Shame (P)

[Timberpaw]

The sun was rising in the sky as a brown cat trotted forward on small, brown, light paws. It was his first day out of the camp as an apprentice. He was just exploring the territory with no cat. His mother used to tell him that it was dangerous, but he know ignored what she told him when he was a kit. He was different now. He was an apprentice. Although he was never listening to everyone, he was very obedient toward his dappled mentor, Arcticfire. He vowed to be the best apprentice that ThornClan had ever seen, even wiser than stupid Wolfpaw, and stronger than Singedpaw. His powerful muscles rippled under his thin, dark pelt, unseeing eye trying to focus on the underbrush that was under his toes. He crouched low to the ground, neon eyes watching the ground intently. It was his time to shine. A couple of tail lengths from his steady gaze with a plump rabbit, sniffing the air intently, as if it scented him. He braced himself for a run, but it bent down and chewed on the grass, unaware that he was going to spring. Arcticfire hadn't taught him how to hunt or fight yet. Maybe he wouldn't need any training; maybe he was a warrior at heart, and his calm mind would tell him. Right now he didn't need the shy calico cat. Tail still, his rump when abruptly in the air, wagging it slightly, and pounded forward on heavy feet. The huge rabbit which was as big as he was immediately heard his paw steps, and shot forward like a bird. He ran after it, not caring the brambles that torn through his thin pelt. He would catch it and feed it to Specklefeather, but first show it to the mouse-brained apprentices so that he could brag about his catch. His long black claws dug into the moist earth, small tongue hanging from his mouth like a dog running after a cat, ears flapping wildly in the air, half-gaze staring far ahead. He couldn't see the rabbit anymore, but he followed the scent. He leaped over a fallen log, claws digging into the rough bark, sniffing the air to see if he was still on the trail. Yes. Suddenly a burst of fresh speed and cheerfulness entered his melancholy, tired body, and he ran faster than before. How stupid I must look! Running after a rabbit when- He realized that he wasn't paying any attention to where he was going, and he bumped into something rough and hard, like a rock. Confused, he fell to the soft floor, head ringing. His blind eye stung, like a fox had went up to him and scratched it with enormous claws, ripping through his flesh, leaving him with long, pink scars. He shivered past the thoughts, and opened both of his eyes, but could only see out of one. Crestfallen and hurt, he stood up on stone paws, muzzle pointed down. His heart sunk into his paws. That rabbit was huge. It would have feed all three apprentices, and he let it go. His left side of his head felt like it had blood welling up, but he didn't see any blood dripping. Why did it hurt? He glanced to his side to see that he had ran into a large tree. The roots were all under the ground, the earth around it lush and deep green.

Are there any puddles around? he thought. He could look into one to see what was wrong. He limped forward, ears pinned on his head. Nobody would like him now. He should be dead with the rest of his family. When he was two moons old, he thought that StarClan's punishment was taking away his family, but it was really that he had lived. Scooting forward, his paws carried him to a puny-sized puddle. Neon eyes concentrated, and he saw that his left side with ruffled with a small cut that ran across his eyes. It was bleeding a bit, but not enough to make it drip onto the forest floor. Now he had a scar over his blind eye. But I know what to do... he thought. Being littermates with Wolfpaw, he knew most herbs. Goldenrod with cobwebs would be good. But he didn't know what the flowers looked like; he was no medicine cat. Shaking from fear, he licked his paw and drew it over his injured eye, still looking into the muddy water pool. He lapped it clean until his reflection showed his old, lively self. The scratch was barely visible under his bristling fur. He stared down into the brown puddle, and for the thousandth time he wished that his family was here with him. Crow-wing would know how to be a better apprentice, one that didn't lose prey. Honeybird was kind and teach him to be silent when he was told, and his brothers and sisters would keep him in place for sure. He missed them so much. He hated his whole Clan, but liked Arcticfire. She understood him. She was the best mentor ever, even though he really only knew her for one day. She probably knew what it was like to miss a loved one. She was wise, yet quiet, and he loved being around her. She wasn't a tratior.

[Winterfrost]

Arcticfire...

Finally back, she thought, padding on soft paws through the ThornClan camp entrance. She'd been doing the dawn patrol with her Clanmates, who'd decided to hunt when they'd finished scouting the border, much to Arcticfire's disappointment. She would have rather hunted alone. All the same, she'd caught a large blackbird, a thrush, and a mouse, which was stuffed into her mouth as well as her fellow Clanmates who hadn't caught anything. The scent of the blackbird in her jaws made her mouth water but she knew her Clan had to eat first. The bright light of the afternoon sun beat down on her as she padded over to the fresh-kill pile, grimacing as she eyed the many cats around the camp and hoping that none of them would choose to speak to her. When she'd dropped the bird in the pile, she backed away, eyes narrowed from the sun, head down. If only her father could see her now... feeding her Clan. She was one of the best hunters yet he'd slashed across her ability as it were mere crow-food she'd brought. "Fighting is what makes a cat, a cat. Fighting is what makes a cat be valued. Fighting is what makes a cat known and feared. Don't you want to be feared, Arcticpaw?" She could hear her father now as if he were still walking the earth, still beside her. It wasn't her fault she wasn't a very good fighter! Besides, she didn't want to be feared by other cats. "I'll make you into a decent fighter even if it's the last thing I do!" She'd remember that day, remember him saying that, for the rest of her life. Even though her father had not been her mentor, he'd still insisted on attending her training sessions. Whenever he'd tried to teach her the fighting moves that she'd had trouble with, he'd always get in her face and yell about how weak she was being. Practicing with him had been rough, involving a lot of shoving, bruises, and even unsheathed claws on his part. She still had the scars to prove it. She felt her father's paw slam against her shoulder. She tried to duck from his next blow and it caught her on the face instead. Huffing, she toppled over, hitting the ground on her side, sending up cascades of leaves. Her face stung from where he'd hit her. "Get up, Arcticpaw! Get up and fight me," he hissed. She struggled to get to her paws, which were feeling shakier by the second. Her father crouched in front of her, ready to string at her. She braced herself for the blow, raising a paw, ready to bat at him when he neared her. But he was too fast though and pinned her to the ground with his large paws. He was almost three times her size and with his weight looming over her, she felt like she was suffocating, like she couldn't breath. He snapped in her face, "Fight you lazy kit! Shove me off!" She flailed her front paws, trying to bat at his belly but he was too heavy and she couldn't breath. "Do it!" he snarled, pressing harder with his paw, his claws digging deep into her shoulder and neck, drawing specks of blood. Black spots danced across her vision at the pressure. She couldn't breath... couldn't.... She shook her head, desperate to clear her thoughts of her father. He was dead now, no longer a harm to ThornClan.

