Ok, so this was my last assignment as a 7th grader in Language Arts. Please enjoy, and yes, it's supposed to be that short.
A Day in the Life of Rainpaw
“Rainpaw! Rainpaw, wake up!”
My ice-blue eyes flashed open; Windtooth was standing over me, his paw raised as though he had prodded me.
“We have a border patrol,” he reminded me.
I groaned inwardly. We all had to be up at the first rays of light to make sure nothing was trying to infiltrate camp.
Getting to my feet, I shook the moss from my gray and white pelt. I followed Windtooth from the den and paused, blinking in the bright morning sun.
“Looks like somebody just woke up!”
I glanced over, and sure enough, Swiftshadow and Rosepaw stood waiting for Windtooth and I.
“Let’s go, already!” Windtooth called from the entrance to camp.
A tiny mewing caught my ear as I began to leave.
“Wait up, Rainpaw!” called Dovekit, plodding towards me with great energy. Behind her came Deathkit, looking equally determined.
“We wanna come with you!” she squeaked.
“You can’t come,” Rosepaw told them in her best apologetic voice.
“And why not?” Dovekit huffed.
“Because you’re too scary,” I whispered, pretending to glance around fearfully. “You’ll frighten everything away!”
The two kits exchanged a glance; Deathkit heaved a sigh.
“Alright,” she agreed dejectedly.
“We’ll bring you back some fresh-kill,” Rosepaw promised as the kits headed back to the nursery.
“I don’t want a mouse,” Dovekit said, looking disgusted.
“Or a bird,” Deathkit added, pulling a face. “They’re too… too feathery.”
“Rabbit it is then,” I purred in amusement, and we walked away.
“Great Starclan, you two took ages!” Swiftshadow complained when Rosepaw and I reached him and Windtooth.
“You have to be gentle with kits,” I informed him, sounding like a queen.
Rosepaw led the patrol. Along the Thunderpath, the edge of the gorge, and finally by the corner of Wind, Thunder, and Riverclan territory. We re-marked each border, taking time to make it consistent and strong.
However, as we reached the border line of Thunderclan and Windclan, Swiftshadow froze. He sniffed the air, his jaws parted slightly to drink in the scent.
“What is it?” Rosepaw and I asked at the same time.
Windtooth began sniffing as well, and it was he who answered.
“Fox,” he stated simply. “And it’s fresh.”
“Where is it headed?” I inquired, praying to Starclan it wasn’t—
“Camp!” Rosepaw exclaimed.
There was no hesitation; we all began racing for camp like only Windclan cats can. Our front legs barely touched the ground, while our hind legs bunched and stretched, bunched and stretched. Swiftshadow ran the quickest, followed shortly by Rosepaw, me, and finally Windtooth.
A sudden dip in the ground caught Windtooth off guard. He tripped, fell, and was soon far behind us. I felt a pang of guilt for not stopping to help him, but we had to save the clan. If he was injured and couldn’t get there himself, we would have to come back later.
I pushed myself hard the last two feet and came to a rest at the edge of the hollow.
The once-beautiful dip was ravaged. Moss lay scattered across upturned rocks. The fresh-kill was all ruined. At first, the camp seemed empty; then a frightened mewling issued from the nursery.
I let out some odd mangled yowl and sprinted to the entrance. At first, all I saw was Dovekit cowering behind a puffed-up Deathkit.
“Look out!” Dovekit screeched, but she was too late. A flash of orange, then a searing pain down my flank.
The fox was scarier looking than the senior warriors had described past sightings: its orange and brown fur was caked with mud mixed with prey’s blood. Black, beady eyes glared from above snarling, sharp teeth. Its bushy tail hung limply, and fresh blood oozed from a long scar on its muzzle.
“Rainpaw!” Dovekit squealed in terror. “Get up! You have to get up!”
I moved my paws feebly, but my brain was shutting down. My vision blurred, and the edges of it started going black.
A black and white blur flew over me and landed behind the fox. Faintly, in the back of my mind, I recognized him as Swiftshadow. I tried saying something, but I couldn’t move.
Swiftshadow bit the fox’s leg; as it rounded on him, he clawed at its snout, spitting madly. The beast growled at Swiftshadow. Once again, I tried getting up, tried moving something, but my energy was drained. I blacked out, and the last thing I saw was the fox lunging for Swiftshadow’s neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I woke at first, I thought I was dead and in Silverpelt. A bright light filtered through some ferns, and there was no sound. The place had an eerie glow about it, a sense of being clean. Then Moonmist stepped out of her den, a pawful of herbs in her mouth.
“She’s alive,” she teased, setting the herbs at her paws.
I moved to eat them, but Moonmist stopped me and pointed to a corner of the hollow with her tail.
What I saw made me gasp: a lump of bloody black and white fur curled up in a nest, slowly rising and falling in rhythm.
“He saved your life,” she murmured, also watching him.
“What happened to the fox?” I asked apprehensively.
“It ran off with a broken paw, tail, and several life-threatening scars,” Moonmist said nonchalantly, as though discussing the weather. She moved over to Swiftshadow and set the herbs down again. “That doesn’t mean it won’t come back,” she added silently.
I struggled to my paws, moaning at the pain and fresh strength that flooded my limbs.
“Did Windtooth make it?” I probed.
“Yes, only just in time to chase the fox away from Swiftshadow,” Moonmist said exhaustedly. “Rosepaw’s fine, along with the kits she rescued.”
There was no telling if I was relieved or frightened about the events that had occurred.
“And Swiftshadow’s going to live?” I finally asked, holding my breath.
“He should be conscious in time for your warrior ceremony,” Moonmist said, a small smile playing about her mouth.
I nodded, then stopped, realizing what she had just told me.
“But I did the least!” I exclaimed, disbelieving.
“Well, it’s time you became one,” Moonmist mused. “And you tried. You didn’t hesitate when the kits cried for help, even if you didn’t get a chance to help. You deserve it.”
I smiled weakly at her, laying down again to get more rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Rainpaw, please step forward,” Graystream called.
I padded up to him, looking for my friends’ faces in the crowd.
Swiftshadow sat by Windtooth, both well on their way to a full recovery; Rosethorn—the newest warrior—stood by the kits, Dove and Death.
“By the powers of Starclan, I make this apprentice a warrior,” Graystream said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She has trained hard to learn your ways, and will protect this clan with all her life. From this moment on, she will be known as Rainfall.”
He placed his muzzle on my head, and I in turn licked his shoulder.
Cheers went up from my clanmates. The toms’ lower voices mixing with tiny kit voices as they repeated my warrior name.
“Rainfall! Rainfall! Rainfall!”
Despite the week’s hardships, Windclan nearly becoming extinct, and the possibility of a returning fox, I couldn’t have asked for a better day.
