[Fawn]

Mudpelt

LightningClan || Senior Warrior || 52 Moons

'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark

It wasn't often that gossip got to Mudpelt. It wasn't often that he listened to it, either. When the soft feminine laughter of she-cats and the the giddy whispering of conspirators brushed against Mudpelt's eardrums, he ignored it.

Until he heard a familiar name.

'I think Cloudyfeather got the best one,' said a girlish voice.

'You think so? Blazefang is so handsome, he has a fire to him!' said Blossomfur.

'Yes, but Gustclaw wasn't stuck in the elder's den. The way Cloudyfeather still misses him, it's obvious that if he hadn't gotten sick, they'd've had a lot more litters.'

'You're right. Mudpelt seems okay, though.'

The brown tom's steps faltered, the hare he was carrying to the fresh kill pile suddenly no longer his chief focus. Just nonsense. His heart ached for the brother he had lost, and he shared Cloudyfeather's grief, but he knew there were better ways to channel his sorrow. The little reminder to return to his duties had Mudpelt shaking his head - he should get back to work - but more snippets of conversation drifted out of the warriors' den.

'Mudpelt is as boring as his name, are you kidding? He's not bad looking, but by StarClan, listening to him talk puts me to sleep.'

What stung worse than that snide remark was that he recognized the voice that said it; Larkfeather. Their interactions had always been pleasant, or meaningful - but after her mother's death, it was as if she'd become an entirely different cat. Freer, but ruder, haughtier, now that Morningfrost was no longer around to drag her self esteem into a pit.

'Maybe he's not interested in she-cats?' piped in Blossomfur in a half-handed attempt at coming to his defense. 'That's not unusual, not for this Clan.'

'I don't think it has anything to do with what he thinks of she-cats,' said Larkfeather, snorting a purr. 'I think it has to do with what they think of him.'

Mudpelt's grip on the hare tightened, and he brought it to the fresh kill pile, ears twitching flat, then straightening as he tried to let the commentary slide off his back. Is that what the Clan thinks of me? That I'm boring? He knew he was not an apprentice's first choice of mentor, given his preference for lecturing and the heavy emphasis he placed on knowing the Warrior Code by heart - but he'd never considered himself making such a poor impression upon his fellow warriors.

Is this what he was destined for? Eternal bachelorhood, until StarClan called him to rest? Something hollow and mournful echoed a somber note in the stocky tom's chest. He had never made any great leaps towards courtship with anyone in LightningClan - largely because his mother's lineage ran through so many cats - but he had never thought of himself as prohibited from one day settling down.

Perhaps this was his lot in life; to give himself to LightningClan as a whole, and hope his contributions to the Clan meant more than the relationships he'd failed to make.

They will run you down, down til you fall

504 Words || Abyss || Notes

BACKDATED: Leafbare 12 - Clouds thin themselves out, letting the sun weakly peek through, but it is still overcast. The snow stops falling.
(Set two days after their last thread)

@zen (Blaze mention!)
Phoenix (Gust mention!)

[Abyss]

B A T E A R

"As if you have any room to talk."

A pair of bright green eyes glared towards the two gossiping she-cat’s from the back of the Warrior’s den. The owner of the eyes could only just barely be seen, yet the voice could be identified as Batear. The pure black she-cat, who at that moment had been curled up in her nest and resting after an attempt to hunt, found herself bothered by the voices of Larkfeather and Blossomfur. At first she simply ignored them. She had never really interacted with either of them, but from her experiences with Larkfeather, she had already determined that Larkfeather was not a she-cat that she would ever desire the company of. So caught up in her own looks and popularity that hardly anything else mattered to her. Yes, Lark was in fact a very pretty she-cat. But every time that Bat ever caught a glimpse of her, she was either gossiping to some of her other she-cat friends or she was playing with the heartstrings of another love-struck tom who knew no better. Not the kind of cat that Batear ever associated with.

