β β β β β β β wrote:|Badgershade|
|Male|
|39 moons|
|Heteroflexable|
|Camp|
|Tagged: Cloudpaw|
As Badgerfang wandered quietly to his feet and with his head scraping grass to the side to make his way through the undergrowth, suddenly the morning silence was destroyed by the sound of flapping wings. An unusually large magpie settled down on his broad back and merged almost with his black and white fur. With her pointed claws, she clung to his fur and pushed out a loud scream, her dark eyes fixed on him as he glanced over the shoulder.
He smiled quietly to himself, but remained silent. Hopefully Cloudpaw was already awake today, he hated to have to squeeze into the apprentice den to wake his apprentice. He stuck into the camp and looked around.
With her bright fur Cloudpaw could hardly be overlooked and satisfied at least not to squeeze into the, in his opinion, much too small den of her, he stalked toward her.
His magpie was still resting on his back and gave the white she-cat a critical look as he stopped in front of her.
"Well, slept? Time for a hunt."
He looked down at the smaller cat from above, the glimmer of a grin on his face.
|Palesong|
|Male|
|28 moons|
|Bisexual|
|Med Cat Den|
|Tagged: Mintpaw; Bramblepaw|
While listening to the conversation of Mintpaw and Bramblepaw with one ear, he squeezed the last herbs between two sheets into a handy packet and pushed it to the others into a niche.
Slowly Palesong rose from his crouching position and came out of the corner, trying to cross the den as inconspicuously as possible, so as not to disturb the two apprentices in their conversation.
When his gaze fell upon the now useless herbs that had fallen to Bramblepaw, he took a deep breath.
Hopefully, Mintpaw or Swanstep would pop the stock as he slept or waited for someone to help.
As he thought about it, he came to mind that he was going to ask the older medicine cat something, but since he could not see her now, he decided to ask Mintpaw.
He walked toward the two of them softly, and then cleared his throat before saying, "I'm going to sleep soon. Can you tell Swanstep she's putting the marigolds out to dry as long as it's still sunny? "Oh, and hello, Bramblepaw."
As Palesong spoke, he avoided looking into the eyes of one of the two, chiefly because of Bramblepaw.
Mintpaw knew his red eyes, after all.
|Racoonpaw|
|Male|
|11 moons|
|Bisexual|
|Camp|
|Tagged: Flintfeather, Rivermist|
After a while in which he was sitting alone, nothing happened, not even his stupid bird appeared, and his mood sank deeper and deeper, Racoonpaw reflected on the fact that he still knew a cat, whom he could call Mentor and who had to spend his time with him, whether he wanted to, or not.
After slowly raising his face with an expression that clearly said "I would bite your ears when I could", his gaze found the gray fur of his mentor.
With his head high, he strutted toward the older cat and the queen and stopped short of the two.
Without twitching with the whiskers, he interrupted the conversation of the two.
"Are we going to train today, or do you spend the whole morning with gossip?"
Racoonpaw knew that this might have consequences, but in the light of his mood, it did not bother him much.
Besides, Flintfeather probably would not have the stupid idea to send him to the elders, in the end he would only put some thorns into the nests.
The old chatterboxers were lamenting all day long anyway.
|Mudpaw|
|Male|
|7 moons|
|Straight|
|Territoy|
| Tagged: None|
It was a beautiful morning, as Mudpaw thought, to do something good. The air was pleasantly fresh and brought fragrances from the forest with It, and the sun would quickly sweep the dew from the leaves.
So why not get some moss for the elders?
Only yesterday he had heard how one of them complained about the fact that he had a backache because of the few nest material, and Mudpaw could not find his mentor anywhere.
So he came up with the idea that it would be good to leave the camp, which he did without ponder much about it.
With great leaps he chased through the undergrowth, just glad to get rid of his energy and looking for a tree that was perhaps in the sun, so that the moss he wanted to bring home was not too wet.
After some time, he had hit a few detours, so as not to come too close to the borders, Mudpaw stopped, breathing deeply.
Nervously, he shrugged with one brown ear. He could not hear any birds singing, as if they were frightened.
He crouched down nervously, and began to crawl forward in a snail's pace, through a bush, always sniffing.
He had learned early on that the birds and their sounds were a safe source to recognize dangers before they were seen.
Perhaps a marten had killed a bird, or something?
Leaves rustled around him as he crawled through a small hedge.
