Chapter Text
“Tigerclaw asked me to share prey with him,” Firepaw boasts.
Greypaw blinks affectionately. “Told you he’d come around.” He nudges Firepaw. “Guess he’s finally forgiven you for Yellowfang.”
Firepaw’s whiskers twitch. “Here’s to hoping.” He licks Greypaw’s shoulder. “Sorry you can’t come with me.” They had both done well on the hunt, but Tigerclaw had pulled Firepaw aside to make his offer.
“Sorry? Don’t worry about it. It’s a big honor, especially as an apprentice.”
Firepaw spends the evening between Whitestorm and Tigerclaw. Both cats are amused at his nervousness, and the conversation focuses on the threat from ShadowClan. Well-aware that Yellowfang is still a prisoner from ShadowClan, Firepaw stays quiet.
As the sun disappears below the horizon, cats scatter. When it’s just Firepaw and Tigerclaw left, he shifts, cleaning his whiskers to cover his uncertainty.
“You did well today,” Tigerclaw says. “It’s a shame to see such a talented hunter wasted in camp.”
“Thank you.” Tigerclaw is rare to praise, but especially rare to praise Firepaw. He can count the number of kind words from the deputy on his claws. “I try — when I’m done taking care of Yellowfang…”
“You’ve been working hard, but you need proper training.” Tigerclaw watches Firepaw with unexpected softness, before straightening. “You’ve been improving, kittypet. I will be talking to Bluestar about resuming your training.”
Despite himself, Firepaw purrs. “Really?” He’s missed patrols and battle training and being able to hunt without scrutiny,
“Really,” Tigerclaw affirms. “Have a good evening, Firepaw. You’ve earned it.”
The next morning, it is pouring rain. Greypaw fluffs out his pelt, uncertainly peering out of the den, but Firepaw prances out.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sandpaw scoffs. “You’ll be here all day, watching camp turn into a mud pit.”
Firepaw ignores her. Bluestar hasn’t announced that he’s returning to training, and if Tigerclaw can’t convince her, Sandpaw would just laugh at him for being wrong.
Still, her glare doesn’t dampen his spirits. Firepaw sits eagerly near the front of camp, waiting for Tigerclaw to assign patrols.
“Someone’s excited,” he says, whiskers twitching in amusement.
Firepaw’s ear’s fold. “I just…”
“It’s alright,” Tigerclaw purrs, “I think you’ll like what Bluestar has to say.”
Firepaw’s tail twitches, and even the freezing rain can’t bring down his spirits. Other warriors soon join him, and Whitestorm, Sandpaw, and Greypaw are surreptitiously left out of patrols. He notices Bluestar watching from her den, blue eyes trained on him.
When all the patrols are assigned, she steps out.
“I see someone let the secret out,” she says, and Tigerclaw flicks his tail, as if to say, It couldn’t have been me. Still, Firepaw blinks gratefully at him. “Firepaw, today you are released from your punishment. Train hard.” She blinks at him, then brushes past, headed towards Spottedleaf’s den.
“You’ll be assessed—” Tigerclaw begins, immediately being interrupted.
“Now we can go back to training together!” Greypaw chirps.
“If all that time in camp hasn’t made his hunting skills worse than a kit,” Sandpaw huffs.
“I went hunting yesterday, Sandpaw.”
“Whatever. You’re still a kittypet.”
Firepaw flinches.
“Sandpaw!” Whitestorm chastises. “Firepaw is an apprentice of ThunderClan, just like you.”
“He doesn’t even have a mentor!” Sandpaw says, “He—”
“Enough,” her mentor growls. “You are coming with me today,” He sounds irritated, but he licks her shoulder. Sandpaw shoots another glare at Firepaw, but then she nods slightly. Whitestorm sets out immediately, and Sandpaw follows without another word.
“I thought she was over that,” Firepaw says.
“I think all of the recent battles are reminding her of her father.” Greypaw nudges him. “But she’s missing out on a hunting assessment, so who’s the real winner?”
Tigerclaw sighs. With Whitestorm taking Sandpaw privately, and Darkstripe and Dustpaw doing battle training, it’s just Firepaw, Greypaw, and the deputy, “Well, I was going to assess you all,” he growls, “but I can’t watch both of you at the same time.”
“Can we do a group hunt?”
Tigerclaw pauses at Firepaw’s suggestion. “That’s a very good idea.” He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s reworking his plan. “Very well. I will assess the two of you together, then.”
“Yes!” Greypaw cheers.
