Thirty-odd moons had waxed and waned since Grizzledtooth had stood beneath his leader and become an apprentice, but he remembered the ceremony as if it had been a day ago. He remembered waiting besides his siblings, fur pressing against Shellkit's as his sister shot him an excited smile. He remembered his mother warning him to pay attention during the ceremony so that he'd hear his name, and his father beaming at him. He remembered vowing to walk to the meeting spot proudly, without the expression of fear that Fishpaw had worn a moon prior. He remembered his name, sounding so different when it fell from the leader's, and Shellkit nosing him forward. "That's you, silly."
The next apprentice ceremony that had held any meaning for him was Yellowpaw's. When the meeting has started, he'd been more involved in his thoughts than in what was going on around him. He knew that a litter of kits were due to become apprentices, but he hadn't imagined that he would be involved until his name was called. In hindsight, there had been subtle hints in the days before the ceremony, but he hadn't paid them much mind. He'd barely understood them: he had about as much subtly as a bull in a china store.
"Grizzledtooth, you will be Yellowpaw's mentor. I trust you to train her as best you can, and pass on your knowledge to her."
Yellowpaw had been a shy, curious thing. He'd never paid much attention to her as a kit—as a rule, he didn't pay much attention to the kits, although he vowed that would change when Shellflower gave birth, which ought to be any day now. She'd smiled when he bumped her on the nose, but her nerves were obvious. He didn't blame her. Aside from the fact that she was entering a new stage in life, she had to deal with him. She didn't know him very well, and his name alone conjured a more wild image. He might care about that, if he hadn't long ago given up on caring that he had the prefix Grizzled-, all of things.
Their first outing, later that day, ended in disaster. He'd determined to teach Yellowpaw some basic defensive moves before they went traipsing across the territory, just in case something happened. Either she didn't have much skill for combat or he was a bad teacher—or the fact that it was her first lesson, ever, led to her many mistakes, but that particular defense never crossed his mind. After the umpteenth time when Yellowpaw failed to block his strike (and it wasn't like it was anything particularly complicated, just a paw aimed at her face, and she could duck away, couldn't she?) Grizzledtooth finally exploded. "What exactly is so difficult here? Just keep from dying, that's all I'm asking! Can't you manage that? Just move away!" He'd said more, said worse, but he preferred to limit his memory to that. Yellowpaw had flinched and started crying, and more or less had signified the end of the day's training.
Later, when he'd confided in Shellflower, his sister gave him an exasperated look and shook her head. "Really, Grizzledtooth? You thought that was a good idea?"
Yellowpaw never gain regained her initial enthusiasm for training. She was slow to listen to his directives, and grumbled every time he mentioned extra training. He devoted a lot of time most apprentices would have had "off" for extra training: Yellowpaw needed it. Although she had a natural flair for fishing, her techniques remained poor, and her fighting skills were rudimentary at best. It almost seemed as though she was intentional trying to do poorly. More often than not, and although he regretted it later, Grizzledtooth found himself losing his temper with her. How was he supposed to remain calm when she refused to respond to even the simplest directions, and flubbed basic exercises?
The first time he caught her badmouthing him to the other apprentices, Grizzledtooth was shocked.
By the time Yellowpaw had been in training for a moon and a half, it was obvious that neither of them were really enjoying themselves. More than once, Grizzledtooth considered approaching the leader and asking if Yellowpaw could switch to a new mentor, but somehow, the proposed action never become reality.
One sunny afternoon, not yet two full moons into their training, Grizzledtooth's midday meal was interrupted by the desperate yowls of a warrior who barreled into the camp at full speed. "We found Yellowpaw in the river! Where's—" The warrior's cries broke off by the approach of the medicine cat, but by the time the group returned to the river's edge, Yellowpaw was no longer breathing.
As custom dictated, Grizzledtooth stayed up the night following the burial. He was supposed to be mourning his apprentice, but he'd never developed the bond that most mentors and apprentices seemed to have, and it was hard to draw forth a tear. The point was only emphasized when, sometime after midnight, Yellowpaw's littermate Snailpaw came over to him and bitterly murmured, "She hated you, you know that? She prayed every night that she'd get a new mentor, someone who actually cares—cared—about her." He mumbled some reply that they both knew was meaningless, and by daybreak, everyone but Grizzledtooth seemed to have forgotten the incident.
He was never given a new apprentice.
