go!

[alkaline]

fenneldrop
SHADOWCLAN CAMP

It's slightly chilly; a breeze ruffles her fur and nips at her skin beneath. She flexes her paws, feeling the sift of damp soil under her claws. Earth and pine and rain greet her nose: gentle, yet eager. New-leaf has come.

Clouds, soft gray like a dove's fluffy feather, swirl and wisp above in the blue sky. Rays of golden sunlight sneak past, streaming down and brightening the camp for a moment before it's whisked back behind the puffs of white. The soft wind whistles reedy in the pine tops.

Her pearly white teeth gleam in the light when she tastes the air, savoring it. She never had any favorites, but new-leaf was always a joy to welcome in.

--

Nighttime's always colder. The silver moon glows gently from behind its shroud of clouds. The birds don't sing anymore. Distantly, owls hoot mellowly. It's in the night that she's on a plateau, looking around like she can't believe she's there, not elsewhere.

Snakes of regret like to creep through the long grass and thick brush at this time. She's killed cobras many a night, through sweltering summers and piercing winters. But she knows they can sneak up on her, so she paces the perimeters.

Constantly moving so they have to keep up

or get left behind.

A twig snaps under her paw as she passes the apprentice's den.

@silver.

[silver.]

he/him // 7 moons
21/100

---

Sleeping was very rarely an option. Even as he tossed and turned in his nest he knew that sleep wouldn't be coming for him this evening. There was too much he needed to do. Too much that needed to be done. Bitternpaw wasn't the type to sit around and wait for things to happen. So when he hears the snapping of a twig outside the den he knows someone is awake. Whether it's a Guard, an Enforcer, or another wary soul such as he unable to find rest. Regardless of who it is he finds himself rising to his paws to find out who else was awake at this hour.

Pushing his way out of the apprentices' den he finds his target. An older molly he has never spoken with before. Never seen around. Perhaps they were new or just laid low around the clan. If it was the latter he was about to change that.

"You."

It's a simple way to get one's attention. Perhaps it was rude but he didn't have a reason to give this warrior his respect just yet. Moving closer to her, golden gaze strikes questioningly, searing into her pelt.

"If you're awake with nothing better to do, train me."

fenneldrop | @alkaline

[alkaline]

fenneldrop
SHADOWCLAN CAMP

At first, she thinks it's another one of those snakes, with bright yellow eyes and slit pupils. She whisks her tail close to her, so its fangs can't sink into it.

She takes a moment to study her latest enemy and belatedly realizes it's just an apprentice out of his nest. Relaxing, she takes a step closer to him so that they wouldn't have to shout at each other to converse. Her blue eyes flick over his pelt, taking in his appearance. His fur is a bit ruffled from being in his nest, but she can't catch any sleep in his eyes. He must not have been sleeping, then.

Paws circle him; she's still moving even now. "Training?" she asks, mouth twisting wryly. This apprentice (she doesn't quite know his name, a shame), she assumes to be eager for warriorhood. Or he's just bored. Her tail trails after her like a ribbon blowing in the wind.

She's a bit hesitant, but she nods a moment later. "Alright," she agrees. Her pale pelt seems to glow in the winks of moonlight shimmering down; she sees the same reflected in the apprentice's silver fur, too.

"What was your name again?" she smiles sheepishly, her steps soft as she meanders to the camp exit. Her eyes never leave the apprentice, keeping him in her view. She's personally responsible if anything happens to him, after all.

@silver.

[silver.]

he/him // 7 moons
23/100

---

Wonderful. It seems as though his approach had gone over well. Maybe this warrior understood that he simply preferred to cut to the chase rather than dillydally with useless fluff in between his sentences. The way she circles him makes him uncomfortable, obvious by the way he watches her move with narrowed eyes, but he says nothing on the matter. Nothing about feeling like a prey animal being circled by a predator. Then she's moving and so is he, not too far behind.

"Bitternpaw."

