“Let’s hunt,” came her mentor’s simple answer. Made sense. Warm day, leafbare approaching. Everyone needed to fatten up. "You can take the lead today. It will be good practice for your warrior assessment. I will be here if you need any assistance."

”My assessment?” Sparkpaw brightened, head lifting with a flick of her tail. ”Okay, cool!”

She wanted to be a warrior so bad it hurt sometimes. Then maybe she could get some respect from someone. Or maybe, just maybe, she’d have the power to forge her own path, no longer stuck with whatever hand her family dealt her. She didn’t waste time, and she sprang off into the swaying grass.

Every step was placed carefully as she scented the air, parting her jaws to drink in all that she could. It wasn’t long before she scented none other than delectable rabbit. Her mouth watered, and she dropped to a crouch, prowling to seek it out. The scent was powerful.

She pushed through the tall grass and to a drop in the hills, the grass shorter and choppier over uneven earth. Her eyes widened, a smile lighting her face. It wasn’t a rabbit, it was rabbits. They were hopping among a few holes in the ground, at least five of them.

She shifted her weight on her haunches, to and fro, bunching her muscles. Blue eyes locked on one, the biggest, the slowest. One breath. Two. Three.

Sparkpaw launched like a bolt of lightning. She leaped down the hill, then hit the ground racing after the rabbit before it even started running. She blocked its way into a hole, forcing it up the hill. A savage grin of bared teeth showed as she pushed herself just a little harder, made a leap, and sank her claws into the hide of the rabbit. She cut off its scream before it began, teeth grabbing its throat ending the kill almost immediately.

Pride swelled in the she-cat, and she picked up the rabbit to drag it to her mentor. With it dropped at her paws, she shivered her tail with the euphoria of the kill. ”There’s a little den down there. We should come back to this spot tomorrow, when they’ve settled down.”

“Well spotted,” Dappledfern said.

Spark’s tail swished at the praise, a small smile making its way to her face.

“I’ll let you pick where to cache the rabbit and let you continue to lead on another hunt. So far you are doing well."

Max nodded and took the rabbit in her teeth. Her mouth watered — it smelled and tasted so freaking good — but she did what she was asked to do, finding a dip in the ground where she could claw clumps of the soil and grass over the top of it before returning to her mentor.

"Tell me, what do you think are your strongest and weakest skills as a future warrior?"

The apprentice frowned, sitting on her haunches. “I’m a good hunter.” Strength first. “I’m small and agile.”

But what about her weakest? She thought for a moment, shifting her paws. She wasn’t terrible in battle training, or tracking or climbing. Especially not climbing, but she didn't want to mention a MistClan skill.

“I guess I’m not very good at moving around in the tunnels.” She shrugged. “I get turned around and I can’t smell anything, and they kinda freak me out.”

"The tunnels can be dangerous,” her mentor agreed. “Especially to those who are inexperienced in them. Many cats avoid them for that."

Sparkpaw nodded. ”I sure as heck will.”

"Keep your strengths and weaknesses in mind,” Dappledfern went on. “Reflect on them as you continue your time as an apprentice and eventually as a warrior."

Eventually. Her tail drooped. She was tired of being an apprentice. With a warrior name, her stupid brother might respect her more. She’d feel stronger and older and she could tell him where to shove it.

”When will I get my warrior name, Dappledfern?” she said. ”I’m twelve moons old. This is getting old.” Then she cleared her throat, ears getting hot. ”Not you though. You aren’t getting old. I just want to be one of you.”

“Most likely soon,” her mentor answered, and Sparkpaw’s ears perked a little. “You are at the age where it is on the horizon.”

She tried to push down the nagging doubt that she just hadn’t been good enough to receive her warrior name. There were others that hadn’t too. Brightpaw was one. Darkpaw too. Dustpaw. It wasn’t just her, she reminded herself. Maybe PrarieClan just spent more time training their apprentices—that couldn’t be a bad thing.

"It's alright, aging is inevitable. You will be a warrior in time. The moons start to fly by as you get older, you'll have your name and maybe even your own apprentice before you know it."

”I wonder what my name will be,” she murmured, half to herself. ”Can’t be lame. Better be something cool.”

She cast a look at Dappledfern. ”Were you happy with your warrior name?”

Sparkpaw watched her mentor contemplate, and did so herself. Dappledfern had always been good to her. A patient mentor, a she-cat that didn’t judge her origins or attitude. Their time training together would come to end, sooner or later, and a sudden loneliness gripped her tight. She didn’t have any friends, not here. Dappledfern was as close as she had.

"It's a fine name,” the she-cat said, drawing her from her thoughts. “I suppose at the time it meant more to me that I received it and less about the name itself. But I've no issue with it, never have."

She met Dappledfern’s eye, and she stood a little straighter, hoping to be whatever it is her mentor was looking for.

"I am sure your name will be fine as well. Littlestar has done this many times."

She frowned a little. ”Littlestar has seemed… off…” Her ears swiveled back a little. ”Like she’s got a couple bees buzzing around her head.”