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Post by MOTTLEDPELT on May 25, 2014 21:57:17 GMT
230 words - open - hop on in!
The young molly breathed a sigh of relief. It was afternoon, and she had just spent most of the day sparring with Badgerpaw. Why Nettlestar had insisted on putting that brat off on her was beyond her comprehension. But she did her job, because she knew she had to. Overhead, black clouds were rolling, and thunder was sounding ominously in the distance. Of course a storm would be coming, something to match her own black mood. It had been storming on and off all Newleaf, and while this served the purpose of revitalizing the forest and melting the snow, she still hated it. She was not a RiverClan cat, she did not like getting her long pelt wet. She came to an abrupt halt when she reached the Snakerocks. She did not bring Badgerpaw here often. It was dangerous, and as much as she hated being a mentor, she would be loathe for anything to happen to the little tom.
The sound of scratching on the rocks distracted her, and her eyes landed on a small sparrow. It was fat, clearly doing well in the Newleaf weather. The she-cat lowered into a stalk and crept up the rocks. Her mottled pelt blended in perfectly, and the sparrow had no idea she was around until it was too late. She pounced on the sparrow and ended its life, cutting its alarm call short.
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Post by ELMWHISKER on May 26, 2014 15:20:37 GMT
| TO DREAMS, AND THE FOOLS WHO DREAM THEM Looking for herbs was an awful and tedious thing to do as a medicine cat. He hated it so much. To him, it seemed like his supply was constantly running low every other day. Just how often can these cats get sick anyway?Luckily it was newleaf and herbs were becoming easier to find so the tabby-marked tom wouldn't have to "hunt" as often or as hard. But despite this, Elmwhisker knew that he had to look beyond that if he was going to find the particular herb he needed.
Elmwhisker felt the sky's roar above him. Its mane today was dark and thick; it wasn't a good sign. The only thing he hated worse than hunting for herbs was hunting for herbs in rain. Seriously, cats were not meant to swim. We weren't meant to be in water. Period. Were cats given gills or fins? No. Elmwhisker couldn't fathom how those Riverclanners manage to get their fur wet on a daily basis. The tom could barely stand one minute being soaked. Fur clinging to skin, all matted and such. How awful.
Just up ahead, he spied a long-furred she-cat with a uniquely mottled pelt. Even with the distance between them, the tom could easily recognize who it was. After all, he and Mottledpelt were clanmates. How could he not recognize his own clanmate? He carefully approached the she-cat as to not startle her or the sparrow she was stalking. After she made her kill, Elmwhisker applauded her successful endeavor. "Congrats, Mottledpelt," he purred. The tom hoped his sudden appearance didn't spook the she-cat as it seemed liked she was too fixated on her hunt to notice anything else. "Trying to avoid Badgerpaw by hiding out here, huh?" joked the tom. coded by electric of gs |
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Post by MOTTLEDPELT on May 27, 2014 20:04:56 GMT
The she-cat was crouched over her kill, a self-satisfied expression on her face. Not only had she spent time with that insufferable apprentice, but she had also ensured that at least one of her Clanmates ate tonight. However, a new voice entered the clearing and she tensed, wheeling around with a snarl on her face. When she was who it was, though, she allowed her fur lie flat. A few sparrow feathers were still in her mouth, so she swiped them away with her tongue. Then, she smiled. Even though Badgerpaw tended to keep her in a bad mood these days, she was still rather friendly to the cats who she felt deserved it. "Better watch who you scare, Elmwhisker, or you might find yourself missing fur." She teased lightly, turning to pick up her sparrow before she bounded down the rocks toward him. She buried the sparrow and then sat down in time to hear his own teasing about Badgerpaw.
She sighed rather loudly. looking away from the medicine cat and pushing the dirt around with her paws a bit. "Don't get me started on that ungrateful brat." She hissed lightly. She knew she had pretty much failed him the first couple moons of his training, but now that she was actually trying with him, she wasn't sure that he cared about becoming a warrior at all. Sometimes it took all of her self control not to pounce on him and rip to shreds. Her claws extended into the still semi-frozen dirt underneath them. "I sparred with him this morning." She said, almost as if she needed to prove to another cat that she was trying with her apprentice now. How much good it would do, though, she didn't know.
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Post by ELMWHISKER on May 27, 2014 21:27:30 GMT
| TO DREAMS, AND THE FOOLS WHO DREAM THEM The sudden movement startled him. He was greeted with narrowed eyes and a smile of bared fangs from the she-cat and it appeared to Elmwhisker that it seemed like Mottledpelt was in a particularly good mood. Her fur began to lie flat again and by coincidence he felt his doing so too. Of course, it seemed like Elmwhisker's fur was always perpetually standing up at something and he hated it. It seemed to only serve as a indicator of his cowardice; signaling every cat within a few foxlength radius on how much of a scared feline was he. Perhaps the possible rain-slicked fur scenario would actually be a good thing in this case.
"Good. I heard the no-fur look was in with you she-cats nowadays," chuckled Elmwhisker. However, the mentioning of no-fur was followed by a quick subtle shudder from the tom. He couldn't even possibly imagine any cat with no fur; it doesn't seem right. He would much rather prefer rain clinging to his fur despite how repugnantly awful that would be.
Mottledpelt's reaction towards the mentioning of her apprentice amused Elmwhisker. It was a funny sight to see - her all worked up and angry like that. It sorta made him want an apprentice of his own too yet at the same time repulsed him from ever looking for an apprentice - despite how contradictory it may seem. "What did he do this time?" inquired the tom. Elmwhisker knew how badgersome Badgerpaw could be sometimes. But alas, what were they to do? He is the leader's son. And of course, Elmwhisker would much rather deal with Badgerpaw then feel Nettlestar's wrath. However at the same time, he sorta felt bad for the apprentice. There he goes again. Being all contradictory like that. He should really make up his mind. coded by electric of gs |
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Post by MOTTLEDPELT on May 27, 2014 22:27:36 GMT
She rolled her eyes in an overly exaggerated way at Elmwhisker's question. What hadn't he done? Would have been a better one. She had never met a cat, including herself, who was as disrespectful as he was. She had decided to make it a point to watch him with other cats, to see if his rudeness was solely directed at her. She could understand his feelings of bitterness, she'd made it clear she didn't want to mentor him, but still. If he cared about being a warrior at all he would have to try at least a little bit. At this point, it was unlikely that she would ever tell Nettlestar he was ready for his appraisal thingy. She forgot what it was called, but that didn't matter. He would likely never get one, but she refused to be his mentor forever. She could almost see him acting good for his new mentor on purpose just to make her look bad. She licked her chest fur a couple of times to calm herself.
"He is just... rude. He seems to have no respect for me at all. How am I to mentor him if he won't listen to a word I say?" She looked at Elmwhisker through worried eyes. It wasn't often that she would admit her faults to another cat... But this was Elmwhisker. He was the medicine cat, it was his job to listen to the Clan complain... right? And maybe he would have some advice for her. She was willing to admit that she wasn't the wisest cat in the Clan. Maybe she was overlooking something she should do to gain her apprentice's respect and trust. Though, really, they should be given by default.
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