Sweetkit's Apprentice Ceremony

With the influx of kits that had come into WindClan the past few moons, it had been only a matter of time before they were all ready for apprenticeship. This was the first ceremony in her lineup for today, and she smiled, knowing that things were beginning to return to normal.
She hopped up the path to the top of the Tallrock, a route that she was beginning to learn by heart, and soon she stood above the camp, and she took a moment to let the wind blow through her fur before she cleared the throat and called out,
"May all cats old enough to run the moor gather beneath the Tallrock!"

Sweetkit knew her apprentice ceremony would be soon. She was ready to be able to start properly serving her clan. The tabby was laying outside the nursery, giving her short ruffled fur a good wash. She watched as Olivestone leapt onto the Tallrock with a calm indifference, but couldn’t suppress the tremor of excitement that settled in her paws. She rose to her feet at the summons and sat beneath the towering stone with her tail curled neatly around her paws. Maybe this ceremony would be hers. She pondered briefly who her mentor would be, but instead stared out of the camp entrance to the vague shimmer of the moor and heather beyond. Soon, she thought as her heartbeat was drown again by the raising call of the openness. It was deep in her blood, the wind, the sky, the earth, it rippled through her veins and fed her steadily pounding heart.

Her attention returns to Olivestone and the Tallrock, she feels grounded. Bound to the soil beneath her paws. She waits, a quiet breath escaping into the crowd of her clan mates, and the moor call rings again reaching for her. Soon, she promises. Soon she would step forward and shoulder the responsibility of training, of fighting and hunting and protecting. She is as unobtrusive as ever, steady gaze focused solely on the path ahead, waiting, breathing, watching.

When the sweet little she-kit, as true to her name, joined the growing crowd beneath the Tallrock, Olivestone couldn't help but smile a little as she called out,
"Sweetkit, step forward."

When the aforementioned cat stepped forward, the deputy continued to speak.
"You have reached your sixth moon, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day forward, until you receive your warrior name, you shall be known as Sweetpaw. Your mentor will be Zinnia, and may she teach you everything she knows."

With another smile, Olivestone began the traditional chant, her gaze seeking out Zinnia in the crowd.
"Sweetpaw! Sweetpaw! Sweetpaw!"

Sweetkit raises as her name is called, and she is not surprised. The ground is firm beneith her paws, the air is new-leaf cool, and she is steady. She steps forward, and all she can see is Olivestone and the Tallrock, the traditional words seem to settle as warmth in her chest. This was the next step. Here she stood on the beginning of a well-tread path, the same that her mother and father and clan mates before her stepped. She dips her head in acknowledgment and then seeks out her mentor the crowd.

She steps towards the tabby she-cat as Sweetpaw, with mild green eyes and a soul that sings to the wide open moors. “I want to serve WindClan well, and would be honored to have you teach me.” She says, quiet enough for only Zinnia to hear, before reaching out to calmly touch noses with her mentor.