a joyful thing [closed]

Bit by bit, the Clan was healing, and Ratrunner felt himself slowly growing stronger. He felt better, physically; wounds mending, making movement easier. And the pain in his heart felt fainter. The clan seemed happier, too. Is that what always happens? he wondered. The clan moves on?

At the thought, he unconsciously found himself beside the nursery. It was lively, now. Murkystar’s two young kits — Nightstalker and Swiftheart’s tiny brothers — were there, and he knew another queen had a litter soon after. It was a joyful thing, and even Ratrunner’s mother felt it strongly — unusually happy about the idea of kits to soon be underfoot. Ratrunner, happy for his friends, still felt a twinge of sadness. If Amberdawn were here, she’d have her paws full. And she’d love it.

It hurt to think of. But some part of Ratrunner — the part from her — knew… that it was okay, to feel that way. His eyes closed, and Ratrunner took a deep, steadying breath. His grandmother’s soft words flowed through him, wrapping around his heart. ’But you know, sometimes bad things like this... they just happen. We don't always know why, and maybe there isn't a reason. We just move forward.’

When he finally opened his eyes, letting the memory pass, he saw a kit. She was a soft brown — as deep as his own black — with tiny white paws. Now where did she come from? he wondered, with a surprised blink. But she was young still.

Instinctively, though Ratrunner himself was not very large, the warrior sat. Lowering his head to eye-level, he twitched his whiskers in greeting. “Hello, little one,” he mewed quietly, tone friendly, then shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t often say that, as you can see I’m fairly small myself. But what’s your name? They call me Ratrunner.”

She looked up at the sound of a new unfamiliar voice. It only took a quick once-over with her eyes to understand that he was a warrior of her clan. She immediately raised herself a bit higher and lifted her chin. If she was going to be speaking with a distinguished warrior, then it was important that she made a good impression. This could be a fellow teammate in the future when she was old enough; or possibly even a mentor.

"They call me Icekit," she replied, puffing her chest a bit more. "It is nice to meet you, Ratrunner." Her eyes narrowed a bit. She was young, and so was still learning the names of those within her clan. She did her best to commit this name to memory.

Her concentration was briefly broken as another kit scampered behind her and pounced on a bit of string and fleece that had been retrieved by some apprentices a couple days before. She glanced annoyed over her shoulder and then back up at Ratrunner.

"May we speak outside of the nursery?" she mewed. Her voice was as young as she, though she still attempted to speak like the older warriors. "It will be quieter."

Ratrunner’s whiskers twitched as the kit spoke; she was remarkably polite for her age. “It’s nice to meet you too, Icekit.”

There was a seriousness to her as well. The other kits — perhaps the brothers? — were playing somewhat rowdily, and Icekit seemed annoyed by the noise. She glared at them, and then turned to ask if they could go outside. ‘It would be quieter,’ she said.

“It will be,” Ratrunner agreed and then nodded, though he truthfully didn’t mind the noise so much anymore. It’s pleasant, when you’d rather not be by yourself. But Icekit wouldn’t feel that way — not now, and maybe not ever — and was undoubtedly up to her whiskers in kit-noise and mischief. For such a serious young thing, it was probably trying. I bet my mom felt the same way.

His mother Dusktail was a sharp molly, generally. And, as Amberdawn always recounted, quite serious as a kit. Fierce as an adder and proud as a fox, too. It was a shock, Dusktail herself recalled with a twist of amusement, such a mild and gentle kit as Ratrunner came from her. ‘But you caused plenty of trouble, I’m sure you remember,’ she’d added.

Ratkit did — in the sense he often wandered off and had a passion for eating anything new and colorful. (There were… more than a few terrible cases of stomach aches.) Icekit did not seem so extreme — in either way — but it called upon the memories fondly. I like her. And mom would, too. Dusktail would want to whisk her away and make her into a tiny, proper warrior. She already seems halfway there.

Shaking his head of the idea — Icekit’s mother would certainly protest — he followed the kit into the open air. The night was cold, even if camp’s ground wasn’t fully covered in ice. Ratrunner wondered if Icekit would be chilled, and frowned — but her fur seemed warm enough. Thicker than mine.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, settling not far from the nursery roots. It was still much quieter, though. Most cats were out hunting, or on patrol. He did wonder what Icekit would find interesting... Ratrunner had been fond of shiny things, and tasty ones — leaves, snails, and spiders; things in the marsh you couldn’t find in leafbare. Unfortunately. “Do you have anything you like to do? I can try. Or would you like me to show you something?”[/i]

Icekit was relieved when they moved out of the nursery. It was not that she hated her denmates; not at all. She rather enjoyed being around them, in the same way a twoleg enjoyed being around a kittypet. There was a superiority there, and she knew that she was going to travel further than her denmates. At least, she though that.

