Icefog's Origins

Chapter 6

Slatepaw watched Icepaw leave the ShellClan camp with Dusk, Lostsong, and Batpaw and lashed his tail. Bitterness and hatred for his brother rose in his throat like bile and he turned away, barely listening to what Tigerflame was telling Flutteringblaze, Lavendernose, and Brackenfern. If he wasn't so caught up in twolegplace drama, he'd be loyal to his Clanmates. He thought, remembering Pebblepaw's death with a pang of grief. His claws unsheathed and curled into the grass beneath his paws, anger coursing through him like a tidal wave. That idiot let her die while he helped his so-called friend! The rat should've been helping his kin, not some filthy rogue.

"Slatepaw?" Honeypaw prodded him with her forepaw, bringing his attention away from the quivering ferns of the camp entrance. He turned his head to meet her gaze, his shoulders tense. "Are you ready?"

Despite the anger pulsing through his pelt, Slatepaw nodded gruffly. "Sure. What are we going to do?" He forced his fur to lie flat and kept his mew even. He didn't want to alert the other apprentices and their mentors about him being upset. Even if it's for a good reason, he thought silently.

Milkpaw- one of Shimmersky's kits- bounced up to them, her eyes bright with excitement. "We're going to learn how to fight!" She declared and beamed at him, then looked around. "Where are Icepaw and Batpaw? I thought they were joining us."

Bramblefoot emerged from the warriors' den with Prickleblossom in tow. "Goldenpoppy doesn't believe training a cat who defends our enemies should learn how to fight," he sniffed. "And with as much time as he spends with those twolegplace cats, I don't blame her."

Prickleblossom nodded. "I feel like Icepaw should be more involved with the Clan, but it's his choice to flaunt around with kittypets and flea-ridden rogues instead of the Clan that he grew up with." She twitched her tail as she looked around at the apprentices. "With you all rather close in age, we thought it'd be best to start battle practice at the same time. It might take some getting used to, but you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly."

Lionpaw raised his tail. "And if we don't?" He asked tentatively.

Slatepaw shot him a glance, his fur heating up. "Then you'll be lost in your first conflict." He growled, picturing Pebblepaw with blood stiffening her soft gray fur as it dried from her wounds.

Brackenfern caught his eye and cleared his throat. "Enough about that," he meowed and padded toward the camp entrance. "Let's get going, shall we? If we're lucky, we can squeeze in some hunting on the way back."

Slatepaw pricked his ears at the mention of hunting. That doesn't sound too bad. He thought as he rose to his paws and followed his mentor a little more excitedly than he had been out of the camp.

***

"For right now, we'll only teach you the basics," Brackenfern asserted, turning to the apprentices once they reached the Training Hollow. "We'll start off with the belly-rake. With the simpler and straight-forward moves, we'll just tell you what they are. The more complicated the move, we'll demonstrate."

Slatepaw nodded and sat down, resting his aching back and paws as he looked at his mentor expectantly. Honeypaw and Lionpaw sat on either side of him, listening intently. Milkpaw and Whisperingpaw sat with each other near a clump of bracken about a tail-length away, their eyes sparkling in the morning light.

Lavendernose stepped to Brackenfern's side, his bright pink nose clashing against his dark tabby stripes that seemed like shadows. "The belly-rake is simple, so we don't need to demonstrate." He meowed, glancing around at the five apprentices. "If you get pinned under an opponent, rake their belly with your hind claws and surge upward. This will get you back in control of the fight and scare your opponent."