She did ignore them in the beginning. They were just rambling about Blazefang’s looks and brought up Gustclaw, which was the first clue that they were talking about Mudpelt’s family. When Mudpelt’s name was mentioned, at first it seemed just calm and, once again, about looks. But that was just Blossom speaking. When Lark jumped in, Bat’s attention was caught. She started talking about how he was boring, listening to him speak put her to sleep, and that the reason he never got any attention from others was because the rest of the clan saw him this way as well. Batear’s head lifted at this and her eyes narrowed. Now normally this dark she-cat wasn’t one to insult her clanmates or speak harshly to them right to their face. But she had a low tolerance for cats who were so willing to bash their clanmates over something so trivial.

“At least Mudpelt takes the time to know the Warrior code by heart and dedicate himself to the clan rather than fawn over any and all the attention he gets from the opposite gender, unlike some cats in this den.” At this, the dark form of the lithe she-cat stood and took a few steps forward, her slender face and large ears coming into better view as she went nearer to the den entrance, her vibrant eyes remaining locked on the two she-cats.

“Also, comparing Mudpelt to Blazefang, as well as bringing up Gustclaw? All you are is an attention-seeking snake-tongue hidden behind a pretty face. So stereotypical. So who are you to say how the whole clan views one cat in comparison to his brothers?” Her eyes became more narrow as she looked at Larkfeather, her tail lashing once behind her. Batear usually didn’t act this way, nor did she ever say things quite as harsh as she was, so this was very unusual behavior from the black she-cat. Perhaps she had a bad start to the day or woke up on the wrong side of the nest. No one could say. But the irritation and slight ping of anger was very visible in her light emerald eyes as she stared daggers into Larkfeather.

“Just because you think that you deserve everyone’s attention cause your mother didn’t give you any doesn’t mean that everyone is gonna agree with your opinion of your own clanmates.” Her voice was laced with that of danger and a very obvious tone of “don’t even try to fight back”. Regardless of if Larkfeather tried to say anything else, Batear’s attention turned away from the off-white she-cat and turned to the other, Lark’s existence in her eyes faded immediately.

“And as for you, Blossomfur, keeping company with someone who talks about her clanmates that way isn’t a very good way to spend your day. How about you head out on a patrol? Perhaps then you could be a bit more useful than Larkfeather ever is.” At this, the black Warrioress turned and exited the den, not bothering to wait and listen to any comments from either of the she-cats. As she emerged from the den, she turned and walked towards the edge of camp, her stomach letting out a low growl and the fresh-kill pile in the corner of her vision. But she was not in the mood to eat. She sat at the edge of the hill that created Lightningclan’s camp, her tail thumping against the ground behind her impatiently as she allowed her temper to cool down with the temperature of the air.

I shouldn’t have done that. Knowing her, she’s gonna go and tattle to whoever she can that I was insulting her and that I should be punished. Batear’s thoughts were slightly worrisome for a moment, but she tried to bring herself back. No. I was defending a clanmate. And she needs someone to put her in her place. If this comes back on me, I will deal with it then.

WORDS: 848 | Fawn | NOTES: Get wrecked Larkfeather

By Cotton of Template HQ

[Fawn]

Mudpelt

LightningClan || Senior Warrior || 58 Moons

'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark

“Just because you think that you deserve everyone’s attention cause your mother didn’t give you any doesn’t mean that everyone is gonna agree with your opinion of your own clanmates.”

Mudpelt let go of the hare, the body dropping limply over the freshkill pile as his paws willed him towards the den. His heart thundered in surprise and gratitude at his unknown defender. Larkfeather was verbally trounced, Blossomfur too not avoiding the sharp, scathing tongue of the defending warrioress. Mudpelt's eyes were wide as he detected pawsteps coming from deep within the den, his breath held as he waited for the she-cat to appear; rather than the bright ginger pelt of Robinflame or pearlescent white of Brightpool, his own kin, it was Batear. Her sleek form slipped from the warriors' den with a stormcloud of anger in her eyes.

"No one cares what you think, you skinny little rat!" Larkfeather snapped at Batear's retreating form. "Right Blossomfur?"

The stocky tom blocked out the outside light as he stuck his head into the warriors' den, somber yellow eyes scanning the gloom until they locked onto Larkfeather's startled face. "I care." He replied, and with a disapproving scowl at both she-cats, Mudpelt went to join Batear.

