Whitekit's Apprentice Ceremony

A light smile dappled the molly's features as she cast a lazy gaze across the clearing, pleased to find more than enough of the clan to conduct a ceremony. A soft and cool wind stirred the gorse at the edge of the clearing, bright orange hues from the far-off trees signifying the change in season that was Leaf-fall. Inwardly she worried - it was always tough preparing for Leafbare, but the act of naming a new apprentice could only strengthen the clan for the coming cold. Giving her chest fur a swift lick, she made for the Tallrock, stretching quickly before ascending to the top of the ancient rock formation. Clearing her throat quickly before she began, Heronfeather called out the summons, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather underneath Tallrock for a clan meeting!"

Whitekit padded out when he heard the deputy call for a meeting. His mother told him it was his ceremony and the little ragdoll was excited. He wondered what it would be like as an apprentice with his friends. Whitekit sat down and smiled up at heronfeather, excitement easily shown in his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes a little, casting a downward glance toward to the fluffy white tom, one who had slipped out of camp without permission. "Whitekit, please step forward," Heronfeather called, voice ringing out across the clearing, a little less delight in her words than normal. "Despite you sneaking out of camp, worrying your mother and leading loners to the clan's camp, you have still reached the age of 6 moons and as such are ready to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you become a warrior, your new name will be Whitepaw. Your mentor shall be..." The molly paused for a brief moment, wanting someone strict to keep the tom into line, or at least one with enough experience in regards to trouble making and she knew she wasn't that. But she absolutely knew who was. "Shrikecall, I'm sure he'll pass on everything he's learned from his mentor and more," There was a warm smile on the deputy's face as she descended the rock to congratulate the clans newest apprentice, and congratulate her own former apprentice.

The hard, angular jut of Shrikecall's cheek was made all the more prominent by the sudden flex and grit of the hard bone, dissatisfaction practically oozing from his wild and unkempt form. Perhaps, in the late evening hours, Heronfeather would be acquainted with a thorn or two in her nest for this... outrage. He hardly cared for a well-behaved young cat on his absolute best days, so the thought of dealing with another errant young runaway made his heart-rate increase to near fatal levels. Swallowing down the urge to snarl at his former mentor, the blotched tom was quick to stride towards the newly-named Whitepaw.

"I hope you're ready for early mornings," Shrikecall warned after a long heartbeat, nose lightly brushing against the younger tom's, "I am not known for a lackadaisical training approach."