chapter 4 YAYAYYA (read chapter 3 first, its under this)
The sky was a soft blue above the camp, dappled with clouds that drifted lazily in the breeze. Poisonpaw lay sprawled in a patch of warm sunlight outside the apprentice den, her tail flicking back and forth as she watched the clouds move.
It was a rare quiet day. No hunting patrols. No battle training. Just… rest.
Thornpaw was sitting nearby, chewing idly on a sprig of grass. Skitterpaw was curled up in a tight ball beside them, fast asleep after a morning of sorting herbs with the medicine cat. Meadowpaw was nowhere in sight—probably helping rebuild the elder’s den, like she’d been all week.
Poisonpaw let out a small sigh.
"You're thinking too loud," Thornpaw muttered, glancing over at her.
She blinked. "What does that even mean?"
He shrugged. "You get this look on your face like you're having a conversation with the clouds."
Poisonpaw rolled onto her back, paws in the air. "Maybe I am."
Thornpaw stared up too. "What are they saying?"
Poisonpaw squinted. "That one looks like a frog."
"You didn’t answer the question."
She let out a little laugh. "They’re saying… ‘Don’t forget to enjoy the sun while you can.’"
Thornpaw nodded solemnly. "Wise frogs."
They sat in silence for a while. It wasn’t awkward—just easy. Comfortable.
"I like days like this," Thornpaw said after a while. "No pressure. No one yelling. Just breathing."
Poisonpaw nodded. She did too.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love training. She did. But the quiet moments like this helped her remember who she was beneath all the pawsteps and orders and goals. The forest wasn’t just about skill or ambition. It was also about peace. About belonging.
A leaf fluttered down from the high branches and landed gently on her chest.
Poisonpaw picked it up with one claw and spun it, watching it twirl.
"You ever wonder what kind of warrior you’ll be?" she asked.
Thornpaw didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was thoughtful. "One who protects my Clan. Who doesn’t forget what it's like to be small."
She tilted her head at him.
"And you?" he asked.
Poisonpaw hesitated.
Powerful, said a voice deep inside her.
Feared, said another.
Respected, said a third.
But what she said aloud was, "One who makes my Clan proud."
Thornpaw smiled at her. "You already do."
She looked away quickly, hiding the strange flutter in her chest. "Let’s see if you still say that when I beat you in our next sparring match."
"You wish."
Their laughter echoed softly through the camp, blending with the rustling leaves and chirping birds. For now, it was enough. Just being here. Just being them.
The trees were darker tonight.
Poisonpaw had slipped out just after moonhigh, careful not to disturb the nest of moss beside hers. Skitterpaw hadn’t stirred, and the camp was still and silent.
She moved through the trees like she belonged there—light on her paws, breath even, heart steady. The air grew colder the farther she walked. The leaves overhead thickened until moonlight barely reached the forest floor. The trees twisted in strange ways here, their shapes clawed and hunched like they had thoughts of their own.
Then, as always, she stepped over an invisible line.
Suddenly, she was somewhere else.
The Dark Forest.
Vipershadow appeared from the mist like he always did. A grey tom with a fully black face, glowing white eyes that saw everything—and revealed nothing.
“You’re late,” he said, though his voice was quiet and smooth.
“I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep,” Poisonpaw muttered, brushing moss from her fur.
“No excuses in battle. You must be ready always.”
She dipped her head, tail flicking. “Yes, Vipershadow.”
They began their training—fast, brutal moves she’d never been shown in her Clan. Silent kills. Bone snaps. Feints designed to make your enemy lose balance and fall right into your claws. Vipershadow didn’t hold back. And Poisonpaw kept up, breath short, muscles burning, eyes bright.
“Again,” he ordered.
She lunged.
But halfway through the move, a loud, dramatic yawn broke the silence.
“Wow,” a voice drawled from behind a tree, “this looks way too intense for someone who still has milk teeth.”
Poisonpaw skidded to a stop, fur puffing in surprise.
Out from the shadows padded a black-and-white long-haired she-cat. Her fur was impossibly fluffy, with one eye completely hidden behind a mop of white. She had a feathery tail and a voice so dry it could start a drought.
“Oh stars, did I interrupt something?” she said, clearly not sorry.
“Rockbriar,” Vipershadow said tightly. “Why are you here?”
“Stretching my legs,” she replied. “Or maybe I just wanted to see who you were growling at tonight. Looks like a Clan apprentice with too much energy.”
Poisonpaw blinked at her. “Who are you?”
“Rockbriar,” the she-cat said, flashing a too-sharp grin.
Vipershadow didn’t look pleased. “This one is mine to train.”
“Sure, sure,” Rockbriar said, waving her tail. “But she’s got potential. Good stance. A bit stiff in the shoulders. Bad habit of telegraphing her moves with her eyes.”
