[Deleted]

Curled into a tight ball with his nose pushed under some moss and his paws hiding beneath him, Deadcall was trying to sleep. It wasn't incredibly easy, though, what with the cold. He was one of three elders, in a den that was too large for their paltry number, and he certainly wasn't about to snuggle up with Rockfang for warmth. He should be in the warriors' den at that moment, right? He should be in a den a little warmer due to the amount of bodies, although right near the front because he was an early riser. Although he had been an elder for almost sixty moons, and had willingly stepped down from his position of warrior, it still felt a little wrong.

But if he was being honest with himself, he wouldn't actually go back. Some days he really enjoyed his snoozing and apprentices bringing him food. ...Speaking of which...

Deadcall sat up quickly, turning around to look for the entrance of the den. But everything was black! He looked back and forth, shook his head a little, becoming a little frantic. Was he blind? Could eyesight just go like that while one was sleeping? Geez that's rude. It could have at least given me a little warning! He blinked several times in an effort to regain eyesight. Okay, calm down, breathe, figure out what to do.

And as he breathed, he did in fact realize the problem. His face was warmer than the rest of him, didn't quite feel the nip of the breeze that found its way in every once in a while. With a frown he unsheathed his claws and tugged at the moss that was still covering his face, ripping it away and granting himself sight. Oh, the how exciting the elders' den could get.

[Phoenix]

Ospreypaw

- - -

Ever since they had returned victorious from the mountains, Ospreypaw had felt decidedly off. StoneClan had fought to reclaim their territory, and now that they had, the tension that had settled across their warriors’ shoulders while taking refuge in the mountains dissipated. Though there were signs of the recent battle all around him, camp as a whole seemed more relaxed and at ease. It had had the opposite effect on him.

Like the rest of his clan, he had been born in this camp, but his only memory of it was a stark and vivid one of that night, when the unexpected attack came from their neighbors. The two felines, one with cold gray eyes and the other with eyes of blood, who had slaughtered his parents, haunted his dreams at night, and as he peered around the unfamiliar scene, thoughts of both cats filled his mind. It set him on edge and kept his claws itching for revenge. Just thinking about it, Ospreypaw flexed his claws as he paused and glanced around him. Where was the elder’s den again?

Everyone around him had fallen into their old places with ease. They remembered where everything was and how to get around camp and their stony territory. It was all new to him. His knowledge of StoneClan’s rightful territory extended only slightly beyond the entrance to the nursery, and that had faded with time. As he watched his clan mates around him settling into their old roles, he could not deny the rift that had grown between him and the rest of StoneClan. He had been raised in the mountains; that harsh, unforgiving terrain felt more like home than this flatter landscape.

To add to his growing dislike for the new – but it was only new to him and his sister – territory, the battle to reclaim the land had reopened old scars. He had seen the crimson-eyed tom amongst the fray, leaping from a fallen to the next as though he had been born to fight. His own heart had thudded with the desire to kill him, just as the LightningClan cat had done to his mother, but when he had taken the opportunity to lunge at the red-eyed demon, the senior warrior had merely batted him away. Ospreypaw could still feel the merciless gaze resting on him, its blood-red depths burning with a fire and passion for the art of war, and as the alabaster feline stalked toward him, lips curled upward in a sneer, he had scrambled to regain his footing, the fur on his spine standing on end. His efforts were unnecessary, for a moment later, Hailstrike had leapt at LightningClan’s senior warrior, effectively distracting him from finishing off Ospreypaw. The young tom supposed that he should feel grateful toward the she-cat, but he had yet to bring himself to thank her.

He hated being rescued.

Unable to completely hide his bad mood, the black and white tom finally found the elder’s den, and with scraps of fresh moss hanging from his jaws, he entered it, trying to soothe his ire while memories of the battle – both of them – only served to fuel it. Frustration spiked as he caught sight of Deadcall, and he flicked his gaze away before he did something that he would regret later. Speaking to the wall of the den beside the elder, Ospreypaw muttered, ”I was told that you wanted some fresh moss.”

For once, he noted darkly, he did not care about how dubious he sounded. He should be training to perfect his fighting abilities. It was a waste of his time to do the chores that were supposed to fall on the shoulders of younger apprentices.

