[hawkpaw/open] Young Blood

[DKT]

Whitepaw nibbled lamely at the last scraps of a sparrow. The bird was thin, but Whitepaw had no complaints. His own appetite had always been easily sated and it suited him to leave the best plumpest fresh-kill for the cats who needed it most. Besides, a few more feathers for his nest would be a welcome softness. This he thought as he pretended to listen to the elder beside him retelling for the hundredth time the day he’d caught a fish bigger than he was. It was an exaggerated story at best and an outright lie at worst, but Whitepaw knew the timing of the story well by now and inserted nods and appreciative gasps at appropriate intervals.

Not long after the food was eaten, the elder curled up to nap for a time outside their den. The plump old cat’s snoring, often a comfort at nights, was obtrusive in the gorgeous light of a newleaf day. He looked around the clearing, but most cats were either out of camp or busy with their own duties. He tried to push himself up onto his paws, but instead ended up rolling around foolishly on the ground. Giving himself an impatient hiss, the tomcat tried again and found himself properly standing. Better. Leaving his Clanmate to snooze and vowing to come back for his feathers in a moment, Whitepaw made his way carefully around. A couple of apprentices in their den, a few warriors milling around, but no one seeming interested in him. Whitepaw heaved a little disappointed sigh and decided to get a quick breath of fresh-air outside the camp before heading back to his den.

As he squeezed out through the entrance, he found himself tilting perilously forward and let out a grunt as he tumbled tail over head in front of the entrance, wincing at the twinge in his left forepaw. He’d hurt himself enough to know it wasn’t serious and would go away with a bit of rest, but for now it hurt. Giving it a little lick, he decided to give himself a rest. He hated making a fool of himself and a limp only ever made his shaky wobble even worse. He was in no hurry to parade back through camp looking worse for wear after just walking outside the camp.

[vixen.]

you'll think of me

take your space and take your reasons, but

The day was early and the new-leaf had Hawkpaw in decent spirits. But, it was slightly off due to the fact that once again, Nightpelt was out of camp on patrol and he had left the tom behind. Instead of whining about it like he usually would do, the tabby had stretched himself out in bright patch of sun-light and was listening to one of the elders tell Whitepaw a story. It wasn't very interesting, but the old, wise tone of the older cats voice was enough to ease the anger that was so vivid in the young tom's mind. Whitepaw was a poor soul, and the other apprentice felt for him, which was rather unusual. In most situations, Hawkpaw was a bully and had no empathy for anyone. But, with Whitepaw he couldn't imagine what it was like to be no older than the other apprentices and unable to do all the things they do. So, it kept the tom's bullying at bay and he focused on being as friendly - if it was even possible - as he could to the white apprentice.  When the elders story had concluded and he had fallen asleep in his den, the snoring was enough to drive the tabby mad. Opening one deep amber eye, he caught a glimpse of Whitepaw exiting the camp and found himself leaping to his paws and following suite, though he stayed far enough back so it didn't look like he was truly following the other apprentice. Once the other tom was through the entrance, Hawkpaw slid out after him, only to catch him tumbling head over tail. Still, the tabby bit back a comment and walked over to the white apprentice, lowering his haunches beside him and wrapping his tail neatly over his front paws. It was very rare that the brown apprentice would find some kind of compassion through his snarkiness, but something about this tom drew out his protective side. He wanted to be there for him. And the strange emotion made the tom anxious. But, once again, he swallowed the pride that welled up in his throat and he rested his tail against the other cat's shoulder, if only for a moment. "Are you alright?" He meowed, though his voice was husky and rather dry. Kind words coming from such a violent apprentice just didn't seem normal. But, he would have to get over it eventually, right?

• 429 words • "I'm speaking." • DKT • sorry it's so late.

♥︎

Read more: awarriorshaven.proboards.com/thread/90/all-jazz#ixzz3ayxXHcjp

[DKT]

Hawkpaw. The apprentice’s appearance brought an uneasy prickle under his pelt. He was also a little uncomfortable around apprentices. Those cats who were his juniors, but would surpass him in less than a moon. They were given their suffix because they were following the pawsteps of countless NightClan warriors before them. He was given it for not being a kit. But Hawkpaw in particular was a bit of a wildcard. Though he’d not yet turned his sharpness on Whitepaw, he didn’t consider himself immune. Any cat who thought they knew what the little apprentice was thinking was fooling themselves, he felt sure.



and though he disapproved of the mouthiness, there was a certain thrill in hearing about Hawkpaw’s exploits, which were always interesting.



The metaphorical olive branch not lost on Whitepaw was accepted. Hawkpaw’s query was far, far from the overbearing protectiveness that drove some cats to treat him like a sweet but particularly stupid kit. He appreciated it. “If falling was enough to hurt me, I’d probably be fresh-kill right now. But thanks for checking.” With a huff he pulled himself up and tested his weight on it. There was a quick sting of pain, but it was endurable. No reason to bother Cloudwhisker over any herbs for this one. “Did Nightpelt leave you behind again?” If his mentor had left him behind he’d probably want to claw their ears off. “Is he taking you out later?”