FIDGETPAW! FIDGETPAW!
SkyClan
Like many newcomers, Fidgetpaw had arrived at SkyClan's border full of hope and dreams. Whispers of the Clans had drifted through the Twolegplace, carried on the wind as something too sweet to ignore. His imagination, coupled with a growing dissatisfaction with kittypet life, had largely drawn him to the border, where he had stood anxious, but eager, breathless, but bright-eyed, ready to start anew. However, these dreams had dulled and dimmed, especially now, as Fidgetpaw scrambled after his mentor, a dark ginger tom with piercing yellow eyes, who moved through the pines several fox-lengths ahead of him, towards camp, with little intention of slowing down.
"C'mon! Hurry up!"
Fidgetpaw, in an attempt to pick up the pace, nearly stumbled over his own aching paws. He would've moved quicker, were it not for the almost-unbearable burning in his legs and lungs. It seemed as though Redthistle intended to work the poor boy to the bone, as was the case today, and every day. From the first day of training, his mentor had ruled with an iron fist, constantly pushing Fidgetpaw's limits and barking orders left and right. Fidgetpaw wanted to believe in Hawkstar's decision—that there was some greater purpose to being assigned such a demanding warrior, to trust that he would be stronger and smarter and better because of it. And yet, the apprentice, already sore in body, had become sore in spirit.
With a pounding heart, Fidgetpaw stood helplessly before Redthistle, who stopped in his tracks and whipped around with teeth bared, his patience worn thin.
"C'mon!" The tom spat, "What did I say? You keep up, or you'll be crow food the moment a fox lays eyes on you."
"I-I'm trying," Fidgetpaw flinched, ears flattening as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Trying? I would be able to tell if you were trying, so try harder," Redthistle scoffed. "Tell me, do you think the other Clans will go easy on you because you're tired? You think they'll give you a break because your paws hurt? That your opponent will suddenly stop mid-battle to let you think over, catch your breath?"
"N-no, Redthistle," the apprentice sniffled, his voice barely above a whisper.
// @flowercloud