bad WIND rising [Cinderpaw]

[birchflower]

Birchflower woke to the sound of her denmates stirring around her. Her sister, settled into the nest right beside her, made a grumbling noise deep in her throat and pulled both paws over her face and muzzle – earning a half-asleep laugh from Birchflower. Her jaw stretched wide in a yawn, and she rolled casually to her paws, rolling her shoulders and shaking her long pelt. Most of her fellow warriors slept on in their nests like Rooktalon did; it seemed only the dawn patrol was really up and moving.

For a brief moment, Birchflower debated going back to sleep – she hadn’t woken from any particular dream, but it would be nice the sleep the heat of greenleaf away – but she had a special training session today with Cinderpaw. It would be better to get a head start on the day – before the sun started beating down once again and made her want to do nothing more than crawl into the deepest, darkest hole she could find and wait for leafbare.

So the gray tabby she-cat slipped her way carefully past sleeping warriors and out into the quite camp. Her eyes drifted over to the apprentice den, but she decided had already told Cinderpaw where and when to meet her this morning, and figured she would let him sleep a little longer. Instead, Birchflower snatched a plump vole from the fresh kill pile and chatted with one of the other early-risers as they ate. By the time the vole was finished and disposed of, the sun had finally risen over the horizon – and more of the camp was stirring.

Birchflower headed out with an early hunting patrol, but broke off from the group to lope across the moorland. The sloping hills were wide open and empty before her as she made her way for Outlook Rock – one of the few obvious landmarks out here – and the warrior gave herself the chance to stretch her legs with a long, easy pace. She was slightly short of breath once she reached her destination, but the burn in her muscles was a pleasant one. Besides, the slight breeze sweeping over the hills cooled her easily, just like she had hoped for.

Lying against the side of the large stone – well within its cool shadow as the sun continued to rise – Birchflower waited for her apprentice to show. She hoped he was looking forward to their battle training as much as she was.

[cinderpaw]

The dark coolness of the apprentices’ den was intoxicating. Cinderpaw stirred rhythmically, his breathing guiding a bit of moss that some other apprentice must have flicked onto his head while he slept up and down. The dawn light was too weak to pull the tired tom from his sleep. Cinderpaw had spent the previous night out late on a night patrol. He had told the warrior that had ordered him to join the patrol that he had an early training session the following morning but he was given only a shrug as a reply. Since there currently was no deputy, the tom had explained, the organization of patrols had become somewhat lax and that the clan would just have to do its best to work with it. Cinderpaw thought he could hear a note of resentment in the older tom’s tone. After that, the grey furred apprentice did not complain again, determined to follow his leader’s orders and do his best to serve his clan without any grumbling. The result was the deep slumber that had grasped Cinderpaw the moment he collapsed into his nest.

The dawn light strengthened, rays of sunlight reaching into the den with lingering fingers and touching Cinderpaw’s ear. The young tom slowly rolled back to consciousness, his half-asleep mind dazedly registering the chatter of other cats outside. All at once he remembered that he was supposed to be somewhere and the rest of sleep drained away. Cinderpaw struggled to his feet, urging his body to shake off the fatigue which stiffened his muscles as he slumped outside of the den and squinted up at the sky. He was not too late he realized gratefully, but Birchflower was nowhere to be seen which meant she had probably left without him.

A spark of excitement kindled in Cinderpaw’s chest as he thought about the day’s plan. Birchflower had promised him battle training today, the skill which Cinderpaw had found that he loved most so far. Hunting was fine but it grew systematic and boring once it had lost its novelty; running and climbing and swimming were all made into repetitive exercises which grew harder as he matched them in skill. Fighting stood out in that it was always different and Cinderpaw felt there was no other way in which he could take such an active role in his own training. The style and strategy he developed now would guide him to becoming the strong warrior he hoped to be. He had been practicing the moves Birchflower had taught him by himself and was sure he would amaze her with his progress. Maybe she would even let him go and help defend Wildclan territory against one of those rogues that kept showing up soon!

He decided to skip breakfast, knowing that to eat now would keep Birchflower waiting and, anyway, he could probably fight better without a full stomach weighing him down. Slipping over the ridge, Cinderpaw turned his paws to the moors, where his mentor had instructed him to be. Four moons into his training, the grey tom knew the Wildclan territory by heart, not least because he was constantly volunteering for border patrols to make sure he could embed every single tree and bush and blade of grass which was Wildclan into his mind. His eyes searched the horizon for the large rock but it was unnecessary; he was mostly using his nose to guide him, taking the route Birchflower had taken by following her scent.

Soon Cinderpaw could spot his mentors pale white fur standing out starkly against the Outlook Rock. Cinderpaw hurried his pace to reach her, a new energy pushing his throbbing muscles back into full speed.

“Good morning, Birchflower,” he mewed politely, bouncing lightly to a halt, his long fur blown back by the faint breeze and his running, his eyes glowing with a kit-like excitement, “what are we doing today?”