The slender feline had not noticed him, not immediately. Mudpelt, aware of the lashing tail and the angry vibe Batear was giving off, gruffly cleared his throat, feeling his skin heat beneath his pelt as if under direct sunlight.
"...thank you," Mudpelt scuffled his paws, feeling as if he'd shrank back into Mudpaw, the apprentice who had introduced himself as 'Pawmud' to the last she-cat that had ever made him feel... so strange.

"F-For what you said." He added, feeling like he had ants under his pelt. "I, uh, I must return to my duties." Mudpelt flicked an ear, talking much louder and more studiously than he meant to. "Goodbye." The awkwardness in his breast was enough to add speed to his stride; StarClan, I thought I was past this. Why, as soon as he felt a connection towards a she-cat, he got so tongue-tied and awkward? It was as if all the logic and common sense that dictated his every day life had suddenly flown off on birds' wings.

And all he was trying to do now was express gratitude, nothing more.

The stocky tom's wide features and broad, boxy muzzle swung back to throw a glance over his shoulder. What does Batear think of me? It was the sort of question that, once thought, stuck to the walls of his mind like a fly in amber. He wanted to know, but could not find a way to ask. It would make him seem selfish or self-centered - or insecure, as if he needed popularity in order to feel good about himself.

Or none of those things, and she'd simply shake her head and walk away, because there were more important things to do than humor a stupid question? Or maybe he'd put her into a difficult position by asking directly - she'd have to fish for something kind to say.

Mudpelt suppressed a groan, jaw set hard. He knew the Warrior Code backwards and forwards; but StarClan help him with understanding she-cats.

They will run you down, down til you fall

540 Words || Abyss || Notes

[Abyss]

B A T E A R

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.

It was very rare for the dark Warrior to get as heated as she did towards Larkfeather. She wasn’t really used to insulting her clanmates that way, but she also didn’t like hearing anybody bad-mouthing a fellow clanmate, especially Mudpelt. He was a very dedicated and loyal Warrior of Lightningclan, a devout follower of the Warrior Code who gave his whole life to the well-being of his clan. He wasn’t one to judge someone else, but rather try to help them correct their mistakes. He was what a clan cat was meant to be like.

So the fact that someone had been talking about him in that way and comparing him to his brothers, which, if she remembered correctly, he was sensitive about, was frustrating to her. In addition to that, Larkfeather being the one doing the insulting was the last cat that deserved to judge someone else. She had too many issues herself for her to be saying that someone was boring. Regardless of whether Mudpelt was boring or not, at least he wasn’t desperate for unneeded attention.

As she began to calm herself down, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. At first, she felt a slight nervousness drench itself over her, scared that someone was coming to scold her for her treatment of Larkfeather. But the voice that came from behind wasn’t that of her Leader or her Deputy. As a matter of fact, it was the voice of Mudpelt himself. Her head turned around quickly to find the deep brown tom standing behind her, his paws shuffling beneath him and his gaze diverted from her own. His first words had been a, honestly, very clearly nervous thank you. Batear did want to respond, but she couldn’t think of anything to say right off the top of her head. Plus, he continued on anyway, almost as if he had wanted to say a full sentence, but ended up dividing into two spaced-out phrases. Before she could even respond to the addition to the thank you, he quickly chimed in that he had to return to his duties, gave her a very quick and stern goodbye, and then turned and hightailed away from her.

The dark feline sat there for a moment, staring after the tom, wide-eyed. What...in Starclan...just happened? She felt confusion hit her as he walked away. He had thanked her, which she did appreciate. But for what? Had he heard what she said to Larkfeather and Blossumfur? Wait, he did add on the “for what you said” bit there at the end. So he did hear her…

She felt her face beneath her fur heat up. He had heard what she said about him. She felt a bit of embarrassment appear in her as well. It wasn’t like she had said anything bad about him. She had defending him. Yet the thought of him hearing what she said caused her to feel slightly flustered, and she didn’t know why. But she did know one thing. While her mind wasn’t entirely focused on what was happening, her body willed itself into action, causing her to stand and trot after the dark tom. It took her a second to realize what she was doing, but when she did mostly gain her senses, she still wasn’t entirely sure.

