Path Of A Warrior

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Redpaw carefully patted some fresh moss into the corner of a nest in the ThunderClan warriors’ den, then sighed. “This is so boring. I want to go hunting.”

His sister Willowpaw dragged more moss into the den, wrinkling her nose at the taste as she dropped it beside him. “At least we’re not picking ticks off the elders like Frostpaw and Brindlepaw,” she mewed.

Redpaw patted the new moss into place. “But pretty soon they’ll have their warrior ceremonies, and we’ll be the only apprentices left, and we’ll have to do all the worst jobs in camp for moons,” he complained. “Whitestorm and Tigerclaw already became warriors. And we don’t even have Spottedpaw helping us anymore.”

Willowpaw peeked out the entrance to the warriors’ den toward where their littermate, Spottedpaw, was laying out herbs to dry in the sun. “Medicine-cat apprentices work pretty hard, too,” she purred, her blue eyes shining with amusement. “Not just you, Redpaw.”

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