Smokekit’s Apprentice Ceremony

Ravenmist padded up to the Jaggedrock, leaping atop it. Her third. Correcting her last mistake, she already had a mentor in mind for the kit being apprenticed today. Another of Thornstar’s kits. They were all growing up so fast, and they all acted so much like their mother. “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Jaggedrock for a Clan meeting.”

It was with pointedly heavy treads that the overgrown kit lumbered forth, dull vexation lingering in his gaze. His feathery tail drooped, flicking at sparse intervals with disinterest. The kit's tufts sprawled around in an unruly fashion, wisps of fur drifting in awkward directions. Not that it mattered, he mused bitterly, not making any effort to suppress the faint sneer tracing his maw, it's not like I have a mother to groom me anymore anyway. From the way he carried himself towards the Jaggedrock, it was evident that he was indifferent to his discourteous demeanor. Who could blame him? Who cared anymore? With a prolonged huff of apathy, Smokekit drew his eyes to stare blankly at the blind deputy. Surely, it was his turn now; Viperpaw and Briarpaw had already received their own names -- leaving him behind, still tinged with scarce symptoms of whitecough. And while his wheezing coughs had eased, his mild fevers alleviated - he was still burdened with the grief of Thornstar's passing.

She thought she had known. But, even without her sight, it wasn't hard to sense Smokekit's emotions, in his gait, the way his tail brushed the ground, the scent coming off of him. It reminded her of herself, when she was younger, after she had suffered through the deaths of nearly every cat she loved. It might have been a faint hope, a kitlike optimism, but maybe she could help the young tom. Teach him and guide him in the way he needed to be, as she had experienced a similar thing, albeit not at such a tender age. He seemed to be more affected by Thornstar's death than his siblings, perhaps exacerbated by his time in the medicine den.

"Smokekit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time you were apprenticed. I will be your mentor."

She padded down from the rock, towards the young tom, touching noses with him. She took a breath, speaking softly. "You're still grieving. If you need space, I understand. Just give me a chance to teach you."