TW: Sensitive Content TW: Death Open holy moley! | apprentice patrol

[molepaw]

Oh yeah, a bright, early morning! Just Molepaw and the gang, out and about. It would've been nicer if he was more awake, though. His breath was still a flutter, a souvenir from sleep. Every few beats it would hitch as he struggled to inhale quicker, hoping it would shake the weight from his eyes. There was low fog still, dew not yet dissipated from the ferns. Normally, the feeling of dew collecting on his paws, cold and sharp to his senses, would disgust him, but it only served as another wakeup call to him, as ritual as the leafbare birds perched among the trees.

"Do you guys..." the tabby started. "Do you guys think that the animals we hunt... Their prey - you know - like the grass and acorns and stuff. Do you think they know they're being hunted, too?" He sounded like he'd eaten catnip to them, surely. But that was one of his deep thoughts he'd been saving all this journey! Molepaw's face split with a grin. "Man, sorry. I didn't sleep well last night."

@BUSTARDPAW @trufflepaw @rowanpaw @fillykit

 

[BUSTARDPAW]

Morning bleariness still clung to Bustardpaw's eyes, as though the night had not sloughed from the morrow, and whatever scraps of indistinct veil it once bore now stuck to her face. It was much too early for any tomfoolery or mischief, Bustardpaw mused silently as quiet footfall followed after Molepaw's. She trailed a little behind the rest of the apprentices, and even as some of them had once been her nurserymates, she found herself acutely in competition with the likes of them. After all, apprenticeship was nothing like kithood, and the throes of adolescent drama threatened to swallow them whole in its misery. Keen nose twitched as the snow yielded nothing in the way of swirling scents, like winter had bestowed upon them a levee of life, a reprieve depriving them of creature comforts. The torbie had grown used to winter's ways, how it blustered in a fury one hour and settled into crevices the next. She had heard that once the spring rolled around, the snow would phase out too, and navigating would be much easier. It better. She remembered thinking now, as delicate paws squelched upon wet snowmelt and imprinted upon the longer, solid body of alabaster. Her footsteps would be devoured by what it branded upon, so she cared little about masking her path. "Don't be stupid. Grass and acorns don't have words or feelings or whatever. So, they can't know that." Bustardpaw reasoned after Molepaw spoke, tilting her head a little higher like she aimed to bathe in the interstices of fresh morning light. Still-kittenish face twisted into a slight scowl, like the very thought was something so repugnantly ridiculous to her. She liked to think she had outgrown such children's talk, and had ensconced herself in adult matters instead. The sooner she could grow up to be a warrior, the better.

𝘐 𝘞𝘌𝘕𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘊𝘛𝘖𝘙𝘚 𝘉𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘕𝘎

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘌𝘝𝘐𝘓 𝘏𝘈𝘋 𝘊𝘖𝘕𝘛𝘙𝘖𝘓 𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘔𝘌

• OOC:
• 
• 

  BUSTARDPAW

  & SHE/HER & 6 MOONS

  
  —— Apprentice of Thunderclan / Mentored by / Younger sister of Brightpetal
  —— A longhaired torbie-colored molly with light yellow eyes and an ever-scowling face.
  —— Coming off as a rebellious and somewhat apathetic molly, Bustardpaw is not the fondest of authority. She tends to be judgmental of what she does not know and follows her own code rather than what is laid out for her. She is passionate about what she believes in and stubborn about change, which is a boon in some situations and a fatal flaw in others.
  —— Penned by Tempest. Contact on Discord (naruk4mi) for plots and threads.

 

[rowanpaw]

☼ "'S not stupid," Rowanpaw mumbles, feeling rather sleepy herself. She'd been up all night trying to memorize the names and locations of all the herbs in Serpentberry's storage, and she was paying the price now. "Maybe Mice are thinking the same thing about us– or well, wondering if we think too, or if we're just big evil creatures that eat them," she shakes her head. "That almost makes me feel bad for killing them. They're so delicious though, I don't know if I could help it…" her voice drifts off as she dodges a particularly dew wet leaf. "I think I'm just hungry."

creator, you destroy me

you know my hunger well.

• ooc: -
• 

  
  

  rowanpaw, 9 moons, thunderclan apprentice
  russet furred she-cat, lawful neutral
  healing and soft powerplay allowed

 

[trufflepaw]

They should not be out this early. They already have issues falling asleep, and now they're wasting time spent sleeping to be awake, marching through stupid woods. The only solace to their wallowing misery is the fact that they have a coarse coat and they cannot feel the gathering dew on their pelt as they sleepily stumble in to leaves and brushes. Molepaw says something that is lost on the morning breeze, then Bustardpaw bites back. I mean... she was right... Grass and acorns don't have feelings, but honestly the thought of it made them feel a little sad. Rowans sentiment makes them feel even worse. At least they're not great at hunting... They don't remember the last time they actually caught something, so the guilt ebbs and flows away.

"Tell me about it...." Trufflepaws voice is quiet, but fully agreeing to the fact that Molepaw hadn't slept well- the only thing that Trufflepaw registers from him after it was already said and after everyone had already moved on. Rowanpaw gets a look of sympathy from them. "Me too... I wanna go home." their last part of it is barely audible as they kick a pebble out, watching it skip across the earth below. Their stomach growls. They want their big brother.

 

[molepaw]

Molepaw's ears flattened at Bustardpaw's blunt remark. The expression on her face should've been a deterrent for Molepaw to answer her, but he had ordered a yappachino and he refused to let the mood sour... "How do you know? Maybe they have their own language," he smiled. "You know, and we never hear acorns and grass make a sound, unless they're moved by wind. Mice squeak. They definitely talk!" At least Rowanpaw wanted in on the philosophical debate.