“Wait!” As she caught up with him, she walked alongside him and looked over to him with her bright gaze, lightly tilting her head. “Would you like to do some hunting together?”

WORDS: 590 | Fawn | NOTES: -

By Cotton of Template HQ

[Fawn]

Mudpelt

LightningClan || Senior Warrior || 52 Moons

'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark

Defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life. You may have friendships with cats from other Clans, but your loyalty must --

He recited the first tenet of the Warrior Code to calm himself, planning to reach a more focused, peaceful state by the time he made it to the last one. Until Batear's voice interrupted his thoughts and his stride, Mudpelt's somber amber eyes widening as Batear drew up alongside him.

“Would you like to do some hunting together?”

Her head was softly tilted, reminding him of an inquisitive raven, her sleek black pelt only adding to this association. Mudpelt felt his skin warm again around his muzzle, and he answered with a quiet but sincere "Yes." Her companionship was valuable to him, now more than ever after her defense of him. Does she see that I am more than just a... killjoy? Like my littermates called me? That wasn't the only thought troubling him lately, but Mudpelt resolved himself not to go poking his nose into Batear's feelings unless he wanted to get a well-deserved smack across the muzzle.

She had defended him in front of Larkfeather and Blossomfur. He had no right to ask for more than this from anyone.

Mudpelt watched his paws as he walked, the snow crunching softly underfoot as they went off the beaten trail of LightningClan's camp entrance. "Batear," he started, soft and thoughtful. "What do you think of the Warrior Code? I've... lived my whole life believing in it. Trusting it. Sometimes I feel as if I am the only cat in the valley who still respects it enough to teach it to their apprentices." It wasn't just Thunderpaw who didn't know it.

It seemed like a lot of the younger generations were getting away from traditions of the past. What did that mean for LightningClan? What did that mean for the valley? For him? Mudpelt recognized his own faults to smile grimly, dipping his head to the slender she-cat in apology. "I'm sorry. Many find this subject dull. We can focus on hunting if you'd prefer."

He could always talk to Kindleflare about these things. His cousin's gentle nature made her an excellent listener - and though she followed a different code now, she had been a warrior once.

They will run you down, down til you fall

379 Words || Abyss || Notes: <3

[Abyss]

B A T E A R

A small wave of relief washed over the dark she-cat at the brown tom’s answer. It was quiet and likely would have been hard for anyone else to hear, but her namesake ears allowed her to avoid that problem. With a smile on her face, she proceeded to walk forward alongside him out of camp. As she walked, she felt a chill run down her spine as the cold from the snow climbed up her long and slender legs. Leafbare could be a pain for someone with short fur and more of a lithe body.

She hadn’t noticed at first, but as she walked, she found that Mudpelt was slowly but surely falling behind. When she did notice, it was because she heard his deep voice call her name, but not in an attention-catching way. He spoke her name as though he had something else to say or ask, causing her pace to slow in order to match his.

“The Warrior Code?” His question was one that she hadn’t expected. She listened as he spoke, telling her how he lived his life based around the code and that he felt like he was the only cat in the valley who followed it still. The question had somewhat silenced the black Warrioress. She found herself looking forward, not ignoring his question, but losing herself to her thoughts momentarily. Just as she found words, he spoke up once again, saying that it was a dull subject and that they could focus elsewhere. She shook her head, large green eyes looking to him.

“No, I do agree. A lot of cats kind of put the code to the side anymore, despite the importance that it plays.” She looked to the ground for a small period of time, before she lifted her head and looked back ahead, keeping an eye out for prey while also speaking.

“Believe me, Mudpelt, you’re not the only cat that believes in the code. I do too. The code was made a long time ago to keep the clans in line and put a set of morals in their head to follow by. The code is something that should be respected and treated as the sort of laws of the clan.” She slightly turned her head, glancing over at him with one emerald orb. “But you understand why we have the code, yes?”

It was an odd question, one that she allowed to hang in the air between them. Of course, the obvious answer that a cat like Mudpelt would probably give was that it was there to keep the clans in check, as she had said before. But that wasn’t what she was looking for, and she showed this in the expression on her face. She wanted him to stop and think of why the code really existed. Why the clans once followed it with such loyalty. After she let him, hopefully, think about her question, she spoke again.

