He could feel his heart thudding so hard it almost shook his whole chest. Sweetpaw. S w e e t p a w. Sweeeetpaaaaaw. The name still rang in his ears like a song that refused to fade. His paws tingled, tail twitching, and the whole camp suddenly looked… bigger. Brighter. His. He should’ve been happy. He was happy, right? This was what he’d dreamed of since forever. Since crouching in the nursery beside Tortrixkit, promising they’d be the strongest pair of warriors the Clan had ever seen. Since carrying Softie on his back when her short legs got tired, whispering about how they would stay together, no matter what. But the space next to him was empty. Sweetpaw’s eyes flicked toward the crowd, searching for two familiar shapes he knew weren’t there. His throat tightened anyway. Tortrix should be here. Softie should be here. They should be bumping his shoulder, giggling at his too-serious face, whispering about how funny “Sweetpaw” sounded when the leader said it out loud. He tried to smile like he was supposed to. Apprentices were supposed to look proud. Confident. Grown up. But the grin didn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d laugh at me, he thought, picturing Tortrix’s crooked little grin. You’d call me soft for tearing up. He blinked quickly, like that might stop the burn behind his eyes. The rest of the Clan was cheering... his name, his new name... and he dipped his head respectfully to his mentor, forcing his paws to stay steady. Still, when the crowd started to thin and he looked toward the apprentice’s den for the first time, the words came uninvited, curling around his ribs like a prayer he didn’t mean to say out loud: “Wish you could see this. Both of you.” And for a heartbeat, he imagined them there. Softie giggling, Tortrixkit teasing him, three little shapes pressed together in the light. Then the image flickered. And it was just him again.
