Post by Deleted on Aug 25, 2015 13:24:07 GMT -5
The sun was rising as the black cat stirred. He blinked open his gold eyes and stretched, jaws parting in a yawn. Mornings weren't really his thing, but it was a routine he was beginning to grow accustomed to. From his den on the edge of camp he emerged, stretching out his long legs. He turned, gazing out over the camp. Only a few cats were out, those on the dawn patrol. He watched as they left, then sighed as he turned back to his den.
It was small, just a little hole tucked under one of the boulders at the edge of camp. It had probably been the beginning of a rabbit hole, but for whatever reason it had been left unfinished, and he had claimed it as his own. His misfortune of being almost constantly sick had exiled him from the apprentices' den, but he didn't really mind the solitude. At least it held back some of the looks of disdain he was accustomed to receiving. He slipped back inside, scraping out his bedding, pushing it into a pile to be removed. Once it was done he backed out, sighing softly.
Under Rookfrost's care, Weaselpaw had taken a turn for the better. He had gained a little weight, and though he would never be at an ideal weight, his ribs were no longer showing. His fur was healthier and his eyes were clearer, and he had learned to control his breathing well. His bedding was changed daily, and he went to Rookfrost immediately at the first signs of illness.
Rolling his bedding into a controllable ball, the black apprentice rolled it away from camp. He walked a while, to the place where he typically disposed of it, and pushed it down into the little hole that had been dug specifically for his old bedding. It had been Rookfrost's idea, to bury his bedding so whatever illness he had couldn't spread. Once his bedding was gone, he turned and made his way back to camp. Halfway there, however, he had a different idea.
He angled his pawsteps into a different direction, heading to the trampled clearing. Once there, he sniffed around, making sure he was alone. He stepped out into the middle of the clearing, trying to remember what he had seen the other apprentices do. He squared his shoulders and hindlegs, staring out in front of him at his imaginary opponent. He rocked back on his hindlegs and propelled himself forward, ducking low and swerving right just before he would have slammed into the other cat, swinging his paw out and taking his claws down an invisible side. He spun around, facing his opponent. Dropping his head in line with his shoulders, he pulled his lips back into a snarl. He darted forward, dropping to the ground and pressing on with his hind legs. He snapped his jaws upward, teeth tearing at the imaginary belly above him. He rolled away, pulling himself to his paws. He thought back to when he was thirteen moons old and had first thought of that move, one that relied on one's speed and small size to dart beneath an opponent to get at their belly. He also remembered with a grim smile that it had still yet to be tested against a real opponent.
Throughout his one-sided battle, he had managed to keep control of his breathing, pulling in even breaths through his nose. He was proud of the fact that he wasn't panting, but also ashamed of the fact that he had to worry about that in the first place. He took a small moment to rest before he turned to face the invisible cat again.
It was small, just a little hole tucked under one of the boulders at the edge of camp. It had probably been the beginning of a rabbit hole, but for whatever reason it had been left unfinished, and he had claimed it as his own. His misfortune of being almost constantly sick had exiled him from the apprentices' den, but he didn't really mind the solitude. At least it held back some of the looks of disdain he was accustomed to receiving. He slipped back inside, scraping out his bedding, pushing it into a pile to be removed. Once it was done he backed out, sighing softly.
Under Rookfrost's care, Weaselpaw had taken a turn for the better. He had gained a little weight, and though he would never be at an ideal weight, his ribs were no longer showing. His fur was healthier and his eyes were clearer, and he had learned to control his breathing well. His bedding was changed daily, and he went to Rookfrost immediately at the first signs of illness.
Rolling his bedding into a controllable ball, the black apprentice rolled it away from camp. He walked a while, to the place where he typically disposed of it, and pushed it down into the little hole that had been dug specifically for his old bedding. It had been Rookfrost's idea, to bury his bedding so whatever illness he had couldn't spread. Once his bedding was gone, he turned and made his way back to camp. Halfway there, however, he had a different idea.
He angled his pawsteps into a different direction, heading to the trampled clearing. Once there, he sniffed around, making sure he was alone. He stepped out into the middle of the clearing, trying to remember what he had seen the other apprentices do. He squared his shoulders and hindlegs, staring out in front of him at his imaginary opponent. He rocked back on his hindlegs and propelled himself forward, ducking low and swerving right just before he would have slammed into the other cat, swinging his paw out and taking his claws down an invisible side. He spun around, facing his opponent. Dropping his head in line with his shoulders, he pulled his lips back into a snarl. He darted forward, dropping to the ground and pressing on with his hind legs. He snapped his jaws upward, teeth tearing at the imaginary belly above him. He rolled away, pulling himself to his paws. He thought back to when he was thirteen moons old and had first thought of that move, one that relied on one's speed and small size to dart beneath an opponent to get at their belly. He also remembered with a grim smile that it had still yet to be tested against a real opponent.
Throughout his one-sided battle, he had managed to keep control of his breathing, pulling in even breaths through his nose. He was proud of the fact that he wasn't panting, but also ashamed of the fact that he had to worry about that in the first place. He took a small moment to rest before he turned to face the invisible cat again.
@poptart