Owlkit's Apprentice Ceremony

The chilly air stood still as Minkstream padded across the grass to the stone in the middle of camp, fur fluffed against the cold, mind as numb as the feeling of the stone against his pads. Something seemed far away this morning, ice in the corners of his mind, russet red floating through the air, a single leaf drifting in the stillness. It was another ceremony, but he couldn't summon a scrap of feeling, nothing but this numb ice. The kit deserved more, but he couldn't give it. Duty came first, but maybe a shaft of sunlight would thaw this morning - like the quiet death of everything held dear hanging like a stormcloud on the horizon.

His maw opened, voice ringing loud and clear, but vaguely empty. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the High Rock for a Clan meeting."

The yowl echoed across camp, conjuring images in the terrified mind of Owlkit. She wasn't ready to be an apprentice! Not by a million moons, not by a thousand fox-lengths! Still, she was obligated to go and see what the ruckus about. She probably wasn't being apprenticed today, right? It couldn't be what was happening. Her paws and legs shook as she walked up to where everyone was assembling. Please, StarClan... don't let it be her!

His eyes roamed over the cats gathering without really seeing any of them, different patches of fur, expectant eyes, and a little ball of fluff. That one caught his attention, his gaze resting on her wide eyes, the tremble in her tail and the wobble in her legs. Stars... she's terrified. Something flickered inside him, the babble of other cats a distant monotone in his ears. She reminded him of Sablepaw, in a way - the most timid of his daughters. It looked as though all she wanted to do was hide, but couldn't. I know how you feel, kit. The last thing he wanted was the cats of the Clan looking at him right now, seeing hints of pity in their eyes. But duty had called, and ceremony beckoned.

A cold thing, this whole tradition. Just like the chill of the morning - perfectly suited to each other, when you thought about it.

He shifted his paws, feeling the ice of the roughened rock underneath. There are more important things than ceremony. Some things... just don't work for the same cat. Or maybe he was just beyond caring. If that was it, well... could anyone blame him?

Leaping down from the rock, he felt dewed grass against his paws again, somehow liberating as he padded forward through the crowd. Cats moved back before him, a confused murmur running from maw to maw. His eyes stayed ahead - apart from a twitch of his ear, there was no acknowledgement of the whispers. And he came to a stop in front of the kit, his clear green eyes on hers, a hint of curiosity in them as he searched her wide ones. A hint of a smile touched the corners of his maw, more of a flicker of sadness than anything like his usual one.

"Owlkit, me and Nettlestar have watched you grow from a kit into a young cat," He said quietly, as if he was just chatting to the little she-cat in an ordinary conversation, his body relaxed. "And I think you know you're old enough to become an apprentice." He held her eyes for a moment, head slightly tilted. She knew it, alright. Knew it, and dreaded it. "But... I think you're a little bit more than just 'old enough.'"

He turned, looking over his shoulder at the now thoroughly confused, frowning faces nearby. "Cats of ThunderClan!" Ears twitched up at his call, and he continued, "Do you believe that Owlkit is ready to join your ranks as an apprentice?"

Eyes blinked, for a heartbeat nothing came back but silence.

They can't be this stuck in tradition.

And then a bold voice called out, "I do!" The dam broke, a chorus of answers in the affirmative coming back, and Minkstream felt an inexplicable grin tug at his maw, turning back to the kit with a sparkle in his eyes as the voices died back down again. "I think you're ready, too." He straightened up, raising his voice just slightly so the others could hear his words. "Owlkit, from this moment until you earn your warrior name, you will be known as Owlpaw. And since Nettlestar herself believes you'll make a great one, she will be your mentor."

He dipped his head to the apprentice and stepped backwards, raising his voice with the crowd to call her new name, an odd fire burning in his chest. Maybe he'd just broken all the ceremonial rules, but it felt right. It felt good. If anything, it was the only ceremony that had felt as good as it did - as... freeing. Watching as Nettlestar came forward and touched her nose to Owlpaw's, he felt a light breeze stir his fur, breaking the chill silence of the morning with the distant rustle of leaves, some of them - russet red and bright - drifting down into the clearing.

He lifted his eyes to watch one in particular as it flittered through the air. Dock... I hope you're happy wherever you are.

I'm trying my best back here.

Nettlestar tilted her head in vaguely amused curiosity at her deputy’s choice to…change up the traditional pattern of the apprentice ceremony.

She had never had any particular attachment to the traditional words. She had no particular desire to change them, either, but the words mattered less than the ideas behind them. Honor, loyalty, and duty were important as concepts. As long as they were being adhered to-- and she did care very much that they were being adhered to-- the “how” of it all was less important.

If Minkstream felt conducting ceremonies a...little differently was the best way to do his duty...as long as he respected the idea that it was an important moment, then it was okay. Maybe it was good, even. She would never have been able to find a way to be warm and casual and put that frightened kit at ease. It just wasn’t her forte. She had wanted a deputy who would balance out her traits, whose strengths were not the same as her own strengths. This seemed to be proof enough that in that respect she had chosen correctly.

Still, her willingness to break with tradition would only go so far, and she would have to make sure to remind Minkstream not to over-step.

But first, she went up to greet her new apprentice, “Hello, Owlpaw. Minkstream is correct, I am sure you will be a great warrior someday, and I look forward to helping you along that path. We will begin training soon. Be ready to start getting up early and getting to work,” she smiled her usual quiet smile, touching her nose to Owlpaw’s.  

As the crowd began dissipating, she approached her deputy, pulling him aside for a brief moment.

“Minkstream,” she said. Her tone was firm but not at all harsh, and it was clear she wasn’t actually angry or expressing any deep disapproval, “I do appreciate your...creativity, and that you wanted to put that kit at ease. I have no particular qualms with you modifying ceremonies to a degree, but do keep in mind that there is a limit on these kinds of things, yes?”

(ooc: Sorry, i probably should've notified you, but i kinda... forgot ^^; )

He was kind of expecting it, if he was honest. Minkstream unconsciously braced himself as Nettlestar pulled him aside, a memory of Torrentstar's stern eyes flashing through his mind. He never would have done this.

But Nettlestar's voice was firm, rather than stern, and he held her eyes as she spoke, a brief smile inexplicably threatening to tug at his maw. Luckily, he managed to fight it down, keeping his face serious and dipping his head at her question. "Of course, Nettlestar." This time a wan smile did come through as he tilted his face slightly. "I'll try and keep it to a minimum."