Devious green eyes. 

Stones cracked and fire devoured the path behind her, chanting fear into an already plummeting heart. The reek in the air was vehement, a curse upon her weary paws. Her vision was blurring and doubling, her physique wanting to succumb, yet she kept pushing, as fast as her knackered limbs could carry her. 

Demoniac green eyes growled, redoubtable envy laced within them. Moonpaw could feel the fear eating her from the inside out, pain coursing through her veins, tearing at her bones, threatening to break from the continuous dashes—

The screams of raging storms hit her ears like agonizing cries of help. Her wail came out in silence as the fire licked her back paws, the scorching heat only but worsening her pain. 

Then the green eyes. They sauntered in, glowing with a fire of triumph. It raised its claws and a horrendous growl sounded within — all Moonpaw could put in mind was I am dying. This is the end. I am dying.

The monster loomed closer, and faintly the apprentice could see white teeth that gleamed menacingly, the razor-sharp claws that dripped with crimson liquid. And the hunger its eyes held as he stared down at her—

Then the ground opened beneath.

She fell, downwards, downwards, spiralling into never-ending darkness as it grappled at her, as hungrily as the eyes had, a silence that embrace the land and sky, unnerving, sickening, eerie—

Thud.

Moonpaw hit something soft.

She opened her eyes slowly.

Soothing moonlight filtered through the branches of her den, glowing with a warm and calming light. The barest rustle of the breeze softly caressed her cheeks.

Moonpaw blinked a few times.

It was just a dream. Just the same nightmare.

Afraid to fall back asleep, she slipped silently out of her den and stepped into the clearing. The forest was restless. The chitter-chatter of the night critters resonated through the thick trees, echoing back into the camp. 

The ground beneath her was an open expense of wet mud, thickly covered with pools and small puddles. A small river winded its way through. Moonpaw shuddered to recall the nightmare, where the ground had split and let her free fall into never-ending darkness.

The puddles were muddy and diluted. However as Moonpaw peered into one of them, she faintly saw her gleaming grey eyes staring back at herself. Those pupils burned with white fire and reflected the moonlight as if it was glowing itself.

One might call it silver, perhaps. Moonpaw was not sure.

Yet, her Clan didn't seem to appreciate the unique colour. Ever since she was a kit, they'd call those colours cursed. 

All cats who were born with silver eyes were cursed.

All other kits had their parents, the Warrior and Queens which would coo them to sleep and let them snuggle into their fur— yet Moonpaw would always be shooed to a corner, forced to fall into uneasy nightmares on a rough nest. No warmth. No sincere smiles. No laughter at all.

Something about her biological father too. Outcasted, they say? Moonpaw had never heard much though. 

She sighed and gazed at the starry satin above her. This was her life. The life she had known since birth. The destiny she cannot change.

And now that she was an apprentice for just a mere two days, she already knew her life would always be like this, no matter what ranking. She was born an outcast, and—

"Moonpaw?" 

Her chain of thoughts was abruptly interfered with. Startled, the apprentice veered around. 

"Mistshade?" Moonpaw asked. 

The cream coloured tabby gazed evenly at the other. "Hello," she meowed smoothly. "Might I ask why are you awake in the middle of the night?"

"I- I just want to breathe some fresh air," Moonpaw replied in a stammer. She had never communicated with the Mark Bearer much.

Mistshade cocked her head sideways as if she was listening to prey. "Would you mind sharing with me what you are thinking?" she meowed softly after a slight pause. "Perhaps I can help." 

Moonpaw shrank away, although the other's gaze was merely motherly.

"J-just questioning my past," the apprentice replied stiffly. 

Mistshade made no sound for a rather long time. Moonpaw, afraid that she had made a mistake, hurriedly lifted her head up. 

However, the Mark Bearer's face was just serenely thoughtful. 

"Don't worry," she meowed at last. "There's a golden age coming, and you'd be a part of it."

Leaving the bewildered Moonpaw alone, the Mark Bearer bounded away into the depths of her den. 

Strange and mysterious, Moonpaw thought. As a Mark Bearer always is.

~

"I've finally brought Moonpaw here," her mentor swept his tail to force the apprentice forward. "Today, you shall be training with Flarepaw."

