EmberClan and FrostClan-- TAWNYJADE

= Tawnyjade = My name is Tawnyjade.

I started out, normal enough, as a young apprentice who wanted to bring more to his clan, entering it’s golden years. My mountainside clan had a big future up ahead-- I just wanted to bring it safety. I had one simple wish, and that was to be able to help and serve my clan as long as I lived.

When I was an apprentice, and learning the ways of an honorable warrior, I fought for hours in the soft yellow sunlight when training. I took every dare, every challenge my peers proposed to me, and practiced for every test of my mentors’. I grappled with invasive vermin in the shadow of a waterfall, until sundown, and returned to my mother covered in blood and proud as ever. I tracked kit-preying hawks all around the mountain, and refused to take a break to do so much as drink. I broke up the fights of the clan bullies with a calm gaze and firm attitude.

While other cats like climbing, or hunting, or swimming, or gardening, I only had one hobby. And that was doing the best I could.

I became a warrior fairly young, but it was well earned. I graduated from apprenticeship proudly, and my dream, of serving my clan to abilities beyond my peers, was coming alive.

When I turned into a handsome young tom, I made the she-cats gawk and toms be jealous. The kits honored me like a god, and the apprentices became obsessed. The queens flirted, the elders respected, and the leader and deputy noticed, and that meant more to me than anything else.

I sleep with my warriors, right after a rigid battle, through which I fought vigorously. We may be bleeding and wounded, but our hearts soar with victory, and or the prospect of yet another safe moon for our leader.

Of course, I am now the top warrior in my clan. I wasn’t born into it by being the child of a well-liked cat, or given it simply because of appearances, but I earned it, through dedication and hard work. I get to live my dream as a kit every day, helping clanmates from the elder to the kit, and serving my well-loved leader.

 

Tawnyjade blinked to clear his bleary eyes, his head foggy and his whole body aching. Sprawled on a rock he thought was shady when he rested on it the previous night, he now realized, as he woke up in the mid morning, the shadows did not fall over it and his fur was ticked by a blazing sun. He groggily rolled over, trying to jostle is sore, pained body into wakefulness.

His limbs felt heavy, and hung off the edge of the rock like damaged bird wings or floppy vines. His ribs felt like they cracked and crashed against each other, and when he stretched his body into a concave arc, his back throbbed. There were tiny cuts all over his body, and a few bigger scratches, that never fully healed from the battle the previous afternoon. Blood crusted around the larger ones, and he was sure several were infected. He supposed that he simply fought so hard he wasn’t able to recover fully in just one night, but he knew, deep down, that he was no longer healthy enough to properly recover in the time he should, like a younger warrior. A good warrior.

“Ugh,” he grumbled, scratching flees from his ear, although the stretching motion hurt him. “You’re too old to have that recurring dream,” he scolded himself. It seemed every night, nowadays, his sleep took him to a paradise that was exactly like his childhood dreams-- he was a well loved warrior, who loved his leader and who’s leader loved him back, and fought and trained to become a top warrior and earned it rightfully, and did great feats to reach his power.

Boyish fantasies have no place in the head of a serious warrior.

He licked his paw and rubbed his face to clean the crust and mud off his fur, but he couldn’t manage to get himself a well enough bath. There was the larger creek most of the cats, especially queens, bathed in, but he assumed that even at this early hour it was already taken.

What kind of territory for a proper clan has only one good spot to bathe? he wondered to himself. It was yet another repetitive complaint he thought to himself, and yet again he stomped it away from his mind. Don’t think like that. I can’t. If something from my head ever slips through my mouth… it wouldn’t be great.

Times were tight for him, seemingly more so that the other experienced warriors. It always seemed to be him that Emberstar doubted, him that she whispered about to Rattail. Recently, he hadn't exactly been sure that his place amongst the two highest ranking cats was secure.

But perhaps in the aftermath (and victory) of the battle with FrostClan, things would look up for him. He was the one who warned his leader ahead of time, he was the one who attacked Goldenshine, he was the one who constantly swiped attackers away from his leader right in front of Emberstar.

But then, through the haze of his mind, he remembered Slatepaw, and their familiar argument the night before.

Emberstar said, back before Mudslide died, that the mentor was a crucial part of a clan. They were the ones who carried the clan’s future in their paws-- after all, if they were not to be able to raise a good apprentice, the clan’s future was at risk due to unqualified warriors. It seemed like a tame enough idea, until strict rules and moderation of what the mentors taught became her main goal. There was so much outcry from the current mentors at her idea.

But now, nobody really remembered Emberstar-- or rather, Claystar, before they moved up the mountain, before Mudslide fell off a cliff. They never thought about how much they disagreed and fought with her, about her contradictory ideas.

Still, Tawnyjade knew that there were consequences to his actions. If he couldn’t convince Slatepaw to behave herself and respect her leader, he was the one to be blamed. He wasn’t even sure if Slate[paw herself would receive punishment-- it was only him, who tainted an apprentice and taught her lies.

It was what Rattail told him, one smoggy morning. The previous night, Slatepaw had gone missing from camp. Rattail carried out the message from Emberstar-- Tawnyjade clearly wasn’t being a good mentor, and had better watch his back.

Despite the disappointing nature of this conversation, it was much, much later than the moment Tawnyjade realized his ambitions from when he was an apprentice were gone.

