[Ginger]

Leaf-bare 17: All bodies of water are completely iced over, even the river. Though the snow falls slowly, it is persistent. Prey tracks are quick to disappear, and scents are blanketed by the snowfall.

---

It had been a ... rough paw-full of days. That's the understatement of the century. TreeClan had taken a trip to the Dark Forest and back. NightClan's ambush had greatly hurt TreeClan, both physically and mentally. The morale was at an all-time low.

And for StarClan's sake, who would attack someone else in the middle of a Leaf-bare night? Foxfur's beauty sleep was already suffering due to the cold!

Foxfur didn't hold a great deal of enmity for NightClan, but it was sure starting to develop for its corrupt leader. 

But it was no help for anyone, especially his own stress levels, to sit around a camp of angry cats all day. Returning the NightClan prisoners the day before almost seemed to make everyone more upset.

Therefore, Foxfur decided it was time to try to go back to normal. Help his apprentice, who had been terribly confused during the battle, to being on his way to becoming a warrior.

The sun had not even risen yet. The snow on the ground was thick yet fluffy. It was almost a pleasant day. 

Foxfur stuck his head into the apprentice's den. Upon spotting Asterpaw's sleeping white form, he walked in and gently prodded the apprentice. Looking into the freshly-awoken apprentice's blue eyes, Foxfur offered a smile, then jerked his head towards the general exit of the camp. It was time to hunt.

The Somali tom slinked back out of the apprentice's den and walked to the exit of the camp. They would be heading to the Shaded Mosswood today in the hopes of finding some prey among the various nooks and crannies. Looking at the empty spot where the fresh-kill pile usually was, Foxfur gulped ever so slightly.

He hadn't eaten in two days and was getting rather grumpy. All this "prioritizing the wounded" dung had meant that he had to bring every precious and scarce kill straight to either the medicine den or the nursery. 

They had to catch something. They would catch something. 

Foxfur didn't even bother to wait long outside of the entrance. Asterpaw knew the drill at this point: get woken up by his mentor, follow his mentor, learn. Boom. Easy. 

As the two toms made their way to the Shaded Mosswood, Foxfur let his tail run along Asterpaw's side, brushing over the slightly protruding ribcage of the young tom. Hopefully that was a sign enough that they would be looking for food.

---

404 words
♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Asterpaw

11 Moons || TreeClan || Apprentice

Nothing had really felt the same since the attack from those strange, violent cats. The minor injuries Asterpaw had been dealt by one such attacker had not left scars, but the mark they had left on his mood were palpable. He had become vigilant, constantly scanning his surroundings with serious blue eyes, determined that no cat would lay a claw on his mother, his friends and his siblings again. The feeling of helplessness he had experienced as that strange cat grabbed him by the scruff and shook him so viciously stayed with him. He was a mouse now, prey in his own home, on edge and mopey at the same time. There was a sadness in the camp that was underlined with a deep feeling of anger. Asterpaw especially could feel the injustice of it all, for he had yet to fully understand the path of blood and violence that TreeClan and NightClan tread together, side by side. The deaths, the struggle for dominance, the constant push and shove over a pathetic little treeline. All he knew was that those cats had hurt those he loved. And he hated them for it.

It was a relief then, that Foxfur had gestured for them to leave camp. All he could feel was the smouldering fury of his clanmates, the inkling that something even more terrible was about to happen. It had been rather early, the world was cast in darkness when Foxfur summoned him from his own den. Darkness disconcerted Asterpaw. He relied on smell, touch and sight so wholly and completely that to take one of them away, even slightly, made him feel vulnerable. He had opened his eyes to the shadowy dark and the familiar scent of the red-coated tom. He had blinked blearily up at him for several moments before he finally realised that he was awake. When Foxfur smiled, it almost possible to believe that everything was normal. But everything wasn't normal. Glacierpaw had been severely injured in the attack. The camp still smelled of blood and medicine and injury and pain. Nothing was normal. But still, he roused himself and followed Foxfur out into the open, stretching out his long white limbs and fluffing up his pale white tail.

An odd feeling in his stomach that had become rather familiar over the past few days reminded him that he hadn't exactly been putting on weight lately. He was so hungry. He followed his mentor half-halfheartedly. Asterpaw had never truly been hungry before. His mentor brushed a fluffy red tail along his side, and only then did Asterpaw realise that his ribs were starting to show beneath his pale pelt, just a little. He paused for a moment to run his pink toes along the odd bumpy shapes, flicking an ear in alarm. It didn't have to be explained to Asterpaw that this wasn't exactly a great sign.

Can't you see I'm trying ?

481 || Ginger || Notes

[Ginger]

Foxfur sighed. This season had been a rough one for his apprentice, who had always been so naive and excited about the world around him. Now, Asterpaw just looked scared.

It hurt the Somali tom to see his apprentice appear nearly half the size he originally was. But hopefully today's hunting lesson would help prevent his white-furred apprentice from going hungry in the future.