“The code is there to protect the well-being of the clans and the cats within them. Defend your clan, even with your life. Elders, Queens, and Kits must be fed before Apprentices and Warriors. Prey is killed only to be eaten. Each clan can be proud and independent, but the clans must come together to face danger and protect the life of all the clans.” She loosely recited only a few of the different laws within the code as she walked, her tail flicking and curling behind her. “The code was made a long time ago as a sort of standard for the clans to follow. But there is more to a clan than just the code. Sometimes you have to do something that the code rejects if you truly want your clan to flourish. As an example, say Stoneclan plans to attack Riverclan, but we in Lightningclan are extremely low on prey or we are dealing with...foxes, ” she proposed, taking a second to think of a non-clan-related threat before continuing. “In that situation, the code tells us that we should jump to action and help Riverclan so that nothing horrific happens. But at the same time, we would be allowing our clan to starve and be attacked from the outside by helping Riverclan.”

“Or in the case of feeding certain cats before others. Feeding Elders, Queens, and Kits before anyone else is something that I’m sure all of the clans still do, regardless of the code. But what if one of our Warriors is horribly injured in the Medicine Cat Den? Do we refuse to give that Warrior food because they are a Warrior the Elders haven’t been fed yet?” Her head turned once before to face the tom, a small but gentle smile on her face. “Some situations call for you to do what is best for your clanmates rather than do what the code says. It all depends on situation.”

After letting a moment of silence pass, the large-eared she-cat lightly shook her head, bringing a larger smile to her face. “Come on, we can go check out the Trampled Clearing.” She then picked up her speed and brought herself to more of a steady-paced trot, her long and thin tail trailing up the brown tom’s chest and under his chin as she went ahead of him. She felt her cheeks slightly burn under her fur as she did the motion, but she did her best to ignore it.

WORDS: 904 | Fawn | NOTES: -

By Cotton of Template HQ

[Fawn]

Mudpelt

LightningClan || Senior Warrior || 58 Moons

'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark

"There are exceptions to every rule, or nearly every rule." Mudpelt conceded her that point, though the example she gave him about StoneClan and RainClan hardly left him feeling torn about a decision. LightningClan was not responsible for the wellbeing of others; the last time they had gotten involved with another Clan, the StormClan genocide had taken place...

Mudpelt shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it or argue over nuance. Instead, he took his chance to speak his mind as they made their way to the Trampled Clearing at Batear's ushering. "The Code gives us order and structure. It's a system of honor to fall back on when life becomes... complicated or in need of fair judgment. It gives us civility and purpose." A life without the Code somehow felt so much more unfulfilling.

There had been almost no instance he could remember in which he'd willingly broken the Code - or even accidentally. The closest he'd ever come had been his confusing apprenticeship crush on a TreeClan she-cat, Pinkpaw. In the end (or perhaps now that he had an adult's perspective), Mudpelt did not believe he could choose one cat over the entirety of his Clan. He was born a LightningClan cat, and while others may find him absurd for holding the situation of his birth as a standard by which he lived his life - Mudpelt could think of no other way.

He lived and breathed LightningClan. He came from long lines of LightningClan cats, and that meant something to him. His mentor had been Redstar, back when she had gone by the simple warrior's name of Redwind. Mudpelt felt as linked to the Code as any one cat could be.

Batear's tail tickled along his chest and the square underside of his jaw, flustering him to the point of nearly stopping in his tracks. Was she... flirting with him? Mudpelt stared, plodding along after her even before he could make up his mind on how he felt about that. Maybe she was just being friendly.

That was probably it. They were having a discussion and she was simply showing that there were no hard feelings, even if she liked to play devil's advocate to his declarative statements. Mudpelt's pace picked up, and his breath billowed out in small icy clouds before him. "I don't think I could break the Code. Even if my family was involved..." Mudpelt's brow knit in consternation. "The Code means everything to me. What about you?" He stole a glance at the streamlined, slender she-cat beside him. "Can you? Is there anything or any one you'd break the Code for? You seem more flexible than I." Not that that was a hard thing to be.

Mudpelt managed a small smile, again aware that he was somewhat ruining the lightheartedness of a walk through the snow. "I promise not to tell Redscar."