Again, right to the point. Here it would be polite to ask hers in return and with how she acts, how she speaks... He thinks he will. This one seems to understand his ways better than any other he had the displeasure of interacting with. So after a pregnant pause, he speaks up again, voice steady and flat.

"What is yours?"

It was odd for those eyes of hers to continue watching, even as she moved forward out of camp, but it was admirable. To be able to continue with your attention elsewhere... Just who was this warrior? Not an Enforcer, or a Guard... Just another warrior. And yet she seemed to know more than those useless slumps of fur and flesh sleeping back in camp. Seemed to be capable of more. It was... Interesting to him. Perhaps he would allow himself to make a friend of this one.

fenneldrop | @alkaline

[alkaline]

fenneldrop
SHADOWCLAN TERRITORY

Her canines are bared in a smile for a moment. Bittern? After those silly-looking birds? The ones with necks that are so tantalizingly snappable? She stares a little harder at the apprentice, trying to see the resemblance. It's in the patterning, she thinks.

She takes care to nudge sticks and stones out of the way of their path, keeping her voice low and quiet. She doesn't disturb the night. That's a bad habit to take up. "Fenneldrop," she tells Bitternpaw after he asks. She's half-scared to take her eyes off the small cat (she can tell he's a runt.) but she needs to see which way she's going. Muscle memory can only take her so far in an environment that always changes.

After adjusting her course, Fenneldrop looks back to the apprentice. "Do you know where we're going?" she quizzes him. In her eyes is no malice; she doesn't care if he does or not. There's no wrong answer, but she knows every cat becomes a liar when they feel threatened, so she narrows her eyes at him to pick up on his tells: to see the truth anyway.

She doesn't know how much this apprentice has learned. He looks young, so it can't have been much already. She frowns slightly, then remarks, "I can hear you walking." Her gaze turns to his paws, studying them. "Pretend the ground is thin ice," she instructs in a whispery soft tone that could fade away into nothing in the blink of an eye.

@silver.

[silver.]

he/him // 7 moons
23/100

---

That expression... What did it mean? Ever so slightly his head cants off to a side when she smiles and looks him over as if something amusing crossed her mind but he doesn't question it. Better to leave some things unsaid. Or rather, unbothered. Whatever crossed her mind when thinking of his name didn't matter to him right now and most likely wouldn't at all.

Moving on. What a foolish question. But luckily for her he wasn't a liar. Even when cornered would he tell he truth as if it were the only option. Blinking slowly at her question he simply shakes his head.

"I've been taken out to the swamp and that's it." He says quietly, holding her gaze. Was she trying to get something out of him? Whatever it was, he wouldn't give so easily. "Hunting and swimming. Otherwise I have not seen other parts of the territory."

Had the training begun? The comment on his paw steps bleeds into his mind almost immediately. All at once he follows her orders. Gently the pads of his paws meet the earth, careful to avoid leaf litter and sticks, and just as if he were treading over a river in Leafbare it lifts silently. High enough to step over anything in his path. Perhaps she was teaching him in her own way. As much as he enjoyed when things were straightforward he could understand her intention easily enough.

[alkaline]

fenneldrop
SHADOWCLAN TERRITORY

Only to the swamp? Well, she'll skip that place, then. Swimming, though... that's something she didn't expect. She appraised Bitternpaw with her sharp gaze, curious who from the clan taught him to swim, and how good he was at it. It was an unusual skill, but it was useful all the same.

Her eyes betray her approval as Bitternpaw corrects his gait. It's not perfect, but perfection takes practice, which he'll get the longer he's out here.

Fenneldrop slips into the shadows cast by the tall pines, never once losing sight of the apprentice. She never dares to stray away more than two fox-lengths. Her whiskers twitch as she figures out how to smuggle the cat into the darkness, how to make him disappear. It's always more difficult when the cat has light fur. She would know, of course.