The snow continued to fall, initially melting against Foxfur's hot-natured body, but eventually overpowering him and starting to coat the edges of his fur, turning him a white tint. However, Asterpaw looked the same, perfectly blending in with the snow.

Wait.

Asterpaw was perfectly blending in with the snow.

Foxfur's eyes widened as a realization dawned upon him. Frantic to articulate this to Asterpaw in the most efficient way possible, the warrior skidded to a stop, Asterpaw nearly crashing into him.

"Prowl," he said. This was not the first time Asterpaw had seen Foxfur explain prowl. Foxfur had found in training that the best way to effectively communicate with his apprentice was to rely on a few words that Asterpaw could easily get, then provide more context with each word using nothing but his own acting skills (which he had been honing).

Foxfur immediately crouched down into 'prowl' position, then jumped on a leaf and dramatically ended its "life" before eating it.

Eating it was not a good idea. Tasted like mouse-dung. Wait a second... There was mouse-dung on the leaf! Foxfur spat it out, disgusted that he had ingested something so putrid. How would the ladies love him now?

He had to put those thoughts away though. For Asterpaw.

Foxfur thought back to when the two toms went out on a patrol and Foxfur had made Asterpaw smell mouse dung. Asterpaw knew this scent. He would know that he was on the prowl for food! Therefore, to be as good an example as any, Foxfur swallowed his indignance and bent down to sniff the mouse dung before crouching into a prowling position.

He looked over to Asterpaw to see how his apprentice would mimic hunting technique.

---

351 words
♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Asterpaw

11 Moons || TreeClan || Apprentice

The snow was ice cold against his small, pink paw pads, but even the usually spirited young white tom could find no joy in the beauty of it. He plodded dispassionately alongside his chestnut mentor, licking his lips in attempt to wet them against the crisp, pitiless air. He froze at every flicker of movement that caught his eye, blue eyes darting towards a bobbing branch. His white coat would bristle and his small claws unsheathe, seemingly ready for a fight at any turn. Not even Foxfur's relaxed demeanor could soothe his nerves.

Asterpaw found himself fantasizing about the taste of blood. Not in a murderous fashion, but in the way a mouse tasted when you bit into it after a long day of tramping through the woods. Or how nice it was to see Glacierpaw smile when they shared food. He missed how easy it had been before the snows came. When those snowflakes first fell from the dull, greyish sky and he and the other apprentices had stared up at it in wide-eyed awe, Asterpaw had thought it was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. But now, all the snow brought was scarcity and hunger. And he still hadn't managed to slay a rodent or a bird the way Foxfur had shown him countless times. Somehow, no matter how slowly he moved or how downwind he was, food always seemed to know exactly when he was coming. It was disheartening to watch his siblings and friends return to camp laden with prey while he continued to fail. His claws sunk into the ice beneath them. He wanted to prove he could do it, he could do it. But the more time passed the more he began to wonder if he'd ever have anything to show for his efforts.

His chin knocked into the large ginger shape in front of him. Dazed, he flopped back onto his rump, blue eyes blinking. Realising that Foxfur had halted suddenly in front of him, his look of bewilderment slowly transitioned into one of indignation. When Foxfur whipped around towards him those blue eyes were still narrowed in a look that said all too clearly "what did you do that for?".

Instead of offering so much as an apologetic glance, his tutor mouthed a word and sprang into the familiar pantomime that both cats had to use to efficiently communicate. Asterpaw settled into his everyday role of guessing what the red tom was on about, no matter how outlandish his enactments became. Thankfully, this routine was one Asterpaw had witnessed before, so it wasn't too difficult to understand that Foxfur wanted him to hunt. The word "prowl" he kept mouthing confirmed that. But hunt what? Asterpaw couldn't see anything edible at all. His blue eyes glanced around, trying to spot something his mentor wanted him to kill, but there was nothing there. Puzzled, he returned his attention to the aspiring young actor.

He was just in time to spot Foxfur struggling to expell a leaf while it stuck stubbornly to his tongue. Amused, Asterpaw padded closer, perhaps intending to help the other tom get free. Batting the leaf, Asterpaw pinned it down in the snow, looking up at Foxfur for approval. Now rescued from the clutches of the plant, Foxfur crouched down and sniffed at the leaf, looking intently up at the white tom. Frowning, Asterpaw lowered his small pink nose and wrinkled his muzzle as the odour of mouse droppings flooded his senses. In a flash, he remembered the day many moons ago when Foxfur taught him to track a trail of scent and they spotted a rodent among the roots of the trees.

His entire body tensed at the prospect of food, uncertainty clouding his eyes. Each attempt to catch something before then had been a failure. How could Asterpaw say that now would be any different? His tail flicked, determination shoving away any trace of hopelessness. He wasn't going to give up. Foxfur hadn't given up trying to help him catch something, and if one cat believed in him then the least he could do was believe in himself. He peeled away from Foxfur, crouched low to the ground like he had been taught. The smell of mouse was fresh, he could taste it rising from the snow. He was far enough now from Foxfur that a potent sense of being alone had settled over him. He glanced behind him, reassured to see the russet warrior was still within view. Turning his eyes back towards the snowdrifts ahead of him, he saw a small brown form dig itself up from the white, powdery blanket. His blue eyes widened, his entire body growing still among the snow as he watched that small brown creature. His heart leaped into his throat as its little beady eyes swivelled in his direction, but to his amazement its gaze passed right over him like he wasn't even there.

