My Savior [Granitepaw] Dec 25, 2012 0:57:21 GMT -5
Post by Fawntastic on Dec 25, 2012 0:57:21 GMT -5
"I don't think you understand-- Well you probably do, but I think you might be underestimating Demon."[...] "And the weather might cause him to get bold. Even if he doesn't usually attack a patrol this size..."
And YOU seem to underestimate the power of silence.
An irritated ear flick in the direction of Littlepaw was all the concern he gave to her words. Had he been of a crueler, perhaps less machine-like mindset, he would have found humor in how she was trying to convince him that he had somehow underestimated the hulking lynx that dwelt in the mountains but stalked through the nightmares of the cats here in the forest. However, Rookfrost had never been known for his sense of humor. He just found her constant babbling irritating to the same extent as stepping on jagged rocks.
Rookfrost noted, with a faint gleam of relief, that she had at last decided to end her barrage by starting up a conversation with the larger gray-ticked tom he had ushered into coming along. Left to his thoughts, Rookfrost was, surprisingly, not running through checklists and locations of the herbs he would need for the remainder of this unusually harsh leafbare. Nor was he thinking of the lynx (he did not feel it necessary to actually call it Demon, considering it was by no means purely evil, just a hungry beast doing what hungry beasts did; eat).
The bone-fracture Rabbitheart suffered as an apprentice has a calcium build up from not being set properly. That idiot likely wouldn't hold still long enough. Well that explained why there was a certain hardness to Rabbitheart's chest - like a plate of armor, almost, directly in the center. Rookfrost had noticed the warrior sparring with Rapidwind the other day - he had made full use of the calcified bone in his chest to hammer into Rapidwind, knocking the breath out of the other, properly formed tom.
At first this action had taken Rookfrost by surprise - but he had, right away, several theories on the matter. For starters, Rabbitheart could just be an idiot and thought chest-bumping his opponents was a good idea, or there was method to the other tom's idiocy. Rookfrost, having opted for the latter, had, fortunately, been granted the opportunity to examine Rabbitheart properly when the tom had entered his den complaining of a cut pawpad. While normally this sort of injury would have taken two shakes of a lamb's tail to deal with, Rookfrost had been eerily persistent in keeping Rabbitheart thing, and had done plenty of poking and prodding to get the slow-witted warrior thinking he had contracted some kind of infectious disease.
Rookfrost had told him he had Pawscratcheditis.
Rabbitheart didn't get the humor.
The gray and tan ticked warrior-to-be seemed to brighten a little when training was mentioned. "Well, it's going a lot better than it was a few moons ago, now that my leg's completely healed." He explained, allowing himself to smile and feel pleased over the ease with which everything came now. Of course, he had a great mentor to work with, and in Granitepaw's experienced eyes, that made all the difference. Drawing his eyes over the tabby and white, very petite she-cat at his side, the tom mewed with casual curiosity;
"My mentor is Hailstrike, if you know of her. Who's yours?"
Talking with Littlepaw helped to distract him from this daunting, perhaps stupid task of heading up into the mountains with a cat he couldn't completely trust and into the territory of a predator the likes of which not even Eagletalon and Hailstrike combined could've slain. Tearing his eyes away from the she-cat at his side, Granitepaw frowned, feeling the terrain change beneath his toughened pawpads, the tom traipsing through the snow after the ascending black phantom that was Rookfrost, judging by the absolute no change in pace, Rookfrost was perfectly at home striding up the mountainside as though the most threatening thing up there were a couple of butterflies.
Not enjoying this at all, Granitepaw almost asked Littlepaw if she knew of any other predators said to lurk higher up than the forest the five Clans dwelt in, but he didn't want her thinking such scary thoughts. The last thing they needed was to freak themselves out even further than they already were; putting on a brave face, Granitepaw continued to follow in Rookfrost's wake, daring to call up;
"How far away are the herbs?"
Answered the tom without really answering.
Oh this would not be fun.