@moor

- - -

[Deleted]

Windpaw

Windpaw hadn't exactly been bursting with joy after being told she was to fetch new bedding for the Elders' Den. It wasn’t the task itself that bothered her, it was more the company; StoneClan’s three elders weren’t exactly the brightest bunch.
So, grudgingly, the apprentice had set off from camp to the Moss Meadow, accompanied by a shy warrior named Swiftstrike. With Windpaw's talkative personality and Swiftstrike's very quiet one, conversation was very much one-sided. The brown tabby apprentice was surprised that the dark grey tom hadn't clawed her ears off for talking so much by the time they returned to camp, with moss clamped between their jaws and tucked under their chins. Windpaw had taken the time to make sure that the moss wasn't earthy and was the softest in the whole of the moss meadow. Hopefully the elders wouldn't be disappointed.

Parting with Swiftstrike, the to-be warrior stalked over to the Elders' Den, almost tripping over her paws several time, her vision blocked slightly by the huge clump of moss she was carrying. Perhaps they'd brought just a little too much moss?
Taking the time to pause outside the den entrance and breath, smoothing down her fur a little as to look more presentable. Rockfang had once had a go at her for not grooming herself properly; she didn't want that happening again.
Slipping into the murky dim of the den, Windpaw was surprised to find that another apprentice had already brought new bedding for the elders. Oh, mouse-dung! Did I do all this for nothing?

Giving an mental sigh, Windpaw dipped her head to the clan’s three elders, though she purposefully avoided eye contact with either of them, “Good morning, Mintpetal, Rockfang, Deadcall,” she meowed politely, dropping the moss at her paws, “I was told to get some moss for you, but I see Ospreypaw’s already brought you some,” she glanced over at the black-and-white tom briefly, “Do you guys need any more or should I just give this to the queens?”
She didn’t see any point in the elders having an excessive amount of bedding, perhaps the moss she and Swiftstrike had collected could go to the clan’s youngest members. That would certainly leave the kits with more than enough material to make moss-balls, she smiled fondly to herself. Moss-ball had been her favourite game as a kit, she’d often played it with her littermates under the watchful eye of her mother. It had been so simple then, Warhawk had still been alive and she and her siblings had gotten along, at least most of the time.

Right now, it seemed like those peaceful days of play were a million miles away.

Tag~ @moor Phoenix
Words ~ 460 (ish)
Notes ~ ---

[Deleted]

Deadcall lay back down and starting picking at his moss from boredom. As nice as it was to be back home, in the territory where he had spent most of his life and knew rather well, he sort of missed the excitement of the mountains. He had liked the change of scenery. Sure, life had been harder, but he thought a little difficulty added some zest to life every now and again.

At the soft sound of footsteps the old cat's ears perked up and he sheathed his claws. Was it an apprentice with new moss, or food perhaps? He hadn't eaten since waking up, and the last batch of moss an apprentice had brought him hadn't been very pleasant at all. He looked towards the entrance hopefully, but frowned as he saw Ospreypaw enter. The young cat didn't meet his gaze, only causing his frown to deepen.

"Come on, kid, look at us when you speak to us. Any of us, all of us, I don't care. That wall over there certainly isn't requesting any moss, though." What was so difficult about looking at a cat when talking to him? Did he have no respect? "Anyway, I suppose we'll make due with those scraps. Leave 'em here," he sighed, tilting his head to the side a little bit. He wanted to get a good look at the kid, but guessed that he would try to leave without looking at him.

Then another apprentice entered the den, distracting Deadcall from his judgmental glare directed at Ospreypaw. This one, Windpaw if he remembered correctly, was carrying a whole lot of moss, and even then managed to dip her head respectfully. "Well thank you Windpaw, I don't think we'll need all of it, but certainly some of it. And I'm sure the queens would appreciate..." His words dropped off slowly after the word queen as he thought of his mate. He remembered one day bringing her some moss on a whim, the look of gratitude in her eyes saying more than any words could express.

"Yes, thank you for the moss," he said softly, shaking his head to dislodge the memory. "And while you're at it, maybe you can teach Ospreypaw a lesson in manners, hmm? He is sorely lacking in that department, and could definitely learn a thing or two from you." He cast a disdainful look in the tom apprentice's direction before looking back at Windpaw. I wish more apprentices were as considerate as she is.

