i wanna travel the world, i wanna stay in my bed[p]

[shoomy]

wolfcoil didn't have an apprentice. he considered himself lucky for that! red had one that was fairly silent, but he didn't want to risk constantly being nagged for training. he probably should participate in training apprentices, which is why he was going to take uhh yeah their name is gladepaw on a territory tour. "have you had a territory tour yet? no? good." he said, signalling for the apprentice to follow him into the territory with his tail.
[ @iliri - sorry for the short post my brain is running on hamster power right now ]

[iliri]

Gladepaw
long-furred, scarred, dark brown classic tabby with amber eyes
purrks: n/a
she/they | rc apprentice | 6 moons

---

Gladepaw had been pawing idly at a loose stone near the edge of camp, turning it over again and again with a slow rhythm that barely disturbed the dust around it. Her thoughts wandered as her paw moved, the scrape-scrape-scrape of stone against dirt barely registering in her ears. It was a habit; something to do with her paws when her mind was elsewhere. She wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular. The day was warm, and the camp buzzed faintly with scattered conversation and the rustle of activity. It made her feel even quieter by contrast. Her ears twitched faintly to the sound of distant conversations reaching them, but she didn’t look up. Her eyes were half-lidded, amber gaze fixed somewhere just past the stone she kept nudging, watching the way it rolled and settled with every touch. The repetition was comforting. It let her feel invisible in the way she sometimes needed - tucked away and left alone. But even that kind of quiet didn’t last long in a place like this. A shadow crossed into her peripheral vision, and her paw paused mid-motion, resting lightly against the stone. She blinked up slowly just in time to see Wolfcoil approaching, his pawsteps not particularly loud but distinct enough to cut through her haze. Her ears perked faintly, the same way a bird might lift its head at the crack of a twig.

He didn’t waste time on pleasantries, which she didn’t really mind; she wasn’t particularly good at those anyway. Gladepaw blinked at him, processing the words he spewed with a slight delay, her paw still pressed against the stone. Then, almost reluctantly, she rose to her feet. She didn’t speak, but her paws carried her forward anyway, the familiar tightness curling in her belly as she fell into step behind him. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Wolfcoil wasn’t her mentor, and she hadn’t really interacted with him before outside of a passing glance or two. She knew of him in the same way most apprentices knew warriors who didn’t speak much: through the space they occupied, through what others said - or didn't say - about them. He didn’t seem cruel or unkind, just... blunt. Which she supposed was fine. Maybe even preferable. As they passed out through the camp entrance, the trees folded open like the slow turning of a page. Gladepaw took a breath and let the scents of the forest hit her all at once: pine and damp earth, the sharp tang of old claw marks on bark, a faint trace of prey from some day long past. Her shoulders tensed automatically, though there was no immediate threat. It was just instinct.

She hadn’t been out here often. The clearing and camp were places she could navigate. But the forest? It felt big in a way that pressed down on her ribs and made her steps careful. Her eyes flicked toward Wolfcoil’s retreating form, then quickly back to the trail ahead. He didn’t look like he cared whether she was nervous or not. She doubted he even noticed. And yet, in a strange way, that helped. The less attention on her, the better. Still, she found herself wondering why he was doing this. Not her mentor. No responsibility toward her. He’d sounded almost annoyed at the idea of training. Maybe this was a favor to someone else? Or just a way to get out of camp? Gladepaw didn’t ask. Instead, she kept her focus on the path beneath her paws, trying to match his pace without stepping too loud or looking too lost. Every so often, her ears would flick toward a birdcall or the distant crack of a branch, alert but unsure. She wanted to ask questions - wanted to know where they were, what border they were heading to, what she should be paying attention to - but the words stayed trapped behind her teeth. Wolfcoil didn’t seem like the type to want chatter. And she didn’t want to bother him. So instead, she walked. Perhaps he’d say something to her beforehand.

