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It was grim outside. The sky was smoke grey, and the trees grew more barren by the day. An icy chill made itself known, and although the breezes were soft, they bit through Pumafang's thin fur and skin like teeth and claws. The gelid jaws of leafbare were tightening around the valley, there was no doubt. One good storm and the trees would be flesh-picked skeletons. Their canopies were already wasting away, boughs freckled with frail, dying leaves. It was the honest season. The strongest persisted longest, but all that was granted life was also granted death.

"I want you to run as fast as you can to StarClan's Claws."

Pumafang's voice rumbled solemnly. The stolid tom turned to Glacierpaw slowly and tapped him lightly on the shoulder with his tail. It was a small act of encouragement, something he didn't feel necessary for general success, but offered to the young tom anyway. It was what most mentors would do to harbor a sense of familiarity and...connection? Pumafang couldn't recall the frivolous dealings of compassion, humanity so distant from the desolate and uninhabitable deserts of his heart...though he wasn't daft. The tidings he absorbed from day to day life proved sympathies to be beneficial in establishing a foundation of trust, and although not felt, he offered them rarely to those he believed needed it.

For...encouragement? Or...whatever. Pumafang's ear twitched casually.

"That tree, the thick one about four tail-lengths round..." The deputy gestured to a large oak on their right. "I want you to meet me back here as fast as you can with at least one piece of prey to add to the pile. Focus on speed, and stealth when it counts."

He would follow the apprentice as quickly as he could. The hope was for Glacierpaw to exercise his best skills, and to use his own personal judgement to decide when haste becomes more beneficial than caution, or vice versa. It would be a simple test.

Pumafang just hoped he could keep up.

KARAZHAL

[KARAZHAL]

It seemed as if the more the valley shed its leaves and wreathed itself in fog, the stronger Glacierpaw became. The whole of leaf-fall had passed, and he was a young man now. His thick ruff had come in fully, anticipating winter perhaps, and Glacierpaw's long whip-like tail had fur that hung like limp curtains. The ticked tabby's hair undulated with each stride. He cantered by Pumafang's side like a trained horse.

Glacierpaw's narrowed snout swung to face Pumafang as he felt the tail touch him. He dipped his head to show he understood. He'd been on territory patrol enough times to know where StarClan's Claws was but those times were always on well-traveled paths. If he was to get to StarClan's Claws as fast as possible, he couldn't afford to make his way to the border and then cut downward. He would have to simply sprint through the forest.

Tree. Prey. Speed. Stealth.

He rolled his shoulders as he fell into a crouch. "Understood," he replied huskily.

His paws dug into cold hard dirt. He sprang forward like a cheetah unleashing its long legs. With it being late in the leaf-fall season, it'd become much easier to see farther through TreeClan's terrain. Their turf was three dimensional, where full-grown hedges were passageways to Clanmates or blockades to enemies. Glacierpaw ran in between tree trunks and sometimes leapt on top of them to cross over streams and ditches.

Suddenly the acidic stench of deer markings assaulted his nose. He hurdled a log and on the other side was a path showing evidence of big antlers breaking twigs in its way. After quickly scenting the air for danger, he searched for the sound of flowing water. StarClan's Claws had a specific rumble since the river split apart there. Glacierpaw didn't see a deer so off he bolted up their road.

When he passed a thicket, the deer path trailed off and he was left with a wall of trees to slalom through again. It slowed him up after that straight run, and Glacierpaw dragged in heavy breaths as he was forced to zigzag. His heart pounded hard in his ears. The bushes thinned and abruptly the river was in front of him! The front half of his body arched while the back half tensed up for his powerful spring. His legs folded, and he kicked off the riverbank into a full extension of his body, sending clumps of dirt into the water. His long body soared two fox-lengths across the gap. He landed at the base of StarClan's Claws, and the only leaves here had fallen and blown off from TreeClan territory. His hindpaws splashed the water's edge hard. Somehow he managed to keep his tail clear.

He'd made it.

Panting, Glacierpaw turned around and lowered himself to the water to drink. Ahead of him lay the river fork, and he had to navigate it back to TreeClan. If he let it, it could sweep him right to camp past the great hollow log. It seemed far less daunting on the other side. StoneClan was so close; Glacierpaw felt guilty even being here.

@jet

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Pumafang couldn’t keep up.

Most of Glacierpaw’s sprint through the forest he had ended up tracking. That’s what he’s good for. The deputy thought, heart racing as his colossal form followed far behind. He was curious how much speed was inherited and how much could be trained.

Glacierpaw would have the benefit of both it seemed.

This would bode well for TreeClan if NightClan decided to press their luck. Pumafang tried to push away the growing feeling that something bad was about to happen, but the negativity constantly nestled itself in his conscience. Mousedung! Pumafang hissed to himself, slowing to a stop.

A large thorn had buried itself deep in his paw.

His teeth yanked it out without second thought, and with hardly a limp, the tom continued. He couldn’t show up far behind his own apprentice. He would never live that down.

Pumafang charged angrily through the undergrowth, his lungs burning for air, his legs stretching in an attempt to gain ground. Ferns slapped him in the face, thorns scraped past his pelt. The sun and shadows made his head spin, but Glacierpaw’s fresh scent kept him running forward.

The tom was getting closer.

Pumafang was panting heavily, noticing it was Glacierpaw’s halting of movement that was why he was able to gain ground. He didn’t have the time or energy to be disappointed or embarrassed. The deputy watched from the undergrowth, careful to remain unscented and unseen.

He just prayed the winds wouldn’t change. Glacierpaw could never see him like this.

Ever.