Warrior's Path: Destiny of Flame(On Hold)

Chapter Five: Words of a Warrior

Bluekit crouched at the entrance of the nursery, sighing. A quarter moon had passed and she still wasn't allowed to venture out of the bramble thicket and play with Coalkit, Stonekit, and her brother and sister unless her mother was outside with her.

Bluekit was already bored with her surroundings. She so wished to go out, breathe the fresh greenleaf air, romp and play among the stretch of empty ground and stalk the edges of the camp, looking out into the vast green forest, alive and enticing in its fecundity, rich with sounds that evoked endless curiosity(and questions) and smells that made Bluekit's body shiver with excitement. She envied the apprentices greatly. How she wanted to be an apprentice, to learn the skills of survival and the art of combat! To feel the wind in your pelt, the rush of blood between your teeth as you sank your jaws into the neck of your prey...

But no, that was still beyond Bluekit's reach. Her task was to sit here, in the shade of the bramble thicket, listening to the apprentices boast about their recent catches and watching them show off their new fighting moves in the center of the clearing and hearing the oohs and aahs of the other cats who happened to see. She was already bored with them, and was especially annoyed with Nightpaw, who never missed a chance to tell Bluekit, albeit in a lofty and smug tone, about her frequent tasks and excursions into the wild territory, as she called it.

"I once fought off a crow by myself." she'd told Bluekit on one dreary day, when she was sitting outside in her usual spot mulling over things.

"Oh." Bluekit replied. "What happened to it?" she finally asked.

"It limped off with a scratched wing, trailing feathers and blood all over the place. Then I jumped on it and killed it. You should have seen me leap and tear it down from the sky!" Nightpaw bragged.

"Maybe," Bluekit said politely. "Maybe I'll be able to bring one down too, when I'm an apprentice."

"I don't know about that." Nightpaw had mewed. "Crows are intensely difficult to fend off. And it takes skill and outstanding speed to kill one too. Not a suitable opponent for small-bodied young cats like you. But maybe you'll be able to bring down one someday."

And Nightpaw stalked off, waving her long black tail, leaving Bluekit feeling especially stupid.

Bluekit's eyes, once so mystifying to all who saw it, was now just a passing distraction, a minor subject to talk about in the Clan. But however forgotten her eyes were, she was still the oddball, the one who just didn't seem to fit in.

There were those who still liked her company though, such as Crookedfoot, one of the elders of BlizzardClan. Bluekit saw him today, limping from the prey-hollow back to the elders' den. His jaws were empty, meaning he had found nothing satisfactory to his tastes. She caught his eyes as he passed, and he winked at her and beckoned with his tail. Bluekit waited until the clearing was momentarily open, then padded across to the elders' den, where he was waiting.

"Took your time, didn't you." he grunted when Bluekit finally joined his side.

"Sorry, Crookedfoot," Bluekit mewed apologetically.

Crookedfoot nestled in his bed of fern and moss and sighed deeply. Bluekit carefully stepped across a sleeping Mottledawn's tail and sat next to him.

"Saw you looking a bit down today," the old tom observed. "Care for a story?"

Bluekit sighed and looked out of the gap in the elders' den, to where the clearing and the leader's rock(where he stood on to address the Clan) could be seen. "Tell me how it's like to be a warrior, please." she mewed.

"Still a long way for you, kit," Crookedfoot rumbled. "And warrior life isn't all fun and games as you young cats think it is."

"Wonder how it's like to be in a battle." Bluekit mewed wistfully.

Crookedfoot arranged himself so half his body was facing her. "It isn't fun, Bluekit." he growled quietly. "You haven't seen a real battle yet. You haven't heard the cries, smelled the blood and fear, or even drawn blood yet. A battle isn't what you may think it is."

"Have you killed before?" Bluekit couldn't help but ask.

Crookedfoot glared at her out of amber eyes for some time before answering reluctantly. "Once."

"Who was it?"

"A rogue. He attacked me first."

"Oh." Bluekit mewed. After a while she asked quietly, "What's it like, Crookedfoot?'

"What's what like?"

"Fighting in a battle. Killing somebody. How does it feel?"

Crookedfoot twitched his ears. "You're too young. You wouldn't understand what it's like, even if I told you."

"Please?" Bluekit wheedled. "Try me."

Crookedfoot glared at her again. He was one of the only few cats who would look at her in the eyes, and Bluekit liked him for that very reason. Seeing she would not back down, Crookedfoot relented enough to tell her one thing. "Alright," he meowed. "I'll tell you one thing."

Bluekit sat up eagerly and waited.

"When you're in a battle," Crookedfoot growled, "you don't think. You just act."

"Why?" Bluekit asked, confused.

"Because thinking would kill you." the old tom hissed. His voice had become very low, and the next words he spoke didn't even seem to be directed at Bluekit. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and his voice had deepened into a growl.

"When you're in a battle, and you're about to strike, you don't think. Don't think about who you're wounding, who are you about to give grief to. Just strike. Give no mercy. Kill when absolutely necessary. Do you hear me?"

Confused and slightly scared, Bluekit nodded. She wondered what Crookedfoot was actually trying to imply.

"Good." Crookedfoot mewed. He had abruptly switched back into his normal tone. "Now get going. It's nap time for me, and you'd better be off to the nursery."

Bluekit turned to leave. As she headed out, she turned to Crookedfoot. "About what you said..."

"Forget it. You're too young. You wouldn't understand."

And Bluekit walked out into the bright sunshine, puzzling over what the old tom had told her.