[Fawn]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#eeeeee; width:380px; padding:10px][STYLE=font-size:42px; letter-spacing:3px; font-family:Tangerine; color:#aaaaaa; text-align:center; border-bottom:1px solid #dddddd]Snowlark[/style][STYLE=font-size:10px; letter-spacing:7px; font-family:arial narrow; color:#aaaaaa; text-align:center; text-transform:uppercase]37 Moons // NightClan // She-Cat[/style] [STYLE=font-size:9px; text-align:justify; color:##2F4F4F; letter-spacing:1px] It was unusual to be training in the Black Woods, particularly this time of year, but that wasn't going to deter Snowlark. Her reason for meeting here of all places, was actually quite simple; the Black Woods was a more open environment than some of the other areas of NightClan's territory, which meant less things that could possibly be damaging to young Darkpaw's recently relocated limb. She didn't want him tripping over anything, spraining anything, etc. That was why she hadn't met him at the branch trail or the ambush pond or anything else potentially damaging. Sitting with her tail curled around her paws, the pretty NightClan she-cat was content with waiting however long it took for Darkpaw to make his way through the snow and the ice to reach her. It was one of those few days where the sky was almost as grayish-white as the snow was down below, a particularly bright morning, her pupils were forced to narrow into diamond-shaped slits against the almost brutal reflection of the snow on her way over here. The Black Woods provided a little more shadowy cover, Snowlark was pleased to see. Something shook a nearby bush, and considering the isolated movement, it definitely wasn't the wind; the she-cat rose up to all fours, her cream-colored ears pricking forward, pink nose working, whiskers aquiver. "Darkpaw?" called Snowlark, frost blue eyes alert. If it wasn't her apprentice, than who...? [/style] [STYLE=margin-top:10px; float:right; height:100px; width:100px; border:1px solid #dddddd; margin-left:6px; padding:3px; background-color:#f2f2f2][/style] [STYLE=font-family:courier new; font-size:13px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:justify; color:#bbbbbb; margin-top:10px;]Notes: Hunting! Word Count: 248 Tags:[/style]

[STYLE=font-size:9px; letter-spacing:2px;]© OXYMORON[/style]

[Phoenix]

He despised leaf-bare more than words could ever describe. It was cold and wet, and the snow made it considerably harder for him to blend in with the shadows that he often used to his advantage. The frigid and frozen everything chased away whatever prey was left, making the time between his successfuls longer with the passing day. And yet, like every other cat in the clans, he continued to try, continued to attempt to prolong the inevitable death. What other choice did he have? It was expected that he at least put some effort into finding prey; the unwritten rule existed in every clan, perhaps moreso in NightClan than TreeClan or RainClan. In any case, there would be little tolerance for capable warriors and apprentices who chose to waste their time lingering around camp when they had every opportunity to go help the clan. Even if he did not feel particularly generous, it was for his own sake that he tried hunting; Blackwolf would not be the only one after him if all he did was consume valuable prey.

Though 'capable' might not be the right word to describe their opinion of me. But that did not matter; as long as he put of the appearance of trying his best, the clan could not fault him for it any more than they already did. And so, Ratfur found himself out in the Black Woods, focused more on not freezing than catching any prey. At least the shadows in this area were a little darker and a little more plentiful, which made his job a little more easier. Crouched beside a bush, the skinny tom attempted to take advantage of the shelter. Lean limbs were folded up against his body and his wheezing was now audible with every breath he took, a product of rather weak lungs. A quiet cough shook his body as he gave his chest fur a quick lick, and the warrior decided that he had had enough. It was time to go back to camp.

The bush shook as he stood, though he could not find it within himself to care about any prey he might have scared off. His mind was focused solely on returning to camp with minimal damage from the cold. Until a voice interrupted him, cutting through his thoughts almost as easily as the biting wind blew through his thin fur. Blinking, brown lids slowly covering yellow-green eyes before rising once more, Ratfur let out an inaudible sigh. Clan ettiquette dictated that he address the speaker, reveal himself, and self-preservation demanded it. What if, on the off chance, the she-cat saw him? It would spark an awkward series of explanations indeed.

Stepping around the bush, Ratfur made himself visible to the other feline, whom he recognized as Snowlark after a moment's thought. "Only Ratfur," He called out, long tail curling in the air behind him. Sorry to disappoint.

