Ravenkit's Apprentice Ceremony

It had not been long since Brookclover had found the kit among the mess of muck and filth that comprised the shore of the lake. While the young tom had a futile hope his mother was alive, akin to her own for Finchbreeze, the russet warrior had taken it upon herself to look out for the kit. Per the usual age requirements, Ravenkit had reached the age of six moons and was ready to begin his training. In the wake of the flood, Windclan was little more than sparse remnants of a once great clan. There were no Windclan leaders, deputies, or medicine cats on the shore. It was for this reason Brookclover had decided to take upon the task of naming him. The fact that Barleytuft might have been more qualified only flitted through her thoughts once as she approached the area where her clanmates had congregated in the twoleg structure.

She would much rather die than allow Scorchstar, even with his Starclan approved position, to give this ceremony. In a semi-loud, but confident yowl, she called out to those from Windclan who were within earshot, "Let all Windclan cats gather together for the naming of an apprentice!" They were not formal words, but nothing was normal about their circumstance. She was no leader, this was no camp, and their clan was in shambles compared to the usual ranks. Regardless, Brookclover held her head high as she stood on the foreign wooden-floor. Eyes flickered briefly over Ravenkit and a soft smile tugged at the edges of her maw for a split second. Finally, she would be witnessing the moment Cricketkit and Ryekit never did. If only Finchbreeze was here to see it too.

Upon arriving at the East Shore camp, Ravenkit’s first order of business (after eating, of course) had been to curl up in a relatively quiet place and pass out. With how long and deep he’d slept, it was more like he’d gone into hibernation. He enjoyed naps as much as the next kit, but he’d never felt as if he deserved one before. Though he rested long enough to feel like himself again, his mother failed to appear. Brookclover, however, was still there, and insistent on taking Ravenkit under her wing. Ravenkit did nothing to resist. Maybe it was because she’d been the first to find him, but he had gotten comfortable around her quickly despite knowing how much he’d have to explain when he did track down his mother. He had all the time in the world to figure that out.

When the call went out, Ravenkit was poking around the base of one of the tall nests, as he’d made a habit of doing. He stopped immediately, ears swiveling toward Brookclover. The naming of an apprentice? Thanks to all the sleeping he’d been doing, he hadn’t gotten to know the East Shore’s other residents; this ceremony could be for anyone. Still, his heart swelled with excitement as he approached the impromptu meeting place at a trot, wearing a shameless grin. Even if this wasn’t his, he’d never gotten to see one of these himself before.

The excitement of the kit was obvious and she watched through eager green eyes as he approached. She was not sure whose was greater, her own, or that of the young tom who was about to receive his apprentice name. Brookclover's face was nearly emotionless but radiated a certain warmth as she continued on with the ceremony, "Ravenkit, please come forward." More cats had gathered, all few of what was left of Windclan, and perhaps some faces from other clans. The idea caused her stoic face to falter slightly but only for a moment. This was for kin and clanmates only, the thought of prodding gazes caused her pelt to prickle in mild frustration. However, it did not dissuade her from continuing on, "In light of recent circumstance, I will be the one to allow this kit into the apprentice ranks. Ravenkit has reached six moons and will begin his training. From this day, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Ravenpaw. I will mentor you until that day." As soon as she was finished, the she-cat padded towards him to touch their noses together and welcome him as a Windclan apprentice.

Ravenkit’s face cycled through a series of emotions: first shock, then confusion, then unbridled eagerness as no other kit stepped up and he realized he hadn’t misheard after all. He was finally going to become an apprentice! Sure, the circumstances weren’t ideal, but he’d wanted a -paw suffix for so long. Being a -paw meant a new den (and new denmates!), things to do, freedom. His mother was going to be so…well, maybe not proud. Definitely surprised. The kitten stepped onto the wooden floor without another moment’s hesitation.

A tail-length from Brookclover, he froze solid, chest going unbearably tight. Though the crowd was small compared to what he would have faced back in the moor, Ravenkit had never had so many eyes on him. One quick, shaky breath; then two; then the knot in his chest finally began to unravel. Above the dull roar in his ears rose the words of the ceremony. Ravenpaw! Just thinking it wasn't enough, but his mouth wasn't listening to him, and anyway, wasn't it his Clanmates' job to chant his name? The grin returned full force, wilder than before. His East Shore family and mentor were one and the same. How lucky was that? Ravenpaw almost bounded off then and there, but, wait, wasn't there something—oh, right! Just in time, he stopped himself, turned, and stood as tall as he could to bump his nose against Brookclover's. "When do I start?" In case this wasn't the kind of thing newly made apprentices were supposed to ask, Ravenpaw tried to keep his voice low, with limited success.