[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Greenleaf 12 By morning the night's clouds have gone, leaving the sun to shine once more. The day is hot and humid.
I'm so sorry it's so bad omg

S

he felt hot and stuffy as the newly regained temperatures soared after the rains. It was early morning, and yet already the sun was already relentlessly beating the forest beneath a merciless paw. Robinpaw stretched luxuriously outside the apprentice's den, trying to work the stiffness out of her shoulders. She halted when an image of Ravenpaw's face flittered through her mind like an unwanted bird. Pain sliced at her heart, and the faintest bristle ran down her spine. It had been only five moons since her older brother had joined StarClan. Have they given him his warrior name? She wondered, flattening her ears to her skull. The camp seemed so empty and quiet without him. She would give her soul if it meant she could roll her eyes at his stupid, reckless antics just one more time. She needed to get out of camp desperately. Forcing herself to her feet, Robinpaw made her way towards the warrior's den. She wanted to make sure that Finchcloud was okay. Her white paws stirred up dust from dried mud as she went, her green eyes dark with thought.

But as she reached the entrance, an unexpected face emerged instead. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she halted in her tracks. "Brackenstride!" She greeted, her voice unnaturally pitched. A flush raced across her muzzle, hidden beneath her calico pelt. She cleared her throat. "Brackenstride." She forced her tone into casual neutrality. Blood roared in her ears, turning her tongue to glue. Get ahold of yourself, Robinpaw. She thought in irritation. "Have... you seen... uh... Cloudfinc- Finchcloud." She blushed furiously. "I meant Finchcloud." It was so unnatural for Robinpaw to be nervous that she didn't know what to do, or how to solve her clumsy and stumbling sentences. "We... were supposed to go, uh... hunting." She continued, feeling every scrap of her dignity shrivel into a tiny ball. She sounded like an idiot! StarClan, Brackenstride probably thought she had bees in her brain.

 Wordcount: 329 // Tags: Fawn

[Fawn]

Brackenstride

if you even dream of beating me you'd better wake up and apologize

Everything on the Branch Trail was quiet. Not that he was allowed anywhere near it; from the reports of his denmates, Darkstar's scent was nowhere near the scentline. She was keeping her distance - for now. Why? They already took the Branch Trail, why aren't they storming our forest like a plague of rats? Darkstar had made it pretty clear that she wanted him dead.

NightClan doesn't want a full on war either. It humanized them; truthfully, Brackenstride still associated the most terrible adjectives he could think of - but that brush with the she-cat calling herself Graywolf, ugh it was like he couldn't get her voice out of his head. NightClan cats were monstrous, yet she claimed otherwise. How could he trust the word of a cat that had leaped on him from the shadows, intent upon avenging her mangy old grandfather?

He couldn't. He shouldn't.

And yet her voice had joined the multitudes of others all clamoring for attention inside the young tom's head. It made him broody and unfocused - so much so that he nearly crashed into a small soft body on his way from the warriors' den. A flurry of words left Robinpaw's maw, the apprentice chirping at him about Finchcloud; he blinked, a frown creasing his muzzle as he rapidly pieced her words together and got out of the miasma of dark thoughts.

"Haven't seen 'im," he replied, tail making a loose sweep behind him, the golden tom swaggering just to the left of Robinpaw. "I'm going hunting, you can tag along - if you want." Brackenstride's whiskers shifted with his smile - bordering on a smirk (no, it was definitely a smirk) - sensing the flustered apprentice's racing heart.

It was an ego boost he didn't need. Or maybe he did need it.

Nice to know not every cat in this forest wanted him dead.

Brackenstride's smile morphed into a half-grin. "Unless you'd rather stay here and wait for 'Cloudfinch'."

Oh yeah, he'd heard that.

21 Moons TreeClan Tom

326 words ♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 quote by muhammad ali

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

T

he musty, humid air smelled of restlessness and promised groggy, lethargic prey. It was the perfect day for hunting, and Robinpaw hoped to get a good bit of prey caught for Swandive and Whiteclaw. Gorsetail too, needed his prey delivered to him now. A shiver ran down her spine. She was only barely aware of the state that the former deputy was in, and it had taught her that death was not the worst thing that could happen to a good cat. Something flickered in Brackenstride's golden eyes, like her voice had roused him from some dark daydream. "Haven't seen 'im." He replied, his voice brimming with confidence. Even the way he moved his paws made him seem as though he expected the grass to part way for him as he went on his way. Her heart fluttered. Did he notice? She studied his face rapidly, trying to decipher his amused expression to detect even the slightest hint of mockery or contempt. She couldn't read him. 

"I'm going hunting, you can tag along - if you want." He smirked. He did notice. He had to, to look at her like that, like- She wasn't sure how to answer. Her words, the ones she wanted to say, scrambled out of her reach every time she tried to drag them from her throat. "Unless you'd rather stay here and wait for 'Cloudfinch'." Her face heated, tail tip twitching in agitated embarrassment. She had been hoping he'd miss that. But then, what did she take him for? He didn't have feathers for brains. It took every scrap of courage in her to even compose a sentence in response. "I-" She cast a wary glance at the warrior's den. "I don't need my mentor to tell me when I can go hunting." The words were a weak attempt at false confidence, and they tumbled out of her mouth with the grace of a newborn fawn. Why did  Brackenstride leach away every ounce of poise she had? Why did she want to prove herself to him so badly? Lashing her tail as though the movement might bring her back to her senses, she tried to force her steps into a casual stride, hyper-focusing on her surroundings for fear she would stumble on a twig and make a fool of herself.