@shoomy

[shoomy]

 

Originally Posted by iliri

Gladepaw
long-furred, scarred, dark brown classic tabby with amber eyes
purrks: n/a
she/they | rc apprentice | 6 moons

---

Gladepaw had been pawing idly at a loose stone near the edge of camp, turning it over again and again with a slow rhythm that barely disturbed the dust around it. Her thoughts wandered as her paw moved, the scrape-scrape-scrape of stone against dirt barely registering in her ears. It was a habit; something to do with her paws when her mind was elsewhere. She wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular. The day was warm, and the camp buzzed faintly with scattered conversation and the rustle of activity. It made her feel even quieter by contrast. Her ears twitched faintly to the sound of distant conversations reaching them, but she didn’t look up. Her eyes were half-lidded, amber gaze fixed somewhere just past the stone she kept nudging, watching the way it rolled and settled with every touch. The repetition was comforting. It let her feel invisible in the way she sometimes needed - tucked away and left alone. But even that kind of quiet didn’t last long in a place like this. A shadow crossed into her peripheral vision, and her paw paused mid-motion, resting lightly against the stone. She blinked up slowly just in time to see Wolfcoil approaching, his pawsteps not particularly loud but distinct enough to cut through her haze. Her ears perked faintly, the same way a bird might lift its head at the crack of a twig.

He didn’t waste time on pleasantries, which she didn’t really mind; she wasn’t particularly good at those anyway. Gladepaw blinked at him, processing the words he spewed with a slight delay, her paw still pressed against the stone. Then, almost reluctantly, she rose to her feet. She didn’t speak, but her paws carried her forward anyway, the familiar tightness curling in her belly as she fell into step behind him. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Wolfcoil wasn’t her mentor, and she hadn’t really interacted with him before outside of a passing glance or two. She knew of him in the same way most apprentices knew warriors who didn’t speak much: through the space they occupied, through what others said - or didn't say - about them. He didn’t seem cruel or unkind, just... blunt. Which she supposed was fine. Maybe even preferable. As they passed out through the camp entrance, the trees folded open like the slow turning of a page. Gladepaw took a breath and let the scents of the forest hit her all at once: pine and damp earth, the sharp tang of old claw marks on bark, a faint trace of prey from some day long past. Her shoulders tensed automatically, though there was no immediate threat. It was just instinct.

She hadn’t been out here often. The clearing and camp were places she could navigate. But the forest? It felt big in a way that pressed down on her ribs and made her steps careful. Her eyes flicked toward Wolfcoil’s retreating form, then quickly back to the trail ahead. He didn’t look like he cared whether she was nervous or not. She doubted he even noticed. And yet, in a strange way, that helped. The less attention on her, the better. Still, she found herself wondering why he was doing this. Not her mentor. No responsibility toward her. He’d sounded almost annoyed at the idea of training. Maybe this was a favor to someone else? Or just a way to get out of camp? Gladepaw didn’t ask. Instead, she kept her focus on the path beneath her paws, trying to match his pace without stepping too loud or looking too lost. Every so often, her ears would flick toward a birdcall or the distant crack of a branch, alert but unsure. She wanted to ask questions - wanted to know where they were, what border they were heading to, what she should be paying attention to - but the words stayed trapped behind her teeth. Wolfcoil didn’t seem like the type to want chatter. And she didn’t want to bother him. So instead, she walked. Perhaps he’d say something to her beforehand.

@shoomy

wolfcoil wasn't too aware of his tone right now, and frankly didn't care. he had just woken up minutes prior. if you were able to see his mind, it would probably just be a rat or something.

"welcome to the general territory. this is where most of the hunting n stuff happens but in my opinion, it has to be the most boring 'location' in riverclan. you can still do stuff here though." he let the apprentice explore the immediate area a bit before leaving.

after more walking because yay walking, he was at his favorite place in the territory! "this is lionsbeach! it has way more open space then the rest of the territory. there's a lot of water too, if you like swimming." he meowed. "sometimes you can also find seagulls and other prey here." wolf was mildly unhappy when he left, but life goes on.

"the next location is a bit sad. prepare yourself if you need to." he warned as the grass got taller. he hadn't lost anyone close to him as far as he knew, but it still wasn't fun to think about. he stopped when the grass was fairly tall, but not at it's tallest. "seagrass fields is the resting place for fallen warriors. tell when when you want to leave." while some cats would rather leave immediately, he knew others would prefer to say their goodbyes. giving her an option was the best route.