They will run you down, down til you fall

479 Words || Abyss || Notes

[Abyss]

B A T E A R

Listening to Mudpelt’s words, Batear found herself looking to him with an unreadable expression.

How is it that he became this way? Who taught him these things? Did he develop this loyalty to the code on his own or because of someone else?

Questions about the brown tom flowed through her head, her mind not finding a solid answer for any of them. Her gaze turned away once more, looking between the ground and ahead of her. Mudpelt was definitely a respectable tom. His dedication to Lightningclan and his devotion to the code was something that she could only wish all cats could aspire to be like. If every cat in the valley took the code to heart, she was sure that they wouldn’t have nearly as many problems as they did.

Lost in her thoughts, Batear almost didn’t catch his question. Her attention focused and her head turned, listening closer. As she listened to him talk more, her eyes, or “brows” furrowed. After he made his final joking statement of not telling Redscar, the sound of her pawsteps disappeared. She stopped where she stood, looking to Mudpelt with an expression made of a mixture of concern, confusion, and some other unreadable emotions.

“Let me ask you something. Something that will determine what kind of cat you truly are.” Her tail flicked behind her as her expression shifted slightly, becoming a little bit more serious. “What is more important to you: the code, or your family?”

She took a few steps forward towards the tom, her gaze piercing into his own. “Yes, the code is important to me. But my family means more to me than nearly anything else. I consider Lightningclan itself to be my family, but my true family, my mother and my siblings, and my father...if there were ever a point where I would have to choose them or the code, I would choose them. I would rather not ever have to break the code or go against the code, but if something serious enough were to happen that put my family in danger, I would do what I had to in order to keep them safe.”

She took a few steps passed the large tom before stopping to turn to him again. “Would you kill another cat if it meant that Blazefang would live?”

Suddenly, the pupils within her green eyes widened again and her expression turned to shock. She turned her head away, looking to the ground. “I’m sorry. We...we should just keep going.” She quickly turned and began to pad away, her pace somewhat quick compared to before and her head hanging lower than normal.

Why would I ask him something like that? This is supposed to be just a friendly hunt...

WORDS: 460 | Fawn | NOTES: -

By Cotton of Template HQ

[/quote]

[Fawn]

Mudpelt

LightningClan || Senior Warrior || 52 Moons

'Cause they will run you down, down til the dark

Mudpelt's blood turned icy and sluggish, and he stared at her mutely as Batear proposed a series of questions - explaining her own choices along the way - that prickled the dark brown tom. 'Something that will determine what kind of cat you truly are.'

"I..." He struggled to find his voice, his head so full of thoughts he almost lost track of the slender she-cat as she padded away. Would he take a life to protect another's? The Warrior Code allowed it, and yet it was something that had always filled him with a deep unease. He did not want to be the kind of warrior who took lives with ease. There were enough cats like that in the valley. If he didn't hold steadfast to his morality, then what would he be?

Mudpelt took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, processing. Gustclaw, Galekit, Pidgeonpaw, Blazefang... What if the thing that had taken them from him had had a face and a name, instead of the unmerciful claws of fate? Shaken, Mudpelt's gaze latched onto Batear as the she-cat put some distance between them, trying to course-correct from the dark turn this conversation had taken.

"I don't know," the brown tom spoke up, knowing with her namesake that she could hear him. Hoping she would let him catch up, Mudpelt quickly moved forward, his expression troubled but pensive. "I don't know what I'd choose. I love my family, I've lost so many... Out of a litter of five, Blazefang and I are the only ones left. When I lost my parents to greencough, the Code gave me focus. The Code kept me from spiraling after Pidgeonpaw was killed by a fox, after Blazefang disappeared, after my mentor died."

Somber yellow eyes found Batear's bright green. "In a way, the Code feels like part of my family too." His chest tightened. "To save Blazefang or Gustclaw's kits, I would break it. But the cost would be steep, no matter the outcome." Feeling as if he may have disappointed her, Mudpelt nervously flicked an ear, murmuring. "I don't know what kind of cat that makes me, but it is who I am."

They will run you down, down til you fall

364 Words || Abyss || Notes