Vixenpaw shuffled impatiently below the Tallrock, gazing up at the tom occupying it every now and then, sometimes looking at the cats gathered below him and attempting to guess which would be chosen next. Her long tail curled around her paws tightly, flicking up and down occasionally in irritation.

Gooseholly, her mentor and the clan's advisor, was taking his time. "Moonfin. I want you to lead a border patrol... along the RiverClan border. It's been rather quiet since we caught them venturing over a few days ago – take Boldheart and Chalkface. And, erm, maybe leave Twitchpaw behind this time."

The dark red she-cat searched the crowd for the young apprentice, spotting him cowering behind Oceanpaw's ridiculously large frame in humiliation. His signature tail twitched furiously. The poor tom had gone out on a hunting patrol earlier that morning, along the ShadowClan border, and been scared completely out of his skin by a rather terrific monster storming past which seemed to carry multiple, smaller ones atop of it. He'd gone skittering away into the forest, and refused to emerge from his hiding place – a tiny hollow in a tree trunk – until Moonfin had promised he could have the day off.

Twitchpaw had been born with a strange affliction. Occasionally, although especially when he was anxious, nervous or downright scared, his tail would flick and fidget and twitch – hence his name. However, when he was just kit, Vixenpaw had been told – she was merely four moons old when it occurred, and been hidden in another den – the camp was attacked by a couple of foxes and both his parents had died defending the nursery; cut to ribbons right before his two-moon-old eyes. It's said he was found covered in their blood, just staring at their bodies in horror.

A morbid story, but much worse for the ones within it. Ever since, Twitchpaw had been the jumpiest, most inconsolable apprentice you could possible imagine. Oatfreckle, the medicine cat, tried every remedy he could think of to help, even consulting healers from the other clans, but nothing had worked. It was highly likely the poor thing wouldn't make it past his apprenticeship – and he couldn't become a medicine cat, as Oddpaw, two moons older, had nabbed the role already.

The entire clan pitied him immensely.

Moonfin nodded dutifully, murmuring quietly in her apprentice's ear, and then strode off with the rest of her patrol.

Gooseholly continued. "Blackbreeze, you take Duckpetal and Boldheart hunting wherever you fancy – just avoid RiverClan, so not to disrupt the other patrol. Take the apprentices too."

Vixenpaw's littermates, Tulippaw and Stonepaw, trailed after their mentors out of camp, and the few remaining cats dispersed to get along with their own duties. Vixenpaw jumped to her paws in relief, hurrying over to her mentor.

"Can we go train now!?"

The older tom chuckled fondly. "Of course, Vixenpaw. Lead the way!"

She trotted off happily, leading the way out of camp and towards their special training spot. They began heading towards the barn at the edge of the territory, but changed direction sharply and headed down a cleverly hidden burrow, which led to a series of complex tunnels. Vixenpaw was not deterred, however, having followed this route countless times in her two moons of apprenticeship. They began heading further and further down into the darkness, silent as they heard the paw-steps of both prey and clanmates above fading behind them.

Eventually, the cramped tunnel began to open out and the sound of rushing water became apparent. They emerged, seemingly at the edge of a river, but upon gazing up you could see they were actually at the bottom of a large gorge, splitting RiverClan and WindClan territory. In the rocky walls, there were a few small areas where you could walk inside the walls and find small perches to sit.

Gooseholly led the way now, picking through the rock and leading them to a small cave embedded in the wall, around halfway up the gorge. Sand, earth, leaves, grass, twigs and other assortments of nature were gathered to make a rather comfortable flooring, with moss covering the more rocky parts. The duo sat down in their usual places, turned slightly to face the opposing gorge wall, but still opposite each other.

"Right." Gooseholly spoke finally, settling down and gathering himself into a small ball. "Tell me what you remember from our previous lesson."

Vixenpaw focused on the sound of rushing water, just as he'd taught her, and strained to remember. "It was another lesson on how the other clans are led?" He nodded in affirmation, signalling her to continue. "ThunderClan are led by democracy, as they believed clashing opinions and cats not getting to be heard was the reason so many leaderships were failing, and inter-clan battles breaking out. Every five season cycles, they hold an election to decide the next general and lieutenant – every warrior gets the chance to go forward and show or explain why they should be leaders, and a vote is held to decide..."

