[nimble]

Cinderstripe found leaving the warmth of her nest a feat of tremendous willpower. She lay nestled within a haphazard pile of slumbering warriors, safely cocooned against leafbare's harsh cold. But, she thought forlornly, it was not to last. The clan's needs did not cease on behalf of the weather. She rose quietly, stepping over the sleeping bodies of her clanmates carefully. She padded out into the main cavern of NightClan's subterranean camp. The pale light of dusk shone from the cave's entrance, heralding the coming night. Her fangs flashed in a yawn as she turned towards the apprentices' den. Her bright amber eyes picked out the fluffy black pelt of her apprentice, curled up with his sisters. “Cinderpaw,” she hissed quietly into the den. When she saw him stir, she stepped away from the entrance, withdrawing to the fresh-kill pile.

The young tom emerged from his den, and she beckoned him over with her tail, greeting him with a purr. “Have some fresh-kill,” she instructed, settling down near him to give her soot-colored fur a good grooming. Prey was scarce during the winter moons, but she was not about to send her young apprentice into the freezing night with an empty belly. “We'll leave at sundown.”

When the light of sunset had mostly faded, she led her apprentice out into the night. The moon had not yet risen. The stars remained shrouded in the blackness of the sky. Their paws fell softly on the frozen snow. She kept silent for a few moments as she allowed herself to grow accustom to the frigid air. “We're going to renew the outer border,” Cinderstripe told her companion, voice quiet. “Leafbare is difficult for all. It's important to keep NightClan's scent markers strong, lest any loner be tempted by our prey.”

words; 298
tag; Taxx

[Taxx]

CINDERPAW

NIGHTCLAN

rather be the hunter than the prey

Like most of the NightClan cats, Cinderpaw had slept the day away, tucked in the apprentices' den with his brother and sister- and talking quietly among themselves when they were awake. Which Cinderpaw hadn't been when Cinderstripe called to him; one ear flicked at the sound of his name, immediately drawn from sleep and his yellow gaze turning to her as he yawned, front paws stretching as he rolled to his side. He roused quickly enough, the somewhat cooler air of the main camp wrapping around him as he followed his mentor, and he gave a quiet nod at her instruction.

One skinny, stringy mouse later- hardly filling but enough to give him energy- they were heading out of camp into the freezing night. And this was when Cinderpaw was most glad for his thick fur; his paws began to ache almost instantly, but the core of him remained warm. He nodded in understanding, trotting along at Cinderstripe's side. "Do loners threaten us often? They should know what our markers mean, right?" Or did the cold, and hunger, make them reckless enough to try anyway?

nimble || Notes

[nimble]

The breeze tonight was mercifully gentle. The two cats slipped through the darkness shoulder to shoulder, their fur fluffed up against the cold. Cinderstripe's ears flicked towards her companion at his question. “Of course they may know what our markers mean, but not every cat will heed the warning,” she answered, her claws sliding out of their sheaths at the thought. “If the scent grows weaker, they may think that we're neglecting this part of our territory – that we may not notice if some of our prey goes missing.”

The soot-colored warrior sprung up to mount the fallen trunk of a cedar tree, pausing for her apprentice to join her before turning to pad down the length of it. “Of course, even with strong borders, some cats may be foolish enough to try,” she mused, the end of her tail twitching.

Cinderstripe leapt nimbly from the log, her paws landing on the brittle snow with a soft crunch. “NightClan's warriors must always be prepared to meet trespassers with fang and claw.” She fell silent as they traveled, her mind caught up in thoughts of her own apprenticeship. It was a lesson borne straight from the maw of her own mentor. The flames of Ashlight's temper had lapped at every lesson, and though her passion was admirable, there was more that Cinderstripe had learned. Things that, now, she could pass on to her own apprentice.

“But just the same as we fight and hunt to protect our clan, each cat is striving for their own survival,” she continued carefully, trusting that Cinderpaw would ponder the idea on his own. They'd arrived to the outer border, and the dark gray she-cat set to work renewing the scent-marks there, motioning for her companion to do the same. “We must give them clear warning, it's only fair.” If any cat is mouse-brained enough to cross our borders, they will find no pity here, she thought. NightClan was not particularly compassionate to outsiders, and charity was nowhere in Foxstar's vocabulary.

word count; 336
tag; Taxx

[Taxx]

CINDERPAW

NIGHTCLAN

rather be the hunter than the prey

Cinderpaw listened, and nodded, taking in what his mentor was saying but not interrupting to ask his own question just yet. He followed close, walking side by side until they had reached the log and then falling back to trail close behind, ears pricked as carefully as ever. The woods around them were quiet, except for the occasional hoot of an owl and the rustle of some creature scurrying through the brush around them. A quiet thump and a faint squeak startled Cinderpaw just as he jumped from the log, and his landing was less than graceful, but he recovered quickly and hurried after his mentor again.

He nodded at her words, well aware of the fact that they had to be ready no matter what enemy threatened their borders. He didn't question that- he knew why it was done. The territory they held provided them with food, and herbs, and especially now they needed to defend that from other cats- Clan or loner. "I understand," he replied. "Has there been trouble with loners in the past?" His mind briefly flicked back to his encounter with that Tribe cat, Stag Morning-Light, but from what Cinderpaw had gathered from him, Stag lived in a community very much like a Clan, and they shared and took care of each other. Loners, though, relied solely on themselves.

He'd never seen a loner. Of course they were still cats, but the idea of keeping to yourself, of choosing not to rely on others, was a strange concept to him- he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of hunting for yourself, with no Clanmates to back you up if necessary. "Were any of our Clan loners?" They had poor tolerance for outsiders, he knew, but he still asked.

nimble || Notes