“Well?” Tigerclaw asks. “Weren’t you bragging about how much you caught together yesterday? Let’s see if you can do it again.”
“How was that?”
“Good.” Whitestorm nods approvingly.
Tigerclaw narrows his eyes, “Good? It was passable, maybe…if Firepaw was a new apprentice.”
His glare makes Firepaw shirk.
“My training was delayed—”
“That’s not an excuse, kittypet.” Tigerclaw curls his lip. “You will do better. So do it again, and do it right.”
“All I’m ever going to be to him is a kittypet,” Firepaw mutters. Tigerclaw’s sudden pivots exhaust him. One moment, he’s being praised as a promising young apprentice, and the next, Tigerclaw is tearing into him.
At least Tigerclaw’s praise is honest. Whitestorm goes easy on him, sometimes, and most of the other warriors say nothing, but Firepaw feels Tigerclaw’s praise from the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. But maybe that’s just because Tigerclaw is the one who’s giving it.
“He’s never satisfied,” Firepaw continues. “As soon as I get one thing right, it’s onto the next.”
Still, he prefers when Tigerclaw takes him out. Whitestorm is fine, but Sandpaw loathes to share her mentor. Darkstripe mostly ignores him.
The younger warriors treat him like a kit they rather dislike. Mousefur is shocked when Firepaw catches something, but not shocked enough to correct his crouch — Tigerclaw does that later. Longtail mostly makes irritating quips.
But Tigerclaw doesn’t have an apprentice — and if anything, that Greypaw often goes with them is a positive — and he takes Firepaw seriously.
“You might be a kittypet,” he told Firepaw, “but you’ve got more sense than most warriors.”
Or maybe he preferred Tigerclaw simply because he was Tigerclaw.
“I’ll get it,” Firepaw says, trying to keep his spirits up. “I’m going to become a warrior Tigerclaw can’t ignore.”
“How was that?” Firepaw asks, blinking up at Tigerclaw.
“There’s room for improvement.”
Firepaw purrs. “So it’s better than a new apprentice, then?”
Tigerclaw looks over him, and Firepaw curls his tail. “Better than that,” he agrees. “But you’ve got a long way to go.”
“And whose fault is that?” Firepaw says, smirking. “You’re the one teaching me.”
Tigerclaw growls, but his face isn’t serious. “You’re wasting time, kittypet. Do you not want to improve?”
“Maybe I’m enjoying the moment.” Firepaw straightens. “Alright, deputy, show me how to do it better.”
Tigerclaw purrs. “Well, for one, you’re starting from the wrong position.” He flicks his tail, and Firepaw scrambles onto the rock, preparing to pounce. Tigerclaw puts his front paws on the boulder, nudging Firepaw’s feet with his muzzle. “There. Now — try it again, and this time, make sure you’re looking at where you’re going.”
Should be easy, Firepaw thinks, as Tigerclaw waits for him to leap. I’m aiming for you.
He jumps, but as his paws make contact with Tigerclaw’s shoulders, Tigerclaw rears, throwing him off.
Firepaw twists, trying to recover, but he doesn’t have enough time.
“Nice try,” Tigerclaw growls, and this time there’s no levity. “I’d say a kittypet could do better, but…”
Firepaw scrambles to his paws, pelt fluffed out in embarassment. “But that’s not fair! You didn’t do that last time.”
“Do you think in battle a cat will just wait for you to attack them?” Tigerclaw’s eyes blaze. “Do it again, and pay attention to me this time. If I had telegraphed what I was doing any more, I would’ve been shouting it.”
Ears pinned, Firepaw climbs back up, his earlier amusement gone.
“I know you know how to do this,” Tigerclaw says. “So show me you can do it.”
Firepaw stretches out in the sun. It’s been a long day.
“You did well on the assessment,” Tigerclaw says.
“Well enough to be a warrior?”
Tigerclaw snorts. ”Give it a few moons. There’s really only two reasons for an early promotion — doing something surprising, or a courtship.” He sits beside Firepaw. It’s been over a moon since his hunting assessment, and Tigerclaw has continued to oscillate between moments of grudging respect and frustration.
It can’t help that Firepaw feels like he’s tripping over his own tail around the deputy.
“Besides,” Tigerclaw continues, “you could still use some improvement.”
“Improvement — I took down Dustpaw!”
Tigerclaw purrs. “We’ll talk when you can take down a warrior.” His tail curls up. “Maybe I’ll take you out for practice.”
Firepaw feels the tips of his ears burn. “You would — uh…you’d help me?”
