"Nightpaw, keep your body lower to the ground!"

    Rowanstorm's sharp command made the black apprentice huff in frustration, breath rising up in a cloud in the cool morning air. He focused once more on the red leaf on the ground before him, dropping into a crouch just as the warrior had shown him. With his legs staggered, belly fur practically touching the ground, and muscles tensed, Nightpaw felt ready to pounce.

    Instead, he received a heavy swat over the ear. He jumped back in surprise to see a very irritated Rowanstorm standing before him.

    "Are you not paying attention?" the brown tabby asked. "If your tail's waving like that, your prey and every other possible piece of freshkill in the area will see you."

    "Not to mention your enemy," Marshclaw added from her position a few foxlengths away. "Flamepaw and Cinderpaw, why don't you show Nightpaw how it's done?"

    Nightpaw narrowed his eyes at the tortoiseshell but kept his mouth shut. He watched his littermates drop into their hunting crouches instead, Cinderpaw giving him an almost apologetic look while Flamepaw's jaws stretched into a smug grin. To Nightpaw's annoyance, their hunting crouches were identical.

    "Try mirroring them," Rowanstorm said, flicking his tail idly. Nightpaw nodded, clenching his teeth determinedly. Focussing on Flamepaw's ginger form, the black tom lowered himself, shifting his back legs apart and staggering his front paws below his chest. This time, he made sure his tail remained still.

    A second of silence, then two, then three. Nightpaw tensed every muscle, waiting.

    "Pounce."

    He shot forward, leaping and landing squarely on the red leaf - only the leaf was no longer there. Confused, Nightpaw glanced around, finally finding the item clamped in Flamepaw's jaws.

    "Too slow," the ginger tom said playfully, spitting the leaf out. Nightpaw twitched his whiskers in disappointment but accepted his defeat all the same. This was his first lesson with the warriors, while Flamepaw and Cinderpaw had been training for almost a moon now.

    "Again," Nightpaw decided, knowing he would not get better without practice. Rowanstorm and Marshclaw exchanged glances, taken aback by Nightpaw's authoritative tone.

    "Do as he says." The voice came from a black tom sitting at the base of an aspen nearby. When no one moved to obey, the otherwise silent guardian gestured with his tail for the training session to continue.

    "Last time," Rowanstorm said.

    Nightpaw nodded, knowing this was his last shot. The red leaf lay before him, rustling in the slight breeze that blew through the forest, and the tom stared at it until it was the only thing he could see.

    Dropping into his crouch, he felt the tension return to his muscles, first in his front legs, then inching up his spine until it reached the back of his body. His claws slid out of their sheathes, energy flowing through every bit of him, and then -

    The wind picked up, taking the leaf with it. Nightpaw leaped in a desperate attempt to reach it, but it flew out of his grasp and floated up to meet its siblings in the trees. The apprentice hissed in annoyance, dropping back to the ground.

    "That's enough for one day," Rowanstorm decided, eyeing Nightpaw disdainfully. "Flamepaw, Cinderpaw, I want you to split up and hunt until sunhigh. Don't leave the forest."

    Flamepaw nodded, immediately moving off into the forest, while Cinderpaw lingered to give Nightpaw a meaningful look before turning to do the same. Their mentors followed, loping off at a steady pace. Nightpaw watched them go, suddenly feeling heavy and useless.

    A tail flicking over his back startled him and the tom looked up to see his guardian gazing at him with understanding amber eyes. Getting a good look at the tom - Spiderthorn - for the first time, Nightpaw realized they had the same unruly black fur and thin bodies, though the guardian stood taller and was more muscled than the young apprentice. Nightpaw looked down at his awkward, lanky frame, wishing he looked more like Spiderthorn. Perhaps that would make all the difference when it came to training.

    "Next time," Spiderthorn said, looking up at the leaves above, and Nightpaw followed his gaze with his own, the mottled colours of early leaffall soothing his disappointment.

//

    "Tell us a story, Hailwatcher!"

