Owlbark had few mental weaknesses. He disdained kittypets and their frivolous lifestyle, but felt meek around them. He avoided Twoleg Place at all costs for this reason. He did not need to see his clanmates watch him sulk and go mute at the mention of twolegs and their ways. This was easy to overcome. He could send his patrols there without questions since the other clan borders held higher esteem. Of course a deputy would venture to ensure the safety and propriety of their borders.
His second mental weakness was kits. Not apprentices. They were old enough to listen and take orders from him. Kits, on the other paw, were still learning how to even function. Especially the smallest ones. They were spared his blunt orders and demands. Instead, they received gruff politeness from him. Caretakers also garnered his respect while they were nursing. They held an important role in the clan and only a moron would spurn them. He gave them space and dignity as they went about their business.
Being deputy, though, meant that he was to see to all of his clan. Rarely, he made visits to check on the queens. Held in his mouth was a plump vole, still warm from his morning hunt. Owlbark pushed his head into the nursery, breathing in the scent of milk and warm moss. He set the prey down carefully and bowed his head to the caretakers. "Hello. I came to see if you needed anything," he said, tone unusually polite.