Poisonpaw bristled. “I do not—”
“—Do it all the time,” Rockbriar finished with a smirk. “But don’t worry, fluffball. I’ll help you out.”
She turned toward Poisonpaw, suddenly all focused. “Let’s see you try to land a blow on me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She winked. “I’m old. How hard can it be?”
Poisonpaw lunged—fast. But Rockbriar twisted with effortless grace, stepping aside and swatting her lightly on the ear with one paw.
“Too slow,” she said cheerfully. “Try again.”
And Poisonpaw did. Again. And again. And again.
Vipershadow stood silently, watching as the two cats circled, struck, dodged, and sparred. Rockbriar fought like water, all flowing movement and surprise. But she was also a teacher, pointing out small details even as she laughed and teased.
Poisonpaw’s breathing grew heavier, but her movements sharpened. Her frustration melted into focus.
After a final blow nearly clipped Rockbriar’s shoulder, the she-cat leaped back and grinned. “There it is! Not bad, Poisonpaw.”
“You know my name?”
“I know all the interesting cats,” Rockbriar said smugly. “Besides, Vipershadow doesn’t waste time on boring ones.”
Vipershadow gave a quiet nod. “Enough for tonight.”
Poisonpaw dipped her head. “Thank you.”
As the mist began to gather and the world around her blurred into coldness again, Rockbriar called out, “See you tomorrow, whiskers.”
Poisonpaw looked back once.
Rockbriar was already fading into shadow, but her voice lingered:
“Don’t let your Clanmates see your claws too soon. It's more fun when they underestimate you.”
Poisonpaw crouched beside the apprentice’s den, nibbling at a vole, her tail twitching with boredom. The camp was unusually still—no patrols returning, no kits tumbling through the moss, not even Skitterpaw bothering her with questions. The sun was just beginning to dip, brushing the clearing with pale orange light.
Across the way, she spotted Thornpaw sitting by the fresh-kill pile, calmly chewing a mouse.
And sitting way too close to him—so close their pelts nearly touched—was Meadowpaw.
Poisonpaw’s whiskers twitched.
“Oh, Thornpaw, you should’ve seen me this morning,” Meadowpaw was saying, her voice loud and fluttery. “One swift pounce and that squirrel didn’t even stand a chance. My mentor says I’ve got natural talent—not that I’m surprised.”
Thornpaw blinked. “That’s… great, Meadowpaw.”
She leaned in closer, her fur practically brushing his. “Maybe you and I should start hunting together more. We’d make a perfect team.”
Thornpaw tilted his head slightly, clearly unsure. “We already hunt together on patrol sometimes.”
“Yes,” Meadowpaw purred, “but I mean, just us. You’re strong and quiet and focused—I’d balance you out.”
“You think I’m quiet?” he asked, more curious than offended.
“You barely speak to anyone unless you have to.* Mysterious is a good look for you,” she added with a dramatic flutter of her tail.
Poisonpaw rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. Meadowpaw was practically on top of him now, acting like he was the most important tom in the forest.
“And honestly,” Meadowpaw continued, smoothing one paw over her perfectly groomed pelt, “we’re probably the most promising apprentices. Not everyone has our level.”
Thornpaw glanced toward the apprentice’s den, and his eyes landed on Poisonpaw.
She stared right back at him, narrowing her eyes. He tilted his head slightly again, as if to say, "Can you believe this?"
Poisonpaw gave the tiniest shrug and looked away, smirking.
Meadowpaw didn’t seem to notice.
“You know,” she said sweetly, “there’s this hollow behind the warriors’ den. Private. I go there to think sometimes. You should come with me sometime—we could talk. Or not talk. Whichever you prefer.”
Thornpaw blinked slowly. “You… want to sit in a hole with me?”
Meadowpaw giggled. “You’re funny when you’re confused.”
Thornpaw turned back to his mouse with a quiet, thoughtful chew. “Mm.”
Poisonpaw couldn’t help it—she snorted.
Meadowpaw’s ears flicked up, and she twisted around, suddenly realizing Poisonpaw had been watching. “What are you laughing at?”
Poisonpaw stood up, stretched, and walked past them with her tail high. “Oh, nothing. Just admiring a masterclass in subtlety.”
Meadowpaw narrowed her eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Poisonpaw.”
“Neither does desperation,” Poisonpaw replied coolly, not even bothering to stop.
Thornpaw gave a small, awkward cough and looked down at his paws.
Meadowpaw, meanwhile, hissed under her breath and muttered, “I don’t know why she always has to ruin things.”
Poisonpaw flicked her ears and smiled to herself as she padded away.
Maybe she was imagining it, but she could’ve sworn Thornpaw was smiling too.
