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Redpaw twitched her ears irritably as the sound of her mentor’s voice echoed around the apprentice’s den. “Redpaw! You’re late!” Sparrowpelt yowled as he poked his head inside the den. “We’re battle training today.”
“I’m coming!” She angrily replied, standing up with a stretch.
Before she could walk out of the den, Sparrowpelt gently stopped her, making sure there were no other apprentices inside he lowered his voice. “Have you told any cat yet?”
Redpaw rolled her eyes. “It was just a dumb thought, I don’t need to tell anyone that.” She tried to leave the den once again but Sparrowpelt kept interrupting her.
“That dumb thought has been bothering you for moons now, hasn’t it?” Sparrowpelt’s voice was firm and gentle. “If that would make you feel better, why hide it like this?”
Redpaw held back a sigh of annoyance at her mentor’s insistence. He wasn’t wrong, obviously, ever since she was a kit she had thought of this, but somehow Sparrowpelt was the only cat who she felt comfortable enough to express that idea. “Every she-cat wishes they were a tom at least once in their life, don’t they? And every tom wishes they were a she-cat.” She didn’t exactly hate being a she-cat, but she had never liked it either and the idea of being referred to and living as a tom had always fascinated her.
“I never wished I was a she-cat.” Her mentor argued back. “And that’s ok. It doesn’t have to be a big deal to let others know how you feel either.”
“But it would be a big deal, every cat would look at me weird, like I’m… Broken, or something.” Her voice wavered in fear of how her clan would react to a request like that.
Sparrowpelt shook his head in annoyance. “You don't have to tell every cat. You think you'll just ask Sunstar to call for a clan meeting to tell the entire clan at once?” His voice shifted to a more understanding tone. “Just tell your kin, or the friends you trust the most that you'd like to be referred to as a tom.”
“But it'd be complicated! They'd have to get used to calling me their son or brother–”
“And how does being called those things make you feel?” Sparrowpelt interrupted.
Redpaw wanted to object, but even she knew the undeniable truth. “... It honestly makes me feel really good…”
“See? You deserve to feel happy for who you are, kit. And if they're not willing to put in the very little effort to change how they call you, maybe they don't deserve you at all.”
The apprentice looked down hesitantly, not knowing how to answer that. “Let's go training alright?” Sparrowpelt meowed soothingly, laying his tail across Redpaw’s back. “We can discuss more of this later.”
Redpaw sighed and followed her mentor out of the apprentice's den, the smell of wet earth flooded her nose as she avoided stepping on the tiny puddles around the camp. It was as clear as day that last night's storm had been long and some clouds still covered the morning sky above them. At the entrance of the camp stood Patchpelt and Whitepaw who greeted them with polite nods.
“Took you long enough.” Muttered Patchpelt. “Let's go now before it starts raining again.”
Suddenly Redpaw started to feel intimidated by the fact she'd have to train with a more experienced apprentice like Whitepaw, but the gentle look he gave her as they walked side by side easily comforted her.
“So how's her training going along?” Patchpelt asked, breaking the silence around them.
Sparrowpelt’s ear twitched before he looked back at both apprentices, after thinking for a few heartbeats he replied. “Redpaw is growing into a fine hunter, but is still a bit stubborn at times.”
Did he…? Redpaw held a purr as she realized what Sparrowpelt had subtly done. He didn’t even say the word she.
As soon as the four cats approached the sandy hollow where the apprentices used to train their fighting skills, Redpaw quickly realized how poor of an idea it was to choose battle training specifically that day. The sand was still very wet thanks to the harsh rain from the night before, and it made Redpaw hesitate to step on it.
“Well, it seems that I was wrong to think the sand would have already dried up by now.” Patchpelt murmured half to himself.
“Does that mean we get to go hunting instead?” Redpaw asked with a flick of her ears.
“Absolutely not.” Answered Sparrowpelt with a firm tone. “You need to improve your battle skills, and it won’t be some wet sand that’ll stop you.”
