Wigglepaw's Warrior Ceremony

Gender: Male
Rank: Apprentice

("Feral Language")
("Forest Language")

Wigglepaw startled awake at the familiar summons of a clan meeting, his attention zeroing in on Acornstem's voice. He blearily opened his eyes, wincing against the sunlight, and shifted in his makeshift nest, resting his chin on the edge of the mossy bed to watch without having to get up. It had been a rough few days and despite drinking water and trying to eat, he hadn't gotten better. In fact, he seemed to have been getting worse. It got increasingly harder for him to keep food down and even water seemed to make his stomach turn. However, it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't already thin and weak from the famine and the journey here.

The brown tom spotted Crocusfrost, though, and cracked a smile. His sister was so thoughtful - always taking care of him and getting under the medicine cats' paws. She was a warrior and already had an apprentice, not that it bothered him, he was proud of her for growing up. Mottlestar clearly trusted her if she already had an apprentice of her own. Besides, he couldn't blame anyone for him still being an apprentice. Cloudychase's death had slowed his training considerably.

His dark eyes landed on Goldenfern next, and he suppressed a warm purr. She'd been there for him when Cloudychase had gotten upset with his slow progress as an apprentice. She settled down beside his sister and, after a moment, Wigglepaw decided that he should try to get up as well. what if it was important? Puffing, he pushed himself to his paws, swaying for a moment before eventually finding his balance. It was just a little cold, he was fine, everything was fine. There was no reason not to attend whatever meeting was being held.

Despite what he told himself, Wigglepaw couldn't help his limbs shaking or his chest constricting as he padded to the center of their temporary camp. He put one paw in front of the other, though, as surely as he could, and sat down a good distance from his healthy clanmates. Crocusfrost had escaped the worst of the illness - he wouldn't forgive himself if he got her even more sick.

Gender: Male
Rank: Apprentice

("Feral Language")
("Forest Language")

It was a struggle simply to pay attention to the meeting and Wigglepaw found himself struggling to focus on Acornstem's words for more than a few moments at a time. He blinked fuzzily up at Acornstem as she went on, only really zoning back in as she turned to address him. He blinked, confused, for a few moments, before her words sunk in and he realized that this was to be his warrior ceremony. His brows furrowed for a moment, at the revelation, but he kept his mouth firmly shut, aware that if he didn't, he could very well turn up his breakfast. Why now, though? He was never a good apprentice and now, being so sick, was even less so.

Regardless, the dusky brown tom mustered the strength to stand once more and made his way to the middle of the clearing. The brief walk from his nest had sapped much of his strength already, but he would swallow thorns before he attended his own ceremony sitting down. The walk seemed to take ages, but he finally came to a stop before Acornstem, his gaze determined despite the lingering exhaustion. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Sageroot and Softpaw approach and join the rest of the clan. He longed to shoot them a smile or even just an excited glance, but it took everything in him to simply remain standing.

Forcing his muddled brain to clear for a few moments, Wigglepaw fixed his attention on Acornstem, silently taking in everything she said. She was very gracious in describing his apprenticeship, but he wouldn't complain. Swallowing, he dipped his head low to the ground, ignored the spinning sensation that came with it, and opened his jaws to respond. "I, Wigglepaw, promise to dedicate my life to Thunderclan. I do." It seemed as though this day would never come - but he was endlessly thankful that Acornstem had decided to bestow this honor upon him now...before he...Wigglepaw stifled a fit of coughs, clenching his jaws together.

No, it would not come to that. He would overcome this illness and grow into a strong warrior like Crocusfrost and Vinecrawler. That, he was sure of. There was much of the world to see and so much he had yet to do! This silly little cough would not hinder him forever - he would not walk with the God of Death so easily.

Gender: Male
Rank: T1 Warrior

("Feral Language")
("Forest Language")

His head was fuzzy with fever, but Wigglepaw remained standing regardless, his legs holding firm - even if only for now. His dark eyes examined Acornstem throughout the ceremony and seeing her smile become less strained brought a little warmth to his chest. He would force out a thousand more words if it meant relaxing the lines of worry on her face. Wigglepaw puffed out his chest as she continued the ceremony, a new fire in his heart. He wouldn't let himself be defined by his blood any more. He had just as much of a right to be here as any other cat. If Acornstem though that he was worthy of the title of a warrior - then he did too.

Despite being too sick to hunt, despite hardly being able to hold himself up on his own legs, he had somehow proven himself. If all it took was his best shot, then maybe Cloudychase was wrong about his place in Thunderclan. Wigglepaw narrowed his eyes against the sun, heart thrumming almost painfully in his chest. If so...what else had his former mentor been wrong about? Finally, the deputy continued, her voice perhaps a little firmer than before.

Warm burst in his chest as she called out his name - Wiggleworm. He was taken aback at first by the oddity of it, but as the name rolled around in his head, a small smile spread across his face. Wiggleworm...he liked it. And Hank would've liked it too. The thought of his father sent a pang of loss through the tom's chest, but he pushed it aside, lifting his head higher as the clan began to call out his name. Mottlestar's voice in particular made his eyes brighten just a bit. Acornstem approached after a few moments of celebration and he steeled himself, exhausted, but ready.

However, what came out of her mouth next both surprised and relieved him. No vigil tonight. A part of his was disappointed that he wouldn't get to take part in the rite of passage, but mostly, he was glad he would get more time to rest. "Thank you." He rasped out, lungs beginning to burn from the exertion of standing. Continuing in his own tongue, he added, despite knowing that Acornstem would likely not understand, "May The God of Now grace you." He hesitated for a moment, uncertain. Was that something Hank would have said? It seemed appropriate.

So, with a dip of his head, Wiggleworm relaxed his aching muscles, giving in to the urge to rest, and returned to his secluded little corner of the camp. He stumbled and nearly fell twice on the way there but made it to his nest without further mishap and curled up, praying to sleep off some of the illness deep in his body.