    The cry of the kits as Nightpaw followed his mentor into the nursery made him recoil, its shrillness hurting his ears. The four kits - Bramblekit, Mothkit, Shadekit and Wrenkit - pushed and shoved, scrambling over each other in their hurry to reach the truth-teller first.

    "A story you will hear," Hailwatcher assured them, flicking his spotted tail. The kits immediately settled down, moving to sit in an orderly line. Their eyes settled on the truth-teller, three sets of green and one set of shining copper orbs.

    "But that story will not come from me," the truth-teller continued. His blue eyes swept over the waiting kits, looking for a sign of protest. They remained silent, their innocent eyes wide. Twitching his whiskers in satisfaction, the tom moved to the nearest corner of the nursery, making himself comfortable before turning to Nightpaw expectantly.

    Nightpaw suddenly found himself the centre of attention. Those wide, unblinking kit eyes shifted to him in an instant, staring at him in utter admiration. He swallowed, wondering how these kits, only two moons younger than him, could now see him as a completely different cat.

    The black apprentice looked to his mentor for guidance and Hailwatcher gestured with a paw to indicate Nightpaw should stand before his audience. Forcing his fur to lie flat, Nightpaw did as told, shifting into an awkward sitting position.

    "I..." His voice seemed to fail him for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "I don't know where to begin."

    To his surprise, the kits immediately sprang to his help.

    "Tell us about Robinfang again!" said Bramblekit, whiskers twitching with excitement.

    "No, tell us about the Masked Uprising and fall of StarClan!" piped up Mothkit.

    "I wouldn't mind hearing about Heatherfur and Sootstar again," Shadekit admitted.

    Nightpaw nodded his head at all of the suggestions before turning to the last kit, who had not said anything at all. Wrenkit blinked her big copper eyes at him, still deep in thought.

    "How about the story of Acornstar?" she asked quietly. Nightpaw considered her suggestion, white-rimmed eyes lighting up as he made his decision.

    "Alright," he said. "I will tell you about Acornstar." Behind him, Hailwatcher shifted, settling down to listen to Nightpaw's first telling.

    "Acornkit was born to a pair of guardians many seasons ago," Nightpaw began. "He was an only kit and, to the Clan's surprise, resembled neither of his parents. A light brown cream in colour and the size of an acorn," - the kits giggled - "Silverstar believed the tom would not make it through the first two moons of his life.

    "But the little tom lived, becoming an apprentice at six moons like all others kits, even though he was about half their size. He was apprenticed to Martenclaw, who forced him to train day in and day out in the hope he would make a great warrior out of Acornpaw. But the apprentice was not able to handle the harsh days of training and soon collapsed. Martenclaw gave up on him, leaving the tom to fend for himself.

    "Now, Acornpaw could have given up. He could have wished for someone's sympathy, begged for their help or protection. But Acornpaw did exactly the opposite. He trained with the other apprentices during the day as usual, but during the night he would sneak out of camp and practice some more. His fighting improved slowly, while his hunting... Well, his hunting..."

    Nightpaw found he didn't remember the story. Embarrassed, he turned to Hailwatcher for help, but a shaking voice rose into the air instead.

    "His hunting improved too," Wrenkit offered. "Acornpaw was cunning enough to get the prey to come to him. He'd leave berries for them and then all he had to do was leap." The brown she-cat demonstrated Acornpaw's technique as she spoke, bouncing forward and landing on Mothkit's twitching tail. Nightpaw twitched his whiskers in amusement as the two she-cats tousled on the ground.

    "Yes, yes, you're right," he said in an effort to regain their attention. "Acornpaw became both a great hunter and fighter through sheer power of will and lots of hard work. Yet, when it came time for his warrior assessment, many still believed he would fail.

    "Acornpaw, of course, came out on top, beating out all the other apprentices by bringing back the most freshkill and a prisoner for the Clan. He was named Acornfire for his spirit and unsuppressed ambition and DarkClan welcomed him to their ranks.

