Olivekit's Apprentice Ceremony

One by one, the cats who’d fought were being recognized for their bravery; one by one, the cluster of nests where the apprentices slept seemed to shrink in a way that couldn’t be explained only by the cold. But that part of camp never stayed quiet for long. Already, more kits were growing up to take their places—kits to whom the beasts were just another set of nursery tales. With any luck, it would stay that way. The oncoming leaf-bare was enough for them to deal with. Though Raventail might’ve preferred frolicking through snow to the mud he’d dealt with during his first moons of training, he didn’t envy WindClan’s newest apprentices, especially the short-furred ones. At least he could return to camp whenever the chill bit a little too deeply.

That was part of why he wanted to get this over with. With nothing to block the wind, the top of the Tallrock was cold. Raventail's shoulders hunched against the breeze as he sat. ”Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Tallrock!” he called.

Olivekit darted out of the nursery at the deputy's summons, tail sticking straight up in the air in excitement. She bounced a little on her paws as she looked at the gathering crowd, before licking her chest a few times. She bounded to the front, sitting with her tail neatly wrapped around her paws, despite the excitement bubbling inside her.

Is this my apprentice ceremony? Oh, I sure hope so!

A gray-striped blur bolted out of the nursery. Olivekit paused at the back of the crowd long enough for Raventail to identify her, then just as suddenly raced to the front. Some kits knew the day of their ceremony; others had only gut feelings to go off of, and others still had no idea until their names were called. The excitement, however, was universal. Though Olivekit fidgeted less than some of her former denmates, her enthusiasm was clear in her expression. ”Olivekit,” he meowed, meeting Olivekit’s eyes as best he could from where he sat, ”step forward.”

Once she had done so, he continued. ”You’ve reached the age of six moons, and it’s time for you to be apprenticed. From this day until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Olivepaw.” He waited for a moment to let the new name settle over Olivepaw and the camp alike. Then the wind pushed at his back again, and with a quick shiver, he hurried on. ”Your mentor will be Briarthorn. May he pass everything he knows down to you.” Briarthorn could hunt and fight as well as his denmates, but his time as a medicine cat had given him knowledge most of WindClan lacked. Whether he’d retained it, whether it was the sort of thing one taught an apprentice about when there was already so much to learn—that wasn’t for Raventail to know or decide. He was sure Briarthorn would make a capable mentor whatever he chose. With a quick smile and a flick of an ear, Raventail bounded down to ground level just in time to join WindClan in the usual chant. "Olivepaw! Olivepaw!"

The newly-named Olivepaw basked in the chanting before she looked around for Briarthorn. When she saw him approaching, she bounded over to him, eyes sparkling with excitement. She lifted her head to touch noses with him, tail flicking excitedly.

Briarthorn padded up to the newly named Olivepaw. He touched noses with the young cat. It was about time he got an apprentice. After all, he was destined by StarClan to be a great leader, they had told him themselves. "I'll teach you everything I know, Olivepaw! Before you know it, you'll be standing here, getting your warrior name. Your going to be an amazing warrior, I can tell!"