[Insidious]

R A Z O R F A N G

The hazelnut masked deputy marched forth, though no rhythm matched the movement of his paws. All of his being remained numb, as if he was so utterly lost in thought that a boulder could fall from the sky to bring his untimely fate and he'd not so much as even flinch.

Coldgaze was dead.

Still, the thought was barely being processed. He expected the white senior to be back in the heart of camp every single time he returned, though all it did was bring a sharp, jabbing pain to the place his heart was meant to be to realize he'd never see that particular face again. Lately, Razorfang had been overrun by a machine's emotion – therefore, heartless. Easily aggravated (more so than usual), he had barely remembered that today was scheduled to be his first training session with newly assigned apprentice, Fleetpaw. Of course, Russethawk would always be his first apprentice – he was like a younger brother to him, despite his current shut-down state. But, it'd be odd of him to consider he'd never have a replacement apprentice: Fleetpaw so happened to be said replacement.

Glancing over thoroughly muscled shoulders, he spotted Fleetpaw nearby, keeping up steadily. Satisfied, he returned his attention frontward, ducking beneath a concealment of brambles to avoid their sharp tugs at his rugged fur. Glancing down at his paws, he noticed a scar along his front, left limb still in the process of healing. It reminded him of Hawkstar, leader of StoneClan – oh, how wonderful it felt to steal one of his lives in vengeance of Coldgaze. Razorfang couldn't help but smirk at the thought, regardless of how truly malevolent a sight it'd be to behold.

At long last, the deputy stumbled upon his desired location: RainClan's river. He trotted to its very edge, fixating his gray-green eyes into its ever-flowing depths, awaiting the presence of Fleetpaw to arrive at his flank before he addressed him. “Being of RainClan, it's only natural that you'd be expected to learn how to fish, and to do so precisely and with accuracy in each strike.” His expression was solid as rock, portraying his attention to be on the lesson at paw (though it was far from it). “Fishing isn't easy to excel in, though one can be trained to work with the patience, determination and skill it requires.”

Barely twisting his head to the side, his gaze averted to Fleetpaw, examining his body thoroughly before returning to his face. “Attempt a strike. I'm curious to see what it is I'm working with.” Without so much as a hint of advice, the deputy straightened his posture, once again twisting his body frontward. Normally, he'd have zero patience to wait for an apprentice to grow comfortable enough to attempt a strike on such short notice. But as of now, Fleetpaw could take as long as he truly desired without so much as one nasty remark on his mentor's part. Of course, he'd likely think such cruel thoughts in the very back of his mind, though simply in not enough depth to dare allow them to seep to the surface as they once had with Russethawk.

He'd cherish the silence instead, considering it yet another way to drown in the memory of what he had managed to lose.

[Fate Admin]

Fleetpaw thought the world beyond camp would never cease to amaze him in one way or another. So many things, things to take and collect and add to his glorious hoard. As he followed his mentor half-heartedly toward the river, he would drop back a few paces to snatch something interesting, like a bright speckled flower petal, or a shiny pointed stone, and shove it away in a memorable but well hidden place before hurrying ahead to catch up with the Clan deputy before he could take too much notice of the fact that his apprentice was not right behind him. He’d come back to collect those things after his ‘lesson’ was done.

Finally they arrived at the river and Fleetpaw had no more time to collect and hide anything of interest to him without his mentor noticing. He plodded up beside the older tom and sat at the water’s edge, gazing down into it, looking for a pretty shell maybe, or anything else he could maybe take back with him. It was common for RainClan cats to take things like that back to decorate their nests, Razorfang wouldn’t question it if he just took one pretty shell….

He was snapped rather rudely from his thoughts and his intense search by his mentor’s voice. He looked up as Razorang spoke, ears twitching in annoyance. Ugh, fishing. He had seen some of the warriors fishing not far from camp and had watched apprentices practice in the camp stream as a kit. It seemed an entirely dull affair. Sitting there… and sitting there… and sitting some more. His ears perked slightly. Wait! It would give him the perfect cover for examining the riverbed for anything interesting to take back to his hoard! He’d just have to look like he was concentrating on the perfect time to strike a fish.

He nodded once to show he had heard his mentor’s instructions. He had to play his role as attentive apprentice if he wanted to be believed. He made a show of searched the water, actually attempting to find a place where fish seemed to be more common before moving cautiously to his chosen spot and settling down, staring intently into the water, but not for any stupid fish. He saw something glinting, half hidden in the sand. He wanted it. He didn’t know what it was, but it was glinting, and he wanted it. How to get it without Razorfang knowing…. Maybe this would be fun after all!