Outside in the cold, Icekit shook her body, clearing away some of the tufts of kit fur that floated in the nursery and pieces of straw and fluff that was used to pad the nests. The cold air felt nice to Icekit, who often grew warm in the comfort of the nursery. She was born with a very thick coat as if she was meant to brave the cold air. All the better, anyway. She was destined to survive the cold nights in the nursery despite the time of year she was born, and her fur would help her hunt longer during leafbare and leaffall when she became an apprentice. That would help prove her worth to the clan further.

"Nothing in particular," Icekit meowed. "I simply wanted to speak with you about warrior life. It seems very exciting."

Unfortunately for Icekit, this was where she really showed her age. She had been born shortly after the raid on the ShadowClan camp. She had not been there to witness the atrocities that the Forgotten Order had done to her clan. The way that the camp was picking itself back up again was just a normalcy to her, and it only fed into her desire to grow up quickly and be a warrior.

"What all do apprentices need to do when they train to be a warrior?" mewed Icekit. "The apprentices always boast about what they do, and it sounds amazing. I want to be able to run out and catch a lizard myself. I bet I wouldn't get fooled with a loosened tail." She once again held herself high and the fur on her chest puffed with pride. "I always win when I wrestle my denmates."

Ah, Ratrunner thought, with a tiny bit of surprise. But she was a serious young kit, even if being a warrior… He thought of what she might think that was like — fighting enemies? — and suddenly there he was, fangs in Apollo’s throat. (The thickly-rich scent of blood and tom, and that spike of terror and horror. Of—)

And then he blinked, and it was gone. The small warrior had only stilled, maybe eerily so, and dismissed it with a shaky breath. That’s… it’s behind me. Just breathe. And as he did, Icekit continued to speak — as if nothing happened at all.

Oh, he thought, with a loosening of his shoulders. She wants to know what apprentices do. And then he shook his head at his hesitation. Even if she had been excited about… fighting rogues, or foxes, that was okay. It was a kit’s joy.

He smiled a bit as she puffed in pride, and remembered his early days as an apprentice. Tiny, always distracted — but drawn in by his mentor. Webshadow… I can always talk about him.

“Your mentor will show you all that, soon enough,” he shared, with a soft smile. She was little, but six moons would come for her quickly — and Frostgaze would judge when she was ready. “But you’re right. There’s hunting, and sparring. Sometimes fighting. And learning how to walk in the marsh.”

In the cold of leafbare, the soft mud was frozen and generally solid. But when it thawed, and warmth sprung from the ground, it wasn’t so: it was deep, dotted with pools of water… there were flies and bugs, webs and beetles. Snails and butterflies. Snow itself was something to learn in, given Ratrunner’s dark pelt. But the true, warm marsh was something else entirely.

Icekit nodded along with the explanation Ratrunner provided. Sparring yes, running yes. The fighting was not something that interested her, exactly. She would be happy to hunt for her clan, and the thought of bringing back something exciting--maybe an adder if she could be quick enough, or a large lizard if she could be strong enough--did bring some light to her eyes. She could impress whoever her future mentor could be, if she could be a good hunter. She glanced at Ratrunner. Maybe she could even impress him, when she earns her paw name.

But hunting and skirmishes wasn't what she looked forward to most. She understood that no cats wanted to fight with the other clans, if they could help it. Peace was best for everyone. But that could not always be done. Peace was something that had to be earned and maintained carefully, to grow like a young kit into a strong warrior that could outlast the mother. That's what Icekit truly wanted to do. If she could help maintain a semblance of peace, then maybe she could make a difference in the longrun.

Icekit thought again to what Ratrunner said. "The marshes?" she repeated. She had yet to go outside of the camp; she was too young and the queens kept close eyes on the kits to ensure that the excitable ones did not escape on early adventures. "What is the best way to do that? Is it like walking on snow?" She had walked on dirt, on grass, and newest to her, on the sleek, slippery snow. She lost her footing a couple times the first time it snowed and queens laughed and laughed at the toppling kits. If the marshes were anything like that, Icekit didn't know how she would be able to run after a frog for dinner.

“It’s different than snow,” Ratrunner clarified, but his eyes began to shine as he thought of it, and leaned down to explain. “But in a way, that’s not a bad comparison. There are different types of snow. Fresh snow,” and here Ratrunner’s tail gestured to the snow-dusted tops of the bramble dens, where the warriors hadn’t cleared it away. It would keep the dens warm. “And then when the sun melts it, and the night chills it again; changing it. Some becomes the hard snow you can walk on; some becomes slippery ice. And then there’s telling the difference in where you step.”