“Of course I would,” Tigerclaw says, his voice smooth and rich. “I have every interest in making sure ThunderClan has the best warriors it can have.”
Right. For ThunderClan.
Tigerclaw stands, brushing up Firepaw’s back. “Besides…I’d like to see you try and take me down.”
Firepaw nods, his whole pelt on fire, and has to fight to keep himself from screaming.
“Alright,” Tigerclaw says. “You know, Firepaw — I didn’t expect you to take me up on my offer.”
Firepaw looks away. “Well, it’s for ThunderClan, right?”
Tigerclaw laughs. “Most apprentices just want to be warriors so they can be one, you know. Nothing wrong with that.” He examines Firepaw. “But anyway, you’re really progressing very fast. There’s only so much to be taught, you know.”
“But—”
“Hold on, hold on. I didn’t say there’s nothing to be taught.” Tigerclaw lifts his head slightly. “If I recall, you managed to successfully leap and pin Dustpaw, yes?”
“You were watching?”
“Of course I was watching. Let’s try that again. I want to see if you’ve figured out how to do it on me.”
Frostfur’s kits are stolen, and Firepaw helps steal them back.
“I took down Clawface.”
“Hm?”
“I took down Clawface.” Firepaw tilts his chin up. “You said take down a warrior, and then we could talk.”
“You don’t mean you picked a fight with ShadowClan just for me,” Tigerclaw teases, before looking Firepaw over. “Little kittypet is growing up,” he purrs, reaching forward to Firepaw’s cheek.
“I took Frostfur’s kits back.”
“So you did.” Tigerclaw’s whiskers twitch. “The decision of who to make a warrior doesn’t rest with me, you know. And if it were up to me, I’d want you to pass an assessment.”
“Luckily, it’s not.” Firepaw hesitates, then brushes his shoulder against Tigerclaw’s. “But you’ll vouch for me, won’t you?”
“You’d have better luck asking Whitestorm — I didn’t actually see you fight.” Tigerclaw blinks. “But you’ve grown a lot, kittypet. You deserve it.”
Firepaw’s nose wrinkles. Tigerclaw is one of the only cats who still brings up his pastm and even if he’s harsh on Firepaw, he still seems unwilling to let it go. “Why do you still call me that?”
Tigerclaw stands, arching his back. “I’ll tell you when you’re a warrior,” he says, something longing in his voice. “But I suspect that won’t be long.” Tigerclaw flicks his eyes to where Bluestar and Whitestorm are talking, both of them occasionally looking towards Firepaw or Greypaw, before trotting away, selecting a piece of freshkill and bringing it to a clump of queens.
Firepaw turns away, grooming himself. It’s true that Whitestorm was at the battle, but Tigerclaw could probably speak better to his overall ability.
“What was that about?” Greypaw asks.
“Hm?”
“You and Tigerclaw.”
“Oh — I was just…” Firepaw hesitates, still flush from his conversation, letting the heady feeling of Tigerclaw’s praise warm him. “I wanted to know if he thought Bluestar would make us warriors because of the battle.”
“Well? What did he say?”
“He kinda said it would.” Firepaw sighs. “He’s very hard to get a straight answer out of.”
But Greypaw is already celebrating. “I can’t wait to see the look on Sandpaw and Dustpaw’s faces!” he cheers. “Warriors already — can you believe it, Firepaw?”
When their vigil is over, Greystripe goes straight to sleep, but Fireheart takes a moment in the rising sun to stretch out.
“Congratulations,” Tigerclaw says, warmth filling his voice.
Fireheart stifles the purr of pride. “Thank you.”
“ThunderClan’s gained a strong warrior,” he continues. “I’m happy you’ll be fighting by my side.”
“That’s a surprise, coming from you.” Tigerclaw might treat Fireheart with friendliness now, but he’s never let a single mistake go uncorrected, and Fireheart hasn’t forgotten how it started.
Silence drags out between them, like water-logged prey.
“You said you’d tell me why you still call me a kittypet,” Fireheart says. “I’m a warrior, so tell me.”
Tigerclaw is silent. The tension is even thicker, but Fireheart just watches, waiting for Tigerclaw’s response.
“My father left the Clans to be a kittypet. He abandoned my mother and I before I was even old enough to remember him.” Tigerclaw takes a breath, “So I’ve always hated kittypets.”
“Gee, thanks. Here I was, making the mistake of thinking you liked me.”
“No, no Fireheart — that’s just it. I never hated you. I just wanted to see you prove yourself.”