** these characters are owned by Erin Hunter, not me. This is an original work of Warriors fanfiction following how ThunderClan apprentice Dewpaw earned his warrior name. Originally posted by me on AO3 **
Dewpaw was really starting to hate that word. Whitewing said he was almost ready for his warrior ceremony, that he had almost passed his assessment, and he had almost caught that crow. How many times did he have to prove himself before she would admit that he was ready? He could barely stand the sight of Amberpaw and Snowpaw, his littermates, drawing a crowd to the fresh-kill pile. He looked down at his dull gray paws, tail lashing, and fumed silently.
Soft paw steps patted the ground and then his kin and mentor, Whitewing, was by his side. She shook out her fluffy white pelt and touched his shoulder with a delicate paw. Dewpaw shifted away without looking up, his fur burning with humiliation. “Why are you doing this to me?” he muttered, his ears sliding back.
“I’m not doing anything to you.” There was a chiding tone to Whitewing’s voice that made his ears flatten. “You can try again tomorrow when the ground is drier.”
That was another thing that the ThunderClan apprentice was sick of, rain. Just as it had ushered in newleaf the rain was now drenching the forest again as greenleaf took hold. It was nothing like the terrible flooding storms of a few moons before, but it was still miserable to hunt in. If the ground hadn’t been so slick Dewpaw knew he would’ve been able to catch that crow before it fluttered up into the treetops with a jeering caw. Whitewing pulled him from his thoughts by brushing her tail across his back. “I’m sure Snowpaw and Amberpaw won’t mind waiting a day and you all can receive your warrior names together.”
Dewpaw ducked away with a growl, at last lifting his head to face her. His amber eyes blazed against his gray pelt and the white splashes of fur on his chest and neck glowed in the dreary dusk. “They shouldn’t have to wait, and neither should I!” he hissed. “How many times do I have to prove to you and the clan that I have what it takes to be a warrior? I was helpful during the flood and ever since then I’ve done everything that has been asked of me.”
“I know,” Whitewing said in a soothing voice, as if trying to shush him.
Dewpaw’s lips drew back in a snarl, and he regarded his mentor coldly, hiding his surprise that he now matched her in height. “I deserve my warrior name! You’ve seen me hunt, you know I can do it!”
Whitewing blinked at him just as coolly, her frosty white tail tip twitching. Her gaze glistened with disappointment that only served to rankle Dewpaw’s pelt. “Patience is a virtue every warrior must have. Maybe there is still something for you to learn after all.” With that she slid further into the clearing, and he heard her warm mew as she congratulated Amberpaw and Snowpaw.
It’s not fair! He clamped his jaws to hold in the kit-like wail in and stomped over to the apprentices’ den. Ignoring his empty stomach, he clambered into his nest and curled into a tight ball fastening his eyes shut tight as if that might hamper his swirling thoughts. Eventually, Amberpaw and Snowpaw trickled into the den and settled. He heard them mewing and felt their stares searing his fur but refused to crack an eyelid. He couldn’t face them, not after he’d failed his assessment that day while they passed with ease and grace. Part of him wanted to apologize for making them wait, if they were even willing to wait for him, and part of him wanted to rage at them for succeeding.
“It was just dumb luck,” Snowpaw offered sleepily.
“Yeah,” Amberpaw agreed and he heard her nest rustle as she shifted. “The part of the forest where we hunted was more sheltered and not as wet.”
If possible Dewpaw squeezed his eyes shut tighter.
Eventually Amberpaw and Snowpaw fell asleep and Dewpaw waited until their snores filled the den to get up. Allowing his loud littermates to cover his exit, he slipped from the den. The camp was quiet and still. In the weak moonlight he could just make out Rosepetal’s back, her ears perked as she kept watch at the entrance to the stone hollow. He crept to the dirtplace, his belly fur brushing the ground. He paused inside and when he heard no sounds of waking cats Dewpaw snuck out the other side and into the shadow shrouded forest.
The chatter of the humid night enveloped him. Crickets and other insects buzzed and chirped. Bats wheeled from tree to tree, swooping, and diving, and clicking. Small crashes echoed from the branches high overhead as something- probably a squirrel- jumped from limb to limb. Dewpaw’s blue eyes flashed in the low light. Heavy gray clouds streaked the sky, blotting the moon and stars. The grass was moist under paw and the breeze smelled like rain. He glared up at the sky for a heartbeat, as if daring the clouds to shed even a drop onto him. When they didn’t, he lifted his paws and tail high and plunged deeper into the undergrowth.
It wasn’t long before the slight, musky scent of mouse blossomed in the air and Dewpaw’s whiskers bristled. This’ll show Whitewing I can hunt just as well as Amberpaw and Snowpaw! Better actually because they’ve never caught anything at night! His paws tingled with giddiness at the thought and his nose twitched. Dropping into a crouch, he stalked under a trailing fern and ducked around a bramble thicket. There was the little brown mouse, huddled between the roots of a tree, nibbling a seed. Its jaw made tiny tik, tik, tiks as it worked at the shell. The breeze stirred and the mouse’s warm scent cloyed around his whiskers. His tail trembled with excitement.
