[Phoenix]

The irony was that the rains and subsequent flooding of last Greenleaf had first sparked the idea, but by the time the waters had receded to a manageable level, Mothlight had been so sick of being wet that the thought of even trying to fish had filled her with immediate distaste. How RainClan cats could live – and apparently be quite content – in a near constant state of wet, she had no idea. However, with the changing of the seasons and an increasing desire to distract herself from recent events, the resurfacing of the idea had been greeted by significantly less aversion than before. As far as she knew, fishing was not a skill that any NightClan warrior was particularly well-versed in, but that didn’t concern her too much; after all, there was a reason she had planned to head to the RainClan border alone. In theory, she knew what to do, but when theory inevitably proved to be much different than practice, there would be no one there to see her fail.

Or at least, that had been the plan until Roachpaw decided to tag along.

He had caught her just as she was exiting camp, copper eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep as he asked her what she was doing up so early. Brown ears had perked up with interest as she told him, and her little solo outing had suddenly become a family affair. In a way, she was glad he was there, even though he had taken the opportunity to complain once again about Spiderbite. Listening just well enough to offer noises of comprehension at suitable intervals – they had this conversation so often that she could rehash it in her sleep – Mothlight forced herself to acknowledge that all was not as well as she pretended. Ever since that patrol along the TreeClan border, she had been… unsettled. Scanning the trees before her for any sign of an attack from above had become a habit that she could not quit, and the prospect of being alone with only her thoughts for company had set her more on edge than she’d ever admit. In another ironic twist of fate, she found Roachpaw’s usually exasperating company rather comforting: a tiny taste of normality from before.

“Roachfur?” She paused midstride and looked at him, the disgust evident in her expression as she considered the implications of such a name. Her younger brother had finished reiterating his list of grievances against his older brother and started weighing the merits of various warrior names. “No. And I don’t think you have to worry about Roachbite either; Darkstar wouldn’t give you the same name as your brother.”

“She’d better not. I don’t want the same name as him.”

Rolling her eyes, Mothlight turned away and kept walking. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” They fell into silence for a few strides before she asked, “Training’s going well then?” When he gave the affirmative, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and slyly continued, “So any she-cats catch your eye lately?” A heartbeat passed as her words registered, and she took perhaps a little more joy than she should have in the way he was caught entirely off guard. Eyes wide and ears flat against his head, he looked at her, aghast, and she had to turn away to hide a smile.

“What? No. She-cats are gross.”

“Uh-huh,” She said agreeably, disbelief coloring every word. “Sure they are. And Breezepaw, especially, I’m sure. That’s why you’ve been hanging out with her quite a bit lately.”

He sputtered for a moment before spitting out indignantly, “We share the same den! I’m not hanging out with her on purpose!”

Yellow eyes glittered as she cast another glance in his direction. “That’s what they all say,” She replied lightly as they broke the cover of the trees. The sound of running water grew louder. “Just a tip, little bro: you might want to get a move on. Hawkpaw’s warrior ceremony ought to be any day now, and she-cats dig an older tom with his warrior name.” As the she-cat trotted ahead of her brother toward the border, she had to admit that she felt a little bad about needling Roachpaw like that – but the guilt paled in comparison to the amused satisfaction that came from seeing him squirm with embarrassment.

Mothlight only wished her first few fishing attempts had gone just as well. Standing on the edge of one of the many streams that fed into the marshlands, she had managed to do nothing but splash herself with water. Just below the surface, she could see fish darting amongst the sticks and detritus, but the sunlight reflecting off the water made it hard to follow where they were going. Not to mention that they seemed to swim much faster than she could hope to move her paw. An undercurrent of frustration had long since replaced the gratification from before, and as she heard Roachpaw quietly laughing again at another failed attempt, her fur began to prickle with embarrassment as well.

“I thought you were trying to fish, not take a bath,” He called out, having settled himself out of range of the flying water but close enough to still watch. And provide a running commentary, unfortunately.

The warrior took a deep breath and pointedly reminded herself that she loved her brother very much. Or, at the very least, that their mother would be very disappointed in her if she committed fratricide.

“Very funny,” She shot back, annoyed humiliation making her words sharper than intended. “You think it’s so easy, but I don’t see you catching any fish though. You try, if you think you can do better.”

“You know, maybe I will.” With a huff, he rose to his paws and moved to her side. As he unsheathed his claws, he said, “Stand back, sis. Don’t want you to get hurt while the pro shows you how it’s done.”