She continued on for a while, explaining about the other two clans. ShadowClan were led by a council named the Twilight Conclave, a group of 4+ warriors who took over the duties of the clan like organising patrols. It was the council who decided who could join them, and how specifically to lead – their clan had believed a sole cat holding all the power was the reason for their many downfalls in the past, and having a large group of cats would put a stop to it.

RiverClan were the oddest of all, in Vixenpaw's opinion. They had a different leader and deputy dedicated to each season, rotating their leadership and specialising in how to lead during their own season to maximise survivability. This is because they suffered most from natural causes, rather than disagreements or corruption.

Gooseholly looked proud. "Well done, Vixenpaw! Your memory is improving with each session, and I'm sure those times of forgetfulness will be far behind you in just a few moons." She beamed in response, relieved. The apprentice had been struggling with memory issues her whole life, and these sessions were dedicated to fixing that weakness.

"Now, tell me about our own clan." The grey tom prompted her.

Vixenpaw was bemused. "Why? I know how it works!"

"Humour me." He insisted. "I want to hear how you view it."

The younger feline sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine.. we're the best clan of all, of course. We're led by a monarchy consisting of a king, queen, an advisor," she flicked her tail at him, "and, obviously, the scions and the heiress herself." Flashing her pearly whites, the said heiress sat taller with pride. "Mammy and Baba are the queen and king, and when they're gone, I'll take their place and choose a mate to rule beside me, when I'm ready. Oh- and you're their advisor, like I said, so you organise patrols and do 'deputy' or 'lieutenant' stuff. Also, if I die, then Stonepaw will become the heir – and if he dies, Tulippaw the heiress. Then if she dies, it could either be Chalkface, Oddpaw or Inkpatch who are next in line-"

"Lets not get over technical, now." Gooseholly interrupted gently. "That situation is highly unlikely, anyway, so we'll dodge that rabbit hole if we come across it. Anything else?"

"Erm... oh yeah! Mammy and Baba are expecting another litter soon!" Vixenpaw grinned happily – she'd been looking forward to having more siblings for moons. Stonepaw and Tulippaw were closer together than with her, and Oddpaw and Inkpatch were adopted siblings – she wanted new blood relations to form a bond with.

Gooseholly failed to suppress a yawn, nodding slowly. "Very good. Now remember – you mustn't be so casual and informal with your speech now. You're going to need to be sophisticated and ladylike for when you become queen of WindClan."

"Bah!" She stuck her tongue out. "Sure, in, like- a hundred moons I will! But for now, I'm fine with being a silly old apprentice."

Her mentor chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright then, Princess Silly. We'll head back to camp for a quick bite to eat and then continue your queenly training."

---

When they finally returned to camp – Vixenpaw insisting on a couple detours to see if she could spot any rogues or loners on the border, insisting she'd scare them away with her regality – both her parents were awaiting them.

"Gooseholly." Her mother greeted her advisor formally, dipping her head, looking a little odd with her stomach bulging with kits – Oatfreckle predicted there would be six. That's double the amount from her first litter! "How has the training been going?"

Disliking the thought of overhearing them discuss her, Vixenpaw trotted over to her father; they settled side by side, just out of earshot and nibbling on a shared hare.

"How are you doing, kiddo?" He asked after a few moments of content silence. "Must be strange anticipating more brothers and sisters on the way."

These questions were becoming more and more frequent from her father – he was clearly worried his firstborns would be concerned about attention – and Vixenpaw was growing tired of convincing him she felt quite the opposite. "Baba, I'm fine. I can't wait for the little ones to arrive! Are you quite sure I can choose one of their names?"

He smiled fondly. "Of course – it was your mothers idea." Stonepaw, Tulippaw, Oddpaw and Inkpatch had also been invited to choose a name each – though the latter two said they'd be fine choosing the name for one kit between them, so both Hawkstar and Dreamstar would be able to choose a kit's name each too.

Vixenpaw nodded happily, her tail swishing. "Good. I wonder what they'll look like...?"

Before the duo could begin concocting theories, Hawkstar and Gooseholly approached – their conversation over.

"Dreamstar, we need to discuss the foxes that've been sighted near the Thunderpath between us and ShadowClan." Hawkstar reminded her mate, and turned to Vixenpaw. "Gooseholly tells me you've really improved since starting training – I promise we'll all be able to talk about training together later, maybe at sundown? Let your siblings know."

Vixenpaw nodded dutifully, and watched as her parents departed.

"I'll just find my siblings before we go." She alerted Gooseholly, who'd settled down to finish off the hare and nodded. Spotting Stonepaw at the edge of the clearing, Vixenpaw set off at a jog for him.