With a sigh, Redpaw took a few pawsteps forward and jumped deeper into the hollow only to be immediately greeted by the uncomfortable feeling of the tiny grains of sand in between her pawpads. The ground beneath her paws felt like it would give away at any point, she was constantly sinking and wondered how any cat could fight in a situation like this.
Whitepaw was already positioned in front of her and both their mentors were overlooking them on the jutting slab of rocks around it. “Let’s start with some defensive moves.” Sparrowpelt called out. “Redpaw, Whitepaw will attack you and I want to see how you defend yourself against it.”
Redpaw nodded and braced herself for her denmate’s attack. Whitepaw leaped forward, landing squarely against her shoulders. She fell backwards against the wet sand with a thud. This isn’t fair! She realized. Whitepaw had way more experience than her. I barely had any fighting training! Desperately, Redpaw focused her strength on kicking Whitepaw out of her but it was no use, he was simply too large for her.
Looking past him, Redpaw noticed Sparrowpelt watching them with interest, it was clear he wouldn’t intervene or give any advice, this was for her to figure out. Suddenly she had an idea. With a quick movement she unsheathed her claws and grabbed a pawful of Whitepaw’s chest fur, careful enough not to tear into his skin. But the sudden movement was enough to make the white tom flinch, one of his hind legs tensed because of it, giving Redpaw the perfect opportunity to kick it.
Whitepaw hissed in pain before losing his balance, allowing Redpaw to wriggle from underneath him. I did it!
“Impressive!” Sparrowpelt called out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any cat doing something like that.”
“She did unsheathe her claws, though.” Patchpelt argued.
With an eye roll, the dark brown tabby turned to Whitepaw. “Are you hurt, Whitepaw?”
Redpaw turned to her denmate to find him panting, he looked terrified for a few heartbeats, but then quickly shook it off. “Only because of the kick.” He simply replied.
“See?” Sparrowpelt said with a purr. “Plus, it’s not like claws will be sheathed during a real battle, is it?”
Patchpelt only grumbled something before nodding. “I suppose.” He turned to the two apprentices with a smile. “And it was a very impressive move, Redpaw.”
Redpaw couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride at the older warrior’s praises. Even though what I did may have felt like a low blow. She thought to herself. Their training continued as usual, with Redpaw struggling for a bit, but Whitepaw was now subtly giving her a few hints as they fought.
By the time they were done, Redpaw was exhausted and all she wanted was to go back to camp, find herself a plump piece of prey and rest before she was sent on any patrol, but there was one more thing that needed to be done. Her pelt was covered in tiny grains of wet sand which she hoped scratching would fix, only to be proven otherwise.
“You better clean up before you go back to camp!” Sparrowpelt mockingly called out as he turned back to leave. “Wouldn’t want your denmates to have sand in their nests, would you?”
Redpaw felt a growl rumbling in her throat and before she could hold herself, she yelled back. “Whatever, you gray-pelt!”
The two warriors froze in the spot and she could hear Whitepaw gasping behind her. Immediately regretting her words, Redpaw tensed as Patchpelt narrowed his eyes. “Watch your tongue, Redpaw–”
But before he could continue, all the cats were surprised by Sparrowpelt letting out a mrrow of amusement. “Great Starclan! The little one is braver than I thought!”
Patchpelt tilted his head in confusion as he stared at his friend. “What do you mean brave? Did you hear what she called you?”
“Loud and clear, Patchpelt.” Sparrowpelt meowed. “But to me it sounds like Redpaw here can take a blow and return it just as strongly!”
Redpaw’s heartbeat eased as her mentor took a step closer. “That’s what I like to hear, young one. Always bite back.”
She nodded with pride before Patchpelt and Sparrowpelt began returning to camp.
“I think you should be more strict on her.” Patchpelt’s voice was slowly fading away. “What she said was very disrespectful.”
“Oh, leave it! I didn’t feel disrespected.”
Redpaw sighed before looking down at her messy pelt again. I better get started. She gave her chest a single lick before pulling back in disgust as she tasted the sand on her tongue. Yuck!
“Want me to help you with that?” Whitepaw murmured.