He sat there, staring at the glinting thing for some time. A fish, and then another darted in front of his vision before the idea came to him. Of course! DUH! He’d just pretend to be trying for a fish, miss and grab up the glinting thing instead! He could fling it a short distance away and then act surprised that he hadn’t caught a fish! This was perfect! He’d go get the glinting thing before they went back to camp… but Razorfang would probably notice…. He’d have to catch a fish to hide the glinting thing. He could carry it beneath the fish and then Razorfang would never know. His whiskers twitched in satisfaction at his plan.

Okay. Time to initiate phase one: get the glinting thing out of the water. He shifted slightly, raising his paw a bit, getting ready to strike, claws unsheathed. His gaze remained intently upon the glint in the sand, waiting, waiting for a stupid fish to enter his vision. Finally! He hesitated for a heartbeat to make sure the fish was out of the way before darting his paw down into the water in one swift motion, hooking his claws around the glinting thing and flinging it out of the water behind him. He leapt to his paws, tail straight in the air, and turned to see where the thing landed. Then instead of leaping into the air triumphantly, he forced himself to look disappointed that there was no fish there.

He glanced at Razorfang, wondering if he suspected anything. “I… didn’t catch one.” He dropped his tail to the ground and he dipped his head, trying to look suitably downhearted about his first try at fishing turning out to be a failure. Really he didn’t much care. Honestly, everyone’s first try at everything failed. There was no reason to be disappointed or shocked about it. But most apprentices were silly emotional things, so Fleetpaw tried to play the part properly.

[Insidious]

Razorfang observed with a foreign amount of sharpness given how absent he had been lately. With so much clogging up his mind, it was somehow refreshing to focus on something far simpler: like an apprentice learning how to fish. Bordering being thankful for the minor break, the deputy's pale gray-green eyes were keen upon every aspect of Fleetpaw's approach: from his choice in positioning, to his examinations, to the very swipe that sent stray droplets of water flying skyward before plummeting back into their natural environment. Despite the young tom being unsuccessful, Razorfang perhaps would have been willing to offer a few mild corrections and allow him to try once more. However, his thoughts were altered as a shiny stone was seen rising from the water in Fleetpaw's grasp, being flung backward at high speeds before he dared to face Razorfang with a look of disappointment and claim that he hadn't caught a fish.

Was it even a fish he had been trying to catch in the first place?

Eyes narrowing into a pair of hasty slits, the deputy's tail wrapped around his forepaws in interest, spinal chord arching to add an intimidating amount of height to his formally slouched posture. “No, you did not catch one.” Razorfang mimicked, head inclining to perform a curt gesture to the nearby shrubs that now concealed what Fleetpaw had perhaps been trying to disguise. “Though, I can't help but be curious as to whether or not a fish was your goal from the beginning.” Rising, the tom-cat approached the shrubs with elongated, purposeful strides. Upon arrival, he dug his head into its depths, recoiling a moment later with Fleetpaw's stone grasped between two rows of his unusually sharp fangs. Pivoting meticulously, Razorfang returned to the forefront of Fleetpaw's vision, dropping the stone to the ground and placing a firm paw atop its surface seconds afterward to assure it was completely out of sight so he could hold Fleetpaw's utmost attention as he addressed him. “You're entitled to the odd item to bring back to camp with you, Fleetpaw. However, to even consider being untruthful about the source of your swipe and believing me mouse-brained enough to be completely oblivious!--” Razorfang paused dramatically, inhaling a sharp breath to calm his arising temper. Unsheathing pointed claws to grip around the stone's form, the warrior curved his body, lifted his paw and flung the rock back into the water, ears swiveling atop his ebony head as it plunked and began its descend to the bottom of the river – where it belonged. “Don't make the mistake of believing I'll tolerate this behavior again. If you plan on continuing your apprenticeship with lies and secrecy of action, don't think I'll hesitate to think you require another moon in the nursery to learn your right from wrong.”

RainClan's deputy was well-known for being strict and, at times, not the easiest to get along with. However, this wasn't entirely truthful; it required a certain approach to get along with him. Fleetpaw's approach was, quite simply, just not the right one. His moons under Razorfang's influence could either be beneficial, or accomplished at an utmost level of difficulty. So far, it didn't seem like he'd be off to a good start, or necessarily heading for a wondrous finish. “Try again,” Razorfang instructed. “for an actual fish this time.”

[Fate Admin]

Fleetpaw looked up at his mentor spoke. His tone seemed… mocking. Still trying to play the poor disappointed apprentice, Fleetpaw forced his hackles to remain flat. However, when the older tom looked toward the shrubs in which his prize now lay hidden, the apprentice’s pale green gaze widened. Surely he hadn’t noticed? Before Fleetpaw could react to the fact that his plan had been so easily discovered, Razorfang was pulling his stone out from its hiding place, carrying it over to him.

