Warriors Super Edition: Starlingcloud's Prophecy

Chapter 3

"There. You should be fine now, Mossfur," Starlingpaw meowed as she set down the mouse bile she had been using to free the elder tomcat's fur of ticks.

"Thank you, Starlingpaw," Mossfur replied weakly, his voice thick with the exhaustion of old age. "You're a fine apprentice, and soon you will make a wonderful warrior."

Starlingpaw's ears twitched angrily, upset at how many times older cats had patronized her unintentionally. There was no way that they could have known about her training troubles, but their comments felt like sharp claws tearing at her pelt, reminding her of her failure.

She turned to gather the soiled moss the elders had been laying on and pawed it together into a large ball, all the while listening to old Vinetail prattle on about her apprentice days.

"Back when Rainstar was the leader and Blizzardstar was only Blizzardfur, DuskClan never dared to trespass on our territory or start any disputes. Rainstar was so loyal and strong that she scared off any single cat that wasn't in her clan! You should have seen those gatherings- Featherstar was a tiny thing, and he'd barely been deputy for a moon before Blackstar died and he had to take control!"

"Oh, Blackstar, what a shame. He was a kind cat, too, and then that vicious little thing rose to power and started causing problems!" Mossfur cut in, pausing in between licks of his dark tabby-patterned fur.

"Mossfur, don't blame Featherstar for what happened! You know the loss of that battle was mostly Blizzardstar's fault." Vinetail spat back.

"Yes, but there would have been no battle without Featherstar!" Mossfur growled.

Vinetail shook her head. "Of course, mouse-brain. It's inevitable that we two Clans fight!"

Starlingpaw didn't hear the rest of the conversation, as she was busy carrying the hulking ball of moss out of the elder's den to the Dirtplace to dispose of it. She felt happy and carefree that she was exempt from training that day due to her injury, and caring for the elders meant hearing exciting stories about the past cats of DawnClan. Not to mention that she felt useful for once; changing bedding and dealing with ticks was simple enough that even she could do it. Her heart and mind ached at the thought of returning to hunting and battle training the next day.

On her way back to camp after retrieving a new chunk of moss from the woods around camp, Darkfeather crossed paths with her.

"Starlingpaw! You seem to be doing well. I'm glad that your leg is better, as your limp is gone. So do you think we could return to training after, say, sunhigh today?" her mentor meowed cheerfully.

The sable apprentice cursed herself for walking normally. If she had pretended to be injured more, she wouldn't have had to train. Placing the moss ball on the ground, she formulated a lie in an instant. "Well, it looks better, sure, but the injury is definitely still there. Honeypool said not to train at all today."

Darkfeather looked puzzled. "But... does it hurt?"

"Well, no," Starlingpaw admitted, then decided to go all in. "Look, Darkfeather, I don't think I should train. It's useless. I'm useless. No matter how much practice you throw at me, I'll never be able to catch prey or do battle."

"Not with that attitude you're not!" the older she-cat meowed stubbornly, straightening herself and pushing out her chest. "After you take that bedding to the elders, you and I are going to fix the problems you're having! I'm sure it's nothing that can't be solved with training."

"B-but..." Starlingpaw stuttered, at a loss for words. "Darkfeather, I'm over four moons into training, and I can't even pounce correctly! It's not that I don't try, I just-"