The mouse glanced in his direction, large round ears swiveling. Dewpaw forced his tail to still and held his haunches taut. His mouth filled with saliva, but his gaze never relinquished the prey. One more moment, just hold still one more moment… He took even, calming breathes, mustering every scrap of patience that he possessed.
The mouse turned it’s back to him. Dewpaw pounced, slamming a paw down on his prey. The mouse’s final squeal was cut off and Dewpaw broke its neck with a quick, clean bite. “Thank you, StarClan, for this prey,” he murmured with an appraising look at his catch. Triumph and pride filled his chest with warmth. He couldn’t wait to return to the camp and tell Whitewing! Recalling how he’d had to wait for the mouse to turn, Dewpaw even admitted to himself that maybe Whitewing had a point. He needed to have patience, and by catching this mouse he’d proved that he did.
A growl cut through the night like a claw, ripping a ragged hole in Dewpaw’s excitement. He whirled to see a flash of crimson and a white-streaked chest. Mean, slitted eyes watched him from a long, dog-like face. It was a fox, and it was at least twice his size.
Dewpaw backed away, his pelf fluffing and back arching. His gaze darted from the mouse to the fox. It wants my prey. He hesitated a heartbeat, then grabbed the rodent and flung the still warm body away from him. It flopped at the base of another tree with pale bark. Heart thudding, he retuned his gaze to the fox and waited.
The fox turned towards the mouse. Take it and go. Take it and go. Dewpaw pleaded silently, he knew he had no hope of fighting off this fox by himself. The fox padded to the limp body of the mouse, snuffled at it, then lifted its head. It looked back at Dewpaw, and another growl rumbled in its throat. Dewpaw’s lips peeled back in a snarl and his eyes widened. Why wasn’t it taking the prey? Dewpaw had planned to escape while the fox wasn’t looking.
It’s eyes burning with anger, it took one territorial pace towards him. Dewpaw twisted and ran. He heard the fox break into a gallop and crash through the undergrowth behind him. Hot, rank breath parted the fur of his tail tip. Eyes so wide he was stunned they hadn’t fallen from their sockets, Dewpaw careened on instinct into a patch of wild roses, thick with unkept vines and tussocky grass sharp enough to cut skin. Using his smaller size to maneuver through the vegetation with minimal damage to himself, he ducked and weaved until he popped out on the other side. He heard the fox bark in frustration as it pulled up short of the roses. Good, I have a bit of time. Dewpaw glanced about for an escape and his spirits plummeted. There was no way he'd be able to pace the long-legged fox in this relatively clear section of forest. Then he caught a dark looming shape in the corner of his eye and the sweet fragrance of catmint engulfed him.
It was the abandoned twoleg den, the garden sprouting with the catmint Jayfeather and Leafpool had planted. The decrepit entrance loomed like the giant maw of a great beast, his fur spiked just looking at it. But he didn’t have much of a lead, he could hear the fox huffing as it looked for a better way to get around or through the thorny-stemmed roses. He needed to decide. Now.
Dewpaw sprinted for the abandoned twoleg den, pushing himself until his lungs seared with every influx of breath. His nimble paws were a whisper on the earth, claws out to grip, toes grazing the grass, and stomach brushing the ground. Behind him the roses clattered, in the dull flat way that plants clatter, as the fox forced its way through. A shadow fell over him and worn wood tore into his paw pads, splinters flying from the shearing of his claws into the molder. The temperature dropped and Dewpaw skidded to a halt, panting, and gaping at the ten shades of darkness coiled in the corners and pitched ceiling. Two wooden beams crossed below the roof. He glanced over his shoulder.
Pebbles skittered off the path as the fox barreled after him, snarling. Without thought Dewpaw sprang at the wall. He slid and then his claws caught in the decaying wood. His legs screamed but he hauled himself up until he was crouched on one of the beams. It wobbled under his weight, and he sucked in a tapered breath. Once it settled, he huddled, shaking, his pulse shrilling in his ears. This is what I get, he thought, shutting his eyes. Whitewing was right. If only I’d been more patient…
The fox charged into the den, nostrils flaring for his scent. Dewpaw had never sat so utterly motionless in his life, the atmosphere electric with his fear scent, and fur spiking in great swaths. The smell of the raging fox, molding walls, and fungus coated boards making his head swim. His eyes cracked open. The fox padded warily into the middle of the floor, head swinging as it tried to pinpoint his location. Dewpaw’s tail trembled, sending vibrations through the beam. He saw that halfway down its length was a weathered crack where the wood was splitting from the time and weight of existance. Dewpaw suppressed a whimper, feeling like a kit again and longing for Brightheart or Cloudtail. His parents always knew what to do. I should’ve listened to you, Whitewing!
Grumbling wordless, unintelligible sounds climbed as the fox swished it’s tail and turned to face the entrance. It was leaving! Relief washed Dewpaw’s pelt like a cool breeze. Then a familiar scent drifted to his muzzle on the stagnant air, faint at first, but steadily growing stronger. It was ThunderClan scent mixed with the aroma of crushed herbs and the stale acrid reek of whitecough. Dread built in Dewpaw’s throat like bile. Jayfeather.