Fleetpaw held his tongue, held his breath. Maybe Razorfang would just give it him, say something about not needing to hide when he wanted to take a trinket back for his nest. He could play that off, he had been playing that off since he could walk, since he had first begun his hoarding. It irked him that Razorfang was touching HIS shiny, his his his. It irked him more when the older tom placed his paw over top of the stone, hiding it from sight completely. His tail twitched a few times with uncontained annoyance.

Razorfang spoke again, and from the start it seemed that Fleetpaw’s assumption was true, he would be able to play it off as just a pretty decoration for his nest. Then something right out of chocolate tabby apprentice’s nightmares occurred instead. The deputy flung his, HIS shiny, BACK INTO THE RIVER. Razorfang’s words became as meaningless as the wind whistling around his ears at that point. Something about going back to the nursery, blah blah blah who cares. HIS shiny was sinking to the bottom of the river, and a LOT farther out than it had been originally. How was he going to get it back?

He felt physically ill, his stomach twisted up in knots. This was why no one could ever discover his hoard. This was why he kept it all a secret from everyone. Something horrible would happen if they ever knew. Something like THIS. Fleetpaw stared intently at the spot in the river where his shiny had plopped into the water, sinking, disappearing forever. HIS. ‘Try again’ vaguely registered in his mind. Yes, he would try again. He would retrieve HIS shiny, HIS HIS HIS. With that he took off toward the water, toward that spot where his shiny had disappeared, and leapt for it, out over the river, landing a few tail-lengths in, paws outstretched, SPLASH!

His leap and the current took him under, but he hadn’t been completely unprepared for it. He’d taken a breath before he’d hit the water. He just hadn’t expected the current to be quite so… strong. He tumbled over himself a few times before the current and his own buoyancy brought him back to the surface, gasping. Foxdung! Where was the spot his stone had disappeared at? He paddled hard to keep his head above the surface, the current carrying him farther downstream, away from his precious shiny. NO!

The current pulled him under again, tumbled him about below the surface, though he struggled to reach it once more. He hadn’t been prepared to go under this time. He felt as if his lungs were about to burst when he was thrust back above the surface, snatching a breath while he still could. His stone… it was so far away… he would never see it again! Stupid Razorfang!

[Insidious]

Pleasantly surprised to see Fleetpaw turning toward the river, Razorfang was admittedly impressed with Fleetpaw's sudden change of perspective.

A shame – he had to stop making so many assumptions.

Shock laced the deputy's expression as the apprentice dove into the water, the back of his mind noting the way it was so disturbingly close to where he'd flung the shiny stone moment's earlier. What in the name of – before Razorfang could properly finish his thought, he was already on his paws and covering the short distance that lay between his mouse-brained apprentice and himself. Without even a second of hesitancy spared, Razorfang's muscular frame sliced through the water's surface and he began to vigorously paddle with the current to reach Fleetpaw's side. Doing so as quickly as possible, Razorfang's sharp fangs grasped a hold of the chocolate hued tom's neck – doing so rather harshly given the condition of his teeth, though too otherwise occupied to care. Paddling toward the side of the river, Razorfang flung the smaller tom onto dry land, pulling himself up shortly afterward. The deputy took a moment to catch his breath, drenched tail flicking at a constant pace behind his slouched body as he did so. While in the process of recovering from having to save Fleetpaw's unworthy life, his pale gray-green eyes flickered toward him with clear agitation inscribed in the way they fixated. “Are you mouse-brained?!” Razorfang mewed loudly, at long last straightening with having enough strength – ensuring to be in a proximity where if Fleetpaw tried something so utterly ridiculous again, he'd be able to stop him before it even occurred. “If you think you're going to be getting that stone back, I hate to be the one to tell you it's not going to happen – it's not worth risking your life; do you even know how to swim?” Razorfang snorted, unimpressed with every fiber of Fleetpaw's being. “Unless you're ready to focus on the lesson, we'll be returning to camp and seeing that you receive a proper punishment for your ridiculous course of action. Putting your own life in danger is one thing, but mine as well? There will be certain things expected of you as a warrior; see that you start meeting the clan's expectations before it's forced upon you in an unfair manner.”

There was so much wrong in Razorfang's life: Russethawk was distant with the loss of his parents. Fleetpaw was about as mouse-brained as it came. And Coldgaze was dead – he was dead for StarClan's sake. Did Fleetpaw have absolutely no sentimental value in his heart to see that his behavior was nothing more than a deepening load upon the deputy's shoulders? Was he so selfish that he'd let a pathetic stone come before the safety of his own clan-mates?

Honestly, there was nothing here expect for a feline's pathetic habits – Razorfang merely too occupied in his own cruel world to notice this for himself. The circumstances could, of course, be far worse. But with his current mood, and how things had already been going as of late for him... he didn't think things could get much worse.