[Insidious]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 402px; background-color: #121212; border-radius: 30 30 30 30px;] [STYLE=width: 360px; margin: 20 21 0 21px; height: 140px; border-radius: 30 30 0 0px; background-color: #303030; border-left: 2px solid #330000;][STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; border-radius: 30 0 0 0px; border: 10px solid #000000; margin: 10 10 10 10px; background-image: url(http://i45.tinypic.com/4t7fdj.jpg); float: left;] [/style] [STYLE= width: 215px; float: right; margin: 35px 5px 10px 0px; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 24px; line-height: 90%; text-align: justify; color: #8B8989; text-shadow: #330000 -3px -4px 2px;] Darkpaw; Nightclan Apprentice of Eight Moons.[/style][/style][STYLE= width: 344px; margin: 15px 21 0 21px; background-color: #303030; padding: 7 7 6 9px; border-left: 2px solid #330000; font-family: Verdana; color: #8B8989; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;]The obsidian apprentice sighed mentally, for the outer exterior of his thinned, leaf-bare defected body remained casually thoughtful and pleasant regardless of whether or not anyone would expect such a facial expression from a recently injured Nightclan cat. The snow was cold beneath his thinly furred paws, the ice slippery and not the easiest for him to maneuver upon. Dissatisfaction was visible in the newly inhabited coldness of his silvery gaze, however, he had no direct reason for complaining. After all, it was a good thing he was back on his feet and traveling through the Nightclan territory to meet with Snowlark. Thankfully, Darkpaw's injury hadn't been as severe as he had originally expected. And, on a further developed good note, that meant he hadn't fallen too far behind the other apprentices. Briefly, his mind wandered to Frogpaw. The pretty marble furred she-cat he hadn't been able to speak with since Smokefur declared him bed-ridden until his injury had fully healed. This time, the sigh was not mental and released verbally without much thought. Since he hadn't been able to have a proper conversation with her, it was very well possible she could still be blaming herself for the actions that had occurred. However, the jet black apprentice knew, in due time, he'd be able to reassure those types of beliefs if they indeed were present in Frogpaw's mind. Returning to the present, and the oh-so-cold snow flattening beneath his onward progressing limbs, the young tom heard a familiar voice nearby. He was about to part his jaws in means of response to Snowlark's questioning tone, however, it seemed another pair of vocal chords had beaten him to the task. The name Ratfur was captured in the tom's attentive ears, and immediately, he quickened his pace to assure Snowlark knew he was there as well. “And, I as well.” the tom cracked a smile upon pushing his way from the brush. He greeted his mentor with a nod, settling himself on the terrain to give his wounded leg a small break from the constant movement. Briefly, the tom's silvery eyes found their way to Ratfur, in which he offered yet another quick nod. “Greetings.” Darkpaw's eyes remained in placement for a moment's time, withdrawing upon realizing it could very well be growing awkward and/or uncomfortable for Ratfur to have the unusual pigmentation of a silver stare upon his being longer than necessary. “So,” his undivided attention returned to Snowlark. “Is it battle training or hunting that had been decided upon for today?” Darkpaw held his naturally charming tongue between a firm grip of teeth. Snowlark was a warrior, not an apprentice, therefore, being way out of his current league. In fact, his mind soon zoomed in upon any even more detailed concept. Snowlark was his mentor, for pete's sake. Even those with the greatest desires for female attention had their boundaries. And this, right here, was Darkpaw's. [/style] [STYLE=width: 350px; margin: 15 21 20 21px; background-color: #303030; color: #8B8989; border-radius: 0 0 30 30px; padding: 5 4 10 6px; border-left: 2px solid #330000; text-align: center; height: 25px; overflow: auto;]† Tags † Words † Thoughts † [/style]

Shade † of BTN

[Fawn]

[atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color:#eeeeee; width:380px; padding:10px][STYLE=font-size:42px; letter-spacing:3px; font-family:Tangerine; color:#aaaaaa; text-align:center; border-bottom:1px solid #dddddd]Snowlark[/style][STYLE=font-size:10px; letter-spacing:7px; font-family:arial narrow; color:#aaaaaa; text-align:center; text-transform:uppercase]37 Moons // NightClan // She-Cat[/style] [STYLE=font-size:9px; text-align:justify; color:##2F4F4F; letter-spacing:1px] Snowlark would've been lying if she said she had expected to see Ratfur here. Whiskers twitching in surprise, the cream-dappled she-cat's shoulder blades rose in a stiff, startled state, but Snowlark soon relaxed after recognizing the finely boned, lithe brown warrior (if you could call him that) stepping out of the bushes. "Hello Ratfur," she mewed cordially, Snowlark not at all unfamiliar with Blackwolf's little posse of friends. Unlike some of the cats he did call friends, however, Snowlark did not fault the warrior for his poor hunting skills; she had always been sympathetic towards apprentices, and perhaps in her eyes, with his smallishness compared to his friends, and his meager abilities, Ratfur still fit into the 'apprentice' category in her mind. Of course she would still treat him as a warrior, but deep deep down, she found herself excusing his behavior somehow. About to strike up a conversation, the she-cat's bright blue eyes fell upon the sight of her apprentice, Darkpaw, making his entrance into the Black Woods, Snowlark's tail lifting in a jovial sign of greeting. "Greetings, Darkpaw. How's your leg? Not too troublesome, I hope?" Snowlark couldn't say if she knew Darkpaw well enough to tell if he would try to muscle his way through any pain or not. She would have to watch him closely for any signs of discomfort; he would not be suffering in silence, not on her watch. Turning to address Ratfur at last, the she-cat was all eloquent pleasantness, inviting the warrior to join in today's training session. "We're going to be doing some very mild exercises today, mostly crouching and stalking - I know that's a little droll for you, Darkpaw - to make sure Darkpaw has full mobility, before we start hunting." Snowlark paused to flick a small clump of snow off her ear tip. "I would appreciate it if you would stick around and help watch his progress." Her eyes sparkled with encouragement, "Besides, it won't be long before you get your own apprentice, might as well start honing your mentoring skills." [/style] [STYLE=margin-top:10px; float:right; height:100px; width:100px; border:1px solid #dddddd; margin-left:6px; padding:3px; background-color:#f2f2f2][/style] [STYLE=font-family:courier new; font-size:13px; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:justify; color:#bbbbbb; margin-top:10px;]Notes: Surprised~ Word Count: 370 Tags:[/style]

