[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

She wasn't supposed to be out here by herself. And she wasn't. Not really. Sablefoot and the rest of his stupid hunting party were bickering over chancing to hunt in the branch trail region of NightClan's territory, and Scrap-paw had wandered off. Something she soon regretted, however, as the freezing cold wind numbed her paws and stung her eyes.

Foxdung! Why are we even outside in this? She wanted to go back to her nest next to Snake and curl up with her brother, comforted by the fact that they had a dry, warm place to sleep that night. Weather like this was... making her rethink her plan to live on her own. Scrap-paw's dull yellow eyes found the tiny, quivering form of a mouse trying to uncover a half-buried acorn at the base of a tree. It was near the edge of NightClan's territory - the scentline all that separated her from no-man's land just beyond.

The mouse's ears pricked. Scrap-paw held her breath.
I'm not here, you stupid piece of food. I'm not here. Go back to stuffing your face. Coaxing the mouse back into a state of false security, Scrap-paw edged her way closer. The ground felt so hard now. She didn't like it. Her back right paw snapped a twig; Scrap-paw cursed and threw herself out of the ferns, racing around the tree trunk to pounce on the mouse before it made it back to its den.

"Oh no you don't!" Scrap-paw's 'fierce' snarl came out a shrill shriek of triumph as her claws sank into the now fresh kill. Her heart was pounding so hard, blood running through her limbs and warming them back up. Suddenly, a terrible stench, like rotten meat, smacked her on the nose. Scrap-paw froze, the urge to eat the mouse morphing into nausea. What the heck?

Scrap-paw cautiously tiptoed around the base of the tree, to the side of it she had yet to see. The calico kitten's fur raised along her spine, spiking out everywhere as she lurched back, reeling from the tabby-striped corpse left splayed over the trunk. There were owl feathers clutched in the cat's talons, and it's expression - glassy-eyed and frozen - wore a haunted look of pain and fear.

Scrap-paw shivered, alarm bells going off in her head, but she couldn't move.

She couldn't look away. She had never seen a dead body before. Not a cat's dead body. Scrap-paw tried to shout into the wind, but it came out a tremulous whisper. "I-I'm not scared."

But she was. And she didn't want to be near this... this corpse that used to be someone any more. Forgetting all about her mouse, Scrap-paw ran.

No sooner had she put on a burst of speed when she collided with the white-throated form of NightClan's deputy. Scrap-paw screeched in terror, having richocheted off his shoulder and into the grass right beside him. Her eyes were wide, fur still fluffed. For a second she'd thought he'd been that cat. The dead one.

Chasing her.

"D-Don't..." Don't scare me like that ever again! But the words didn't come out. Instead, Scrap-paw moved closer to him, shaking.

6 Moons | Apprentice | NightClan

ScraPaw

williams 512 Words Notes

[williams]

BRIARTHROAT

Giving out jobs for his clanmates sat odd in Briarthroat's mouth, but he started his days now with ensuring his clanmates felt taken care of. Voice soft in tone yet loud in volume divided up the cats into hunting parties, border patrols, any miscelanous tasks they needed to do that day. His amber eyes then watched Nightclan come to life, chattering quietly as they went on their way. His apprentice was given to a hunting patrol with words glowing with praise. Scrap-paw probably still didn't enjoy clan life, Briarthroat could feel that, and not everyone enjoyed working with her, but she did enjoy hunting. Her triumphant yells of success were quieter too. As the last of the patrols went out, the lanky tom made his own way out into the forest, confident his clan and Foxstar didn't need his help for a moment. He wanted to check on his apprentice, see if he could track her and watch her progress.

Mouth open and ears alert, Briarthroat tracked her hunting patrol near the Branch Trail, an interesting choice but a good one if they were successful. Of the scents, Scrap-paw's weaved off from the main pack. She should stick with the group, He thought with a frown, concerned. I wonder if I put her and Snakepaw together if she'll want to stay closer to the other cats. She's too inexperienced right now to be wandering alone. Staying quiet to keep the hunting good for the patrol, the tabby tom followed Scrap-paw's scent trail, keeping his head low to keep track of his smaller apprentice. However, she found him first.

With a rush of air at the sudden impact, Briarthroat looked down at Scrap-paw. Her fur was fluffed up to make her twice her size, eyes wide. "Don't-" She started, then shifted closer. What happened? Did the other cats scare her off? A fury rose up out of the urge to protect her, putting a paw around her with enough slack to be pushed off if she didn't want it but close enough that someone (or something) would have to go through him before they could reach her. "I'm here Scrap-paw, it's okay. It's okay." He said first, letting his voice rumble low so she could feel its comfort. "What happened?"

