The young silvery she-cat cocked her head, ears twitching as they swiveled at the slightest sound of prey. It was early greenleaf, and the wind ruffled her fur this way and that, but never roughly, and it swayed the green grass she was crouched in. It was refreshing and welcomed, as the warm summer air was scorching. Her teal eyes darted up to a newly blooming tree: she has spotted it, a chittering, fluffy squirrel fresh from its winter nap, washing it's face and tail. She wiggled her haunches, her tail swaying. In a few silent bounds, she had clawed up the bark and landed quietly on the thick branch where the squirrel was. Licking her lips, she launched herself at the fat animal, pinning it and giving it a killing blow before it even knew she was there.
Ducking her head, she gave thanks to StarClan for the prey-animal. Picking it up gingerly between her teeth, she chose her way down the tree carefully, making sure not to lose her footing. As she scrambled down, she realized her mentor wasn't around. Where could he be? she wondered, scraping out dirt from another oak nearby, uncovering the prey they had buried earlier in their hunting patrol, and then covered it back up again.
She took a few steps away from the oak when a fluttering of wings caught her eye. She looked up to see a pigeon. A fat, juicy one. Oh, wouldn't One-Eye be pleased! she thought excitedly, and started looking around for the best attack position. The grumpy elder was the oldest cat in the clan, and she deserved whatever the young apprentice could catch her, and this would suffice.
"Galaxypaw!" said a loud yowl from somewhere. She jumped, then realized the yowl was from her father, Graystripe. He seemed genuinely worried, and bounded over, rapidly and roughly licking her ears when he reached her.
"Hey!" she said. Her father's mate, Silverstream, and her mother, had died giving birth to her and her two siblings, Featherpaw and Stormpaw, who were now in RiverClan. She had chosen to stay and keep her father company, and sometimes she regretted it. He was a bit protective and pushy, but she knew he did it out of love.
"Where's your mentor?" asked Graystripe, "Why isn't he with you?"
"I don't know," said Galaxypaw. Her name was a Twoleg name, because the galaxy was referred to as Silverpelt by her clan, but her father had given it to her after his best friend, Fireheart, said she looked a lot like Silverpelt. After some arguing, Fireheart told him the Twoleg word for it, and Graystripe loved it immediately.
"When I get my paws on him..." said Graystripe angrily.
Galaxypaw shouldered past Graystripe, and began trotting towards the clan camp. She slunk through the entrance, some of the prey held carefully in her jaws, and laid it on the fresh-kill pile in the middle of the camp. After a few shakes of her head, she took some to One-Eye in the elders den.
"Here you are, One-Eye," she said, plopping down the fat vole beside the elderly she-cat. The cat looked up with her one good eye, and nodded a little too hard. With a respectful nod, Galaxypaw retreated from the den, and the other elders smiled a bit as she glanced at them. She wasn't fully accepted around the clan, being half RiverClan and half ThunderClan, but she didn't want that to stop her.
Like every young apprentice before her, Galaxypaw wanted to become the best warrior she could be. But with an obstacle like loyalty ahead of her, she'd have to work extra hard to get it.