Sundown

Chapter Seven(year one, moon three)

Coyotepaw's heart raced with fear, blood spattering his thick fur as claws slashed his ear.

"Fight back!" his opponent hissed, darting around him.

Coyotepaw stood on shaky legs, tackling the older cat with all his might.

"Get off," she snapped, worming out from under him.

"Do you have to actually attack me?" he asked in a small voice, his tail curled around his back leg.

"How else do you expect to learn?"

"By you showing me the moves and letting me practice?"

"In SunClan, we apply those lessons to real situations. Life threatening ones." She flexed her claws. "Besides, it's fun."

"How's training going?"

"Sandystar, what a wonderful surprise." Fawncreek dipped her head at the ginger leader, glaring at Coyotepaw until he did the same.

"I decided to take a walk. Like I asked, how is training going?"

"Coyotepaw doesn't appreciate the paws-on experience, but he has potential."

Sandystar turned his cold gaze to the large tabby. "Is that so? Does he require extra punishment?" he asked, baring his teeth.

"No, I can handle him for now. Enjoy your walk, Sandystar."

The tall tabby gave Coyotepaw one last look before vanishing behind some bushes.

"Thank you," Coyotepaw muttered, unsure if she had really saved him.

"You'll learn eventually. Back to training."

He nodded, getting into the proper stance, preparing to tackle her.

She darted around him, nipping at his tail, slashing at his legs, and ramming his side, attempting to topple him.

His sturdy footing kept him up, but only barely. He shoved back, pinning her to the soft dirt.

"Good. You're getting it."

Unusually cold wind gusted past them, breaking the warmth of the winter sun.

"Smells like a storm is coming," Fawncreek remarked. "We should get back to camp before we're stuck down here."

As they walked back to camp, Coyotepaw allowed his focus to drift slightly, his small amount of trust for his mentor giving him at least some sense of safety.

A faint howl reached his ears. Perhaps the wolves sensed the incoming snow as well.

"Coyotepaw, back so soon?" Shellpaw greeted him as the two cats entered camp.

"Fawncreek says there's a snowstorm on the way. When should we do our daily medicine den cleaning?"

"No better time than the present," she chirped, leading him into the cracked stone wall.

"Good afternoon, Shellpaw, Coyotepaw," Grasswillow mewed as they entered, using a stick to gather cobwebs from a corner of the den. "You should go see if Mousewhisper and Cardinalpaw need help."

The two gray tabbies entered the herb storage.

"What's this plant?" Mousewhisper was quizzing a small, ginger tabby tom with sharp blue eyes. She pointed to a rather large leaf that Coyotepaw couldn't make out the shape of.

"A beech leaf," the tom responded, his deft paws sweeping it into a pile of like leaves

"Good."

"Is there anything you need us to do?" Shellpaw asked, stepping in front of Coyotepaw.

"Oh! Good to see you 'paws. Not that I can think of, no."

"Grasscatcher probably need some poppy seeds for his aching hind leg," the blue-eyed tom piped up, pulling a leaf bundle off a nearby stone shelf. "This is a bundle of two. You can take this to him."

"Shellpaw, you do that. Coyotepaw, could you check on how Hazelstalker is doing? I'm worried Sandystar may have threatened her."

The two cats left towards their respective tasks.

Coyotepaw ducked into the half stone, half bramble den.

A rather chubby dilute tortoiseshell sat in the corner, her blue eyes dull.

"Hazelstalker?" He approached her cautiously. "How are you doing?"

"About as good as I can while carrying Sandystar's kits," she responded with a dry laugh. "What about you? How are you doing, Coyotepaw?"

"I'm doing fine."

"Is Fawncreek treating you good?"

"She's treating me okay."

"I can see that cut on your cheek. Your ear is nicked, too."

"I'll have Grasswillow look at it. Are you positive you'll be okay?"

"For now, anyway. Could you do me a favor and bring me a vole? I've wanted one for a while, but I haven't seen one in the freshkill pile for ages."

"I'll try to. See you later, Hazelstalker."

"Goodbye, Coyotepaw."

A faint dusting of snow started to cover the camp as Coyotepaw trotted back to the medicine den, the cold stinging his injuries

"How's Hazelstalker doing?" Mousewhisper asked, pausing from where she was drinking at the pool of water.

"She said she's doing fine. I also wanted you to take a look at my ear and cheek. Fawncreek cut them during training."

Mousewhisper examined his ear silently before sniffing his cheek.

"Do mentors usually injure their apprentices?"

"How do you think Shellpaw got so scarred? I hate to say anything good about this type of training, but it does work pretty well. I would prefer if mentors didn't mutilate their apprentices, though."

Coyotepaw didn't answer. How could they other clans just sit by while SunClan did things like this? Wasn't it their duty to help?

"I know what you're thinking, Coyotepaw." Mousewhisper lifted his chin with her tail. "The other clans don't know. Sandystar and his cliqué hide it too well. I bet if they did know, they'd jump at a chance to help."

"What would happen if someone told the other clans?"

"That someone would be killed. I suppose if they were to tell them secretly, they could probably stage a coup right under Sandystar's nose."

"It's a horrible idea, isn't it?" Coyotepaw asked, his tail curling around his hind leg.

"Only if you get caught."