#smallclaw

ooooooooooooh lol

nah

edited and updated Smallclaw ref!

As you can see, he gets into a lot of scraps and some more-than scraps. His head scar, however, was given by Alderstar at his warrior ceremony.

Smallclaw is proud of it, and of all his scars!

@frightnightindustries​

Alderstar lay upon the fattest low hanging-branch of an alder tree, though one would be forgiven for not being able to properly identify it with every leaf blackened and scattered upon the ground. Grousemane had suggested the location for his ceremonies and meetings long ago–it was easy to remember. Alderstar would be found at the alder tree. Not to mention its height, standing out among the other massive trees, was useful in finding the place. It was helpful, too, that it was in eye-view of the Eye-Out Thorns, though far enough for the more faint-hearted to feel comfortable.

Once everyone was gathered, he rose and spoke loudly across the small space. “Welcome, kin and friends.” So many ceremonies like this had passed that he had forgotten what words would have been spoken when he was alive and the leader of Shadowclan. Something about their warrior ancestors, he’s sure. But those were taught to him by his father and the leaders before them. These are his own words. Every leader who gives names gives them with their own words.

Alderstar had even gotten into a routine, too. Or perhaps it is better to call it a tradition. Because he no longer lived in a Clan and was much less likely to know the traits that some cats had, parents who planned to have him do the naming would inform him. Sometimes when they were about to become ‘paws, sometimes when they were kits or even expecting. 

Alderstar would then occasionally watch the kits train, observe them. He would take time to speak one-on-one with the parents, mentor, and the kit themself. It was a good way to pass the time. He found he greatly enjoyed having something to do, too he greatly enjoyed thinking up warrior names, and he was satisfied with the ones he picked out for this batch.

“Today, we honour six apprentices, who defied their fate long ago. Had the Stars had their way, they would have remained small and defenseless.” The faces of several of the apprentices–namely Smallpaw–snarled at the idea. “We are not the Stars,” Alderstar said with pride, his chin lifted and chest puffed out. The families and mentors in the crowd purred in agreement. “We defied them, we defied the logics of death, and we grew. Now, we shall honour the growth, the strength, and the courage in these six young cats, now ready to become full warriors of the Place of No Stars.”

Yowls of excitement rang around the clearing. Alderstar waited patiently for them to calm down before going on. He had plenty of time. “Antpaw, step forward.”

Antpaw did as told, his steps shaky and his eyes round. “For your resistance against fate, and your heedful nature, you shall from this day forth be known as Antgrove.” 

He was happy to see Antgrove’s worry-edged smile quickly shift to one of delight as he dipped his head, and moved to the front of the crowd. All names had to have meaning, that was Alderstar’s rule. Antgrove loved to explore groves. It was where he was the most comfortable, where he felt the most peace. Alderstar had hoped that by giving him the name, he was hearing that his introverted nature was not only being noticed, but celebrated. Judging by the look on his face, it had been heard.

“Smallpaw, step forward.” 

Smallpaw’s reaction was much different. His body was tense, clearly it took a lot for him to pad forward gracefully and not simply race to the open space in which he would stand.

“For your resistance against fate, and your fierce bites, both real and metaphorical, you shall from this day forth be known as Smallclaw.”

Smallclaw’s smirk was broad. He took a moment to bask in the attention before he dipped his head and padded to sit beside who might have once been his brother. Alderstar wasn’t sure, all he knew was that the kits separated because of the different views they had on their deaths and crime.

“Hootpaw, step forward.” Alderstar had to hold back a smile as the name reminded him of his lovely mate. He was definitely going to nuzzle her and Myrtlewing once this ceremony was over. 

Hootpaw padded forward patiently. His ears were pricked and he looked up at Alderstar with interest and patience. Alderstar had wondered a long time how to convey THAT in a name.  “For your resistance against fate, and your ability to follow the wind so long as you see fit, you shall be known as Hootbloom.” Hootbloom’s eyes shone with a hint of pleasure, and something more beneath that.

It was good. Flowers bloom at different paces, some slow, some fast, but they all open up in the end. The same went for the kit. He had patience that astonished Alderstar, but the patience was for himself–he only felt it because time mattered only to him. He was slow and easy when he wanted to be, and fast as a frog’s tongue when he wanted to be. He bloomed when he wanted to bloom, it was no one else’s choice. This name was a way to announce it.

“Cinderpaw, step forward.”

Cinderpaw raced to the spot before Alderstar had finished the final word, her eyes wide and bright, and her fur dusty from the run. Kiteburn huffed in irritation where he sat with his and Cinderpaw’s family.

“For your resistance against fate, and your ability to see the heart in everyone, even when cold ice surrounds it, you shall, from this day forward, be known as Cinderrose.” The colours differed in meaning. Alderstar imagined the pink and white ones, happiness and innocence. Those were the two words that always sprang to mind whenever he thought of Cinderrose. She was an eager young cat, always ready to learn and make new friends. Even then, he could see the trauma that she was pushing away. He didn’t want to make her think about it now, or anytime she heard her name, so he stuck with the positives. Perhaps she could find help or figure out how to accept her past now that she didn’t have so much time taken up by training.

“Flarepaw, step forward,” Alderstar continued once Cinderrose was seated beside Antgrove, Smallclaw, and Hootbloom.

Flarepaw was slower. He didn’t look afraid, more curious, like he was still shocked that he could really be receiving his warrior ceremony even though he had died as a kit. Alderstar gave him a reassuring smile. “For your resistance against fate, and the justice that burns like fire in your paws, you shall, from this day forth, be known as Flarelight.” It was a double-name, what flares brings light, but Flarelight does in two ways as well. He brightens the space wherever he is, making jokes and always making sure that everyone is as comfortable as can be. As well, he never looks away when he notices that someone is being mistreated, even by a single whisker. He sheds light on the situation until it is solved.

Flarelight’s whiskers quivered in delight. He took a moment to grin at his father, Cricketclaw, before joining the line.

“Lavenderpaw, step forward.”

Lavenderpaw was not slow nor fast, she moved at an even pace, though stumbled a few times as she was unable to remove her gaping gaze from Alderstar in the tree above her. “For your resistance against fate, your way of hearing sorrows and spreading joy, you shall from this day forth be known as Lavenderspring.” It was another name with two meanings, one indicating the spring Lavenderspring always tried to bring to everyone’s steps, and in symbolism to the body of water, gentle and comfortable, which she always tried to be to those who needed it.

There was one more part of the ceremony that had to be done. He leaped from the branch and padded toward Antgrove. “Are you ready?” He asked.

Antgrove’s voice quivered. “Yes. I would like it by my tail.”

“Stand.”

Antgrove did as told. He sucked in a breath, and Alderstar laid a claw across his skin. He dragged it down deep enough to last, but not enough to cause serious damage. Then he laid another, smaller mark beside and just across it. “You are a true warrior now,” Alderstar told him. He repeated the markings onto the other newly-named warriors on areas of their choosing, before backing up and addressing the crowd once more. “Let us call out their names, and tell the Stars they have no strength here.!”

“Lavenderspring!”

“Antgrove!”

“Smallclaw!”

“Flarelight!”

“Hootbloom!”

“Cinderrose!”

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I will be explaining how the kits differed when the grew, and this claw ceremony thing! Basically really, it’s different leaders conducting ceremonies mark cats they named. I figured in the Dark Forest, that wouldn’t be frowned upon at all. Alder’s marking is like a branch with a thorn on it.

@frightnightindustries