Looking back at him Redpaw noticed her denmate’s pelt was just as, if not more covered in sand than hers. “You should be more concerned with your pelt, don’t you think?”
“Do you want to wash yourself like this?”
“I don’t mind.”
“You very clearly do.” Whitepaw replied softly. “Please, it’ll be my pleasure to help.“
And hedgehogs might fly. She thought to herself, but eventually allowed him. He only gave her a single lick to the side of her neck before pulling back and spitting as well. “Okay, this is horrible.”
“Told you.”
The two cats stood in silence for a moment before Whitepaw’s ears perked up. “I have an idea!” He exclaimed before pulling away from her. “Follow me!”
Both confused and curious, Redpaw quickened her pace to follow the white cat and before she noticed they were at the edge of the river that divided their territory with RiverClan’s. “We can wash ourselves on the stream!”
“I’m not a RiverClan cat!” Redpaw meowed in protest. “I can’t swim in that!”
“Don’t worry, this part of the river is more shallow than Sunningrocks.” Whitepaw proved his point by jumping in the water, which only reached a little higher than his paws. “Come on! Unless you want to lick your entire fur clean.”
Redpaw hesitated, she hated getting her paws wet, but everything would be better than tasting sand over and over again. She took a deep breath and slowly followed Whitepaw on the river. She was obviously smaller than Whitepaw, but the water wasn’t anywhere higher than her paws as well, and the river flowed slowly around her pawpads to the point where she barely noticed it.
“Okay, what now?” Redpaw asked.
“Now we do this!” With a playful purr, Whitepaw flicked one of his front paws upwards, throwing water on Redpaw. “That’s what you get for kicking me like that!”
Redpaw shivered in shock as the water made contact with her body. Luckily the water was relatively warm, and she quickly returned the blow, if you could even call it that, with a purr. “You piece of mousedung!”
And before she noticed, the two of them were purring and wrestling like kits who had just left the nursery. At one point, Whitepaw fully submerged himself in the water and knocked Redpaw out of her paws, making them both fall underwater and leaving the tortoiseshell coughing for a few heartbeats.
As soon as they left the water, Redpaw was greeted by the wind striking her pelt. She briefly thanked StarClan that it was still Greenleaf, otherwise she didn’t know how she’d handle Leaffall winds like this. Whitepaw wrapped himself around her. “Want me to help you dry up?”
Redpaw nodded. “Only if I help you as well.”
The two of them sat by the edge of the river, grooming each other’s fur slowly. Neither of them spoke for a while until Whitepaw gave out a quiet purr. “Now you’re looking better.” He gave the back of her neck a long lick before slightly pressing his nose to it. “It’s a shame such a pretty pelt like yours had to get so dirty.”
His voice was so soft and his words meant so well, yet Redpaw didn’t feel good hearing them. Pretty. That was the problem with Whitepaw’s words. You wouldn’t call a tom pretty, would you? And even if they did, Redpaw didn’t want to be called it either.
“I don’t want to be pretty…” She murmured, hoping that somehow Whitepaw didn’t notice.
“Why not?” Whitepaw sounded puzzled. “What do you want to be?”
A tom. The answer came to Redpaw immediately, making the apprentice’s heart flutter with excitement at the thought. “Handsome?”
“... But toms are handsome…”
“Why can’t I be called the same things as a tom?”
Whitepaw tilted his head in confusion. “So… You want to be referred to as a tom?”
Just tell your kin, or friends you trust the most. Sparrowpelt’s voice echoed on Redpaw’s head. “If you don’t mind.”
Slowly nodding, Whitepaw smiled. “So if Tigerpaw asks how was training today, I should say: It was great! Me and Redpaw had some battle training and he was great at it!”
Redpaw purred at hearing Whitepaw’s words. “That would sound good.”
“Or maybe I could say, him and I got our pelts all covered in sand but then we washed ourselves in the river. He looks very funny when he is wet.”
“Great! You get the point.” Redpaw kept purring. “Also, shut up! I don’t look funny!”
“I mean well! I promise.”
Redpaw stared at Whitepaw for a few heartbeats before going back to lick his pelt. And for once… He felt proud.