[Fate Admin]

He felt his strength starting to leave him. He wasn’t ready for the river’s strong current yet, not at all. Then sharp fangs pricked his scruff and he was hauled to the river’s edge and dropped unceremoniously to look up at a very unnamused Razorfang. He coughed a few times. He’d done pretty well, all things considered, but he’d gotten a bit of water in his lungs anyway. His ears flattened against his head as Razorfang berated him. Was he a mousebrain? He wasn’t the one who tossed such a pretty stone away to be swallowed by the river forever! HIS stone! If anyone was the mousebrain here it was Razorfang.

Fleetpaw’s tail lashed behind him and he couldn’t help but keep glancing back toward the river. His stone… gone forever. His shiny, glinting stone. Suddenly the loss of it hit him full force, coupled with the loss of energy from trying to survive the river’s current, and he simply slid to his belly, laying his head on his paws dejectedly. Stupid Razorfang. If he’d just left his stone alone he’d be catching a fish right now, just like Razorfang wanted him to do. Instead he had to butt his nose in and be a big piece of foxdung. He glared up at the much larger tom and pushed himself to his feet again, “This is YOUR fault! If you’d just left it alone none of this would have happened! And for your information yes I CAN swim! My mother taught me in the camp stream just like every other RainClan kit ever!” Yes, he knew how to swim, just not anywhere near as well as he’d originally thought.

“And I don’t care about fishing! It’s boring! Any sort of punishment would probably be better than stupid fishing with stupid you!” His short fur bristled with anger in every follicle and his pale green gaze was narrowed dangerously as he glared up at the deputy. He didn’t care what happened right now, but he did know he wanted to get away from Razorfang, the sooner the better. His whole body thrummed with anger and he was honestly shaking a little with the anxiety he felt at losing his precious stone, forever, no chance of ever finding it again ever. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Lost in the river. Gone. He’d never see it again!

[Insidious]

“Oh for StarClan's sake, Fleetpaw, you're being pathetic.” The large tom's tail sliced the air, anger swelling from his jaws with every verbal lash of his tongue. It took a visible amount of restraint for the deputy to put on the brakes at just that, though he managed surprisingly swell given his already heightened temper. Pivoting sharply, the tom-cat shook out his water-stained pelt and approached the river, dull eyes skimming its surface in search of the rock Fleetpaw had so absent-mindedly risked their lives to retrieve. “The sooner you suck it up and focus on this lesson, the sooner you can return to camp and begin your punishment. But until then, I'm afraid you're not going anywhere.”

Suddenly, a thought clicked – bribery at best, but a likelihood of successful focus out of his apprentice.

Razorfang spared a lethal glance over his broad shoulders, fixating his pale gray-green stare upon the cringing form of Fleetpaw. “I'll make you a deal: if you stop whining, get your tail over here and do as I ask... I'll get you your stone back. But if not,” Razorfang's eyes narrowed, challenging Fleetpaw to disgrace Razorfang's offer before he was even enlightened of its entirety. “you'll never see it again and you can whine, fret and be of an annoyance as you please – you'll still have to do the lesson, of course.”

Razorfang returned his attention to the river before him. 1) To give Fleetpaw the few seconds needed to choose. And 2) So that Fleetpaw wouldn't catch a glimpse of the self-satisfied smirk that spilled across the deputy's hazelnut-masked jaw in recognition of how well he was handling the situation. It could be much worse by his standards, after all. Once upon a time, a certain apprentice named Russetpaw wouldn't have even gotten the option. Fleetpaw, however, was a new story – a new pest was better suited.

There was no doubt in Razorfang's mind toward how much he'd prefer dunking this mouse-brained fool into the river as he once did with Russethawk, but there would come a time and a place for such teaching methods. As of now, Fleetpaw would be given the option.

[Fate Admin]

Fleetpaw stared forlornly at the river, hardly registering Razorfang’s words. If he wasn’t going back to camp for some stupid punishment then maybe he could figure out a way to get his stone back. But how? Clearly he wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to take on the river yet. He had been more than a little surprised at the strength of the current. That had been stupid. He really should have accounted for that. But he hadn’t had time. He felt lost. Somehow he knew, if he could not reach the stone in the first few moments of its descent into the river then he would never ever see it again. So he had leapt without a thought. He stood dripping, trembling slightly, mind racing as he tried to figure out a way to get it back.

Then his mentor said he would make him a deal. A small spark of curiosity turned his attention away from the river and toward the deputy. As Razorfang explained the deal, Fleetpaw dug his claws into the sand to steady himself. When Razorfang had finished and turned back to the river before them, so did Fleetpaw, staring intently as he weighed this deal. His tail lashed once. If Razorfang had just left the stone alone in the first place he WOULD have focused on the lesson, knowing his stone was safe and waiting for him. Instead the tom had to be a big jerk and make a huge mess of everything. It was only right that he fix it if he wanted Fleetpaw to pay attention to the lesson.

