Warriors: Silverjaw's Sorrow

Chapter Eleven

Silverpaw dug her paws deep into Lichenpaw's side, though her claws remained sheathed and harmless. She twisted her arms and threw the opposing apprentice to the ground, planting her paws firmly against the black and white she-cat's chest.

Lichenpaw hissed, kicking viciously at Silverpaw's belly, but to no avail. She was pinned.

"That's enough!" Nightpatch shouted, padding forward to separate the two apprentices. He blinked his green eyes approvingly at Silverpaw. "Well done, that was an excellent pin."

Silverpaw nearly warmed to the praise, but her victory was overshadowed by the absence of Sorrelmouse. It had only been a few sunrises since her death, and the pain of it was as fresh as ever. The amount of time it took her Clan to adapt to death was lost upon her. Was it really something so easily dismissed? To lose your loved ones, your friends? She recognized that their grief was still present, but it was pushed down and ignored, placed on the backburner of life as things moved forward; a behavior she couldn't understand.

She relinquished her hold on her opponent, flanks heaving and breathless. She watched as Lichenpaw dragged herself to her paws, her blue eyes flickering hopelessly.

"I never win," she muttered, hunching her shoulders.

Nightpatch flicked his tail along her side. "You don't need to win all the time to be a good warrior. You just need to fine tune your skills a bit more, and you'll be perfect."

"You've said that since day one!"

"I have not! On day one, your skills far outmatched your denmates."

Lichenpaw scoffed. "I wish it were still that way."

Honeywhisker strolled over, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. "She was just as bad then as she is now," he hissed scaldingly. "I beat her in every training session."

"That's because you were nearly a warrior already," Silverpaw snapped, turning to glare at the cat who should've never replaced her mentor. "You haven't improved even a whisker since you became a warrior. It's a miracle you passed your assessment in the first place!"

"You're no better either," Honeywhisker scoffed. "Let's go. We need to work on your rear claw-swipe." Without another word, the golden tom whisked around and stormed away.

Silverpaw lashed her tail, resentment bubbling inside of her. "Fox-heart," she muttered under her breath.

Nightpatch shook his head absently. "I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I still can't see why Pinestar made a warrior as young as him a mentor. He lacks the maturity to train you properly. No matter," he continued briskly, "you'd best run along now before you get in trouble. Lichenpaw, we'll practice one-on-one to try to find what precisely you're struggling with. Sound good?"

The dark she-cat silently nodded, her eyes low.

Silverpaw turned away from the two and chased after Honeywhisker, who had pushed through some shrubbery and emerged into a smaller clearing. Just through the trees beyond, she could see Mistpaw and Toadpaw training together, rolling around in thinly layered grass while their mentors spectated.

"Rear claw-swipe. Demonstrate, now," Honeywhisker snapped, his tail flicking irritably behind him.

Gritting her teeth, Silverpaw stubbornly waited for a few moments, her chin tilted high to glare at the tom. Once she noticed the twitch in his cheek, a habit betraying his rising temper, she finally did as instructed. She reared to her hindquarters and struck the air with both claws, her spine swaying as she maintained her balance. She imagined a mixture of faces on the receiving end. Honeywhisker, then Evefrost, and then... the rogue tom. She shuddered as she dropped to the ground, staring at her claws as they flexed against the earth.