[Ginger]

Waspstrike was unhappy when he woke and snow still covered the ground. Snow masked so many smells, turning everything into a weed watered-down version of itself. So, naturally, he waited. The sun felt particularly strong this morning, warming the tip of his nose as he sat in the middle of camp, basking in it. Trying to ignore the eyes of other RainClan cats. They could just go jump in a river.

His prediction had been right. As the day carried on, the frost around began to liquify, turning the earth sludgy. But sludge was better than snow when it came to learning scents. 

So now it was really time. Waspstrike was surprised that Silverstar had entrusted him with the leader's dearest friend's own kits, Troutpaw. In fact, the young warrior had always been convinced that his leader strongly disliked him. Maybe this was a test. Or maybe Silverstar just didn't hold grudges. Either way, Waspstrike had to do the very best he could for Troutpaw. 

The small-framed warrior made his way over to the apprentice's den. Everyone should have been awake by now, but most of the apprentices had remained in the den. Maybe they simply wanted to huddle together for warmth. Maybe they were gossiping. Waspstrike fondly remembered all the mischief he and Waverunner had planned when they slept in this den.

"Troutpaw, let's go." He tried to sound warm, but it just sounded aggressive. He would never quite get past that. Maybe it would be best if he just acted like himself. He would never be Skychaser, he would only ever be Waspstrike. So he might as well just be proud of it. After the silver tabby tom emerged from the den, Waspstrike sharply turned around and began to head out of the camp. 

"We're going to StoneClan's border. NightClan is too volatile for an apprentice in this state of things." That was only part of the reason. If those two NightClan she-cats were there, they would be quick to tag-team Waspstrike and immediately lose him the respect of his apprentice. He didn't want Troutpaw to see any potential weakness in his mentor. He knew he couldn't be perfect, but at the least, he could be someone to look up to. 

As the two toms walked towards the stream that split StoneClan and RainClan, the scents of the valley began to pour into Waspstrike's nose, despite the fact that they were still a little watered down. 

"Take note of every scent." Was he supposed to be explaining every scent to Troutpaw? Waspstrike had no idea what he was doing. Was he supposed to tell some grand story about clans and life? "Don't let yourself get too overwhelmed." 

Oh yeah. Great mentoring.

---

452 words
Hellion

[Hellion]

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Earlier that day Troutpaw had attempted to leave camp on his own only to be ushered back to the apprentice den by the overly large Gullswoop. The grand silver tabby reminded him that considering his age and lack of any territory knowledge, he wouldn't be permitted to be on his own.

Troutpaw had attempted to insist he was big enough to go on his own only for Gullswoop to knock him over. Troutpaw flopped unwillingly to his side, Gullswoop's heavy paw on his side, pinning him down. In a life or death situation Troutpaw could hiss all manners of curses and claw his away out of the situation but instead of putting on such a display he glared upward at the senior warrior.

"Proud of yourself?" He spat annoyed, Gullswooop chuckled. "You can go alone when your mentor teaches you to defend yourself and you know all the trails back home. Can't have you lost out there," Gullswoop told him, rising his paw enough for Troutpaw to wiggle out. The younger tom panted from having to work to escape, glaring claws at his 'uncle'. The grand tabby in front of him was his aunt's mate and that kinship was the only reason Troutpaw hadn't tried to box the ears of the much better warrior.

"You're lucky I don't tell my mom you did that," Troutpaw gave a soft growl, trying his hardest to sound scary despite his youth.

"Your mother would laugh and insist you sleep in the nursery because you are still a kit," Gullswoop replied, gently flicking his heavy feathered tail over the new apprentice's shoulder. "Head into the apprentice den and get warm, Waspstrike will find you when it's warmer. Can't too much in the cold anyway," Gullswoop departed from his nephew, Troutpaw almost protested but the idea of a warm nest pulled harder.

Curled up in his nest was how Waspstrike's voice found him. Perking up quickly, Troutpaw scrambled to follow after Waspstrike. Barely able to keep up with his mentor, but he managed to match his stride once they left the camp. Troutpaw poking his tongue out at Gullswoop when he passed the senior warrior.

Upon hearing they wouldn't be heading for the NightClan border, Troutpaw wanted to protest but remembered the rumors about the gathering. Even his grandiose nature wouldn't be as foolish as to think he'd survive a tussle with a battle-hungry NightClan cat.

Thankful he was at least getting to one border, Troutpaw hurried along after Waspstrike without any complaint.

His nose flared, a bit overwhelmed with the scents. Everything teased his nostrils. Almost making him sneeze, the apprentice had to wipe his forepaw over his nose a few times to quell the urge.

Arriving at the border, Troutpaw didn't venture too close to the border. A bit nervous about all the scents that continued to tempt him to sneeze. "How many cats are on a patrol! This place reeks!" He mewed in displeasure, closing his eyes to limit the overstimulation.

@ ● ## ● muse ● notes

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0

[Ginger]

Waspstrike couldn't help but laugh at his apprentice as the young tom seemingly attempted to swat away the scents. "Hey mouse brain! You can't differentiate the different scents unless you actually allow yourself to smell them." Slinking over to the exact spot where RainClan became StoneClan, Waspstrike sat down and faced Troutpaw. The tip of his tail dared to linger on StoneClan's side of the border. Just for fun. 

"Oh, StoneClan doesn't have patrols more than a few cats. They just all reek." Bright blue eyes watched the apprentice struggle with the scents, narrowing on him. "Try to focus on one at a time." Time to step up and be an actual mentor. "Tell me the different scents as you identify them. Keep your eyes closed if it helps, but in the future it will be very helpful to be able to use more than one sense."