One day she would roll her eyes at him and they would roll right out of her skull, she thought as she did as she was told, stepping back ever so slightly to give him some space. Yellow eyes watched his brown form closely as he studied the water with intent. An idea struck her, an evil, wonderful idea. Grinning, she waited until he leaned just a little more over the stream, and then—

SPLASH!

As he pulled himself from the stream, the sheer outrage etched in every single inch of his body might have had her taking a few steps back, had the effect not been totally ruined by the few stray leaves and twigs sticking out of his soaking wet fur. If looks could kill, she would have been in StarClan many times over by now – and as it was, she was struggling to breathe between the laughter. Sides heaving, she managed, “What happened? – I thought – you were – you were trying to fish, not – not take a bath.”

Hissing, he strode up to her and pointedly shook out his fur. As flying water droplets had her closing her eyes and turning away, she did not see as he stomped by her, though when she turned, Mothlight saw his lean figure storming away. “Say hi to Breezepaw for me!” She called after him, shaking out her own fur as she turned back to the stream. Her residual irritation at her younger brother began to fade in his absence, and she gave her chest fur a few quick licks. Taking a few calming breaths to refocus herself, she unsheathed her claws and prepared to try again – only to realize that she wasn’t alone. A fishy scent drifted by on the breeze. This time, it wasn’t Roachpaw; it was RainClan.

---
Newleaf 20 VY 7 - The morning dawns with fiery red and purple clouds, and while the day is pleasant, the night gives way to unseasonably cool temperatures.
Fawn

[Fawn]

Brookfall

58 Moons Tom RainClan Warrior

There was something satisfying about watching others go about their lives, unaware of even the possibility of being watched. Stealth wasn't a trait hailed as much among RainClan as it was the other four Clans of the valley, but today, stealth was seemingly in Brookfall's wheelhouse as he took a leisurely pace along the boundary between RainClan and NightClan. An early swim had darkened his silvery-white and black-flecked coat to cement and rock, plastered to his substantial frame and lending him a little more camouflage than he would have normally.

A large tufted ear caught a lilting voice from across the wooded marsh, and yellow eyes flickered with intrigue as a conversation between male and female registered more clearly with each step.

It was a pair of NightClan cats, unsurprisingly. They were similar looking, no doubt kin by the way the younger one teased and the older one teased back. Brookfall inwardly smiled, recalling amusing memories of his kithood - before the civil war had divided them - of being both the receiver and giver of sibling torment. They were attempting to fish, and Brookfall lowered himself into a sphinx's pose amongst a patch of thick ferns, using the wide, shady leaves to keep himself concealed.

His scent would reach them eventually, he knew that. But for the moment, he was content to observe these two simply living their lives, trying to succeed in a task not usually fit for NightClan cats. The she-cat looked familiar, and her name hovered somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Brookfall trusted that it would rise to the surface eventually, like so many things had a habit of doing.

The young one, as dark brown as river silt, was boasting as he sidled up to the water's edge to 'show her how a pro works'. Brookfall almost snorted so hard the ferns moved. If only she would push him in. He thought, idle and amused. The first thing any RainClan kit got used to was being wet. It was impossible to learn how to fish and stay dry at the same time - a lesson most cats learned the hard way.

Brookfall's attention piqued as he saw the pale she-cat slink closer to her brother, and he could practically feel the smug glee radiating off her as - with just a little nudge - the tom splashed face first into the stream. Brookfall laughed, letting the angry sputter and hissing of the apprentice disguise his mirth.

Mothlight. They had spoken in passing at a few gatherings, but nothing that would stick out as remarkable or ceaselessly interesting. Just idle chatter. But he remembered now, the roll of her eyes as she overheard her brother - Roachpaw, wasn't it? - conversing with apprentices nearby. The younger tom's voice tended to carry.

Brookfall slipped out of the ferns, approaching the opposite side of the stream dividing the two lands. He smiled, letting his humor show in the light sweep of his tail and the tone of his voice.
"Wait until he finds out that in RainClan, a roach is a type of fish." The she-cat looked like she was in the midst of trying again to fish, now that her companion had stormed off in a soggy huff. Brookfall was immediately reminded of Moonshine, the former deputy whose fishing abilities had been... non-existent. There was a touch of sadness in his eyes, just for a second, before Brookfall brushed it away. Life moved on.

