#shellpath

Laurelpaw didn’t necessarily like the feeling of it in his eyes or nose – they were always a tad sensitive, and the salinity really got to him – but he enjoyed how very alive the ocean was. It pulsed, and pushed, and rumbled, and crashed along the shore non-stop in the constant tempo of a beating heart. You didn’t even have to go looking for a sea star or a goby to understand that feeling of life. Every Plage kit and apprentice knew before they even left the tidepools that they would one day be at the mercy of something larger than anyone in the valley could comprehend.

That said, he was getting cold and his mentor was calling him, so he turned and paddled back to the shore, letting the current maneuver him as it desired. He was gently pushed from side to side until his oversized paws hit land.  

“Didn’t catch anything?” the cat asked when only Laurelpaw’s feet were underwater. Their grey pelt looked almost yellow in the sunset.

“No, boss,” Laurelpaw said, shaking out his pelt, and sheepishly added, “Sorry.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch anything, lad,” they said, in that special, half-gentle tone that, in Laurelpaw’s experience, was mainly for teasing. “If I did, I wouldn’t have called you out in the middle of your swim.”

“Oh.” Laurelpaw shuffled his feet. Even though he was taller than Alderstrike now, he still looked down like a first-month apprentice. “Well, still-”

“‘Well, still’,” Alderstrike said, and huffed out an amused sound. “You’re fine. In fact, you’re more than fine. The deputy just asked me to run you through the assessment.”

Laurelpaw jerked his head up, eyes wide. “Really? Already?”

Alderstrike’s eyes dryly flicked up and down, from Laurelpaw’s face to his paws. “You’re aware it’s been a year, yes?”

Laurelpaw hadn’t been aware. He was terrible at keeping track of time when he wasn’t constantly distracted by training and traveling. Months had flown by even in his young life, when they should have been at their slowest. It seemed like he didn’t ever have to wait a single moment just for his name to be called.

The world just went by so fast, and all he could do was plod along on his awkward giant’s feet after it and try to keep up.

“I just didn’t think I was ready, is all,” he said meekly.

Alderstrike tilted their head. “Why ever not? You’ve got your training done. In fact, if you don’t mind me saying, you’ve been our best fighter since you were ten months old.”  

“Well, it’s just…” Laurelpaw faltered, glanced back at the ocean like it would rise up and help him, and turned back to his mentor, speaking in a hushed voice. “It’s just, I’m not very good at anything else. I can barely fish – you’ve seen me miss things plenty of times.”

“Well, your eyes, lad,” Alderstrike said.

“But even on land!” Laurelpaw protested. “And, and it’s not just the fishing, either. I can’t track a vole to save my life, and I don’t notice anything, and I’m bad at talking, and- and I can barely run-“

“Laurelpaw,” Alderstrike interrupted in about as gentle a voice as one could expect from a member of the Plage family. Laurelpaw’s jaw shut with a click. “We can’t expect you to be perfect at everything, can we? That’s just not reasonable.”

Laurelpaw’s feet shuffled. “But…”

“Even if you aren’t a skilled stalker-“ Alderstrike held up a paw for silence just as Laurelpaw opened his mouth. “You’re underselling yourself. You haven’t seen how graceful you can be in a fight. And when you do catch something, that prey is dead before it even knows it’s in your jaws. Besides that, you’ve shown yourself to be dedicated to the family and the Territory, which is more than valued for someone who could end up being one of the best patrollers this world ever saw.”

Laurelpaw’s ears went flat almost sideways, like a dog. “But if that’s all I’m good for, fighting and possibly patrolling-“

“Is there anything wrong with that?” Alderstrike said. “I’m not more than a fighter, and I didn’t join the Fleet, and this family still loves me.”

“But…well…” Laurelpaw’s tail flicked back and forth uneasily. “Maybe I don’t want-“

“There he is!”

Laurelpaw jumped at the booming voice, not sure whether he was upset or grateful for his confession being interrupted. Two cats were steadily trotting through the sand towards him and his mentor. One was a starkly-striped, very tired looking ginger tom, and the other was the deputy – a scrawny brown tom with wild eyes.

Immediately, Laurelpaw forced himself to straighten up and smile. It came out painfully fake and weak, and he hated himself for it.

“And he’s sopping wet, like a proper Plage warrior.” The brown tom approached with something between the strut of a proper head of a family and a wiggly impression of how a duck walked, legs swinging out wildly and confidently with each step. When he was close enough, he bumped right into Laurelpaw with his shoulder. Laurelpaw barely felt it, but he exaggeratedly staggered back, making the deputy bark out a laugh.

“He’s sticking to our traditions, Gobywave,” Alderstrike said, with a warm look at their apprentice. “Should we wait for him to dry out before we go through with the assessment?”

“Nah, nah.” Gobywave flicked his paw and shook his head. “The ocean’s blessing is in that water on his pelt. It’ll be good luck!”

The ginger tom had an expression of one who was praying for peace and knew he wasn’t getting it. “You’ll at least not use your claws, Alderstrike.”

“I doubt I’ll have to, Shellpath,” Alderstrike said with a (slightly sardonically) pleasant tone. They smiled (slightly pointedly) at Laurelpaw. “Though, if the boy gets cold feet, he may need a little reminder what he’s working for.”

Something in Laurelpaw wailed like a kit. He had been comfortable as an apprentice, it cried. Couldn’t he be one forever, and just be told what to do? Even if he didn’t want to do those things sometimes, it was easier. Safer. Why did time have to race by him?

“You ready then, lad?” Gobywave said, snapping Laurelpaw out of his thoughts.

“I-“ Laurelpaw started, stopped, and let a worried sigh escape his throat. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Perhaps we should wait for his parents to come watch?” Shellpath suggested. “Belltide will have all of our ears if she misses her son’s assessment.”

“Ach, let’s surprise ‘em.” Gobywave flicked his ratty tail dismissively. “That’ll be too much pressure on our boy here anyway.”

Laurelpaw didn’t really want to go through with this, but he much less wanted to in front of his mother and father. He would faint under their scrutiny, he was certain, and he did not want to embarrass them.

“Thank you for the consideration, Gobywave,” he said quietly, and forced himself to stand up straight, towering over all of his family members to tell a bold-faced lie. “I- I’m ready.”

Another barked laugh, and Gobywave turned and gestured for the rest of the cats to follow him. “Let’s get started, then.”