However, a part of him didn’t believe Razorfang could get the stone back at all. He was just bluffing to make him do the stupid fishing lesson and then after he’d done he would just laugh and take him back to camp for this mystery punishment. So he countered. “You have to get it back first. The river is deep and dark at the bottom.” A slight tremble went though him. He did not like discussing any detail of his hoard with any cat. It was making him nervous. What if Razorfang found his whole hoard and just tossed it all into the river? “If you can get it back I’ll do the lesson. I had always PLANNED to do it after I’d gotten m-… the stone. I just wanted to make sure my splashing around trying to catch fish didn’t cover it up before I started.” More or less true. He would have actually tried to catch fish rather than stones had this whole ordeal not transpired. At least, until he found some other thing that caught his interest.

[Insidious]

He regarded his apprentice with sharp eyes, reasonably baffled by his statement implying that Razorfang couldn't find a rock in a river. For a RainClan cat, that may as well have been a dog's bone. If he could capture living, breathing creatures in his claws from the depths of the dark waters below, he could most definitely do the same with something unable to escape. It was irrelevant whether or not it was within clear view, because he knew where he threw it, therefore knowing the general proximity of where to search. Yet even still, he simply peered upon his apprentice with curious, if not immensely agitated eyes, as if expectant that he'd laugh sooner than later to indicate he was kidding. But so it seemed Fleetpaw was not merely joking, this leaving Razorfang to remain thoroughly baffled.

He snorted after an elongated period of silence, dismissing the tom's excuses with an impatient flick of his ear. He cared not for what reasoning he possessed, regardless of whether or not they happened to be true. The fishing lesson was to be his first priority, not some random rock in the river. He'd never make for a good warrior if he couldn't even comprehend something as straightforward as this – pity he'd need to put his name in the blank of the unusual tom's mentor. What kind of deputy did he make for if he couldn't even break a silly habit? Dull gray-green eyes analyzed Fleetpaw's form, sighing heavily before rising from his seat to face the water, his front paws being the first to descend.

The deputy remained underwater for at least half a minute, his front paws scratching against the bottom of the river in search of Fleetpaw's stone. Surely enough, his claws raked against a stony surface, returning his paw to the object and grasping a firm hold upon it. Once satisfied that it wouldn't slip from his grasp, the tom's hind legs pressed against the hard terrain of the river's bottom, forcefully pushing his body upward until he broke the water's surface. A large inhalation was rewarded to his lungs, Razorfang paddling to the edge of the river to pull himself up. Reaching his destination in record timing, his claws gripped into the moist terrain, his black body – fur newly clinging to the skin below in an uncomfortable manner – ridding of the liquid that formally consumed him. Returning to Fleetpaw's side, he lifted his front, left paw so that Fleetpaw could see he had, in fact, retrieved his stone. It did not linger within the young tom's view for long, however, Razorfang placing his large paw on the ground once more, the stone secured beneath. He coughed to capture Fleetpaw's attention, knowing all too well – scarily well, considering they hadn't been in one another's company for very long – that it wouldn't be easy to get his attention while knowing the stone was in Razorfang's possession. “I believe the lesson you've learned today is one of adequate quality: do not doubt your deputy ever again.” It was phrased as an order more than it was the lesson he regarded it as, swiftly turning away from Fleetpaw to begin approaching a new part of the river – with his recent dive, there would be no fish to hunt in such a nearby proximity.

For the purpose of traveling the stone had been transferred to his jaws, though upon reaching the new location it returned to underneath his paw, wishing not to distract Fleetpaw from his current task. “I've held my part of the deal, now it is your turn. If you catch a fish – a fish, not something else – you get your stone. If not --” Razorfang paused, finding a sick joy in taunting the apprentice for wanting such a useless object. “-- we'll address such a complication if it is to occur.”

[Fate Admin]

Fleetpaw simply stared up at his mentor with as serious a gaze as any cat had ever seen as the deputy seemed to search for a hint that he was kidding. After a long while, in which Fleetpaw’s tail began to twitch in worry for his stone (Would the river current carry it away? Would it become buried beneath sand and dirt on the river bed?), Razorfang stood and turned toward the river without a word. Fleetpaw barely dared to breathe as the older tom dove beneath the water and did not reappear for some time.