"I admire your tenacity," he nodded to her. "Have you considered your position relative to the sun? Fish are easily spooked by moving shadows." It was a key piece of advice, and up to Mothlight to do with it as she will. She seemed intelligent. Brookfall wasn't in the habit of forcefeeding information. Watching someone figure it out was half the fun.

We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry.

633 Words || Phoenix || Notes

[Phoenix]

Movement in the ferns on the other side of the stream caught her eye, and lowering her paw, she fixed a yellow-eyed gaze on the rustling plants just in time to see a massive pale-furred tom emerge from the underbrush. Almost immediately, she recognized the older warrior – what was his name again? – from previous Gatherings, her mind dredging up long-buried memories of pleasant but unremarkable conversations. He had been charming enough, matching her occasional sarcasm with a sharpened wit of his own, but since theirs had been the cordial small talk of strangers who might never meet again rather than the engaging dialogue of friends, she had let the details of the interaction slip from her mind. What she did recall was enough to reassure her, in conjunction with the humor in his voice, that he was not prone to the senseless hostility of those who were particularly enthusiastic about the defense of their clan.

At his words, a sheepish amusement flickered through her – he had seen that, huh? – though she did not stop the satisfied smirk that ghosted across her features. Not one of her finest moments, though she didn’t feel too guilty about filing the memory away for later perusal when Roachpaw inevitably returned to his usual, obnoxious self. Occasionally getting knocked down a peg or two was good for a tom like him, kept his head from collecting too much hot air. “Is it really?” Mothlight asked, amused. “Sounds like a swim was just what he needed then. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

Silence fell. Somewhat self-consciously, the she-cat turned her gaze back toward the water. Just beneath the surface, she could see slim bodies darting about, but feeling the weight of his gaze on her, she didn’t quite feel up to trying to catch them again. She knew that she must have resembled a kit trying to fish, which was only fair given her nonexistent practice and clan’s preference for amphibians and rodents over seafood. But any reasonable explanations for her inexperience suddenly mattered little in the face of the growing embarrassment she felt at her failures now being witnessed by someone who could fully appreciate just how foolish she looked. The thought of him returning to camp and regaling his clan mates with tales of her pathetic attempts had her wanting to shrivel up and sink into the ground. Perhaps she would make some excuse to leave now and then return later alone to figure out how to do this on her own. Where no one would see.

His voice – what was his name? she wondered despairingly, before finally admitting defeat; if she hadn’t remembered it by now, she never would – cut through her thoughts and had her raising a yellow gaze to meet his. Face growing warm at the praise, she quickly glanced away again. See? A small voice whispered. There’s no need to feel bad. You just need to learn, and that takes time. Grasping onto that confidence and trying to internalize it, she offered him a thoughtful, “Huh. Alright,” before looking around for said shadow.

And sure enough, there it was. It darkened part of the stream before her, and when she raised a paw to test his words, she watched as the fish scattered. Interesting. Was that how they kept dodging her – they saw her shadow moving before her paw even hit the water? Perhaps if she moved such that her shadow would not be cast over the area where she was trying to fish… Yellow eyes glanced upward to locate the sun before, blinking spots out of her eyes, Mothlight tried shifting around experimentally until the lighting did not put her at a disadvantage. It did not work; the sun was too high in the sky, and without her shadow bathing the stream in darkness, she didn’t think she’d be able to see the fish anyway.

Hm. The she-cat looked up, gaze settling somewhere over the RainClan tom’s shoulder as she considered the problem. If there was a larger shadow that could hide her own, then perhaps… With a satisfied smile, she spotted a tree with leafy boughs hanging over the stream and trotted over to stand under its cover, blinking as she let her eyes adjust to the relative darkness. Settling herself by the water again, she watched the fish swim obliviously through the water for a moment before turning to find Mr. Fishercat. “So shadows,” She reiterated, nodding at a problem solved. “Is there a particular motion you do with your paw? I’ve caught more water than fish.” It seemed rather undignified to constantly be splashing oneself in an attempt to catch food, and she could not imagine that they willfully soaked themselves every time they wanted something to put on the fresh kill pile.

Though RainClan lived surrounded by water and she did not, she could not ignore that only one of them had dry fur.

Fawn

[Fawn]

Brookfall

58 Moons Tom RainClan Warrior

She's a problem solver. Good. That increased his opinion of her by another notch, Brookfall observing the way she repositioned herself in the shadow of a tall, leaf-flecked tree. He had seen many apprentices get frustrated with the sun and balk at the entire task, vowing to come back at dawn when the sun would not be quite so high in the sky and the shadows not quite so long.

