Larkfeather's Choice

CHAPTER ONE

     THE midday rays of the sun shone through the pine trees and dappled the forest floor; creating shadows that cast precariously upon ShadowClan's camp. The air was cooler today than it had been days prior, and the blades of sunlight sent flashes of warmth across Larkpaw's smokey-gray pelt. She hated ShadowClan, however ShadowClan born and bred; she knew her clanmates, they knew her, and that was just about as far as that went. In spite of that, Larkpaw found her brother satisfactory: he hunted with her and treated her with courteous detachment. Spikepaw was a curiosity. His black fur curled in odd ways and it stuck to his paws like duckfluff; he was two moons younger but he towered over her.

     Larkpaw twitched an ear. She stared around camp absently, noting Antpelt, the Clan deputy, and another warrior sitting near the brambles sharing prey; queens' kits playing in the clearing; her father padding into camp with a bird in his maw. Larkpaw watched as Pantherclaw strode across the clearing to the fresh-kill pile, her expression grew angry and uncomfortable. He's as much use as a dead dog. The misery her father had seemed to begin after Spikepaw and her were born. He was once a scruffy, wide-eyed idealist who dreamed of telling his own story about the struggles of a 'real' warrior. Pantherclaw sired Larkpaw and Spikepaw on a she-cat fifty-three moons his senior, initially trying to persuade her into giving them up. When that failed, he blamed her for the act, accusing her of "getting herself pregnant", and grew distant shortly after the birth. Needless to say, he was not ready to be a parent, and it only made him more bitter.

     "Hey, Larkpaw! Guess what!" a white-and-gray she-cat was bounding across the clearing toward her. Larkpaw stared at Webpaw's shiny pelt; the muscles on her shoulders rippled as she skidded to a halt. "Antpelt said we can come with you and Tigergrove on patrol!" Larkpaw blinked, feeling tingly for some reason. "O-oh, that's great. Can't wait."

     "Where's Spikepaw? Cricketcall wanted to speak with him... you know how that old tom can be." said Webpaw exasperated. "I swear, he's the meanest cat StarClan ever blew breath into!" Larkpaw looked at her mildly, amusement in her eyes. Webpaw - she was Sootstar's daughter - would hang around with Larkpaw and her brother often. While she wasn't exactly the she-cat to drive you mad with desire, Larkpaw thought she was pretty. She had soft, thick fur and green eyes that were the hue of Newleaf floral blooms. What Larkpaw liked about her, she didn't give you a lot of drivel about what a great cat her father was. She probably knew what a phony he was.

     "  - And then he said...  Larkpaw! Are you listening to me?" Webpaw lashed her tail impatiently.

     "Of course I am. My mind is just agreeably engaged."

       Webpaw opened her jaws as if to say something - a retort or something very sarcastic - but was prevented from replying by a certain peculiar tom.

     "Hey."

     "Hey yourself," said Webpaw pleasantly. "Your mentor's looking for you. Try not to antagonize him Spikepaw, hear?" That must have raised her brother's feathers, because his eyes flashed with indignation. When Spikepaw was annoyed, his features were like his father's.

      "You tryin' to tell me what to do?" growled Spikepaw. "I just can't stand that cat. He's one cat I really can't stand."

      A bemused purr rumbled in Webpaw's throat, "The reason you're sore at Cricketcall is because he made you gather bedding for the elders while Larkpaw and I went hunting." her eyes softened into an apologetic gaze, as if she was considering his grievances, "Although... he does have this superior attitude all the time."

     "That's because he's old and dying." Spikepaw cooly crooned.

      Larkpaw breathed her patient breath, a half-sigh."You're mighty dumb sometimes, Spikepaw." Her brother just sort of grunted when he said "whatever". Larkpaw then spotted a liver-colored shape skulking into camp through the thorn tunnel. "There he is. You'd better go."
Spikepaw turned away with a sneer, haphazardly dragging himself across the clearing. "Coming!" he yowled.

      Webpaw huffed with giggles and Larkpaw stiffened. She swore she never saw a more promising inclination; Webpaw was growing quite attentive to her brother. Every time they interacted, it was more decided and remarkable. Larkpaw could think of nothing to say. In fact she could never think of anything to say to her, and she sat thinking of past painful conversations between them: How are you, Larkpaw? I'm well, thank you, what'dja do today? Nothin'. Don't you do anything? Nope. Certainly you've patrolled with Tigergrove or hunted with Spikepaw? Yep. Well how was that? It was nice. Larkpaw felt her pelt grow hot. She probably thinks I'm dull in the extreme. She stared at a crack in the ground, wishing she could disappear into it.

     "Are you okay?" asked Webpaw, managing to smile in a way that conveyed gentle concern. She brushed her tail against Larkpaw. Larkpaw forced her fur to lie flat, quickly glancing away from the white-and-gray she-cat. "M'fine. Let's just go find our mentors."

     "Good idea!" chirped Webpaw, as if she was actually excited to train. Or maybe she was, and Larkpaw just did not understand (which was likely the case). The sky above the pine trees was crisp and clear, the setting sun casting a rosy hue as it approached the evening. Larkpaw and Webpaw trailed toward the two cats beside the brambles, not far from the warrior's den. They nodded as the pair approached.

     "Ah - there you two are! We were wondering where you were. Are you ready to leave?"

     "Yup!" nodded Webpaw as Larkpaw stared at the dark brown tabby. Tigergrove seemed to love everything that StarClan grew, even the weeds. She was another member of this pitiful clan who didn't know where her next meal was coming from, but she was a born sweetheart. Larkpaw arbitrated that if any cat had to mentor her, she would have wanted it to be Tigerleap.

     "What's the matter with you, kit, can't talk?" said Antpelt, scowling darkly at Larkpaw. "Didn't you know you're supposed to show respect-"

     "Hush, Antpelt," meowed Tigergrove, "let's start heading out before it gets too dark."