“Good catch!” Spottedkit mewed. The warrior nodded at her as he stepped back to let Tigerpaw’s mentor, Thistleclaw, deposit his piece of prey. It was a thrush, its soft tawny feathers fluttering in the breeze. Thistleclaw noticed Spottedkit staring at the feathers. He pulled out a few with his front paw and offered them to her.
“Would you like these for your nest?” he meowed.
Spottedkit felt her pelt tingle. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have first pick of feathers from the fresh-kill pile. Thistleclaw blinked encouragingly. “Go on, there’s plenty for the elders.”
Spottedkit stretched up and took the feathers in her mouth. They tickled her nose and she screwed up her eyes in an effort not to sneeze.
“Can I have some feathers, too?” Whitepaw ran over. “Patchpelt is out on border patrol, and I’ve finished collecting moss for Sunstar’s nest.” He looked up at his father with his head tilted to one side.
Whitepaw’s mother, Snowfur, had died when he was still in the nursery. Spottedkit thought Thistleclaw seemed too young to have a son who was already an apprentice, but he spent time with Whitepaw every day, teaching him extra battle moves and telling him about the patrols. Spottedkit’s father, Adderfang, said she was too small to learn anything yet, which wasn’t fair at all. She was getting bigger all the time!
“Of course you can have some,” purred Thistleclaw, scraping off another pawful from the breast of the thrush. He pushed them toward Whitepaw, who buried his muzzle in them. When he lifted his head, tiny feathers clung to his nose.
“Your warrior name should be Wingnose!” Spottedkit mewed. She dabbed some feathers onto Whitepaw’s ears. “How many do you think you need before you can fly?”
Whitepaw reared up on his haunches and waved his front paws in the air. “More than that!” he declared.
Thistleclaw held out another clump of feathers. Spottedkit stuck them to Whitepaw’s cheeks. “Try now!” she demanded.
A shadow loomed over her. “What’s going on?”
Spottedkit spun around guiltily. Bluefur was glaring down at her, blue eyes blazing. “Why are you messing with those feathers?” she growled.
“We were only playing,” Spottedkit explained. “We wanted to see if Whitepaw could fly!”
Bluefur looked at Whitepaw, who was trying to blow the last tiny feathers off his muzzle. “You’re old enough to know better,” she scolded. “Those feathers should be used for the elders’ nests, not wasted in a silly game.”
Whitepaw hung his head. “Sorry, Bluefur.”
Spottedkit felt a stab of indignation. Just because Bluefur was Snowfur’s sister didn’t mean she could boss Whitepaw around. She started scraping the scattered feathers into a pile. “They can still be used for nests,” she pointed out. “Should we take them over to the elders’ den?”
“No, Spottedkit, that’s an apprentice duty,” Bluefur meowed.
“She was only trying to help,” Thistleclaw put in. “And it was my fault they were playing with the feathers.”
“You should know better, too,” Bluefur muttered. She brushed past Thistleclaw and put the thrush back on the fresh-kill pile.
Thistleclaw caught Spottedkit’s eye. “Oops,” he whispered. Spottedkit tried to muffle her purr of amusement.
“Hey, Thistleclaw! I’ve been practicing that backward strike you showed me!” Tigerpaw came bounding across the clearing, his paws thudding on the earth. He launched himself into the air, landed on his forepaws, and flicked his hind legs out behind him. “Take that, ShadowClan mouse dung!” he hissed triumphantly.
“Why does Tigerpaw have to show off all the time?” Spottedkit muttered to Whitepaw, who shrugged.
Bluefur looked shocked. “That’s a very advanced move! You shouldn’t be teaching him things like that, Thistleclaw.”
Tigerpaw bounced on his toes. “Why not?” he argued. “Thistleclaw said I’m as strong as a warrior!”
The gray-and-white tom cuffed Tigerpaw lightly over his ear. “But you still have lots to learn! Did you finish checking the elders for ticks?”
Tigerpaw curled his lip. “That’s the worst job in the world! It’s not fair. Whitepaw got to go into the forest to fetch moss for Sunstar!”
Thistleclaw narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean you haven’t done it? Go now, and then I’ll take you out for some more training.”
Tigerpaw scowled, but turned and stomped away toward the elders’ den with his tail trailing on the ground.
Bluefur snorted. “You’re too soft on him, Thistleclaw. He’s lazy when it comes to doing anything that isn’t learning to fight.”
The gray-and-white tom met her gaze. “Are you trying to tell me how to train my apprentice, Bluefur?” There was a hint of warning in his voice.
Bluefur twitched her ears. “Just telling you what I’ve noticed,” she meowed. She kinked her tail high over her back. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to fight, but Tigerpaw needs to learn that there’s more to being a good warrior than defeating our enemies.”
“I’m making sure he knows everything he needs to,” Thistleclaw murmured. Spottedkit felt a thrill of excitement as she saw the warrior slide out his front claws until they pricked the earth. If Bluefur didn’t watch out, she’d be fighting her own Clanmate!
The blue-gray she-cat held Thistleclaw’s stare for a heartbeat longer, then turned and padded away. Spottedkit realized she had been holding her breath and let it out with a sigh.
“Thistleclaw’s back!” There was a thrum of small paws as the other kits charged over to the fresh-kill pile. Brindlekit and Redkit hurled themselves onto Thistleclaw’s shoulders, knocking him sideways. Willowkit and Frostkit pounced on his flank to pin him down. The gray-and-white warrior landed with a thud, sending a puff of dust into the air.
Thistleclaw’s dark amber eyes were wide and startled, and his nostrils flared as if he was trying to draw breath. “Get off him!” Spottedkit ordered her denmates. “You’ve winded him!” The same thing had happened to her when she fell off the tree stump, and she knew it was a horrible feeling, waiting for the air to come back.
The kits scrambled off Thistleclaw, looking anxious. Spottedkit crouched beside the warrior’s head and placed one paw gently on his shoulder. “Lie still,” she mewed. “Try to take little breaths.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Whitepaw, fetch Featherwhisker!”
The apprentice raced away to the ferns that hid the medicine cat’s den. Thistleclaw blinked and took a rasping breath. “I’m okay,” he croaked. He sat up and rubbed his chest with one paw. “Good attack, kits!”
“We’re really sorry,” Willowkit mewed, huge-eyed. “We didn’t mean to hurt you!”
“No harm done,” Thistleclaw replied, still sounding as if he had swallowed thorns. He looked down at Spottedkit. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he murmured. “I don’t think I’d have recovered without you!”
Spottedkit glowed from her nose to the tip of her tail. “Anytime!” she mewed.
Whitepaw returned with Featherwhisker. The medicine cat’s thick silver fur trailed a scent cloud of herbs. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“We hurt Thistleclaw really badly!” Redkit announced.
“I thought he was dead!” squeaked Brindlekit.
“I’m fine,” Thistleclaw purred. “Just a little rough play, that’s all.”
Featherwhisker mewed in amusement. “What kind of warrior gets knocked down by kits?” he teased before he trotted back to his den.
“One who teaches us the best battle moves!” Spottedkit mewed, and felt a burst of warmth as Thistleclaw blinked at her.