As the dark toms head broke the surface, the apprentice’s ears angled forward as his breath caught nervously in his throat. Had he found the stone? Razorfang padded from the water and there, in his paw, the stone! Fleetpaw’s tail rose as all his worries began to fall away. Then the stone disappeared beneath his mentors paw and he tore his green gaze from where he had last seen it to look up at the older tom with wide eyes. His ears flicked back briefly as Razorfang berated him for doubting his abilities, but he shrugged it off. He followed after his mentor as the tom picked up the stone and carried away to a different spot alongside the river, keeping pace with the dark warrior, worried he would toss the stone away again.

As his mentor came to a stop, so too did Fleetpaw, kneaded the sandy shore beneath his paws as Razorfang turned to him. The apprentice turned to regard the river. Catch a fish; that was all he need do to get his stone back. He shook out his pelt and moved toward the river’s edge without a word to his mentor. The sooner he caught a fish, the sooner he could get his stone back. He glanced back at Razorfang briefly as he settled beside the river, digging his claws into the sand to calm his restlessness as he stared into the water intensely. Shimmering shapes flashed by now and then, out of reach. He dug his claws in harder each time to keep himself from trying to catch one. Warriors always talked about patience when it came to fishing and waiting for the right time to strike, and Razorfang had mentioned such things himself at the very start of the lesson. He shifted, distinctly impatient, as none of the fish swam close enough for him to reach.

It was as he shifted that his noticed his shadow move over the water, the fish scattering at the movement. His ears perked forward and he looked around, noticing that their new location had caused a shift in where his shadow fell over the water… it was alerting the fish to his presence! He stood and paced along the shore at the water’s edge, paying close attention to where his shadow fell until he could no longer see it on the water at all. He sat once more, shifting until he was more comfortable. He looked down into the water, waiting. A shimmering shape passed by beneath the surface, and shortly after, another. He lifted his paw, claws unsheathed as he leaned forward slightly, careful to make sure his paw didn’t cast a shadow over the water. A fish darted by, out of reach. He nearly went for it, twitching with the effort to stop himself. He’d fall in if he went for one too far out, then he’d scare all the other fish away too.

His tail flicked behind him, the only sign of his impatience. A fish swam closer and his paw darted out, splashing into the water to grip flesh and drag it backward, onto the shore, where it slopped about for a moment before instinct had Fleetpaw pouncing on the silver shape, holding it down to nip its spine. His tail raised triumphantly as he gazed down at the fish. His first fish. That wasn’t so hard! He looked back to the river, noticing the rippled spreading out from where he had made his catch. His ears twitched. That didn’t seem right. He’ seen warriors catch fish without displacing even a single drop of water. Still. He’d done as his mentor asked and caught a fish! Unconcerned about whatever he may have done wrong, Fleetpaw picked up the fish and carred it back to Razorfang, dropping it at the deputy’s paws, “I caught a fish.” He looked expectantly down at the paw concealing his stone.

[Insidious]

Razorfang

“Again.” Came a regal tone, oozing of apathy. Subconsciously, a monstrous paw tightened its formerly loose grip around the stone that Fleetpaw's lustful eyes were now cast upon. A realization had been formulated in that while the deputy held the apprentice's stone, he was hereby under his control until the stone was to once again be within his possession. Wholesomely satisfied by the idea of holding such influence, close and personal to his heart, he had no inkling of initiative, not so much as even a tad, to return it to the apprentice just yet. He had so much to learn, and it had been made horribly clear that he was not interested in receiving Razorfang's instruction, or at least, hadn't been interested until something that he had wanted was no longer something that he was able to have. It had never, necessarily, been in the deputy's interest to play into such tremendously deceptive acts. But, then again, he had never been presented the wonderful honour of training an apprentice that was so utterly ungrateful for the knowledge he was being given the chance to receive. It was a terrible quality to witness in the eyes of RainClan's future warriors, and having spent nothing surpassed an afternoon in the young tom-cat's company, the possibility of how many others were enveloped by the same issue had been dawned upon him, and he knew that they were in gracious need of his assistance.

Perhaps he would only need to take stones from them as well?

A hardened stare met that of his apprentice equally, sharply. He expected complaints to meet his ears, though the possibility of it occurring did not worry him in the slightest. After all, the stone that was of such grand importance to the apprentice was in the possession of whom he could only assume he wished not for it to be handled by. If any such words of verbal violence or lacking of enthusiasm to partake as Razorfang deemed a requirement, than his stone would be returned to the river and their lesson would continue upon a later date. That was simplistically a glimpse of how things were going to be working around here. Fleetpaw was not in charge, and it was certainly not his place to be making any of the calls. He would learn to obey, and do so regardless of how much he despised it, if he desired to become a warrior one day and, at long last, rid himself of the lurking, over-cast shadow that was his deputy and mentor. “We'll try farther up the river, seeing as the sloppiness of your swipe has warned off lingering prey. You will observe myself, learn from it and repeat. Understood?” The black tom did not wait for a response, having transferred the stone to his jaw and continued along his merry way alongside the current. He came to a halt after traveling for a few seemingly perpetuated minutes, sparing a curt glance at his lower flank to ensure that his apprentice was near and prepared to analyze his doings for the sake of his growth as an apprentice (or the sake of his stone, though the deputy refused to pay any mind to it).