His whiskers twitched. “That’s a little what it’s like to be in the marsh. Webshadow had to teach me where to step. Some snow, you can safely stand on; it’s the same with the marsh. But we’re Shadowclan,” he added, with as much warmth as a gentle, steady pride; reminded of Nightstalker’s effortless faith. “It’s in our blood.”

And with that, he felt… stronger, more himself, than in a long while. They were Shadowclan. Even if rogues had tried to keep it, tear them from it, they wouldn’t know it’s heart; how many cats had lived and laughed and loved in this land. How they made their home and grew to thrive in it — to be one with the shadows here, and the spirits.

Icekit watched Ratrunner's face while he explained. She was pretty sure she followed along. She would have to actually go into the marshes to figure out how it felt, but she understood the need to detect what snow was good to step on or not. If she could learn where to step when frost covered the ground, then she could figure out whatever challenge these marshes held.

She then noticed a change in the warrior's expression, and how there was an almost confident or prideful look across his face. Icekit wasn't sure what it was about the marshes that filled him with such vigor, but she was satisfied that she was able to help bring it to him.

"So Webshadow was your mentor," she mewed. Curious. "I've seen him before but have yet to speak with him." And, at least, from what Icekit had seen, he seemed to enjoy time away from warrior responsibilities. It was kind of hard for her to imagine him as a mentor.

Icekit looked up at him again and her nose twitched with curiosity. "Do you have any apprentices you're teaching?"

Ratrunner was quite the good teacher already, and he spoke with the kind of soft gentleness that she had seen from some other mentors to their apprentices while she lounged in the nursery. He had knowledge and knew how to share it. Icekit was certain that any apprentice would be lucky to have him mentoring them.

“Webshadow was… who I’d always wanted to be, one day,” Ratrunner shared, and then felt flushed — unsure why he said that. But it was the truth. I always wanted to be like him. Somewhere along the way, that had gradually faded... as he became one himself? “And then I realized I could only be me. But I very much look up to him.”

Icekit seemed curious, attentive, and eager to know things. She would be an excellent apprentice, when her time came. Ratrunner shook his head at her next question. “I’m not, no. And I haven’t yet.”

But perhaps Ratrunner was ready. He felt steady, talking with Icekit; like he would be able to teach a kit like her one day. But not just yet. Icekit did seem to watch the warriors quite a bit, though. “Do you know who you’d like as a mentor?”

There were many senior warriors without apprentices, and younger, too. Did Icekit know them yet?

"I'm not sure," Icekit admitted. She looked around at some of the cats she could see wandering around the camp from the nursery. "You're the first warrior I've properly spoken to. I'm still trying to get to know everyone..."

Meeting every cat she can was what she truly was interested in. The queens always said that six moons go by quickly, and while Icekit wasn't sure if she agreed with that yet, she would still heed the statement. She couldn't spend all her time taking naps in the nursery or rolling in the dirt with the other kits. She had to meet and speak with those in her clan. Make a good impression. Be someone that is worth mentoring.

Looking back to Ratrunner, she mewed, "What do you think of the other warriors in the clan? You have far more experience with them than I do."

Maybe Ratrunner could help point her in the direction of the ones she should speak with soonest. A lot of warriors are busy, or are uninterested in the lives of kits; Icekit couldn't change that perspective. So she could push her focus to the ones that were most interested in speaking to a young cat like her.

Ratrunner nodded at her answer, briefly surprised. She spoke confidently, like she were well-used to talking to older cats. Or maybe she’s just brave, he considered with a smile. As a kit, Ratrunner himself had been painfully shy. But it had been a good while since then. He wrapped his tail around his paws as he considered it, mewing, “I think well of all of them, of course.”

But they were all so different, too. How to describe them…?

“There’s the older warriors,” he began in his soft voice, and Ratrunner recalled his first battle; the warriors he fought beside. The young tom closed his eyes, briefly, for Burningwing — and then opened them. “Batglow, I believe, is the oldest. Whenever I haven’t known what to do… he’s been there.

“And Mistyfalcon. He’s steady, trustworthy — and a fierce fighter. His spars with Murkystar are definitely impressive to watch… even if he never quite wins.” The last part he shared in a whisper, eyes shining with a hint of teasing, beneath the respect in his voice. And he loves her a lot. Both of them do, he added to himself. And then thought of his other role models.

