A Spark in the Night, part one: The Spark Ignites

Chapter seven

Softpaw fought back irritation. Leafpaw tried to poison her, and no doubt Grasspaw was involved, but somehow they convinced Emberstar it was a mistake. The two toms were Grasswhisker and Leafclaw, now. As if to taunt her further, they'd "done so well in their training, they should have their assessment early!" according to Leafclaw's former mentor, Kestrelseed. "It's not fair," she mumbled to herself while following Specklehart to the MistClan training clearing. She noticed that her mentor seemed dissatisfied about something, but Speckleheart was clearly trying to hide her disappointment, so Softpaw didn't ask what was bothering the older she-cat.

After training, she decided to ask Spekleheart about her mentor's method. "Why am I doing so much hunting training and hardly any battle training?"

Spekleheart smiled at her. "I can show you a lot of battle moves by basing them off of hunting strategies."

Softpaw nodded, but thought about the Heather Field. What if NightClan attacks? "Makes sense."

Spekleheart smiled. "You can go rest now."

"Thanks!" Softpaw headed towards a grassy area with a patch of sun to relax, but she noticed that she could scent Grasswhisker and Leafclaw. They slowly padded into view and began walking in slow circles around Softpaw. "What do you want now?" She asked them, annoyed. "I'm not falling for any more tricks."

Leafclaw smirked at her. "Oh, we're not planning any tricks."

Grasswhisker nodded and growled, "We heard your conversation with Spekleheart."

Softpaw narrowed her eyes. "So?"

Leafclaw grinned at her, malice glinting in his eyes. "You haven't had much battle training yet. We have. We've had all of it. So much and so well that we were made warriors early. "

The warriors unsheathed their claws. "That'll make it so much easier to kill you," Finished Grasswhisker.

Softpaw gasped, taking a step backwards. "Why do you want me dead?" She kept backing up, and of course she backed into Leafclaw.

He pulled her head to make her face him, and sneered at her. "You're weak and tiny. You make the MistClan look bad."

"That isn't true! I'm the best hunter in the Clan, and-"

"Best apprentice hunter," corrected Grasswhisker, suddenly pouncing onto her back. "And that's just because there's only, what? Three other apprentices."

Softpaw instinctively rolled over, knocking him off. "And Speckleheart says I'll be a great fighter, too!" She gasped out.

Leafclaw grinned at her. "Oh, Speklehart says..." He mocked, approaching her at a tauntingly slow pace.

Grasswhisker added, "Besides, you won't even have a chance to be a great fighter, you're about to die, remember?"

Leafclaw suddenly barreled into her, knocking her over. He held her still while Grasswhisker churned her belly. After what felt like seasons of writhing in agony, she managed to squirm free and yowl for help. "Spekleheart! Strikestone! Willowl-"

As she was shouting, Leafclaw knocked her into a tree, winding her as she felt Grasswhisker clawing at her side, spraying blood on the grass, and his face. He knocked her over and Leafclaw kneeled over to bite her throat. She just managed to jerk backwards, and his teeth met in her good shoulder instead. Yowling in pain, she reared up and clawed at his face. While she was vulnerable, however, Grasswhisker clawed open a large gash in her side and she felt herself crumple to the ground, while the two warriors rained blows all over her already battered body. All she could do was curl up and cover her vulnerable belly and hope they didn't aim for her neck.

"Softpaw!!" She heard a panic-stricken yowl and blinked the blood from her eyes.

She saw the blurry shapes of Spekleheart and Poppyflower. "What happened?", asked Spekleheart.

"We found her like this, We don't know what happened!" Leafclaw lied.

Grasswhisker only nodded.

"Are you sure?" asked Poppyflower. Softpaw felt a spark of hope.

"Why would they lie? This is serious." Speckleheart pointed out. The spark went out.

Poppyflower nodded, and the two she-cats rushed towards her and began hauling her towards camp. I hate these StarClan-cursed flea-bags! They tried to kill me three times now, and they have no real reason!! They're so cruel, and they're just lying in cold blood like this! Why me? They must hate me... It must be personal! She realized she was in the medicine den. She felt a cooling relief as Gentletouch and Poppyflower smeared the soothing herb juices into her wounds.