The days had been growing colder and colder as Leaf-Bare neared. Trees had lost most, if not all, their leaves by now, and the grasses were dulling from a lush green to a more creamy brown, a sign showing that the world was dying in a way. Dying so it could come back when New-Leaf would be anew in moons to come. Just how many moons would it be until the air was warm again? Nightpaw would have to ask her mentor later, for she had yet to live a whole year herself to know the answer.
The leaves and stray twigs or acorns that fell into the river had been scaring fish away every time she was just about to catch one, which made her endlessly frustrated. Just as she was about to lay her paw down on a fish unknowingly passing by, and acorn would plop into the water and she would loose the catch and have to move to a spot she thought was safe from falling debris, only to have a stray leaf catch her off guard and startle another fish. After loosing about five possible catches that way she didn't move from her spot. She just cleared her head and tried again, eyeing the water as she patiently waited for another fish to come into sight. Something shimmered in the water and her unsheathed claws crashed down, and pulled out a fish of sorts, she didn't have time to register what it was because she lost her footing and fell into the water. It instantly soaked through her pelt and chilled her to the bone. The water was freezing. She dug her claws into the soil and frantically pulled herself up, hissing as the fish flopped back into the water and swam away. Now she was cold, and had managed to loose another fish. Six. Six times she had failed. Nightpaw wasn't often one to be angry, but now she was beyond just a little agitated. What would her mentor say? What would the other apprentices say?! Whatever... At least no one had seen her fail so miserably, and she would rather claw off her own whiskers than go back to camp soaking wet and empty pawed. With a sharp sigh she began to groom her fur the best she could. She'd dry off a little and then go back to fishing, and return dry and with prey. No one would know.
Words: 409 // Tags: @savagewolf // Notes: Poor Night