“Webshadow, I’ve spoken of. He’s a very quiet tom, normally, and hard to read… unless he’s your mentor. Then he likes to tell you about all the things he’s learned about the world, and you realize how much he knows. He cares, too, much more than you would think,” Ratrunner told her, remembering sharply the loss in Webshadow’s eyes, when speaking of his once-apprentice — the one who hadn’t made it to warriorhood. Then his genuine, quiet pride in Ratrunner, whenever he was true to himself. And, too— “And you know Frostgaze, our deputy.”

There was a tenderness there. As Ratrunner spoke of it, and between the two; but that was perhaps not for him to say. He cleared his throat.

“There’s Emberleap; a respected warrior. I don’t know him well, but I do know his apprentices — and that speaks very well of him.” Ratrunner remembered his fortitude, personally — of pulling the warrior’s limp form from the worst of the fighting, where Emberleap had been, a force of righteous fury. But he... didn’t want to speak to Icekit of battles. She’ll hear plenty of it soon. “The apprentices being Ospreypaw and Duskflight, his first. Ospreypaw... well,” and here he purred, at the thought of the grumpy, harsh molly meeting strong-willed Icekit. “You’ll meet her. And Duskflight is the strongest, kindest tom I know.”

Duskflight understood cats — and more than that, cared about them. Drew them out of their shells… My closest friend.

“And then I can’t forget Loudnose. In his company, you never feel alone. And my cousin; her name is Marshmallow. We share the same grandmother,” he clarified. Or… we did, he thought with a shadow. “She always wanted us to be closer.”

Perhaps we should try. With a careful, delicate touch, he set that thought aside. And with a blink, was reminded of another matter he’d… handled poorly. Swiftheart. The bright, effervescent warrior — and her dark, noble shadow. The strongest, kindest molly I know... and her brother, who I love.

His mouth opened to say something and then it felt... too personal. “I… perhaps that’s enough warriors for you.”

He ducked his head sheepishly… this was the most he’d spoken, and of his Clan, in a long time. As he looked at Icekit, her serious posture, he was reminded of another warrior. “I suppose there’s Cicadashriek, too. Serious and dedicated.” Overzealous, sometimes — is the word Ratrunner’s mother used. But it was approvingly. “And that’s truly plenty for now. Do you think any would do?”

Icekit follows along as best as she can, nodding along as Ratrunner goes through essentially the entire warrior roster of their clan. She tries to follow along as best she can, making her own notes to herself along the way.

Batsong. Older. Probably has the most information and wisdom out of all the cats, but may also be very old-fashioned.

Mistyfalcon. Trustworthy and fierce. A good fighter, it seems, and would be good for a tactical mentor.

Webshadow. Ratrunner's mentor. Quieter, keeps to himself. Might not be the best mentor for me.

Frostgaze. The deputy. A lot of responsibilities but a lot that I could learn. Probably not looking for a mentor, but I could learn from him in other ways.

Emberleap. Not much information, but is respected. has raised other apprentices already, so very experienced.

Duskflight. Strong and kind. Ratrunner sounds like he respects him, but didn't say much else.

Loudnose. Being...loud. I probably would get fed up too quickly. Noise is too loud, too often.

Cicadashriek. Serious and dedicated. Well now...

Icekit blinked and looked up after a long moment of silence following Ratrunner's question. Icekit had been trying so hard to commit these descriptions to memory that she almost hadn't realized he'd asked her something.

"I'm sure any would be a wonderful mentor," she replied. Well, maybe save for Loudnose. "Including you. You've taught me a lot already and I'm not even your apprentice." She tilted her head, trying to think about the others. "Out of the rest...Cicadashriek sounds like someone I'd get along with best. Maybe I'll try speaking with him next and see what he can teach me."

Sometimes it felt like her apprentice ceremony was still so far off, but truly, it was just around the corner. She was already a few moons old, and soon the sixth moon would pass and she would be given her apprentice name. It felt foreign to think about, still, even as she was sitting here speaking with another warrior. Some days she didn't feel like a kit at all, but thinking about the changes that were fast approaching made her feel just as small as she was.

Ratrunner wondered what she was thinking, as Ivekit took in all the names. He did smile as she mentioned  she wouldn’t mind him as a mentor. He was curious why she picked Cicadashriek as well, but then, he was a fine warrior. Definitely fierce, but for a dedicated and motivated cat like Icekit, she would probably thrive under that. Or under Nightstalker. But no matter who her mentor was, Icekit would be a good warrior, he was sure. “Thank you, Icekit. And I’m sure that would be worthwhile.”

After... his mentor’s death, Ratrunner wasn’t sure how Cicadashriek was faring. But they weren’t close enough for Ratrunner to ask.

Icekit nodded. "Thank you for all of the information. I hope that we can speak again in the future." She stood and gave Ratrunner a respectful bow of her head before she finally left him to his own business.

[End.]