The pale grey tom failed to hide his surprise at her approach. "Oh, hey." 'I thought we'd put you off of our company ages ago.' He seems to say silently.

"Mammy says that we can all have a chance to talk at sundown, to discuss training and such." She reported obediently. "Can you tell Tulippaw?"

He shrugged, the best she'd get as a yes, and ventured into the apprentice's den to find Oddpaw.

"Oddpaw?" The lazy sphynx was curled up in a ball, twoleg fabric covering his torso. He raised his head sleepily at her voice. "Mm?"

"Mammy says that we can all have a chance to talk at sundown, to discuss training and such." Came the robotic relay. She received a nod and a mumble, and told him to tell Inkpatch the same – though, personally, she thought it was unlikely the other sphynx would turn up.

Gooseholly was gone by the time she returned, leaving the dark red apprentice stood in the middle of camp like a surrounded rabbit. Mothmoon, a large-pawed Toyger she-cat, spotted her bafflement and thundered over.

"Lookin' for Gooseholly?" She asked. Vixenpaw nodded. "E's gone."

"Where, though?" She asked impatiently.

Mothmoon shrugged, a smile creeping upon her face. "Told me not to say nuthin'. Says it's an exercise for ya."

Realisation dawned upon her face. "Ah, thanks. Did he tell you the situation and keyword?"

"'Patrol split, one missing.'" The warrior recited. "The keyword was 'thunder'. Good luck!"

Vixenpaw thanked her, before scenting the air. All her clanmates' scents mingled together in the busy camp, so she'd have to scour the edge of it to see which way Gooseholly went – the first time he pulled this exercise, she'd been convinced he'd left through the usual exit and spend half the time trying to pick up his scent from the wrong area.

Another of Gooseholly's unique training strategies was to randomly spring surprise scenarios where he'd hide somewhere on the territory, and she'd have to find him. Once, all she was given was the keyword 'hollow' in a situation where he'd not returned to camp for days. Vixenpaw had assumed he was hiding in a burrow or abandoned den, but eventually stumbled upon him hiding inside a hollow tree at the border. Expect the unexpected, see?

Surprisingly, she picked up his scent fairly quickly, and followed it in a big, winding route around the territory. Sometimes, his scent would give away where he was more than the clues, but this time it seemed he'd scattered all over the territory to confuse her.

"Alright, Vixenpaw." She spoke to herself. "You were on a patrol, and someone hasn't returned – either from hunting or marking the border. Your clue is 'thunder'... oh!"

A little sceptical, the heiress began to make her way towards the Thunderpath. Could it be so simple? It was best to check, either way.

After a thorough look down both ends of the quiet Thunderpath, she assured herself he wouldn't hide in such a dangerous place. What other places would that leave?

Probably not Fourtrees – there wasn't much thundery about that. Neither was the nearby barn, nor the burrows and tunnels littered around the territory. That left..

"The gorge?" She wondered aloud, remembering the thundering sound of water plummeting from beneath the bridge and down to the lower river. Surely not – they had been there not too long ago, and Gooseholly wasn't a fan of going back and forth between camp and the same place. Not left with much options, Vixenpaw decided to follow their usual route to their special training area.

Long story short, no luck. She'd searched every little nook and cranny, scenting the air for fresh scents, with no success. Then she checked through most of the entire territory, but still no sign of him. Where could he be?

They'd been out of camp for a long time now, and sundown was well on its way. Was this some sort of trick? It was certainly the hardest exercise she'd been faced with yet.

Sighing, Vixenpaw leaned against the fence surrounding the barn at the edge of WindClan territory. Would it be worth the risk to venture inside, posing as a loner to try and find Gooseholly? But the barn didn't really have much to do with thunder.

Irritated, she found her gaze drawn back to the most obvious answer – the Thunderpath. Except, he wasn't there. So what could it be?

A small, robin's-blue egg monster growled past on the black path, and Vixenpaw suddenly peered closer. Was that- a gap beneath the Thunderpath?

Suddenly running, aware of her need to get back to camp soon, Vixenpaw approached the darker patch of earth beneath the Thunderpath. Some shrubbery nearby looked like it'd been torn up and cast aside by some slovenly twoleg, to expose the previously unknown gap beneath the path.

"Gooseholly...?" She called out warily, gazing down the black tunnel.

She was presented with the prize of her mentor appearing from the shadows, a proud smile on his face. "Well done – you found me!"