Having mastered the skill of fish hunting, his shadow did not present an immediate problem as it had with Fleetpaw. A wary gaze of grayed green skimmed the water's surface until the sleek and shiny body of a fish approached with silent flicks of its fins. The deputy positioned himself accordingly, a final glance exchanged with his apprentice before a paw, coated in shadows, lunged forth as though an aquatic demon that sought the life of its prey. Claws pierced the tiny mammal's flesh and his paw was surfaced, victorious, without a trace of his having interfered with the surface. The stone was once again placed beneath the weight of his mighty paw as a swift bite delivered death to the creature, momentarily displaying it to the eyes of Fleetpaw before he gestured forwardly, indicating with silent notions that it was now his turn to step towards the river and attempt to repeat his earlier actions. Razorfang settled comfortably, content with having gotten the advantage in this situation for merely holding a useless object tightly in his grasp. He could not help but allow the tiniest flecks of an amused grin to arise from the corners of his hazelnut hued muzzle, but his expression otherwise hinted towards utmost seriousness for the hunt that he was expectant of Fleetpaw to partake in.

[Fate Admin]

Fleetpaw’s gaze tore away from the deputy’s paw as he spoke. His pale green gaze widened, and then narrowed indignantly. “You said catch A fish, as in ONE. I caught A fish!” he growled angrily, claws digging into the sand below his paws. He kneaded the sand, caught between spitting at his mentor and worry for his stone; he was entirely too aware of the danger it was in while this cat held it. He’d already flung it into the river once! Razorfang did not seem to care one bit that he’d already completed his part of the deal, for he did not acknowledge his complaints at all, instead telling him they would try again at a different location. Fleetpaw didn’t entirely pay attention, fury buzzing about his brain like angry bees, and just as distracting.

Suddenly Razorfang had set off, with his stone! Tail lashing, Fleetpaw plodded after him, hissing under his breath, “Liar!” He couldn’t even be sure now that Razorfang wouldn’t just throw his stone back into the river after this was all over, but he also couldn’t risk it. Razorfang had proven himself to be someone Fleetpaw could never trust, that was for sure. Fleetpaw growled again, a meaningless sound of anger, as he followed his mentor along the river’s edge, keeping a close eye on the other tom to make sure he didn’t ditch the stone while he thought he wasn’t paying attention. His ears flattened against his head as his mentor came to a stop. Fleetpaw hardly paid him any attention, his tail still lashing behind him.

What had Sandstar been thinking when he paired the two of them up? Great. Now not only could he not trust his mentor and deputy, he couldn’t trust his leader’s judgment either! When he got back to camp he was going to see Sandstar right away and tell him he needed a new mentor. He didn’t want to spend any more time with this lying jerk. But first…. He stiffened and forced his mind into the present. He needed to protect his stone. Razorfang knew it was his weakness. The jerk was very, very clearly using it against him. This was exactly why no one could ever, EVER find out about his hoard. It was bad enough to have a single stone in some other cat’s possession, he couldn’t imagine if Razorfang ever found out about his hoard. A shudder went through him at the notion.

He narrowed his gaze as he watched the deputy pull a fish from the water, the river flowing as usual with no break to its smooth surface. His ears flicked. He knew he’d done something wrong, however, he wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it. Razorfang was a horrible mentor. Wasn’t he supposed to TELL him how to do these things? Instead he pushed him in and just told him to swim, and while he drowned told him everything he was doing wrong. His tail lashed again as he moved forward silently to sit beside the river’s edge. Whatever. He didn’t need anything from this cat but for him to give him his stone back. Then he could just be DONE with him, get a new mentor, and everything would be fine.

He forced his tail still and paid close attention to his shadow so it wouldn’t give away his position again. He raised his paw, claws unsheathed, and studied the water. How had Razorfang broken the surface without causing all those ripples? His gaze narrowed thoughtfully. He lowered his paw, closer to the water, shifting it, thinking ahead to how it would enter the water. Splayed out, as it had been when he’d caught his first fish… his claws outstretched… he’d slapped the water as if it were an enemy cat. His tail twitched thoughtfully behind him and he relaxed his paw so his toes were no longer stretched out, his paw an extension of his leg, claws still unsheathed. If he came in from the side instead of straight down… he should be able to get his paw in smoother. He concentrated intensely on the shapes flitting below the surface. After a long moment during which he was beginning to become bored again, a fish swam close enough and his paw darted out, but this new technique he was trying threw him off and the fish wriggled from his loose grip and darted away, “Mousedung!”