KAMARI ꧂!!
chapter 4 YAYAYYA (read chapter 3 first, its under this)
The sky was a soft blue above the camp, dappled with clouds that drifted lazily in the breeze. Poisonpaw lay sprawled in a patch of warm sunlight outside the apprentice den, her tail flicking back and forth as she watched the clouds move.
It was a rare quiet day. No hunting patrols. No battle training. Just… rest.
Thornpaw was sitting nearby, chewing idly on a sprig of grass. Skitterpaw was curled up in a tight ball beside them, fast asleep after a morning of sorting herbs with the medicine cat. Meadowpaw was nowhere in sight—probably helping rebuild the elder’s den, like she’d been all week.
Poisonpaw let out a small sigh.
"You're thinking too loud," Thornpaw muttered, glancing over at her.
She blinked. "What does that even mean?"
He shrugged. "You get this look on your face like you're having a conversation with the clouds."
Poisonpaw rolled onto her back, paws in the air. "Maybe I am."
Thornpaw stared up too. "What are they saying?"
Poisonpaw squinted. "That one looks like a frog."
"You didn’t answer the question."
She let out a little laugh. "They’re saying… ‘Don’t forget to enjoy the sun while you can.’"
Thornpaw nodded solemnly. "Wise frogs."
They sat in silence for a while. It wasn’t awkward—just easy. Comfortable.
"I like days like this," Thornpaw said after a while. "No pressure. No one yelling. Just breathing."
Poisonpaw nodded. She did too.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love training. She did. But the quiet moments like this helped her remember who she was beneath all the pawsteps and orders and goals. The forest wasn’t just about skill or ambition. It was also about peace. About belonging.
A leaf fluttered down from the high branches and landed gently on her chest.
Poisonpaw picked it up with one claw and spun it, watching it twirl.
"You ever wonder what kind of warrior you’ll be?" she asked.
Thornpaw didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was thoughtful. "One who protects my Clan. Who doesn’t forget what it's like to be small."
She tilted her head at him.
"And you?" he asked.
Poisonpaw hesitated.
Powerful, said a voice deep inside her.
Feared, said another.
Respected, said a third.
But what she said aloud was, "One who makes my Clan proud."
Thornpaw smiled at her. "You already do."
She looked away quickly, hiding the strange flutter in her chest. "Let’s see if you still say that when I beat you in our next sparring match."
"You wish."
Their laughter echoed softly through the camp, blending with the rustling leaves and chirping birds. For now, it was enough. Just being here. Just being them.
The trees were darker tonight.
Poisonpaw had slipped out just after moonhigh, careful not to disturb the nest of moss beside hers. Skitterpaw hadn’t stirred, and the camp was still and silent.
She moved through the trees like she belonged there—light on her paws, breath even, heart steady. The air grew colder the farther she walked. The leaves overhead thickened until moonlight barely reached the forest floor. The trees twisted in strange ways here, their shapes clawed and hunched like they had thoughts of their own.
Then, as always, she stepped over an invisible line.
Suddenly, she was somewhere else.
The Dark Forest.
Vipershadow appeared from the mist like he always did. A grey tom with a fully black face, glowing white eyes that saw everything—and revealed nothing.
“You’re late,” he said, though his voice was quiet and smooth.
“I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep,” Poisonpaw muttered, brushing moss from her fur.
“No excuses in battle. You must be ready always.”
She dipped her head, tail flicking. “Yes, Vipershadow.”
They began their training—fast, brutal moves she’d never been shown in her Clan. Silent kills. Bone snaps. Feints designed to make your enemy lose balance and fall right into your claws. Vipershadow didn’t hold back. And Poisonpaw kept up, breath short, muscles burning, eyes bright.
“Again,” he ordered.
She lunged.
But halfway through the move, a loud, dramatic yawn broke the silence.
“Wow,” a voice drawled from behind a tree, “this looks way too intense for someone who still has milk teeth.”
Poisonpaw skidded to a stop, fur puffing in surprise.
Out from the shadows padded a black-and-white long-haired she-cat. Her fur was impossibly fluffy, with one eye completely hidden behind a mop of white. She had a feathery tail and a voice so dry it could start a drought.
“Oh stars, did I interrupt something?” she said, clearly not sorry.
“Rockbriar,” Vipershadow said tightly. “Why are you here?”
“Stretching my legs,” she replied. “Or maybe I just wanted to see who you were growling at tonight. Looks like a Clan apprentice with too much energy.”
Poisonpaw blinked at her. “Who are you?”
“Rockbriar,” the she-cat said, flashing a too-sharp grin.
Vipershadow didn’t look pleased. “This one is mine to train.”
“Sure, sure,” Rockbriar said, waving her tail. “But she’s got potential. Good stance. A bit stiff in the shoulders. Bad habit of telegraphing her moves with her eyes.”