    "Yet, when the deputy was killed by a fox and Acornfire decided to take part in the deputy race, many still doubted his ability. The warrior was not even three season cycles old, while his competition consisted of very experienced and mature warriors. One of the other competitors was none other than his old mentor, Martenclaw.

    "The deputy race ran as usual. All four candidates - Acornfire, Martenclaw, Mossfang and..."

    "Pinefrost," Wrenkit finished for him when Nightpaw hesitated for too long. He gave her an appreciative nod.

    "All four passed the hunting and fighting assessments with little to no injury. Each and every one impressed the leader and truth-teller during their interviews and all kept their emotions well masked. That left all four to kill a prisoner."

    "But Martenclaw was jealous of Acornfire and his success so he tried to kill him during the night instead," Bramblekit cut in, speaking so fast he had to catch his breath.

    "You're ruining the story!" Wrenkit complained, rolling her eyes.

    "It's not like we haven't heard it already," Mothkit pointed out.

    "I can stop now, if you'd like?" Nightpaw said.

    "No!" the kits chorused, settling down to listen immediately.

    Purring, Nightpaw continued. "Acornfire fell asleep the night before the final test feeling ready to take on the world. When he woke, he expected it to be morning but found instead that it was the middle of the night. A dark figure stood over him, claws unsheathed and pressed into his throat. He knew the claws would plunge into him if he made so much as a sound.

    "So he remained still, only flicking his tail once. Martenclaw took no notice of the movement, too intent on killing the young warrior, but Acornfire moved it with enough force to wake the sleeping Pinefrost. Then, he rolled out from underneath Martenclaw, pushing the tom into the wall of the den.

    "It collapsed and the entire Clan woke to the startled yowls of the warriors. An angry Martenclaw leaped onto Acornfire as the young tom moved from the wreckage, pushing him to the ground once more, claws a whisker-length from the warrior's chest. But Pinefrost, having seen Martenclaw standing over Acornfire in the den, threw herself at the older warrior.

    "Silverstar put an end to their tousle, demanding to hear both sides of the story. Having heard Martenclaw's hatred-tinged words and Acornfire and Pinefrost's honest rendition, Silverstar gave the Clan a choice: have the jealous Martenclaw as a deputy, or the ambitious Acornfire.

    "The choice, of course, was obvious. Ever since Martenclaw pushed Acornpaw aside he'd become less popular with the warriors and his power-hungry ways scared most of the Clan. Acornfire embodied all DarkClan stood for; his last test made sure of this. Acornfire killed Martenclaw before the Clan without a second's hesitation and DarkClan welcomed their new deputy."

    "When did he become leader?" Wrenkit prompted, not ready for the story to be over just yet.

    "He became DarkClan's leader when Silverstar passed a couple moons later," Nightpaw obliged her. "Pinefrost won the next deputy race and became his second in command. Together, they led the Clan through a time where strength, cunning and truth prevailed."

    "Who was the truth-teller at that time?" the she-cat asked next, looking at Nightpaw with pleading eyes.

    Before Nightpaw could reply, Hailwatcher rose to his paws. "I think that's enough for one day, Wrenkit," he said. "This is only Nightpaw's first telling, but there will be plenty more in time."

    Nightpaw nodded, avoiding the disappointed look on Wrenkit's face. Saying goodbye to the kits, who were already organizing their own deputy race, he followed his mentor out of the nursery and into the middle of the camp clearing.

    "You did well," Hailwatcher praised him. "I find kits to be a very forgiving audience, don't you?" Nightpaw twitched his whiskers in agreement, glancing back over to the nursery. Sedgecloud sat outside it and their eyes met for a brief moment before the apprentice turned away.

    "The next time you speak, you will be doing so here, before the Clan," Hailwatcher said. "I suggest you find a piece of truth you wish to share with the Clan. The first is always a symbolic one."

    With that, the truth-teller retired to his den, leaving Nightpaw to his search.

// Kits are so freaking cute. And Hailwatcher, at times, reminds me of a Dumbledore figure, yet I don't know why... I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I look forward to reading your comments and predictions on what might happen next!