 Wordcount: 384 // Tags: Fawn

[Fawn]

Brackenstride

if you even dream of beating me you'd better wake up and apologize

"I don't need my mentor to tell me when I can go hunting."

He flicked an ear to show he'd heard her weak retort. He didn't suppress his grin at all, leaving it half-cocked as an amused noise left the base of his throat. Brackenstride cast a challenging gaze upon Robinpaw, expecting her to waver and start searching for her mentor any second now; but the calico held her ground, even if he could practically see her heart beating against her breast like a trapped bird.

Brackenstride broke the stare, chuckling. "Good to know you're not such a goody-four-paws."

He flicked the younger she cat’s ear with the end of one slender golden tail. ”Let’s go.”

”Are you forming a hunting party?”

Brackenstride could hear the frown in the warrior’s voice, and his cocky smile had already slipped into something much more insolent, his blood pulsing a challenge. ”Already formed.” Thanks for sticking your nose in my business, Fawnspring. Really helps.

”Just the two of you? But Demon--Wouldn’t you feel safer with another cat or two?” The petite she-cat’s eyes were bright with concern, and Brackenstride’s ego railed against the implications. ”Worry about your own safety, Fawnspring. I’m a warrior, in case you’ve forgotten.” He replied, voice stiff as an oak bough.

Brackenstride glanced at the calico kitten beside him, and half-chuckled, half-purred the following reply. ”Besides. Robinpaw will keep me safe. Won’t you, Robinpaw?”

The idea of bringing Foxfur and Timberfrost along was tempting, but Brackenstride made no efforts to seek out his friends. He had invited Robinpaw along through pure circumstance. Unless the ginger-furred flirt and the enormous stoic tabby presented themselves to him in the next three seconds, Brackenstride had no qualms about the hunting party staying a duo.

She’s not expecting me to teach her something, is she? That thought wheedled into the forefront of Brackenstride’s mind as he made full use of his long legs, strolling through the forest as if the right was his and his alone. Maybe I should. Finchcloud’s foxdung at fighting. The older warrior he spoke of had more losses under his pelt than wins. Brackenstride sometimes wondered what his father was thinking, giving Finchcloud another ‘paw to train.

What about hunting? He hadn’t seen Finchcloud in action, and hadn’t really cared about that fact before now. Brackenstride eyed Robinpaw skeptically, pausing his stride long enough to ask.
”You… do know how to hunt, right?”

21 Moons TreeClan Tom

419 words ♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 quote by muhammad ali

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

T

hat grin that played across his cocky face made her half want to strike her claws across his face and knock that arrogant look into the undergrowth. She hated that he made her feel so hopelessly flustered, and she hated that he could so clearly see it. He was toying with her, she knew it, batting her from paw to paw like a trapped mouse. Determined to prove him wrong, to prove that she could hold her own against him, she forced herself to meet his gaze, her own green eyes blazing. “Good to know you’re not such a goody-four-paws.” He purred like a snake, and she blinked at him in surprise as he tore his gaze away from hers. She opened her mouth to form some sort of smart response, but the words died on her tongue. The handsome russet warrior turned on his heel and flicked her ear with his golden tail, making her flush from ears to tail tip. Brushing a white paw over her ear to mask her embarrassment, she followed the haughty tom towards the camp entrance.

“Are you forming a hunting party?” The voice that heralded them just as they were about to leave made Robinpaw suddenly feel as though they were doing something wrong. She was allowed to hunt without Finchcloud’s permission, right? She shifted her paws, avoiding Fawnspring’s gaze. Brackenstride face her as though facing an enemy warrior, his eyes burning with defiance. “Already formed.” He meowed, a finality in his tone that invited no argument. The blue point feline was blinking at them with concern. “Just the two of you? But Demon-- Wouldn’t you feel safer with another cat or two?” Robinpaw had forgotten about the massive demon-cat, one she had only heard stories about. She wondered what the monstrous lynx looked like. Accounts she had been given described him as far more beast-like than any cat, and as nimble as a LightningClan warrior. “Maybe-” Robinpaw began, but Brackenstride cut across her. “Worry about your own safety, Fawnspring. I’m a warrior, in case you’ve forgotten.” Robinpaw’s mouth snapped shut. She didn’t want to get into an argument between two warriors, and already she was beginning to regret ever agreeing to hunt with Brackenstride. Even standing this close to him made her fur bristle, and she was mortified that a tom cat she’d only barely spoken to could get her this agitated. “Besides, Robinpaw will keep me safe. Won’t you, Robinpaw?” His purr brought her back to reality, and she made a show of rolling her emerald-green eyes at his antics. “Mmm s-sure…” She muttered under her breath, white whiskers a-tremble. She shouldn’t be this nervous- Brackenstride was a clanmate, like any other clanmate. She shouldn’t…

Brackenstride smelled, unsurprisingly, like the forest and the comforting familiarity of the home that both of them had grown up in. But there was something else, a mysterious restlessness, something that was somehow both frightening and impressive… like fire. Though, maybe that was the racing pulse in her neck talking, and not her senses whatsoever. The calico tried to focus her attention on smelling the ground, attempting to pick up the scent of mouse or bird or any prey item so she could just get to hunting and forget that she was alone in the forest with Brackenstride of all cats… “You do know how to hunt, right?” The drawling question came from ahead, and Robinpaw snapped her head up, bristling. “Of course I do!” She squeaked, embarrassed by the pitch of her voice and the crack as it reached its peak. “I’m not a kit, you know.” She meowed defensively, her whiskers trembling with indignation.

 Wordcount: 612 // Tags: Fawn