LousterDaRooster

He looked up at the night sky and sighed. There was so much more for him to learn. Sure, Littlefeather had been a great mentor, but in only six moons, he felt like he knew nothing. Stonepa- No, it was Stonestream now, brought his muzzle down, trying to relive the excitement from a few hours ago. They had all manged to do well enough to pass their assessments, and were given their full warrior names. Stonestream felt his name fit him, as it cemented his place in the clan. He was not Riverclan blood, but raised enough for the water to be part of his identity. He could swim, hunt, and fight like the rest of the clan, but still he felt out of pla

Stonepaw looked on as Littlefeather and the other mentors slipped into the reeds, having explained to them about the rules of their warrior's assessment. Stonepaw knew they had to cross the river, place a paw on the opposite bank, and cross again. That was just to get their muscles warmed up, since they would be hunting underwater before their eventual battle assessment. Though they were told somebody would always be watching, not having them around felt so strange. He had always had some warrior with him. Being alone meant he was responsible for his own safety, and more than that the safety of his sisters. Staying to the back of their trio,

"You have to make sure you keep paddling!" Stonepaw could heard one of his sibling's mentors trying to direct the apprentice on how to swim. The gray tom couldn't help but chuckle a little to himself, paddling idly as his sisters splashed around in the shallows of the river. Though he had no Riverclan blood in his veins, he had found something calming about the water. It did not care who stepped into its depths, nor did it yield to the weak. He imagined it a bit like having a conversation: He would take a few steps to see how it was feeling, and whether it was calm or fierce determined how deeper he would venture. "Good job, Stonepaw!" He he

Stonepaw could barely contain his breakfast when Canaryshine had pushed the moistened wad of moss his way. Cleaning ticks, really? The gray and white tom had, at first, tried to protest, but met with the medicine cat's ire, he sulkily picked up the pile laid before him and skulked to the elder's den. Peeking his head in, he looked around and hoped they had decided to take a stroll to bask in the morning sun, but to his dismay, there lay Duskheart: A tom known for his cruel, razor-sharp tongue, especially when it came to bloodlines. Stonepaw was hoping Ivyfur would be around- she was at least the kinder of the pair. Duskheart looked upon the

Littlefeather hadn't wasted much time in getting Stonepaw out of camp. There was much to see, and more to learn. As they passed through the reeds that served as the boundaries of camp, the apprentice felt all of the nerves and butterflies that came with an apprentice's first real look at the outside world. "It's so big!" He couldn't help but squeal, bounding out a few paces ahead as the restrictive walls of camp vanished the moment tey met open space. He slowed, sidling up to a bush to sniff it, smelling things he was familiar with: cats, the banks, the clean, crisp air. Other scents reached out to him, but it was nothing he knew well. He lo