---

Phoenix @littleflower

[Phoenix]

Ospreypaw

- - -

Had he really expected any less of a response to his blatant disrespect? The words themselves were harmless enough, but he did not need to look at the elder to know what expression had cross his features; Ospreypaw could practically hear the frown in his words. His limbs lurched into motion as he padded over to place the moss at the indicated area. ”Sorry,” He responded smoothly, automatically, in that moment more himself than he had been in a while. The confidence he had felt while navigating the familiar mountainous terrain they had once called home seemed to have shattered upon returning to StoneClan’s traditional home, leaving him to cling to the shards and hope that it was not clear enough that anyone would notice. With the familiarity had gone most of the charming, grinning feline he had once been, though most could easily attribute that to the loss of innocence that followed in the wake of such a large battle; indeed, there was a subtle, but definite, shift in the atmosphere around the apprentice’s den. Regarding that explanation, however, was the simple problem that Ospreypaw had never had any innocence to begin with, for that night, so many moons ago, when StoneClan had been chased from camp had stolen it away.

The sound of approaching pawsteps had him turning from his position close to Deadcall to glance at the entrance, soon blocked by Windpaw. ”Windpaw,” He greeted her, tail flicking. With her moss all neat and her fur freshly groomed, she was far more respectable than he, and a streak of guilty dislike, which had grown quick to attack anyone nearby, flashed through him. But it did not stop there. In comparison to her impeccable manners, he seemed all the more like a brute. Yes, let’s make Ospreypaw look even more like a mousebrain. He could feel the approval emanating from the elders, all three of them, at the sight of the she-cat.

Bitterness spread through him, both at himself and those around him. Recently, he did not have the patience, even on a good day, to deal with the elders, and today had been far from one of his better ones. Deadcall’s words had him clenching his jaw, and although he did not offer a response, the apprentice moved away from the elder, directing his steps toward the exit of the den. He had delivered his moss. He had done his job. There was no reason for him to stick around to be shown up by his den mate and insulted by an elder.

And yet…

If he thought that he could prevent any future trips to the elder’s den by acting rude toward its occupants, he would have simply continued on and walked away without further comment. However, given the clan’s almost reverent attitude toward their frustrating seniors, someone would undoubtedly complain and he would most certainly hear of it later. The punishment would probably be more time spent in the elder’s den, which meant less time practicing any skill of worth. Though presently it would be very satisfying, rudeness, ultimately, was counterproductive, and with that thought repeating like a mantra in his mind, the black and white tom turned back to Deadcall, yellow eyes locking with amber. Polite, Ospreypaw. Polite, and you then can get out of here. ”Do you want anything else before I go?”

- - -

[Deleted]

Windpaw

"Well thank you Windpaw, I don't think we'll need all of it, but certainly some of it. And I'm sure the queens would appreciate..."
At Deadcall's words, Windpaw gave a little smile, dipping her head to the elder. She noticed the way he faltered over his last words. She studied Deadcall for a moment, Have I brought up some bad memory or something? She hoped now.
Her gaze briefly flickered over to the other apprentice, then back to the StoneClan elder. Should I just leave the moss here, then leave? Am I supposed to, I don't know, actually change their moss? She played with the idea for a moment before deciding, I might as well, as I'm here. I'll probably be told to anyway.
Stepping forward tentatively, she opened her mouth to speak, but found that Deadcall had began to speak again. She waited her turn.

"Yes, thank you for the moss."..."And while you're at it, maybe you can teach Ospreypaw a lesson in manners, hmm? He is sorely lacking in that department, and could definitely learn a thing or two from you."
She ducked her head in embarrassment, avoiding Ospreypaw's gaze. She smiled sheepishly, taking another step forward, "It was no problem,"she told him simply, "Would... Would you like me to take out the bedding you have already? I can swap it with this stuff," she motioned with a gesture of her tail to he pile of moss and then towards Ospreypaw's findings. The idea of taking out the elders' bedding didn't particularly appeal to her, but it would probably be expected of her. Besides, there was something her father had always said to her about the clan's elders, being the lifeblood of the clan. She could remember what he'd said word for word, the memory was blurred now, it had happened moons ago. But what she could pull from her memory of her father, she treasured and held dear. It was all she had of him to hold onto.


Tag~ @moor Phoenix
Words ~ 340 (ish)
Notes ~ Sorry for taking such a long time and such a short response! I've been so busy and my muse is running low.