Random Short Stories

Better Than Him [🦋]

In the heart of the bustling Thundering Pines, where the sun filtered through the leaves like golden blades, lived a Sleet Clade apprentice named Frostpaw.

She had striking silver fur and piercing blue eyes, which glinted with the arrogance of her untamed spirit.

Swathed completely in the alluring embrace of a self-imposed superiority, Frostpaw believed she was destined for greatness, far beyond the meagre teachings of her mentor, a wise and patient tom named Twitchpelt.

From the very first moment she donned her apprentice's collar, Frostpaw had believed herself destined for greatness — a belief only compounded by her impressive lineage.

Her father, Basaltglare, had been a renowned warrior of the Sleet Clade, while her mother Tulipdawn had been a revered hunter. Frostpaw often strutted through camp endlessly boasting that her bloodline promised unmatched strength and wisdom.

Twitchpelt, however, was also quite revered among the clan for his seasoned knowledge and combat skills. He was decently popular in the Clade, well known for his gentle smile and caring nature.

With a calm demeanour and gentle guidance, he endeavoured to instil in his apprentice the virtues of humility and teamwork—the tenets that defined the Sleet Clade.

However, Frostpaw brushed aside his teachings, convinced that her instincts were infallible. "Why listen to that old bore? His ways are old and ineffective. I have a better method," she would scoff, her tail flicking dismissively behind her.

"Why listen to that bore of a mentor, a stranger over my bloodline?" she would huff rudely to her friends, flicking her tail dismissively. "I know what is best for me and for the clade."

"Why should I practice hunting techniques when I can take down my prey alone?" she would snarl, glaring at her mentor as if he were made of stones instead of fur. "I'll show you what a true warrior can do."

Twitchpelt would shake his head, sighing as Frostpaw set off on yet another solo escapade, choosing to hunt in a risky area known for lurking dangers. No matter what he did or said, she never listened, never respected him.

"There's more to being a Sleet Clade warrior than just being brave," he would call after her, but in all her stubborn pride, Frostpaw never once bothered to turn back.

Her arrogance distracted her from the dangers that lurked beyond the familiarity of the clan's territory. She had grown so accustomed to believing she was better than her mentor she believed the outside world could never shake her.

One fateful evening, emboldened by her sense of invincibility, she gazed at the setting sun and declared, "I'll hunt solo beyond the Frosted Hollow and I'll bring back prey for the Clade. I don't need you or anyone to help me."

Twitchpelt was baffled. The more he tried to talk some sense into her, the more she resisted. "Stop treating me like a kit!" she snapped, her voice sharp as a thorn. "I know what I'm doing!"

Despite his calm demeanour, the tom was growing increasingly frustrated. "You may think you know best, Frostpaw, but the wild is a ruthless teacher. Do not underestimate its dangers," he warned.

But Frostpaw, fuelled by her unwavering hubris, was determined to prove her worth. Cheers echoed in her mind as she envisioned the respect and adoration she would earn from the clade upon her triumphant return.

With a self-satisfied flick of her ear, she padded away before her mentor could respond. Twitchpelt gave an extra-aggravated sigh, shaking his head in disappointment and annoyance at the repeated offence.