He glanced worriedly back at Razorfang and back to the water. The fish had momentarily been scared away, but he had at least succeeded in keeping from splashing so much. There were gentle ripples, but nothing like last time. He glanced left and right and shifted slightly from the spot and to a new location not too far away. Sitting, he curled his tail around his paws and stared into the water. Razorfang wouldn’t see him give up, not when he knew what would happen to his stone. He knew very well he was being manipulated and he hated it, but what else could he do? Just imagine the fish is Razorfang. His claws flexed and he lifted his paw once more, careful to angle his paw so it wouldn’t slap the surface of the river upon entry. And then the waiting began again. This was why he hated fishing. Even before he’d ever done it, he would watch warriors fish or watch the apprentices practice and wrinkle his nose at the thought of doing it himself one day. Land prey was only mildly more interesting to hunt, however. Hunting in general was a boring, tedious task.

His gaze darted along with the fish in the river, judging their speed and distance from him and if he might be able to catch one or if it was a waste of time. Finally a couple swam closer. He remained as still as he could until one came dangerously close and his paw darted into the water, hooking claws into the silver shape and snapping it out and onto the bank. The removal of the fish from the river made a bit of a splash and Fleetpaw muttered another curse before ending the fish’s life. How was he supposed to keep the stupid fish from splashing all over after he grabbed it? He glared down at the fish, his paw resting atop it as if he thought it might spring back to life and flop back into the river with its biggest splash yet. He glanced at Razorfang, waiting to hear just what he did wrong this time with flattened ears.

[Insidious]

Razorfang

He had caught a fish as was claimed to be the requirement, though needless to say that he had done so well. In due time, the deputy would uphold is portion of the bargain. He did not intentionally wish to ruin what trust his apprentice could possibly have in him. Factually, he wanted Fleetpaw to know that his training was in Razorfang’s best interest, such why he had no choice but to currently keep his precious object of minimal use from him. He could not learn if, in his paws, he held such distractions. The young tom needed to keep himself completely focused on the lessons, as was precisely what was happening now that he had no choice, should he wish to save his stone from any disasters to follow. Perhaps, as of now, it did not seem as though Razorfang was doing anything in his best interest. But in the future, when he was a proud warrior of his clan, he would hopefully come to the realization that such would have never been achieved if the deputy did not keep order throughout the duration of their training sessions.

He watched closely as Fleetpaw adjusted his positioning, attempting to keep his shadow away from the water and also trying a new technique with his paw to diminish with the splashing that had occurred on his first try at fishing. The altering of his paw’s position was a good move, though it seemed as though he wasn’t nearly as successful in his workings when to fish at such awkward angles. Razorfang did have advice for the tom-cat, such sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he had yet to offer it to him. He wasn’t the kind of mentor to simplistically tell another how things were done and watch them copy it and claim themselves a master. He, instead, enjoyed watching his apprentices and the overall youth of the clans fiddle with what knowledge they held in their minds and try and piece together the puzzles on their own. Fishing was meant to be a skill of those in RainClan, an instinct even. He assumed that somewhere deep down Fleetpaw would have an idea of what he was doing, and if not, only then would he step in to alter the mistakes.

He caught another fish, but still there remained the splashing of water that would warn off others lingering in the proximity. Fleetpaw turned to him, his ears flat against his skull as though a cat sentenced to banishment, Razorfang matching his fiery stare with nothing surpassed eerie blankness reflected through his own grayed green. He raised from his seat, approaching the tom’s side with steps of utmost fluency and power. He was a rather intimidating cat even in the moment’s where he wished not to display it. His thoroughly muscled build equipped with an icy stare to match could send a shrivel of unease down the spine of any, though it was clear with the questionable fixation of his gaze that his only motive was to aid the apprentice that just wasn’t quite grasping the concept. He settled at the foot of the river a few elongated strides upstream, black tinted tail resting on top of his forepaws as an expression of patience dawned across his features. “You’re improving with every strike, Fleetpaw. I believe the only issue you are having is the quickness of which you grasp your target. Your claws must prevent its body, preferably the tail, from having free movement as you surface. If the fish is unable to move as rapidly and as freely as is its normality, than such will minimize its splashing.” The deputy knelt over the water’s surface once more, stone tucked beneath his submissive paw as his dominant paw lunged into the water and grasped around the lower body of a small fish wafting nearby. He surfaced the creature in an act of precision, presenting his catch to Fleetpaw’s eye so that he could analyze where his claws had hooked the mammal’s flesh before he delivered a killing bite as to not prolong its suffering. Stepping back, he gestured curtly for Fleetpaw to try one last time. “After this attempt we will return to camp, and only then shall I return to you what is yours. Remember what I told you, it will help.”