Poisonpaw bristled. “I do not—”
“—Do it all the time,” Rockbriar finished with a smirk. “But don’t worry, fluffball. I’ll help you out.”
She turned toward Poisonpaw, suddenly all focused. “Let’s see you try to land a blow on me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She winked. “I’m old. How hard can it be?”
Poisonpaw lunged—fast. But Rockbriar twisted with effortless grace, stepping aside and swatting her lightly on the ear with one paw.
“Too slow,” she said cheerfully. “Try again.”
And Poisonpaw did. Again. And again. And again.
Vipershadow stood silently, watching as the two cats circled, struck, dodged, and sparred. Rockbriar fought like water, all flowing movement and surprise. But she was also a teacher, pointing out small details even as she laughed and teased.
Poisonpaw’s breathing grew heavier, but her movements sharpened. Her frustration melted into focus.
After a final blow nearly clipped Rockbriar’s shoulder, the she-cat leaped back and grinned. “There it is! Not bad, Poisonpaw.”
“You know my name?”
“I know all the interesting cats,” Rockbriar said smugly. “Besides, Vipershadow doesn’t waste time on boring ones.”
Vipershadow gave a quiet nod. “Enough for tonight.”
Poisonpaw dipped her head. “Thank you.”
As the mist began to gather and the world around her blurred into coldness again, Rockbriar called out, “See you tomorrow, whiskers.”
Poisonpaw looked back once.
Rockbriar was already fading into shadow, but her voice lingered:
“Don’t let your Clanmates see your claws too soon. It's more fun when they underestimate you.”
Poisonpaw crouched beside the apprentice’s den, nibbling at a vole, her tail twitching with boredom. The camp was unusually still—no patrols returning, no kits tumbling through the moss, not even Skitterpaw bothering her with questions. The sun was just beginning to dip, brushing the clearing with pale orange light.
Across the way, she spotted Thornpaw sitting by the fresh-kill pile, calmly chewing a mouse.
And sitting way too close to him—so close their pelts nearly touched—was Meadowpaw.
Poisonpaw’s whiskers twitched.
“Oh, Thornpaw, you should’ve seen me this morning,” Meadowpaw was saying, her voice loud and fluttery. “One swift pounce and that squirrel didn’t even stand a chance. My mentor says I’ve got natural talent—not that I’m surprised.”
Thornpaw blinked. “That’s… great, Meadowpaw.”
She leaned in closer, her fur practically brushing his. “Maybe you and I should start hunting together more. We’d make a perfect team.”
Thornpaw tilted his head slightly, clearly unsure. “We already hunt together on patrol sometimes.”
“Yes,” Meadowpaw purred, “but I mean, just us. You’re strong and quiet and focused—I’d balance you out.”
“You think I’m quiet?” he asked, more curious than offended.
“You barely speak to anyone unless you have to.* Mysterious is a good look for you,” she added with a dramatic flutter of her tail.
Poisonpaw rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. Meadowpaw was practically on top of him now, acting like he was the most important tom in the forest.
“And honestly,” Meadowpaw continued, smoothing one paw over her perfectly groomed pelt, “we’re probably the most promising apprentices. Not everyone has our level.”
Thornpaw glanced toward the apprentice’s den, and his eyes landed on Poisonpaw.
She stared right back at him, narrowing her eyes. He tilted his head slightly again, as if to say, "Can you believe this?"
Poisonpaw gave the tiniest shrug and looked away, smirking.
Meadowpaw didn’t seem to notice.
“You know,” she said sweetly, “there’s this hollow behind the warriors’ den. Private. I go there to think sometimes. You should come with me sometime—we could talk. Or not talk. Whichever you prefer.”
Thornpaw blinked slowly. “You… want to sit in a hole with me?”
Meadowpaw giggled. “You’re funny when you’re confused.”
Thornpaw turned back to his mouse with a quiet, thoughtful chew. “Mm.”
Poisonpaw couldn’t help it—she snorted.
Meadowpaw’s ears flicked up, and she twisted around, suddenly realizing Poisonpaw had been watching. “What are you laughing at?”
Poisonpaw stood up, stretched, and walked past them with her tail high. “Oh, nothing. Just admiring a masterclass in subtlety.”
Meadowpaw narrowed her eyes. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Poisonpaw.”
“Neither does desperation,” Poisonpaw replied coolly, not even bothering to stop.
Thornpaw gave a small, awkward cough and looked down at his paws.
Meadowpaw, meanwhile, hissed under her breath and muttered, “I don’t know why she always has to ruin things.”
Poisonpaw flicked her ears and smiled to herself as she padded away.
Maybe she was imagining it, but she could’ve sworn Thornpaw was smiling too.
2 weeks ago | [YT] | 1