Take My Voice

Stori wrote:Whiteraven stretched slowly. "A good day's work," he said to his apprentice.

The young gray cat just nodded; he never spoke [Instead of just stating that so boldly, try and hint towards it, if you catch my drift, otherwise the statement sticks out a bit].

"You have trained well, but there is something you lack. You need a voice to comfort the sick."[You says this?]

He paced. He scratched his ears. Finally he said [Who is he: by this point you have me confused - you need to make who's saying what a little clearer], "Take my voice."

Startled, his apprentice [does this apprentice not have a name? If not, is there some way you can distinguish him/her, like a nickname, maybe and some kind of description also would probably help out too (: ] only stared. Was this another of Whiteraven's jokes? [Who's thinking/saying this. If it is a thought, you need to make this clearer and who's thinking it too] But his mentor looked at him sternly. He spoke a word the apprentice couldn't understand. A hot pain lanced through the young cat's throat.

"Whiteraven!" he cried. He could speak! But his mentor was writhing on the ground, uttering mute calls of distress.

"Whiteraven, what's wrong?" He tried the word his mentor had said, but it was no use[s]d[/s]. He cried a third time, "Whiteraven, I don't want your voice. Take it back!"

Whiteraven only sighed and shook his head.

"Oh, if only I could speak before this!"

Without his voice, the old cat slowly faded away. He was frail; the shock of his loss broke him.

Feeling like a thief, the apprentice lived on. He vowed to never use the stolen voice. [I am now completely lost: was the above an occurrence that has just happened or a flashback - you need to make this clearer, because if the reader gets confused, they will lose interest, which we certainly don't want to happen!! (: ]

Other cats learned of him; they called him the "Silent Healer." Then one day, a she-cat expecting kits came to him. [I still don't understand what this sentence has in relation to the rest of the story. You need to make your paragraphs and sentences flow from one to the other, because at the moment they're choppy, and kind of random sounding also - sorry if I'm sounding harsh at all]

She charged him to raise the kits if she should die. [Again, what does this mean?]

Startled, he said, "I know little of raising them."

"Find someone, then," she begged. "Oh, they're coming!" [Too much he and she - give your pronouns names and use them!!]

The kits and their mother survived. However, the mother's voice was broken; she never spoke again [Again, how does this relate at all with what is happening - you really do need to work on keeping your series of events flowing and not sounding as though they've been randomly thrown onto the page, which I'm sure (more than sure) they haven't, so we don't want people thinking that!].

"Take my voice," the Silent Healer said. "Take the memory of it with you."

The story [Which one? So far there seems to be several - give your story a title so it's easier to refer back to and for your readers to understand and keep track]was told and retold until it reached a ThunderClan medicine cat. She told it again; soon all four Clans were reciting it. Thus, medicine cats were given the story when they were apprenticed. They sat in silent vigil, as did all new warriors. Some swore they could see a pale-gray cat, watching with them into the night.

Stori wrote:Whiteraven stretched slowly. "A good day's work," he said to his apprentice.

The young gray cat just nodded.

"You have trained well, but there is something you lack. You need a voice to comfort the sick."

He paced. He scratched his ears. Finally he said, "Take my voice."

Startled, his apprentice only stared. Was this another of Whiteraven's jokes? But his mentor looked at him sternly. He spoke a word the apprentice couldn't understand. A hot pain lanced through the young cat's throat.

"Whiteraven!" he cried. He could speak! But his mentor was writhing on the ground, uttering mute calls of distress.

"Whiteraven, what's wrong?" He tried the word his mentor had said, but it was no used. He cried a third time, "Whiteraven, I don't want your voice. Take it back!"

Whiteraven only sighed and shook his head.

"Oh, if only I could speak before this!"

Without his voice, the old cat slowly faded away. He was frail; the shock of his loss broke him.

Feeling like a thief, the apprentice lived on. He vowed to never use the stolen voice.

Other cats learned of him; they called him the "Silent Healer." Then one day, a she-cat expecting kits came to him.

She charged him to raise the kits if she should die.

Startled, he said, "I know little of raising them."

"Find someone, then," she begged. "Oh, they're coming!"

The kits and their mother survived. However, the mother's voice was broken; she never spoke again.

"Take my voice," the Silent Healer said. "Take the memory of it with you."

The story was told and retold until it reached a ThunderClan medicine cat. She told it again; soon all four Clans were reciting it. Thus, medicine cats were given the story when they were apprenticed. They sat in silent vigil, as did all new warriors. Some swore they could see a pale-gray cat, watching with them into the night.

"You have trained well,

Was this another of Whiteraven's jokes?