CHAPTER ONE

12 0 0
                                    

Seasons later

Ivykit pov
In its lands of the Great Canyon, a small, thin mouse jumps out from its hiding place. Its nose twitched as it sniffed at the seeds scattered between the rocks. Unaware of the danger lurking nearby, the mouse didn't notice two kits crouched low in the tall grass, their eyes wide and shining with excitement.
With a barely contained giggle, the dark grey kit wiggled her haunches before springing forward. Her paws landed lightly on the earth as she attempted to startle their prey. The mouse let out a sharp squeal, its tiny heart racing as it darted away in terror, its tail streaming behind like a banner of surrender. The other kit lunged forward, but the mouse zigzagged in the opposite direction, slipping just out of reach.
"Quick! After it!" the kit called as they plunged into the chase, their small paws drumming a rapid rhythm against the hard ground, the sound bouncing off the canyon walls.
"Did you see how it trembled?" the dark grey kit squealed with delight as they dashed after the terrified rodent. Her blue eyes were wide with the thrill of the hunt.
"It's getting away!" the tall kit cried, increasing her pace. She leaped over a small rock, landing with a soft thud, the mouse just a whisker's breadth ahead.
The mouse zigzagged frantically, its small body moving with lightning speed as it tried to escape the relentless pursuit. The kits' laughter filled the canyon, a melody of joy echoing in the peaceful stillness. They closed in on the creature, their breath coming in short bursts, eyes locked on their quarry.
As they neared their prey, the tortoiseshell huddled low, her body tense with excitement. "We've almost got it," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Suddenly, the mouse's tail was caught by a claw, halting its escape. Startled, both kits stumbled in their attempt to stop, their paws slipping in the sand. With a mix of surprise and annoyance, they looked up to see a lean grey tom glaring down at them.
"Are you both mouse-brained!?" scolded the tom, his tone stern. "You should know by now that we don't play with prey. Every catch is important for our survival." The kits' ears flattened against their heads, and they exchanged guilty glances.
"But Talonstride, we were trying to catch it!" protested one of the kits, her voice tinged with frustration. Talonstride's eyes narrowed as he continued to lecture them. "Really? It didn't look like it," he replied, his gaze steady as he addressed their failed attempt. Before she could retort, the grey tom leaned down and quickly killed the mouse with a swift bite. "Also, you two shouldn't even be out here! This is no place for squealing kits. Go back now!" Talonstride commanded firmly.
The kits' tails drooped as they realised their fun was over. Ivykit grumbled in frustration, but her irritation softened as she felt the comforting touch of her sister's soft fur. "Come on, Ivykit, complaining won't help," she encouraged gently.
Ivykit cast a final look at Talonstride, who was still watching them with a stern expression. She sighed before turning away. "Fine, let's go back, Owlkit."
Together, they retraced their steps, slipping back under a familiar rock and into the safety of camp.
————————
Owlkit pov
As Ivykit and Owlkit padded into the gorge, the familiar sight of their camp greeted them. The towering sandstone walls formed a protective ring around the camp, with small caves carved into the stone serving as dens for the clan. High above, only a sliver of sky was visible—a pale blue stretch that seemed so far away,
The camp buzzed with life. Warriors lounged near the fresh-kill pile, sharing tongues and soaking in the sun's warmth. Elders basked in patches of sunlight, their fur gleaming as they dozed peacefully. Nearby, an apprentice practised their battle moves, their paws stirring up clouds of dust as they sparred, determination into their every movement.
Ivykit's fur prickled with frustration as she shot a glance over her shoulder at Owlkit, who was padding a few steps behind. "Can you believe him?" she huffed, her green eyes blazing with defiance. "What right does he have to boss us around like that?"
Owlkit blinked, her expression puzzled. "You know we're just kits," she reminded her sister, though she knew. Ivykit wouldn't like hearing it. Ivykit stopped in her tracks, turning to face Owlkit with a huff. "I'm not a kit! I'm four moons old, which is older than kits," she insisted, her tail lashing behind her.
Owlkit sighed softly, her gaze gentle. "Four moons still makes us kits," she said quietly, though her tone held a note of resignation, knowing how determined Ivykit could be.
Ivykit's ears twitched in annoyance, but she didn't argue further. Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes scanning the camp. "Well, I'm old enough to start learning how to be a warrior. And I'm not going to let any cat treat me like a helpless furball," she declared, more to herself than to Owlkit.
She followed her sister's gaze, her own thoughts swirling. She admired Ivykit's spirit, but part of her wished they could enjoy being proper good kits a little longer. Yet, she knew better than to voice that thought. Instead, she simply nodded, offering a small smile. "You'll be a great warrior one day, Ivykit," she said, her voice filled with quiet confidence. Ivykit's tail stopped lashing as she heard Owlkit's words, a small spark of pride lighting in her chest. "I know that,"

Warriors: a path by the stars #1Where stories live. Discover now