Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2020 21:24:23 GMT -5
There was not much competition for a good nesting spot in the apprentice den. Puddlepaw glanced from his spot to the other, far emptier, nests and could not help but feel a small sense of disappointment that he was not going to have too many other apprentice’s to train alongside. It had not been that long ago since the last bunch of apprentice’s were made warriors and he had hoped to have some kind of company but so far it was only him and Baypaw.
Baypaw had never crossed him as a cat who was interested in wanting to bond with her peers so he resigned himself to being primarily alone; although she was not spared his cheer, perhaps he’d make a friend of her yet.
At least he had his name now, a small smile curled across his maw and he felt his chest fill with warmth as he recalled the clan chanting during the ceremony.
“Puddlepaw! Puddlepaw! Puddlepaw!” The cinnamon apprentice cheered to himself, delightedly stretching his paws out before him as he arched his back. The den would not hold his attention given how empty it was, it was time to go poke his nose about camp until Brindlemask was ready to start his training. He had tried to explore as a kitten plenty of times, but never quite got too far before being ushered away from places and scolded back into the nursery.
Now he was free to do as he pleased, mostly. Free to come and go, with permission, but not quite as restricted as he once was. The world outside of the camp was waiting for him, the young tom couldn’t deny he may be somewhat impatient to start exploring it, but he wasn’t so foolish as to take off on his own. As he trotted out into the light of day he glanced around briefly to see if he could spot his new mentor but quickly found himself distracted by the overwhelming urge to go look around the other dens. Puddlepaw supposed the one good thing about being one of few apprentices was that even if his mentor ended up busy there were plenty of apprentice-less warriors he could bother for attention. His orange eyes honed in on freshkill pile, eagerly trotting along toward it with the intent to grab himself one of the plump frogs there; but the moment he opened his mouth over it he paused-caught himself.
Hold on. Puddlepaw sat back on his haunches, head tilted up thoughtfully as he tried to recollect the bare bones of the code the nursery queens had amused him with to stall his nonstop questions. There was one about not eating before elders and kits? Right?
Quite certain of this he reached down to grab the frog once more, holding it by one dangling leg to march it over to the elder’s den and fling it inside the den mouth with enthusiasm. He didn’t see any of the elder’s yet, they were probably sunbathing, but they would have this frog when they came back.
Baypaw had never crossed him as a cat who was interested in wanting to bond with her peers so he resigned himself to being primarily alone; although she was not spared his cheer, perhaps he’d make a friend of her yet.
At least he had his name now, a small smile curled across his maw and he felt his chest fill with warmth as he recalled the clan chanting during the ceremony.
“Puddlepaw! Puddlepaw! Puddlepaw!” The cinnamon apprentice cheered to himself, delightedly stretching his paws out before him as he arched his back. The den would not hold his attention given how empty it was, it was time to go poke his nose about camp until Brindlemask was ready to start his training. He had tried to explore as a kitten plenty of times, but never quite got too far before being ushered away from places and scolded back into the nursery.
Now he was free to do as he pleased, mostly. Free to come and go, with permission, but not quite as restricted as he once was. The world outside of the camp was waiting for him, the young tom couldn’t deny he may be somewhat impatient to start exploring it, but he wasn’t so foolish as to take off on his own. As he trotted out into the light of day he glanced around briefly to see if he could spot his new mentor but quickly found himself distracted by the overwhelming urge to go look around the other dens. Puddlepaw supposed the one good thing about being one of few apprentices was that even if his mentor ended up busy there were plenty of apprentice-less warriors he could bother for attention. His orange eyes honed in on freshkill pile, eagerly trotting along toward it with the intent to grab himself one of the plump frogs there; but the moment he opened his mouth over it he paused-caught himself.
Hold on. Puddlepaw sat back on his haunches, head tilted up thoughtfully as he tried to recollect the bare bones of the code the nursery queens had amused him with to stall his nonstop questions. There was one about not eating before elders and kits? Right?
Quite certain of this he reached down to grab the frog once more, holding it by one dangling leg to march it over to the elder’s den and fling it inside the den mouth with enthusiasm. He didn’t see any of the elder’s yet, they were probably sunbathing, but they would have this frog when they came back.