"I'm taking you to Sunkissed Creek," she informs the apprentice, coming back out of the shadows to walk alongside him. She adds a moment later, "When you walk, Bitternpaw, you should stay by the white pines. You'll blend in."

@silver.

[silver.]

he/him // 7 moons
24/100

---

Fenneldrop's suggestion doesn't go unheard. In fact, he commits it to memory upon realizing that she was training him. Training him in one of Shadowclan's most important assets: stealth. The words cycle his head a few times before he's nodding, following her figure as best he can in the dimly lit forest they were making quick work of moving through.

Sunkissed creek... What an interesting name. He can only assume why that was the title it was granted, though more curiosity is drawn to the question of why Lynxshade didn't take him there instead of the swamp to learn to swim. The distraction is fleeting because instead he eyes his surroundings for the 'white pines' that the warrior had spoken of. None of the trees around here sported white needles but there were trees with thicker, fuller branches and thinner pines so an assumption could be made. At least he can only hope he's correct, lest he look like a fool in front of her.

Careful pawsteps silently draw him under the cover of the nearest pine, sharp golden glance switching between the underbrush beneath and his path forward. He weaves between branches, careful to only brush them slightly as he passes. Was she still watching his every move? Conjuring a way to critique him? Criticism was welcome. It would help him improve. So he continues to follow from his new, more hidden, path behind her and awaits the next instruction.

fenneldrop | @alkaline

[alkaline]

fenneldrop
SHADOWCLAN TERRITORY

She's met with his silence and the realization that he's not talkative. She doesn't mind, but she's left wondering what's going through his mind. Sometimes she wishes she could always know what someone's thinking of, if only so she could act accordingly.

"Sunkissed Creek wasn't ours at first," she begins to explain. As she speaks, she weaves around the trees and subtly herds Bitternpaw in the direction she wants him to go. "It used to be ThunderClan's. But Bumblestar," she cuts off with a sigh, eyebrows furrowing with faint annoyance. "Well, she's a foxheart, if you ask me. She runs her clan like a rabid dog - ah, I don't think you're old enough for politics. My apologies," she says sheepishly.

She walks in silence for a few heartbeats, mulling over her thoughts and trying to organize her thoughts. "What I was trying to say was that Dawnstar led a few battles to take the Creek 'cause we were owed things from ThunderClan that we never got 'cause someone never paid up. We didn't win the first one, but we won the second fight."

Fenneldrop falls silent, feeling as though she's talked too much crazy talk. She diverts her attention back to Bitternpaw, studying his stealth form closely. "See? You fit in with the pale tree bark. Make your movements more fluid, too," she instructs.

@silver.

[silver.]

he/him // 7 moons
25/100

---

Too young for politics? What nonsense. Whatever clan history he's offered by the warrior is eagerly eaten up and locked in his brain for later. It was nice to be treated as fellow cat instead of some young kit incapable of doing much more than sit in camp and wait to be fed. The way she speaks of Bumblestar makes him snort unintentionally, giving away his position amongst the branches as he's gently led along.

"You can say that again." From what he's heard about Bumblestar of Thunderclan was that she a no good foxheart. Which... Was exactly what Fenneldrop had said. Which had made him laugh. Which... He didn't do often at all. "I'm glad we've taken what is rightfully ours. It's well deserved."

The comment about his pelt blending in with the trunks of the trees steers the conversation in a different direction. It was so stark he hardly knows how to respond but he manages, moreso focusing on the way his body moves. From what he can see of her, she was well practiced. Fluid and smooth, like running water in an undisturbed creek. He wanted to be like her. Move like her. He heaves out a heavy breath and puts more effort into the tenseness of his body. He had never realized it before but he was also so tense in the shoulders, and stiff in his strides. She was right. He had to be more lax.

Ever so carefully the tension in his shoulders drop and he moves with a bit more grace. Not that he was very graceful in the first place but... It was a start. He looks to her for approval, hoping that this understanding was what she meant.

fenneldrop | @alkaline