Whitestorm's Wisdom (BACK AGAIN)

Chapter Five

"Whitepaw?" Patchpelt called. The snowy tom mewed a quick goodbye to the elders and ran into the clearing. He lost his footing and ended up skidding into his mentor, knocking him over.

"Oof!" Patchpelt puffed. He looked at his apprentice, trying to be stern, but ended up purring. "Come on. Let's go see the territory. You must be dying to go out of camp."

Whitepaw felt a twinge of fear. His mother had died outside of camp. He didn't want to be swamped by memories of her soft fur tickling his nose, and her blue eyes brimming with undying love. His eyes were already getting blurry. He shook his head to clear it, and followed his mentor out of camp.

"This is the ravine. We're going to head that way." Patchpelt flicked his tail in the direction of a wall of stone. It had several chips and dents in it.

Whitepaw forgot his fears and immediately tried to climb the slab of stone. He was about a tail-length above the ground when he dug a claw into a chink that crumbled, sending him back to the ground. He glanced sheepishly at his mentor.

"And that is why you listen before doing." The black and white tom growled, amused. "Try again, but go slowly."

Whitepaw focused his gaze on a chink just above a dent. He leaped up, bracing his hind paws against the dent, and checked the strength of the China by adding his weight bit by bit. It held, and he continued this strategy the rest of the climb. Patchpelt appeared behind him, and nudged the apprentice forward.

"I'll just show you the borders today. There isn't time to explore much."

The young tom was relieved to hear that. His paws already felt worn from the climb. He refused to act like a kit. He could keep up with his mentor.

"Which border will we see first?" He asked.

"RiverClan. Come on." Patchpelt set a brisk pace as they weaved around undergrowth, heading towards the scent of water.

As Whitepaw pushed his way through a fern, he stopped. Water rushed past him, only a fox-length from his paws. His fur rose with a mixture of fear and excitement. He smelled cat-scent too. Smelly and rich like fish.

"Is this the RiverClan border?" He asked, glancing up at his mentor.

"Yes. Come away, now before you fall in."

Whitepaw had no interest in moving before he touched the majestic river. He shuffled forward until he was leaning over the water. He reached out a paw, and was only a whisker away when a bird screeched, startling him. He jumped, and fell into the water.

He was amazed by the strength of the current, which seemed to be pushing him down. A bubble escaped his nose, and he realized he needed air. Soon. He watched it's direction and kicked at the water to follow it. His head broke the surface, and he sucked in all the air his chest could contain, and held his breath. He bobbed on the surface of the river and paddled clumsily to the ThunderClan side of the river.

Only when his paws were touching, did he let the air out. He scrambled to dry land and caught his breath. Patchpelt stood frozen nearby. Then he shook himself and came over.

"Next time, do as you're told." He growled sternly.

"Hey, I survived, no thanks to you."

His mentor glared at him, and led the way back to camp. Whitepaw couldn't help feeling relieved. He was ready to sleep for a moon.