He glanced around at the group, the silence after Trufflepaw's quiet remark only spliced by the routine pitter-patter of hoarfrost melting off branches. Steady shoulders drooped, and Molepaw sniffed, bowing his head. They would never want to hang out with him again if he made them stay! "We can go back, I guess... But can we pleaseee try to find something to bring with us? Like, a squirrel or something?"

Prancing ahead and avoiding what reaction the other apprentices would have, he bounded into the trees, calling behind him. "It'll be easy if we look for pawprints! Or maybe we'll see one in the trees! We could try and find one of their stashes, you know? Owlbark told me they hide stuff for the winter! I bet everyone else wo..." His voice trailed off as he got farther away. He was trying to accomplish this as fast as possible; his reputation with his friends depended on getting his trophy and getting them back before they strangled him out of sleep deprivation.

TW: INJURIES (AND DEATH/DYING)!!!​

As the other apprentices came closer to where he'd gone, a sharp scream would pierce their ears.

A dangerous scent would be thick and heavy right before they see Molepaw, his chest captured in the teeth of a badger.

"RUN!" Molepaw choked out, barely able to speak as the predator thrashed him like the mere prey he was to it.

 

[rowanpaw]

☼ Rowan listens as the others continue the discussion, ears flicking as a drop of melting hoarfrost falls on them. She barely has time to react when suddenly Molepaw is taking off into the forest– she runs after him, anxiety already building. They shouldn't be splitting up. The others… Sable's cats could be lurking, like they had been yesterday– an image of the grey tom that had tried to kill her during the battle flashes in front of her.

"Molepaw!" She shouts, "Molepaw, stop! We shouldn't be–"

An ear piercing scream fills the air. Oh no. She runs towards the sound, panic blooming in her chest as a sickening scent fills the air, and then the smell of blood, metallic, and then– she sees Molepaw.

Run!

She comes to a sliding halt, watching in horror as her friend is thrashed by the large creature, its eyes glinting maliciously, its maw splattered with blood. She scrambles, turning around, too afraid to feel guilty just yet– but why did death follow her so closely? All around her, death, death, death– her mother, her littermates, the grey tom, Thornstar, Molepaw–

"B– Badger!" She screams, taking off at a run, away from the creature.

Where could they go? Would it follow them? If they ran back to camp, they would put the kits at risk, but surely they wouldn't be able to fight it off on their own? It had killed Molepaw so easily, like squashing a tick between your teeth. They needed… warriors, older cats, someone who knew how to fight. She did not know how to fight, didn't want to, death, death, death–

If she runs fast enough, maybe she can make it back to the camp and get some older cats and lead them back to the badger? How fast could a badger even run?

"What do we do?" she cries, looking around wildly.

creator, you destroy me

you know my hunger well.

• ooc: -
• 

  
  

  rowanpaw, 9 moons, thunderclan apprentice
  russet furred she-cat, lawful neutral
  healing and soft powerplay allowed

 

[trufflepaw]

It happens too quick, too fast. One moment, Molepaw was here, then the next, Rowanpaw and them were rushing after him and in to a grisly scene. Trufflepaw hardly hears the scream pierce their ears as blood rushes in them, as their heart beats wildly.

Trufflepaw watches in sheer horror as they watched Molepaw get overtaken by the badger. Teeth clamp around thin skin and it begins. They watch the blood splatter the leaves. They watch as some droplets fly at them. They stand there in horror, watching as it ends just as quick as it started. They watch the light fade. For the first time in their life, they've watched someone die. It doesn't feel good at all, not that they thought it was supposed to, but they've always thought it'd be a one and done thing, the concept never seeming so permanent until now... No, i'm afraid of death! I'm afraid of the pain, afraid of dying, afraid, i'm so scared, I don't want to go out like this, their throat clamps shut. They hardly realize they've begun to cry until they can barely breathe, until they nearly fall to the ground stumbling backwards, away from the scene, away.

Fight! Fight back! Their paws flounder beneath them as their heart and brain fight against one another. The badger continues. Run, Molepaw had managed to choke out. Trufflepaw nearly chokes on their own saliva, taking a horrible, wretched gasp of air as they silently sob, shoulders shuddering with the grief that suddenly crushes against their shoulders. "We need to-" get help, they were now only three strong: Trufflepaw, Rowanpaw and Bustardpaw. Three apprentices who lacked a bunch of the training and experience their older cats had, three cats who didn't even break a year in age. And there Molepaw was, forever stuck without a warrior name. Forever stuck in the earth, here, soon. They begin a keening wail that is cut short as they look at Rowanpaw, towards Bustardpaw. They were running, but where? "I'm going to get help- j- just get away from h-here!!" they desperately dump out in an explosion of words.

They stop on a dime, trying to remember which way their camp was. Their head is foggy. They can't think.... Maybe its this way? Yes, certainly that way- they remember that tree. "H- Help!" they croaked, quietly, before they raise their muzzle, an ear-piercing screech leaving their mouth as they bolt, towards the camp like the coward they knew they were, towards someone, anyone who would help them, "HELP! SOMEONE HELP! MOLEPAW IS DEAD!" their friend was dead. Their friend was dead, and Trufflepaw would never get to hear his voice again. They'd never be awaken from sleep again to go on what they previously thought was a stupid walk and guilt begins to settle in their chest as they push themselves faster. They do not mean to run away from their remaining friends, to leave them to face the problem alone; a cruel, cruel part of them whispers run, and don't look back. They cannot bare to watch any more, not as tears stream down their face, not as they dry-heave, nearly stumbling in to a bush in the process.

Please, please, please, someone help!