Moonpaw's heart sank. She disliked her orange clanmate very much, as much as he detested her. Cold and dignified, this senior apprentice never lost a chance to prove himself.

"Oh, Moonpaw?" Flarepaw gazed condescendingly at the other apprentice. "Why, I would rather fight a shrew itself."

Moonpaw shrank back a few steps. She attempted to tell herself it was just a mere insult, but it stung anyway.

"Which battle move should I perform today?" The senior apprentice continued, acting nonchalant to Moonpaw's reaction. "Perhaps an eagle's swoop just to make things easier?"

He did not wait for the mentor's reply before hunching his back paws and giving a powerful leap into the air. Before Moonpaw could counter the attack, Flarepaw lunged precisely at the silver apprentice, his moves smooth as an eagle's swooping down to catch prey.

"Easy," he snarled. "You're useless." 

Her heart stung ever so more by his words. 

The younger apprentice ground her teeth. She had told herself to not take these counter-throws by heart, and this was the millionth time she had defied it. She gazed at her mentor, hoping for some encouragement, yet as expected Stagsong just sat there, gazing expressionlessly at the fighting pair.

"We'll do it again," Flarepaw meowed. Before he let Moonpaw regain her position he had launched into the air once again, reaching out his forepaw to pin the other down. 

Moonpaw, prepared, rolled to the Flarepaw's back paws side to dodge the blow. Yet what she did not expect was the senior apprentice abruptly lashing out his back paws, momentarily blinding her with a splatter of mud. Next thing she knew Flarepaw had her pinned down again. 

"Pay attention," Flarepaw hissed. 

You're not my mentor!

Moonpaw bit her tongue. Her mind was swirling with thousands of retorts, but she knew the consequences if she let it slip.

"I agree," At the side, Stagsong's voice was stern. "Pay attention to the battle moves, Moonpaw! You'd already be long dead if this wasn't a mock battle."

I was just an apprentice for two days! What do you expect?

Of course, Moonpaw could only swallow her indignation down. As Flarepaw pounced into the air once again, the silver apprentice rolled sideways and made sure she was well away from Flarepaw's claws. The opponent came down with a heavy thud and staggered sideways.

Just as Moonpaw relaxed and thought she had finally accomplished, the senior apprentice crept soundlessly towards her. Moonpaw could hear it coming— she just couldn't react fast enough to counter this cunning move. In a blink of an eye, she was pinned down.

Flarepaw's cold laughter was like pouring icy water into her soul. "You're a fool," he gazed mockingly at her, unsheathing his claws and digging into Moonpaw's flanks. The trapped apprentice winced from the pain. "Too easy to defeat."

You've trained for five whole moons. And I for only two days.

Moonpaw shut her muzzle.

Flarepaw released Moonpaw from his tightened hold. "Imbecile," he snarled.

Moonpaw winced once again but said nothing. 

They repeated the procedure once again. Every time, Moonpaw was ready with a counter-move for the last attack, yet Flarepaw was always a step ahead: First a Mountain Lion's pounce, then a Stoat's dash... numerous battle moves that would always leave Moonpaw pinned down at last.

By the time the sun was setting on the horizon and painted the sky a glamorous red, Moonpaw swore her limbs had fallen down. Her paws did not feel as if they belonged to her. Her head was swimming with tiredness, and she longed for nothing more but her nice, warm prey and her cosy nest. 

Stagsong seemed reluctant to put a halt to the training, however; as if he enjoyed watching Moonpaw fail over and over again. Yet at last, he had to call it off, for Flarepaw's mentor had complained that the senior apprentice had strained himself far too much.

When Moonpaw had finally succeeded in stumbling back to the camp, scooting to her usual dark corner by the apprentice den, she let out a frustrated sigh, one that she had held for one whole day. Her claws dug into her flanks, the pain from Flarepaw's rakes still throbbing dully.

She gazed at the opening of the den, sending a silent prayer at the Twilight stars. Yet they remained expressionless, cold, like every single cat in her Clan does to her.

Mistshade said there was a golden age coming— is that true? Or is it merely a fake contort?