He had a moment of internal debate as he struggled to decide what to do next. Every time he moved towards prey, they always seemed to realise he was there before he could get as close as Foxfur could. This made him hesitant to so much as lift a paw, but if he couldn't get closer, how could he get it at all? The mouse began to skitter along the snow, raising its head now and then to check its surroundings, always alert for danger. Asterpaw was shocked as the creature took a left turn and swerved closer to him, pausing to nibble at any plants that poked up above the snow. Could it not see him? He held his breath to prevent it from puffing into the cool, Leaf-bare air, his blue eyes fixed upon the small mouse. It edged closer. Closer. His lungs began to ache for air. Closer, so close now he could see every variation of brown in its fur, the little whiskers twitching on its tiny snout. Closer. Suddenly Asterpaw launched from the snow, his paws landing firmly on the startled mouse. For a moment he just stared at it in amazement as it struggled beneath his paw, having never actually caught another living thing before. When it began to wriggle and bite so fiercely that he realised it would escape, he gave it a quick, ferocious bite to the stomach. It stopped moving.

His breath was coming in quick puffs of white smoke. Asterpaw whirled his head to look around at Foxfur, and grinned.

Can't you see I'm trying ?

1,085 || Ginger || Notes

[Ginger]

Foxfur watched, still as the trees that stood around them, as the mouse made its way closer and closer to Asterpaw. He could see his white apprentice's flanks stilling as he held his breath. Good. The mouse was so close now that it would sense anything.

After waiting for what felt like a millennia, the mouse came close enough to Aster, and he pounced on it and killed it after a few moments of shock. The Somali warrior beamed with pride at his apprentice's first kill.

Next time, Asterpaw would have to be a little quicker to the kill shot, but this was good. This hunting strategy definitely took longer than the classic prowl-and-pounce, but if it worked it worked. 

Now, he could focus his effort on making Asterpaw's way of hunting as efficient as possible for the young tom.

Immediately, an idea came to mind. 

"Watch me," he said once he was sure Asterpaw was looking at him.

One way to lure prey into a trap was to scare them away from a perceived danger. 

In a charade of a warrior on the hunt, Foxfur sniffed the ground and looked at a spot in front of him, signifying that he had just caught a scent of a mouse. He then turned around, walked a bit away, then circled around the perceived spot that the prey was until he was standing behind it. He then began to rub his fur along the trees and branches, then sprayed a few spots. This scent would warn the prey of danger, and it would attempt to go the other way. Foxfur returned to his original spot, crouched down, and folded his ears down until his form was nearly even with the ground. 

After a few moments, the tom looked back to his apprentice, a smile on his face. "Now you try," he said, gesturing first to Asterpaw and then to the same scene.

---

320 words
♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟
Aster's hunting requirement is complete!

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

Asterpaw

11 Moons || TreeClan || Apprentice

For a few minutes, Asterpaw was reluctant to abandon his kill. His blue eyes scoured over the little blood-strained body, heart leaping with pride. He couldn't wait to show Skyfall and Appleshade what he had done. His breath came in quick puffs of air that misted from the cold, like smoke billowing from his mouth. He plucked it from the snow, a small droplet of blood plopping down onto the white ground, and trotted back to Foxfur's side. His entire demeaner had altered, his chin lifting with a newfound sense of purpose. And all from the kill of a single mouse. He was pleased to see a proud grin on his mentor's face, flicking his tail with pleasure. Asterpaw promised himself it was the first of many mice to come, his whiskers twitching with excitement at the thought.

There was that familiar, intense eye contact that warned Asterpaw when a cat was about to say something. He concentrated hard on Foxfur's lips as they moved, and though the movements were familiar, Asterpaw couldn't make them out. Frowning slightly, he sat down and waited, unsure how to indicate to the other tom that he didn't understand. He watched with thinly veiled amusement as the ginger tom began his acting routine. Sniffing the ground with great exaggeration, Foxfur pantomimed an expression of revelation. Asterpaw tilted his head. So... he had caught the scent... okay... He watched his mentor trot over to the trees, marking and leaving strong traces of scent along the branches. The blue-eyed apprentice moved towards the spot, noticing that TreeClan scent overlaid the trees now that Foxfur had sprayed everywhere. But what had that to do with the mouse...? He glanced back over at Foxfur, who was now crouching in wait. Eh? Asterpaw twitched his tail in frustration, struggling to understand the logic. Following the warrior's example, Asterpaw began to rub up against and mark the areas around that clustered copse of trees, glancing over at Foxfur for approval.

Can't you see I'm trying ?

330 || Ginger || Notes