392 | Fawn | protective dad appears (also can you see his worries?)

ulla

[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

"I found something," Scrap-paw couldn't say a cat. Because it was, and it wasn't. And she didn't know why, but actually acknowledging it as someone who was once walking and talking and feeling, would send her heart into a frenzy again. "Follow, okay?" The jokes weren't happening right now, and if anything, Scrap-paw felt jittery with uncertainty, an unusual state for a she-cat who tried to scratch out at the world before it could scratch her first.

STOP shivering! Scrap-paw scolded herself, and tried to concentrate on halting the trembles; but that, combined with her unwillingness to go near the body again had her starting off slowly, paws heavy as rocks frozen to the ground. I'm not scared of a stupid piece of crow food! I'm not! Except this wasn't crow food. It was owl food.

How could there be birds big enough to kill a cat? That was just messed up! Scrap-paw willed her white paws to carry her, and she led the way back to the tree, stomach tying itself up into a ball of dread and fear. It was getting harder to keep going, and she was guilty of glancing back at Briarthroat a few times to make sure he was right behind her. Finding the tree, and the mouse she'd abandoned beside it, Scrap-paw gestured at the trunk with a jab into the air.

"There. It's there." Did she sound like she didn't give a rat's tail? Somehow Scrap-paw wasn't so sure she sounded convincing. "Nobody I know," Scrap-paw muttered. As if that made it any less morbid. Scrap-paw was glad Snakepaw wasn't here to see this. She didn't know how her brother would react to a dead body, but Scrap-paw had a feeling it wouldn't be... positive. If it was freaking her out, it was bound to upset Snakepaw on a whole other level.

Maybe even make him afraid to go into NightClan's territory. Maybe make him want to stay in his nest until the world was safe again. Doesn't seem like such a bad idea, thought the Calico, keeping her distance, and wrapping her thin splotched tail around herself for some modicum of comfort.

6 Moons | Apprentice | NightClan

ScraPaw

williams 361 Words Notes

[williams]

BRIARTHROAT

"I found something." He raised his brows in surprise. Found something? I guess this means she's not hurt, thank Starclan. "Follow, okay?" Unused to the short statements without their hidden bites, Briarthroat felt his urge to protect grow even further. He had never seen the apprentice so shaken, even when she joined the clan for the first time. Despite her trembling, the tom had to admire her courage to return to whatever she found. His mind spun at what it could be. Rotten prey? An unusual landmark? A sign from Starclan? He scoffed internally at the last thought. He was thinking too much. What mattered was helping his apprentice. Catching Scrap-paw's eyes as she peered backwards at him, Briarthroat nodded. He was still here. He wasn't about to leave her to face this thing alone. "I'm here." He said, with certainty, the second time she looked back, adjusting his pace to match hers and stay in the side of her vision at all time.

As they neared the end goal, a smell filled the air. It made his stomach sink when he recognized it. Something had died here, left to rot. "There. It's there." Her voice was still cold, still afraid. A stump appeared before them. With a gentle nudge of his tail to stay put, Briarthroat crept ahead. Nausea rose in his throat, turning his stomach into a foaming hole. This cat had been here for a while, forgotten by everyone in the world. "Nobody I know." Scrap-paw added after he had examined the poor cat. No one indeed. Briarthroat echoed, reaching a delicate paw up to close the tabby's eyes. Although he wanted to respect the dead and return the cat to their home, his stomach would not stop threatening to upend itself and he could not get close enough to smell anything other that death.

The deputy turned back to his apprentice, not giving a smile because the situation did not call for it, but ushered her instead out of sight of the dead cat and again, close enough to him that she could seek comfort but far enough that she could stand her own ground. "Thank you for coming to get me, Scrap-paw." He said, genuine relief in his voice. It was a bad thing to find, but his apprentice was okay. Very scared, but okay. "I will make sure Foxstar knows we have an agressive owl on the loose. They don't eat cats, not even little apprentices, but I think this cat thought they'd get a meal out of the bird." He tore his own vision away from the stump finally, knowing now what the situation needed for Scrap-paw. I'll send a patrol out to monitor the area, make sure it's gone for good. "More importantly, you are safe, and very brave. You handled yourself with a seriousness and urgency not a lot of warriors can even manage. I am so proud of you." His tail wrapped around her shoulders in a gentle embrace, before curling like a protective shell around Scrap-paw. Then, as he usually did during their training sessions, he asked, "How can I help Scrap-paw? Nightclan will be okay, but how are you dealing with this?" He was old enough to have been in battle before, to see cats die of sickness or injuries that became festering. Now what his apprentice needed was focused attention. She trusted him enough to bring him here, that counted for something.

