[Ghost the Undead Goddess]

Owlmind

LightningClan || 72 Moons || Deputy

"Cloverstreak, Rosefire." 

The lanky gray feline made her way across the open camp of Lightningclan towards the two golden hued warriors she had called out to. With the sun positioned high within the pale sky, it was about time for another hunting party to scour the melting moorlands in an attempt to bring home some fresh prey for those among the clan who couldn't hunt for themselves. 

The colder moons of the year was always hard on every cat in the valley, but Lightningclan were primary slender cats who looked even more ragged when prey was scarce. The aging deputy was well aware of the fact her ribs seemed to poke out noticeably against her thin, gray pelt as well as the constant irritation of a empty stomach. 

Owlmind had picked out two of the lithe, quick footed warriors of her clan. Cloverstreak was well named as he had a knack for keeping up with even the fastest of hares as they tried to escape his claws. Rosefire was well adapt at working in pair hunting, and the senior warrioress had spent a lifetime working along side her strategic minded sister. Their tactics well practiced.

Pausing near her selected group, those wide amber pools glanced around in search for a fourth cat. Generally during the colder moons it was easier with more paws, whereas once Greenleaf came about she'd be assigning multiple two cat hunting pairs to cover more ground. It honed specific skills as well as encouraged healthy clanmate bonding. 

"Greenpaw." Her youngest daughter was sitting just outside the apprentice's den, perhaps giving herself a quick grooming. It would be good experience for the growing she-cat to join a leafbare hunt, especially when it came to group hunting rather than individual or pair hunting. There had to be strategty and every cat involved had to know their part going in. 

Otherwise, a cat could get hurt. A similar thing happened not long ago when Owlmind had been on a hunting trek with Crowface, Desertblaze and Nutfur. Though, the only cat who managed to get injured during that encounter was the gray pelted deputy herself. Kindleflare hadn't exactly been pleased that the deputy's shoulder had received more damage due to a rather nasty pheasant.

The older feline waited for the tabby tuxedo to make her way over, those brilliant green pools a familiarity between all three of Owlmind's vastly different offspring. For a moment, a gentle way of affection filtered into those amber hues before quickly fading away once more. "Come my Little One, let's see if a hare or two has decided to venture out with the melting snow." 

Taking lead of her clanmates, the thin deputy pushed her way through the entrance of the camp to face the wide open moors of their territory. The snow was beginning to fade away, though it left puddle of chilly water and damp territory within it's wake. Despite the warmth around them, the frosty breeze still reminded Owlmind just how much she hated the cold, how much she dislike the season of Leafbare.

"How has your training been going, Greenpaw?" Rosefire asked in a soft, warm tone. She was vastly different from her sister, Owlmind, even the ginger tabby's pale yellow gaze was full of emotion as the senior warrior watched her niece.

Glancing over a narrow shoulder for a moment, the gray feline returned her vision in front of her as she led the patrol. Though, she too was curious as to how her youngest was doing with her mentor, Shadeheart. It wasn't too long ago that Greenpaw had also dealt with the stunning horror of reality when Birchspots lost his family to a collapsed tunnel. 

Wisdom. Courage. Strategy.

@jet || 626 Words 

[Deleted]

LIGHTNINGCLAN

GREENPAW

9 MOONS

EVER WAXING AND WANING

"Training is well."

Greenpaw's meow was simple, neither strained nor excited in response to Rosefire's inquiry. It was an odd thing, apprenticehood. It was something akin to mindless servitude, but she sought creativity and change where she could in between droll hunting sessions and tussling in the grass. She felt herself higher than the boorish cats who craved groveling in the dirt. She, in a sense, restricted herself both physically and mentally in an effort to maintain an untouchable elegance, though the valley's provincial ways somehow sought her out, inveigling her to meddle in the affairs of those lesser than herself. A large patch of slightly bedraggled hair in Cloverstreak's pelt drew a critical look from Greenpaw. Appearance beget Greenpaw's respect, though she could count a large number of cats who've earned it back in other ways. Cloverstreak was not one of them. The apprentice inhaled deeply.

She will withhold judgement, for now.

"How are you faring? You look..." Greenpaw paused, hesitating before recognition brought to light a soft smile. "You look absolutely radiant."

Her aunt was a kind soul, one who she had found comfort in oftentimes more than her duteous mother. Though, since the tunnel collapse, Greenpaw admittedly had not been as involved with her family as she would have liked. As she would have deemed respectable. Though the apprentice was far too stoic and supercilious for accountability. Her paws traipsed delicately through the grasses, and she weaved between the stalks delicately, tiptoeing through the territory like divinity. Time must have gotten the better of both of them: it seemed to be the universe's sharpest wit.

Time could have saved Birchspots' kin. Time could have killed her.

Greenpaw felt herself drifting slightly from the patrol. The last thing she wanted was to defend her refined reputation, though the scent of a hare drew her back to her clanmates sharply. Thank StarClan. She thought. It's about time.

Patience was something almost completely unknown to the frisky apprentice.

Although not the best at taking a life, Greenpaw knew how to track one down better than most. She stopped. Her maw cracked open slightly and within moments she had nearly pinpointed the location of the prey. Hare. She mused, tail twitching. And an unpropitious one at that. Greenpaw admired her elite comprehension and discernment. It was something her sisters would never hear the end of, if they weren't so adept at what warriorhood really entailed. A good tracker was hardly an asset when every cat had the means.

"About fifty tail-lengths northwest." Greenpaw meowed, a tone somewhere between flat and hollow.

Perhaps time was on their side this time.

Ghost the Undead Goddess