”
Warmpaw swiftly got up, irate at his question. “Why, you ask? He taught me nothing today! You hear me? Nothing!” Warmpaw was yowling now, but he was too angry to care if anyone heard. Twigpaw just stared with wide-eyed shock as he continued. “He taught me nothing, then left me alone in the forest without even a scent trail to follow him by! He left me fumbling around in the forest trying to catch something… anything! Guess what I caught, without training? Air!”
With that last word, he left the den, barreling past cats who crossed his way. He knew that the cats in the camp were all staring at him; bewildered, probably. He felt like stopping and glaring back at them. Twigpaw doesn’t understand. All of them won’t, he thought bitterly.
He went out through the thorn tunnel, the thorns catching bits of his fur and ripping them off in his haste to get out.
The forest at dusk was an incredibly silent place. The wind had stopped. The sound of his paws on the forest floor sounded twice as loud.
When he had gotten far enough from the camp as possible, he stopped and sat. He was panting from his long run, staring up at the cloud-covered moon. It seemed like even StarClan was blind to what he was going through. Now, here in the cold night, he truly felt like an outcast. Someone who can never be a part of Clan life, even if he tried.