Picking his draping, ragdoll like body up from the round, Tawnyjade limped from his bed,” and made his way to Emberstar’s den.

There wasn’t exactly a centered, community area in EmberClan territory for all cats to rest, with the dens and prey-pile like FrostClan. There was the leaders den, located under an extending piece of stone that held a small cave under it. One cave, that the main creek started in, seemed to be the nursery, although it wasn’t official, and Tawnyjade never snooped in she-cats anyways. There was a rocky valley for the medicine cat and his apprentice to sleep, and then small holes, nooks, and valleys for cats to sleep on all across the mountains, ranging from only a few paces away from lava pools, to being able to get a clear view of Frostclan cats down below.

Of course, cats were never allowed to travel too far below the mountain peak, although it was a rule impossible to keep, when there was so little prey to be found in the common areas.

Tawnyjade paused at the main creek, early rising warriors a few paces along the water. He ran his sore paws through the stream, feeling tiny silver minnows flash beanthe his fur. He had tried catching them once before-- an extremely quick swipe of the paw, an even quicker toss onto land-- you could eat the fish, but there were so small and so hard to catch, he would rather go hungry for the morning than waste precious energy on them.

“Tawnyjade!” a voice eagerly called. The tan striped warrior saw that further along the creek, Marblefur was beckoning with his swishy tail.

Still half in the water, Tawnyjade approached the younger warrior. “What is it?” he mumbled, stepping into a shaded rock, so he and Marblefur could have privacy. He spotted Stipplepelt pull away from the crowd of warriors and join the two toms.

“We ought to think about appropriate assessments, nowadays. I can tell Cougarpaw is more than qualified to be considered for a warrior’s job,” Marblefur stated, a glint in his yellow eyes.

“I would agree,” Stipplepelt proclaimed, puffing out her chest. “It’s about time Rampaw gets to fend for himself.”

Tawnyjade was well aware of what the two younger warriors were doing. Their apprentices were good, at least in the leader’s eyes-- well behaved, enjoyed training but didn’t get too chummy, and best of all, fought Dropstar herself at the battle.

And Tawnyjade’s apprentice was a troublemaker, well known as such by the whole clan by now.

“I know what you’re planning,” he hissed at Marblefur and Stipplepelt. “You’re not getting your own shining little apprentices to look better than mine, and look better than me yourselves. Slatepaw has skills and intelligence you seem too preoccupied to further in your own prentices, regardless of her personal opinions.”

That was what bothered him so much about his apprentice. Slatepaw, all things considered, was an excellent fighter, a skilled hunter, an agile climber, and had a strong will. If she just listened, and behaved, Emberstar might love her as an addition to the warrior rank. Why didn’t Slatepaw realize that?

She does, he thought to himself. She knows Emberstar would adore her if she didn’t act out. She’s not just making a point-- she’s protecting herself from my fate. My fate, of being constantly monitored and watched over, too nervous and exhausted in his old age to do anything.

Slatepaw wasn’t stupid. She was very, very clever. She knew what she wanted, and she knew what to avoid.

“Really? Have you been spending so much quality time with her? Or have you been neglecting your apprentice to get scolded by Emberstar?” Marblefur mocked. Stipplepelt, although she didn’t say anything herself, pressed her lips together firmly.

“Yes. One could say I’ve taught her a lot,” Tawnyjade said vaguely. “She’s decided some things on her own, but nothing she believes wasn’t influenced by me.”

As soon as the words escaped his head, Tawnyjade regretted them. He’d said too much.

“Really? Her anti-authority views, her sneaking off, her hatred of Rattail-- that was all under your influence?” Stipplepelt stepped forward. This was no longer a competitive jest. It was a challenge, a threat.

“You know what I meant.” The old tawny warrior narrowed his thin eyes, speaking quieter.

He tried to stand higher. “Slatepaw is smart and skilled,” he stated louder, grinding his jaw. “She knows what she’s doing. Of course, a little counseling wouldn’t hurt her, but I firmly believe she is cut out for an assessment.”

“All right.” Marblefur picked at his paw, smoothing down his silver-and-black stripes.

Tawnyjade coughed, his chest rattling. “I ought to speak with Emberstar, Sunsnap, and Rattail. See how they’re doing, right after the battle.” He slunk away from the other two mentors, his expression grim.

If Slatepaw seen as less than her brothers, if Tawnyjade was seen as an unsuitable mentor, if Stipplepelt and Marblefur spread gossip to their clanmates… nothing would go right. Tawnyjade had to take up a stronger attitude with Slatepaw-- if the consequences of her actions weren’t perfectly crystal clear, they both would be done for.

But he knew. He knew that he could never fight Slatepaw, not as long as he agreed with her, and wished he could do the same as her.

And the day, that smoggy morning when Slatepaw disappeared? She was found much farther down the mountain than an apprentice was allowed.

But she wasn’t causing trouble, pulling pranks, or running away. She was visiting the grave of her sister, who died as a kit, and praying to her when Tawnyjade found her, in tears. She wasn’t spending her free time living like a young cat should. Her kithood was ripped away from her, leaving her angry, and bitter. And that was the day it was clear to Tawnyjade. Slatepaw had to stand up for herself, for her family, for her sister, no matter what happened to her. She would pay any price, even the loss of her mentor, to make things right.

And Tawnyjade couldn’t help but respect that.