Warrior Cats: BloodClan Hunger Games

Chapter 2 - Training

"It's dawn, get your haunches up!" Feathertail jolted from her sleep to the sound of Lostface's yowl. At her call Feathertail jumped to her paws. Lostface was pacing among the clearing with Crowfeather sitting just behind her as she continued, "There is a heap of fresh-kill for your feast before we start with our training sessions."

Crowfeather was sitting a few tail-lengths away, his emotionless gaze watching the group of waking cats intently. Hawkpaw was the first to dive into the pile of fresh-kill, Mudclaw coming in behind him to snag a blackbird. The young dark tabby tom hissed at Loudbelly and Webfoot as the two elderly toms neared. 

"What ever happened to 'respect your elders'?" Loudbelly croaked. 

With his lip curled in a snarl, Hawkpaw took a fat rabbit and darted off to a holly bush to eat by himself. Frostfur, Cedarheart, Sandstorm, Ashfoot, and Cloudtail gathered around while Feathertail and Icepaw waited for the commotion to die down. 

Feathertail stifled a yawn as she extended her forepaws out in a long stretch. Fluffing out her pelt, she gave herself a quick groom. Her pelt was clumped and had nettles sticking out from the old nest she had slept in. Icepaw, still visibly shaken with shock, followed what Feathertail did by giving her ruffled fur a wash, too. Noticing her anxiety, Feathertail gave the white she-cat's ear a reassuring lick.

Ahead, the two she-cats noticed Ashfoot padding toward them with a squirrel and a magpie dangling from her jaws. Feathertail dipped her head in thanks. "My whole body is sore from this dried up nest," the silver tabby she-cat groaned before digging into the squirrel with Ashfoot, "I don't know how I'm supposed to train all day."

"You and me both..." Ashfoot murmured through a mouthful of fresh-kill.

Feathertail took the time to observe who was sticking with who as she gulped down her squirrel. Sandstorm and Cloudtail were eating beside each other, Mudclaw had joined Hawkpaw, while Frostfur sat alone giving her pelt a groom with her two finished mice at her paws.

Icepaw didn't say a word as she picked slowly at her magpie. "Try to eat as much as you can..." Feathertail nudged the magpie closer to the small she-cat, then lowered her head to make sure no other cat heard her whisper, "StarClan knows how long it will be before we get a good meal again." 

StarClan was banned from being spoken about. Poison had forbidden the belief, yet Feathertail had kept her faith.

"Alright, pests! Hurry up and finish your scraps," Lostface's harsh voice sounded from beside the couple of fresh-kill pieces that remained. Licking her lips, Feathertail looked up to see Ice's bright white pelt emerging from the bridge. Poison was no where to be seen... yet. "We will break you up into groups of four, one for each training," the ginger-and-white she-cat continued, "so we can get through this quickly and painlessly..."

Ice took his spot on top of a lone boulder, his thin tail wrapped neatly around his paws and his dark gaze took time to look at each and every cat sitting below him. It took him a heartbeat to speak after Lostface had finished. Icepaw shrunk down beside Feathertail, her tail quivering. 

"Let us hope this training gives you a quick insight on the challenges... and struggles... you cats will face in the field..." Ice's voice was smooth and almost hypnotizing. Hawkpaw's claws were unsheathed, ripping at the ground below him. Mudclaw, unfazed, licked a paw and drew it over his ear; Webfoot and Loudbelly looked frail only a tail-length beside the large tabby.

Pity gripped Feathertail's belly as she realized how old the two toms truly were. Gray specks on their muzzles, their hip bones jutting out, and their legs wobbled even by just sitting up. Though they looked feeble, both toms had their chins high and their eyes burned with determination.