[iliri]

Gladepaw
long-furred, scarred, dark brown classic tabby with amber eyes
purrks: n/a
she/they | rc apprentice | 6 moons

---

Gladepaw hadn’t expected him to speak much. So when he did, even with that flat, half-bored tone, it still caught her slightly off guard. She blinked slowly as he gestured to the space around them, calling it the “general territory.” Her gaze flicked up for just a moment before trailing out toward the trees. The sun filtered through the canopy in broken patches, dappling the forest floor with golden spots that shifted as the leaves swayed. It was nice, in a forgettable kind of way. She supposed he was right. There wasn’t anything remarkable about this part of the forest but it wasn’t boring to her. Everything still felt big. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but she hesitated. The words caught halfway between her thoughts and her tongue, and she closed it again, padding forward instead as he gave her space to explore. Her paws brushed lightly over old pawprints in the dirt, following where prey might’ve scurried or other patrols had come and gone. She didn’t stray far. Just close enough to listen to the sounds of the forest and feel, for a moment, that she was part of something moving forward. When he started walking again, she followed her steps a little faster to keep up. It took her a few tail-lengths to find a pace that didn’t make her look like she was chasing after him or lagging behind too much.

She kept her head low, eyes flicking between the ground and the warrior ahead, and occasionally up toward the sky where birds wheeled in lazy spirals. Then, they reached it: Lionsbeach. Her breath caught a little in her throat. The trees opened like a curtain pulled back, revealing an expanse of sand and glittering water that stretched out toward the horizon. Her paws froze for just a second at the shift in scent: salt, fish, and something crisp and airy that made her nose twitch. She hadn't been here before. She was sure of it. The small stream back near camp was one thing but this? This was something else. She stepped closer, letting the wind ruffle the long fur along her sides. “W-wow…” she murmured in awe, mostly to herself. Her ears perked as Wolfcoil mentioned seagulls and swimming. The thought made her shift her weight awkwardly from paw to paw. Swimming wasn’t something she was good at yet. The water still felt too wide and unpredictable beneath her. She didn’t say that, though. Didn’t want to sound like she was making excuses. “I-it’s p-pretty here,” she finally said aloud. “B-bigger than I th-thought…” But then his tone shifted. The warning was subtle but sharp, slicing through the coastal breeze with something heavier.

She stiffened as they moved again, her paws dragging slightly over the grass as it began to rise around them. Taller, thicker, and darker. It wasn’t hard to feel the change. The air wasn’t sad but it was serene in a different kind of way. Like even the birds knew not to sing too loudly here. She followed in silence until he stopped. Seagrass Fields. Her chest tightened as he spoke. She didn’t answer right away. Her paws felt heavy in the grass, sinking slightly into the soft earth as if the ground itself was urging her to stop. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked around, taking in the way the stalks of grass bowed and shifted in the breeze. The field stretched out gently, dipping and rising like a sleeping cat’s flank. There were no markers, no stones or nests or bones… and yet the air felt full like someone had spoken and their voice still echoed faintly, even if she couldn’t hear it. She swallowed thickly. Gladepaw hadn’t lost anyone here, but there was still a cold curl in her belly that crept up toward her heart. Like she was intruding on something sacred without knowing the right words. She blinked slowly, the wind stirring the fur around her face. Her tail gave a faint twitch, and for a moment, all she could do was stand there.

“S-so this is… wh-where they go,” she murmured under her breath, more to herself than to Wolfcoil. Her voice wavered faintly. “The ones who… d-don’t come b-back.” It felt like a simple thing to say, but it hurt in a strange, unexplainable way. She slowly padded forward a few steps until she stood beside a small tuft of wildflowers nestled between the grass blades. They weren’t much - just little purple heads bobbing in the breeze - but she stared at them like they meant something. Like if she focused hard enough, they might bloom into memories she didn’t own. “I-it’s quiet,” she said after a long pause, her voice being carefully soft. “N-not like… e-empty quiet. M-more like it’s w-waiting.” She didn’t know if that made sense. But it was the only way she could describe the feeling pressing behind her ribs.

@shoomy