"In your defense, there is more water to be caught than fish." Brookfall chuckled beneath his words, and then turned to face her fully, holding up one large water-darkened paw. The thick tufts between his toes were flattened against the pads, but a moment of scrutiny would reveal his most unique physical trait; an extra toe on each paw. Though he could not test the theory, Brookfall believed having an extra toe - and therefore an extra claw - gave him the advantage when it came to fishing larger quarry.

"Keep your claws sheathed until your paw is in the water. It's similar to breathing..." Brookfall demonstrated. "Inhale." The claws sheathed. "Hold your breath as you get your paw into position. Exhale." They eagerly poked through the wet fur, long and perfectly curved to hook fish out of the water. "Good aim comes with time. Have you...seen a fish up close?"

Brookfall did his absolute best to keep his tone from being condescending. He couldn't pretend it didn't tickle him though; NightClan was more likely to have a fish on their fresh kill pile than any other Clan in the valley besides his own. And yet... One would think tales of NightClan actually succeeding in fishing from the river would have reached RainClan by now.

Frogs, possums and bats would have to do.

The concept of putting his teeth anywhere near the bumpy hide of a toad or the slick back of a frog made his stomach clench with revulsion. Bats he had no opinions of, though he'd heard a few irritable elders refer to them as winged mice, and found that appropriate. Fish bones could sometimes be cause for worry (StarClan knew he'd been jabbed in the mouth once or twice), but the cool plump flesh of fresh-caught fish was a taste he'd always prefer to anything else.

"If you have, then you must have an idea of where the gills are. They seem like a perfect place to snag one's claws, wouldn't you say?" Brookfall finished his thought with a downward sweep of his eyes, gaze befalling a slim silver body shimmering beneath the surface. Dace, he recognized, tail flicking idly. It would be nothing to reach out and snatch it from the water - but that was a guaranteed outcome. Mothlight catching it herself could be far more interesting.

We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry.

453 Words || Phoenix || Notes

[Phoenix]

As the warrior’s words drifted across the stream between them, yellow eyes rose from the water’s surface to rest their gaze on the large silvery tom, and Mr. Fishercat’s chuckle was met with a sheepish grin of her own. “True,” She acknowledged noncommittally, lifting a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Yet somehow you and the rest of RainClan manage to not only catch fish but stay dry while doing so.” Lacking any hostility or accusation, the observation was instead tinged with faint admiration for a skill that she did not possess herself. Yet. Mothlight could think of many elitist warriors in her clan who would turn up their nose at learning a technique that originated from outside the clan, but she was determined to master it to the best of her ability. Knowing how to fish could only benefit NightClan, especially because their territory tended to flood during New-Leaf.

When the cat-who-could-not-be-named showed her his paw, it took a moment for her to realize why it was so oddly misshapen: he had an extra toe. Eyes widened slightly. She had never heard of such a thing before or even known it was possible. Curiosity about this new development had her attention shifting inward as she wondered how having an extra toe would help or hinder everyday activities like hunting or climbing. One would think that an additional claw would improve one’s ability to grip rough tree bark, but she could also see a reality in which a non-functional toe would just get in the way. Could Mr. Fishercat climb trees? Had he ever tried? Unlike NightClan or TreeClan cats, RainClan warriors seemed more at home in the water than in the treetops.

She became aware that Mr. Fishercat was speaking, his smooth voice having been sidelined in favor of her own thoughts, and she blinked, suddenly realizing that she had been staring rather blankly and nodding on autopilot. Mind racing, Mothlight tried to recall what he had said about breathing and watched as he flexed his claws in time with his breaths. Her own dug into damp soil as she mirrored his movement. His question had her pausing.

“No,” She said, shaking her head. Her pride, though still not up to another fishing attempt in front of an expert audience, was not so great that she could not freely admit to the limits of her own knowledge. “Not up close. I’ve heard about them though.” It was news to no one that had fish had fins instead of legs and that—“Their gills help them breathe underwater. I think they’re up by the fish’s head? And I’ve heard they’re like flaps or something?” The confidence in her voice wavered as she tried to imagine how any creature could breathe through flaps of flesh instead of through their nose, and she honestly wouldn’t put it past some cantankerous elder (of which NightClan had a few) to make up some outlandish facts simply for the sake of messing with an overly inquisitive kit. If their breathing apparatus really was as strange as they said, then Mothlight had to agree – yes, that sounded like a perfect place to snag one’s claws.

Fawn