The fox had smelled the ThunderClan medicine cat as well and it’s ears pressed back, and gaze blazed with fury. Its mouth practically foamed with hunger. It was protecting this territory as if it were its home and it was willing to kill and maybe eat any cat who challenged it. The blind medicine cat had no chance against the ferocious creature. And now Jayfeather’s paw steps could be heard as a gentle patter. He couldn’t let it hurt Jayfeather, not when this was his mistake.
Dewpaw gathered his haunches and leapt. His paws landed hard on the crease in the beam and there was a shattering crack. Then he was falling and falling. The wind whooshing in his ears and streaming through his whiskers. He twisted with desparate grace, trying to avoid the huge plank of wood as it drooped. It landed with a heavy crunch. Dewpaw landed on his paws with a thud and a jolt so hard that he toppled to the side and rolled. Dust and splinters showered onto his fur, and he coughed, his vision going dark. He thought he heard the pound of paws but was too dizzy to be afraid of the fox. Jayfeather, his mind trailed. If I failed let the fox take me, not Jayfeather…
“Dewpaw!” Suddenly paws were shaking him, and a concerned mew was loud in his ear. “Dewpaw, are you okay?”
Sputtering, Dewpaw pushed himself up. He balked at the sight of Whitewing, white pelt a glossy silver in the moonlight, and whiskers bristling with worry. Ferns and other long-stemmed plants framed her as she leaned over her apprentice, eyes glittering. She let out a sigh as he revived. “Oh, thank StarClan!”
“Let me through!” Jayfeather shouted and shouldered through the stocks, glaring at Whitewing. His mentor regarded him with a blank stare and Jayfeather’s pelt twitched. “Well!” His tone was as grumpy as Dewpaw had ever heard it. “I can’t treat him unless I can touch him!”
“Oh!” Whitewing jumped back, giving her chest fur an embarrassed lick. “Sorry.”
“Dramatic, stupid, warriors,” Jayfeather muttered as he ran his paws over Dewpaw’s spine and legs with gentle ease. “Nothing’s broken. Can you walk?” The sightless gray tabby asked, rheumy blue gaze bright and intense as always. Nodding, Dewpaw rose. He swayed for a moment but then the dizziness faded and besides the slight bruises and scrapes covering him from head to tail, he seemed fine. Jayfeather shook his head, sleek whiskers flicking. “Apprentices are even worse. What were you thinking, going off by yourself like that? You’re lucky I heard your stomping out of camp and woke Whitewing.”
Dewpaw looked to his paws, feeling very much like a chided kit.
“If you would’ve come to the fresh-kill pile with me you would’ve heard Lionblaze reporting fox scent in this area to Bramblestar and Squirrelflight,” Whitewing added.
Shame writhed, hot and flaming, in Dewpaw’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to raise his voice.
“What were you thinking?” Jayfeather asked again, in apparent disbelief of how dumb an apprentice could be.
“I know what you were thinking,” Whitewing answered before he could and Dewpaw looked up at her at the softness in her tone. “You thought it wasn’t fair that the rain spoiled your hunting assessment, and you were right. I know you can hunt but I also know that there’s more to being a warrior than hunting and fighting.”
He was about to lower his gaze again, the shame burning hotter so that his fur scalded with it, when Whitewing surprised him by laying her tail across his shoulders. She met his gaze, muzzle curled with fondness. “You know that too.” Dewpaw’s ears pricked in shock, a little flutter of hope rising in his chest. “You proved that you would defend your clan and clanmates even at the cost of your life tonight.”
Dewpaw’s breath caught as he remembered his frantic dash to safety in the abandoned twoleg den. “The fox-”
“Is dead,” Jayfeather finished. “I arrived in time to hear the crash. The beam landed on the fox and broke its spine. Whitewing dragged you out. You lost consciousness for a moment.”
The wild panic leaked from Dewpaw’s eyes, and he nodded.
“And,” a mischievous glint entered Whitewing’s gaze, “We came across the bedraggled carcass of the mouse you caught. I’m guessing it took some patience to catch it.”
A hearty purr burst from Dewpaw’s throat. “Does that mean…?”
“As long as you never stop learning and keep the spirit of bravery that you showed me tonight,” Whitewing purred back and he felt the vibration through her pelt, “you’ll make a strong and dedicated warrior tomorrow alongside your littermates.”
Dewpaw sprang to his paws and bounded in a circle like a kit, his aches and soreness forgotten, making Whitewing chuckle. Jayfeather griped, but Dewpaw thought he heard a note of affection behind his annoyed tone. “Great StarClan, what has become of us?”
Dewpaw couldn’t help it, he howled with delight and gave the medicine cat a lick on the cheek. Jayfeather swiped the spot and Whitewing dissolved into laughter as well.
The next day ThunderClan welcomed three new warriors, Snowbush, Ambermoon, and Dewnose. From that moment onward, Dewnose promised never to stop learning.
