waking up to ash and dust [patrol]

[dappledbrook]

Dappledbrook knew it was time for her patrol to begin when the breeze that shifted her fur was no longer tepid and thick and the sky’s blue colour was leaching away to throw the pale yet colourful beginnings of a sunset onto the horizon. The tortoiseshell she-cat rose to her paws, leaving the cool patch of shade she had been relaxing in and walking into the dying sunlight with a cool, collected step. A few moons ago she would have been leaping in excitement at Badgerstar’s order that she lead the sunset patrol to the moors. To be selected as a patrol leader meant that the leader acknowledged her skill and value to the clan. However, Dappledbrook had gradually lost the respect and reverence she once held for Badgerstar after he refused to choose a deputy after Stormwhisker’s death. Now, the chance to be a patrol leader still gave her the solid feeling of satisfaction and determination that it once would have but there was a defeated energy about it. This wasn’t a chance to prove herself. How could she ever show her leader her potential in being a deputy when he wouldn’t even consider appointing a new one?

Reaching the apprentice’s den, Dappledbrook peered inside, her amber eyes narrowed as her gaze raked over a few sleeping bundles of fur. She had warned the apprentices that they would be on this patrol earlier and that they should get some sleep in order to be alert for their duties at sunset. “Cinderpaw,” she meowed at a practically motionless ball of grey fur, “Sycamorepaw,” she gave a poke to the patched apprentice, “Up and at them, kits. It’s time for the patrol.” Slipping away from the den, Dappledbrook tried to catch Fennelwhisker’s eye from across the clearing, calling her name and flicking her tail to beckon her.

As she approached the camp entrance, Dappledbrook noticed that there were only two warriors accompanying two apprentices in this patrol. The tortoiseshell looked around, hoping to catch some unoccupied cat and persuading them to come along when she spotted a large fluffy black figure, recognizing Batears, the medicine cat. A thought came to her and she shifted her path slightly to trot towards him.

“Batears!” the wiry she-cat called, “We’re going on the moor patrol. Do you need us to get you some plants or… stones or anything?” Dappledbrook’s whiskers twitched in friendly amusement. She had been to the medicine cats den enough times to know about Batear’s obsession with his stones. While she didn’t pretend to know anything of healing and generally let Batears do his thing, she couldn’t help but feel skeptical about the stones’ healing powers. Still, whatever worked to help others. “Or you can come with us, if you think we won’t be able to tell any herbs apart,” Dappledbrook added.

The mottled she-cat looked around her, waiting patiently for her patrol to gather. She glanced towards the reddening sky. If they left now they would make it back to camp in darkness. She wanted to reach the moors with enough light to properly survey the territory. However, she supposed a night patrol would be a useful experience for the two apprentices tagging along.

[batears]

He had been rifling through his supply, counting what he had left. He glanced out of the mouth of his den then quickly licked his paw and stuck it out as well. No wind. Hmm... he made a mental note about what that could mean for the future weather then went back to quickly checking his stores. Interesting...hmm. Yup, he definitely need more of that. The question was, could it wait until tomorrow?

He popped back out of his den again to look around the camp. No one appeared to be coughing or close to getting sick but sometimes those crazy things just happened. It would be good to have enough supply on paw should something happen.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts and predicaments, he almost didn't hear his name called. However, as his name would suggest, his ears had a way of picking up things he wouldn't have noticed otherwise and his head quickly snapped int he direction of the voice that called him while his large eyes attempted to focus on the cat behind the call.

“We’re going on the moor patrol. Do you need us to get you some plants or… stones or anything?” He ignored how skeptical she sounded and thought for a moment on her question, not blinking once since he originally locked his gaze on her. Eventually, the cat moved and shook his head. "yes, yes, I need some supplies. And, no offense, of course my dear but I wouldn't expect you to know what it is I need. No, it will be far more useful to us both if I just tag a long. I must first grab something though."

He returned to his den and picked up an interesting looking device. A bundle of twigs had been woven in and out of one another and the entire semi circle had been lined with huge oak leaves. It was a holding device he had made so he could carry more herbs. He called it a 'basskit' He called it such because he first tested it to bring a large bass back to his den for lunch. It was also (after a few redesigns) strong enough to hold a kit.

He nodded to her, his mouth full of twigs. Now he was ready.