First Day (Fox/Bracken)

Brooding green eyes glared from the shadows of an overhanging fern as their owner’s dark ginger form hunched beneath. One paw was lifted and its pad still burned from where the thorn had been pulled. Foxfang had woken early that morning to find the little annoyance, and internally he was still berating himself for making the dumb mistake. He must have carried it into his nest after returning from talking to the kittypet. Yes, that was it. He had somewhat broken the rules and fate was punishing him.

The warrior let out a low, drawn out sigh. Tenderly he placed his foot once more upon the ground and gave weight to the motion. It held, of course. So, without further hesitation, he parted his maw to let the apprentice, who had curled up not even a foxlength away, know of his whereabouts. “Brackenpaw.” Foxfang’s mew was cold, but unintentionally so. He was thrilled to have been given a second apprentice, and the prospect of watching another young cat grow into themselves was agreeable indeed.

Rising upon all fours the tall tom loomed above the young apprentice as he strode closer. Brackenpaw would make a good warrior, of this he was certain. The smaller tom already had wide, weight bearing shoulders that would lend him great strength. What mattered now what the other’s ability to follow orders, interact with his clanmates, and grow into himself. Not to mention, the yet little cat had good breeding. His father Palewhisker was certainly a sign of that.

I wonder, how have my own kits fared? Troublesome thoughts intersected the warrior as he paused in his contemplation of Brackenpaw. His ShadowClan kits were still a secret to ThunderClan, but the worst part is that they were still somewhat a secret to him. Do they have my strength and their mother’s kindness? Are they loved by ShadowClan? Are they alive? He had no answers to his questions, and a growing impatience was the result. The warrior shook his head.

Deep olive eyes widened as the younger tom rolled within the ferns, causing them to flutter and flicker as if in dissatisfaction. It had been many moons since Foxfang had last had a younger cat to train, and although he frequently visited his youthful daughters the warrior still found surprised in the movements of apprentices. They were more prone to random acts, to barging off without a thought, and to enjoying the little pleasures of life. That was it, they were full of life. A grin grew on the older cat’s maw.

After admiring the freedom of youth, Foxfang was somewhat taken aback when Brackenpaw responded in a serious tone. The astonishment quickly grew to appreciation. Brackenpaw would make a fine warrior indeed.

“Save your energy, we have a long journey ahead.” Without clarifying his meaning the ginger feline pushed his way out of the shadowing ferns. Warmth, hot and almost unbearable in the contrast, hit the tom with force. The days were growing hotter, and for a moment the warrior wondered if the forest was in danger of fire. Foxfang did not look back, though, or falter in his momentum until his paws had carried him across the clearing. Once he had reached the narrow camp entrance the warrior stopped to cast a wary glance behind.

In a deep meow, colored by personal excitement for the golden cat’s reaction, Foxfang announced their destination. “Are you ready to see the whole of ThunderClan’s territory?”