580 | Fawn | briar has totally adopted her

ulla

[Fawn]

What doesn't kill me had better start running.

Scrap-paw had loitered, standing on paws full of thorns and nettles as Briarthroat disappeared around the side of the trunk. In a wordless need to make sure she hadn't lost her mentor, Scrap-paw craned to the left, stretching the muscles in her slender thin-furred neck to spy him from the safety of her waiting spot. He did something to the corpse that she couldn't see, and Scrap-paw found herself more morbidly curious than disgusted—but that didn't last.

"They don't eat cats, not even little apprentices," said the deputy. Something tense and uncertain inside her chest began to loosen, and slowly the raised fur along her spine began to drift back down like dandelion tufts. That meant Snake would be safe. That meant she would be safe. Scrap-paw looked away, uncomfortable with letting him know how much better she felt with him around; why should that matter, anyway? He was a deputy now. He was supposed to handle weird stuff like this.

But she hadn't run off to find him because he was deputy. In fact, she'd forgotten.

"More importantly, you are safe, and very brave. You handled yourself with a seriousness and urgency not a lot of warriors can even manage. I am so proud of you." That praise was met with burning ears and widening eyes. Scrap-paw took a step backward, tail lashing from side to side like a snapped tether. "I wasn't! I wasn't brave, I ran like a—like a mouse!" Self-disgust welled up inside her heart. "I wasn't brave at all!" What were all her tough words for, then? Scrap-paw had always believed in her own claws. In her own fierceness.

This time, it wasn't enough. This time, it wasn't helpful, and her courage had failed her spectacularly. The only blessing in this situation was that the rest of the patrol didn't see her turn tail like a baby mouse. He couldn't be proud of her for being afraid, what kind of messed up idea was that? The stench of decay was making her want to vomit, and the calico kitten didn't know how much more she could handle. Ears flat, stomach tumbling, Scrap-paw turned away from Briarthroat, muttering darkly. "You can help by getting us away from that—body." She'd almost said cat.

It wasn't a cat anymore. Not really. Scrap-paw shivered.

6 Moons | Apprentice | NightClan

ScraPaw

williams 386 Words Notes: Yesss Briardad!

[williams]

BRIARTHROAT

"I wasn't! I wasn't brave, I ran like a—like a mouse! I wasn't brave at all!" He watched the fur rise again along her shoulders and spine, spiking out from frustration. Briarthroat waited patiently for an answer to his question, knowing already it would come eventually if he was willing to wait. She turned as she answered. "You can help by getting us away from that—body."

He nodded, leading Scrap-paw away to a part of the forest that did not smell like death, nor reminded the pair of where the young apprentice had been found by the patrol before she had even joined Nightclan. The ground had a soft bed of pine needles, no boggy texture as other parts of the territory had. Somewhere solid, with peaceful looking undergrowth. A cat could see through all their winding branches, so it was a perfect lookout spot. Briarthroat hoped it would settle his apprentice's anxiety, knowing half the battle had to be completed by the cat dealing with said anxiety.

"Scrap-paw," He started, settling down and crossing his front paws. He looked alert, senses open to keep them both safe from whatever the forest threw at them, but sat so they could be at a closer eye level. This was not a conversation to talk down to her. "I called you brave because I believe that to be true in you. You didn't know what you were dealing with, and left to find someone who could. Even if you hadn't gotten anyone, you would still be brave because you didn't try to be reckless and solve the mystery yourself. Your life is important and it's brave to ensure you survive day to day." It felt contradictory, to offer her safety as bravery when he previously said the owl didn't eat cats. But it was still agressive, and that was left unspoken. He had lived long enough to know what the predators of the valley could do to a cat. The well-trained warriors, and incredibly blessed apprentices, would leave with scars. The rest were remains left to mourn and bury. Scrap-paw was young, with so much life to give. She was headstrong, but Briarthroat hoped she would remain brave when danger appeared.

380 | Fawn | briar is a monologue-king whop

ulla