Shaking, she staggered over to the apprentice's den, looking for her apprentice, Timberpaw. After sticking her head though the entrance, she concluded that he wasn't there. His scent was fresh though and easy to follow. Quietly as a mouse, praying desperately that no one would stop to talk to her, she squeezed her way out of the camp, following Timberpaw's strong scent. What was the apprentice doing out of camp by himself? Arcticfire shook her head, slightly bemused. Probably hunting somewhere. Or trying to fighting without learning any moves, she thought, smiling slightly. I hope he'll understand why it has took me so long before our first lesson. I'll let him pick what he wants to do first then, as a way of saying sorry. The scent of rabbit filled the air was she raced through the bramble, but the smell was so entwined with Timberpaw's that she guessed he'd been hunting. After a few heartbeats of bounding over fallen logs, tredding through thorn bushes and brambles, she could spot his chocolate-brown pelt through the trees, the colour almost undetectable against the brown of the trunks. She slowed down to walked, her paws trembling slightly from the memory that was still etched like fire in her brain. "Good afternoon, Timberpaw," she mewed softly, settling down by his side, wrapping her black and orange sploched tail around her white paws. "Too bad you didn't catch that rabbit," she said conversationally. "It would have fed a good portion of the Clan. But don't you worry, they'll be plenty of more times to hunt. The prey's not going anywhere." She brushed her tail across his side. "So are you ready for your first lesson as an aprrentice, Timberpaw? I'll let you pick what you want to do today. So what'll it be today, hunting or fighting lessons?"

[Timberpaw]

Arcticfire. Timberpaw wished that she was here with him. She was kind to him. He didn't know where she was, probably hunting and not worrying about him. He felt like knowing how to hunt and fight. Timberpaw wanted to catch something for Wolfpaw and Singedpaw so that he could brag, but he couldn't when he didn't know how to hunt. He would come back empty-pawed. How stupid he must look. He knew that Singedpaw brought something back on his first day. But his mentor taught him something! Arcticfire isn't here. It's nearly sunhigh... he thought, still staring into the murky, moldy puddle. His blind, emerald eye was lighter and more blurry than his other eye, but it was normal. He could still see, but only out of one. Shaking, he leaned forward and looked more closely into the pool of muddy brown water. The scar that marked his left eye was almost invisible under his short, chocolate fur. He closed his eyes, rocking back immediately. I wish that my family was alive. Maybe then I could be joyful. If I were leader of ThornClan- Timberstar- then I'd have my sister Roguekit a deputy. She was always the best. She would be Roguestalker, then later Roguestar. She always knew what I was feeling... It was wonderful to know that somebody loved me. Now... now I have nobody, he thought, then remembered Arcticfire. She was nice as well... But no Roguekit. Why? Why did you have to die? Why am I being punished my StarClan? Have I done something wrong? Will I do something wrong in the future? He shivered at the thought, then added hastily, No! I'll stick to the warrior code until I join StarClan. I will be loyal to ThornClan, win all of my battles, and be the best hunter ever! Then later I'll be the best, most wise leader! He prayed that it was all true. Clearing his thoughts, he opened his eyes, a scent coming to his nostrils. He wondered who it was, then recognized his mentor's scent. Ears pinned, he turned his head and saw the calico she-cat. Timberpaw heard her meows, and his ears perked cheerfully. Training? The thrill of the word sent shivers down his spine. He pictured himself hunting and fighting, then earning his warrior name. For a heartbeat he wondered what he would be called, then shook it away. It didn't matter right now. He still had at least six moons of being an apprentice, and Specklefeather had to find the perfect time for him being a warrior.

He stood up and mewed, "It's okay. I just wanted to show it to Wolfpaw and Singedpaw." He didn't tell her that he wanted to brag to them about the large rabbit if he had caught it. That would only look horrible in her eyes. For once he wondered what her past was like, and if it was frightening like his. Eyes full of wonder, he finished, more melancholy, "I'd like to do fighting lessons. That would be fun. Maybe tomorrow we could go hunting?" He heard of some apprentices actual hurting their mentors with unsheathed claws, but he wouldn't do that ever. He would do it to Wolfpaw. Even though the silvery grey medicine cat lost his whole family as well, Timberpaw lost his before Wolfpaw's, and he loathed him for that. Grinning openly, his tail waved high in the air, wondering where they would practice.