A light quip. He didn't want to frustrate Troutpaw into giving up. As much of a piece of fox-dung Waspstrike could be, he knew he would be even worse if his mentor had been anyone but Skychaser, who had been nothing but kind to him. Who had taught him what it meant to be noble. Maybe Waspstrike was hoping he could inspire some nobility in Troutpaw.

---

213 words
Hellion

[Hellion]

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Not the greatest fan of being laughed out, Troutpaw squinted just enough to contort his face into a scrowl. Waspstrike might be older then him and his mentor, but that didn't matter. Adding insult to injury were the teasing names. Troutpaw not one to fret too much while joking, felt as if Waspstrike was laughing at him opposed to laugh with him. Furthering the young tom's annoyance.

Of all the new experiences as an apprentice, this was by far becoming the worst. Forever the mama's boy, Troutpaw secretly hoped she'd arrive and offer some gentle guidance. She'd give his cheek a lick and remind him that he needed to try and ignore his bullies. Even if they were his mentor.

While Troutpaw didn't want to be angry with his mentor, it took a few minutes for him to settle and focus on his direction. It helped, not that he'd be happy to admit that.

Perhaps they were both terrible at it. Waspstrike a first-time mentor, Troutpaw in his first moon of apprenticeship. That didn't stop him from clinging onto the scowl that shaped his face. Waspstrike simply teased at the wrong time.

Being told it was okay to keep his eyes closed, relaxed the sharpness of his fur. Soothed him enough to help him process the rampant assault of scents.

Able now to sort them out, he found it easier to breathe. The worse of the scent fading away as his nose got used to them. "I smell a lot of dirt, but not like the gross kind. But mud too, different than ours or even NightClan mud. It smells dry, like the sunburned it," He told his mentor, peeking out from under his scowl, opening his eyes further to seek his mentor's face for approval.

He didn't need Waspstrike's approval, he just wanted it. The same way he wanted to eat a big fish before bed or take a long nap after walking so far. It had no lasting meaning whats so ever. Troutpaw's ears burned as he recognized the half-truths in his thoughts but refused to acknowledge them beyond that.

Ginger Ghost the Undead Goddess ● ## ● muse ● notes

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0

[Ginger]

Waspstrike was not the most observant cat, but even a tiny bug a mile away could sense Troutpaw's frustration. Waspstrike sighed. It was probably his fault. He would never be the mentor that Skychaser was. He could only hope he wouldn't scar Troutpaw for life at this point.

As Troutpaw closed his eyes, Waspstrike regarded his apprentice closely. Troutpaw then began to perfectly describe the scents of StoneClan. The bengal warrior nodded with a crooked smile. "Remember those scents. They are unique to StoneClan, and if you smell them in our territory anywhere other than here, you come find me, and we'll teach those cats a lesson."

He couldn't help the fact that he was always itching for a scuffle, and some of these StoneClan cats could sometimes get too comfortable around RainClan's territory. Recently, he had been smelling a scent of one particular cat who kept making their way awfully close to RainClan's side of the border. What were they doing anyways?

"Anyways, let's focus on some other senses. Show me some places around the border that RainClan patrols have marked their territory, and see if you can tell me how fresh the scent is. Being able to tell if a scent is fresh or stale is very important when patrolling."

---

212 words
Hellion ... Fawn for low-key Honey mention

[Hellion]

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Head tilting to the side at the suggestion of teaching a cat a lesson, it took the young tom a moment to make the connection. They wouldn't be trading techniques, but claw marks. Waspstrike meant they would teach them a lesson through fighting. Having not yet entered the sandbar for battle training, Troutpaw had gone a few rounds with his sister in the nursey. However, those bouts of kitten aggression were often put to rest by his mother or some other queen insisting they go play outside. The bigger and louder commotion of camp life often led to them forgetting about their tussle to explore.

He knew the importance of learning to defend one's clan and that sometimes a warrior also fought for their life. His mother also taught him to give the benefit of the doubt to most cats. What if the cat trespassing was looking for help or had gotten lost. He had a good sense of direction but perhaps if his senses were overwhelmed like they were moments before he could easily trample onto StoneClan territory.

He just should have expected Waspstrike to suggest they teach anyone a lesson. With a name like -strike, Troutpaw felt almost foolish for noticing relating his warrior name to his personality. "I'll remember that," He replied to his mentor, praying to StarClan he never found himself in the situation.

Thankful his mentor move on, Troutpaw followed his direction. He took his time, scenting along to find one that reminded him of camp and of a clanmate. He found a scent marking near a small bundle of reeds. It smelled of goose feathers and fish scales. His cousin Owlfrost was known for collecting a filling her nests with bird feathers, but this smell was distinctly tom. It took him a moment to navigate the scent considering the continued assault of StoneClan's marking making it trickier. "Gullswoop led a patrol here, maybe yesterday? It's not very strong but it's also near the water," He commented, smoothly adding in the fact he knew water often diluted a scent. Not waiting to hear Waspstrike's reply, Troutpaw moved further up the stream finding another fresher scent, this one of a warrior for sure, but not one he knew very well, their scent difficult to place. "This one is really new, like this morning new, I don't know who," Admitting he didn't know the warrior added a hint of shame to the young tom's posture. His ears tucked and tail swept the ground. How could he ever impress Silverstar if he didn't know all his clanmates? Lack of interaction was not enough for him to forgive himself. Recovering quickly from the rare moment of lowered confidence, Troutpaw headed back toward his mentor, tail flicking as he waited for any comments.

Ginger Ghost the Undead Goddess ● ## ● muse ● notes

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0