[STYLE=font-size:9px; letter-spacing:2px;]© OXYMORON[/style]

[Phoenix]

He had forgotten how refreshing it could be to not have immediate scorn following any mention of his name. Green-yellow eyes flicked to the she-cat, somewhat suspiciously, as he inclined his head, equally politely. "Snowlark," He returned, voice bordering on raspy due to the constant irritation from cold weather. Behind him, the sound of shifting leaves and snapping twigs caught his attention, and the wiry tom turned slightly to the side, eyes seeking out the source of the noise. At the sight of the apprentice, he decided instantly that he wanted to leave. The she-cat had obviously been expecting the younger tom's arrival, probably for a pre-planned training session, and he had no desire to be present when said torture began. He knew all too well how pitiful his attempts at hunting were, and should they decide to practice fighting instead, he would be in even bigger trouble. No, he could humiliate himself alone.

Even though he had turned his attention away from the newcomer after a polite greeting of his own, he could feel that odd prickling where Darkpaw's steady gaze was digging into the side of his head. Forcing his fur to continue laying flat on his shoulders, he refused to meet the apprentice's silvery eyes, instead choosing to focus on Snowlark. She seemed far too pleased that the apprentice had arrived. Though he kept his eyes active and prevented them from glazing over, he listened rather absently to the she-cat's words, waiting for her to stop talking. Once he was given the opportunity, he would leave, return to camp, and easily ignore all of the pointed looks he received due to his failure. He would curl up in his nest in the warm den and sleep the night away.

But she had decided to include him in this training session. He hated the way those blue eyes twinkled at him as she addressed him. How could she be so happy upon suggesting to prolong this torture and humiliate him further? There had to be something in the Warrior Code against that. Letting none of his irritation flicker across his expression, he replied politely, "I don't want to intrude, Snowlark." I was just about to leave. "I fear that my presense here would be more distracting than productive." I don't know what I could possibly teach him that you couldn't do twice as better. "In any event, I appreciate your optimism, but I have to disagree with you on that last statement." As if I would ever receive an apprentice when there are infinitely better warriors who, in the eyes of everyone else, are far more deserving.

[Insidious]

Darkpaw's silver gaze grew in curiousity, a mild wonder toward why Snowlark was inviting the black tom-cat to accompany them upon their lesson. It wasn't that Darkpaw had anything against Ratfur, but, he wasn't the best warrior. Blinking in a mountain of his own thoughts, Darkpaw took his approach, allowing his hackles to fold into a seated stance at the flank of his mentor.

After all of the enthusiasm of Ratfur joining on Snowlark's part, the NightClan warrior still didn't seem persuaded to believe his presence was indeed appreciated, or desired. Darkpaw was nothing other than kind and respectful to his higher ups, therefore, he at last parted his jaw to ensue his own thoughts upon the situation. “It's a pity you're uninterested, Ratfur. Extra help, in general, would be appreciated greatly.” His tail tip flicked, landing delicately atop his injured paw, as if this alone would signal Ratfur's attention toward it and perhaps get the warrior to change his mind.

Light gray eyes averted up toward Snowlark, searching the she-cat's expression to see if she had any other comments to add. In complete honesty, it wasn't relevant to Darkpaw whether or not Ratfur tagged along. If he did, great. If he didn't, great. He had enough faith in Snowlark's abilities alone to be satisfied that today's lesson would be a worthwhile event. However, there had to be something in that mind and body of Ratfur that could be beneficial. Darkpaw's attention redirected to the skinny warrior of NightClan, his attentive gaze traveling up the length of the tom-cat's body before landing themselves within the depths of his eyes.

I mean, every cat in NightClan was likely more than aware that his fighting and hunting skills weren't the sharpest in the bunch. But, he was a warrior, after all. Maybe, there was something about this cat that all seemed to bypass? Darkpaw gave the thought some consideration for a moment, before deciding against it and averting his curious stare of silver pigmentation.