Sting slipped out of the apprentice’s den late in the morning, careful to duck and dodge at every tabby and white pelt he saw. He did not want to go training today, or do any sort of chores. He needed a break, so he was doing his best to avoid Risingstorm at all costs today. Even though, honestly, Risingstorm was a busy cat, and he probably didn’t need to do all the sneaking around. But it made Sting feel more important if he thought about Risingstorm wanting to look for him.
He successfully made it across the clearing and found a seat. Okay. Now… what? What to do? Ugh. He got bored far to often. It just wasn’t fair. He was such an interesting cat, and no one else had the decency to be the same.
Sting supposed he’d have to make his own fun again. As usual. Oh, the things he did for himself…
His eyes landed on a semi-familiar ginger-ish pelt. He recognized that one, only because she had a name that shared a correlation to his. Hornetpaw. That’ll do. He remembered she seemed to be a little more accepting of his sort of conversation. Good Sting hated putting on a friendly face all the time.
“Hey, you’re Hornetpaw, right?” He asked, coming up to her giving her a nod, “I’m sitting next to you,” He said, not giving her room to object. It was a fact, not a question, after all. He was going to talk to her.
“Everyone’s always so boring, ya know what I mean?” Sting asked after a stretch of silence, “Like, there’s nothin’ fun to do around here,” He scoffed with an eye roll.
Sting slipped out of the apprentice’s den late in the morning, careful to duck and dodge at every tabby and white pelt he saw. He did not want to go training today, or do any sort of chores. He needed a break, so he was doing his best to avoid Risingstorm at all costs today. Even though, honestly, Risingstorm was a busy cat, and he probably didn’t need to do all the sneaking around. But it made Sting feel more important if he thought about Risingstorm wanting to look for him.
He successfully made it across the clearing and found a seat. Okay. Now… what? What to do? Ugh. He got bored far to often. It just wasn’t fair. He was such an interesting cat, and no one else had the decency to be the same.
Sting supposed he’d have to make his own fun again. As usual. Oh, the things he did for himself…
His eyes landed on a semi-familiar ginger-ish pelt. He recognized that one, only because she had a name that shared a correlation to his. Hornetpaw. That’ll do. He remembered she seemed to be a little more accepting of his sort of conversation. Good Sting hated putting on a friendly face all the time.
“Hey, you’re Hornetpaw, right?” He asked, coming up to her giving her a nod, “I’m sitting next to you,” He said, not giving her room to object. It was a fact, not a question, after all. He was going to talk to her.
“Everyone’s always so boring, ya know what I mean?” Sting asked after a stretch of silence, “Like, there’s nothin’ fun to do around here,” He scoffed with an eye roll.
She was sitting in the clearing. It was... Dull. Where's your mentor when you need her? She huffed, plume like tail swatting the ground. Oh woe was her. She began to clean her pelt, if there was nothing interesting to do, at least she could get that done. It was important, after all. One thing she was glad to be rid of was that fuzzy kit pelt. Finally being an apprentice had its perks, and that was one of them.
Huh, who was that? Sting... Wasn't it? She knew little about him. In fact, all she knew was that he was her den-mate of course, as another apprentice. "That's the name." She wasn't sure about his sudden appearance at first, but, as he spoke, it seemed he was on her level. "Ugh, tell me about it. I always thought being an apprentice would mean doing whatever you want, but here we are, sat around like lumps."
Mean Girls (2004) [p]
