[Amber]

Rabbitleap

[attr="class","rabbitscroll"]Drying golden stalks of grass bowed under the weight of the cold winds. There was little in LightningClan’s territory to break the winds that ripped the valley, and the lithe cats were starting to feel the impact. Rabbitleap’s short pelt was fluffed out against the wind, but the chill still seeped into his bones. As a set of otherwise idle paws, he had been roped into a mission to bring back materials to line the dens. It was an attempt to better insulate them against what was looking to become a harsh leafbare.

At the current moment, he was returning to the camp with a bundle of long grasses in his maw, interspersed with a few shed duck feathers he had found. Entering the camp, he headed over to the pile of insulation at Mudpelt’s paws. The chocolate tom had been placed in charge of the operation and had broken up the available cats into two teams. One team was tasked with going out to find insulating materials, grasses, moss, feathers, fur, whatever they could find, while the other team actually worked on insulating the dens. But the senior warrior was fair, he allowed cats to switch out occasionally, knowing how brutally cold the moors were. Rabbitleap dipped his head as he dropped off his load, turning and preparing to head back out into the territory.

A slim mottled tuxedo tom at the edge of camp caught his attention. The sight of the apprentice brought a small, sad smile to Rabbitleap’s face. His mentor’s son. Rabbitleap bounded toward Ravenpaw, stopping a few tail-lengths away. "Hey, Ravenpaw!" The older tabby tom waved his tail in a friendly gesture. "Would you like to come with me to gather materials to insulate the dens?" He smiled brightly at the young tom. He hoped to make friends with him, but he wouldn’t push Ravenpaw into anything.

I'm never changing who I am

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♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟
Day 26: The cool wind's reach seems limitless. Clan cats are advised to insulate their dens to combat the chill.

[♛ 𝔽𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟]

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RAVENPAW

l i g h t n i n g c l a n a p p r e n t i c e






Open your eyes, choking on his breath.

<sub>With no large structures such as trees to block the winds, each venture out into the territory was a trek into pure ice. The winds were stronger out there too, buffeting mercilessly at the shorter coats of most LightningClan cats. Ravenpaw in particular found it difficult to brave the cold, but Galestorm insisted that he had to get used to it if he ever wanted to be a useful warrior. He knew she was right, but it was still a pain to plunge out there into the icy breath of the sky, feeling the blood chill beneath your pelt as you struggle to concentrate on the lesson. Even now, sheltered behind the camp wall, he could still hear the hiss of the breeze as it pressed against the barrier, some imposing creature attempting to invade their space.

Exhausted from a day of getting his ears knocked about (which was essentially what "battle practice" was), Ravenpaw had retreated to a nice, quiet place to relax on his own. At his paws lay his black feather, a treasured item, his mind wandering beyond the cold moorland and up into a world of his own creation. The cold could not reach as far as his imagination.

Most of the time, his daydreams were shadowed by the presence of a black bird, the same bird whose feather he cradled in his paws. But he never pictured this bird to be exactly the way ravens and crows looked, it always distorted in his dreams and thoughts, unclear. The outline of it changed depending on how he thought. He could make out that it was a bird, but it had no eyes and its shape wavered, uncertain in its own form. He wondered why he never pictured this bird clearly. Maybe it was because he didn't really know what living ravens looked like, and that uncertainty brought an uncertain image to his mind. Either way, this character he had fabricated brought him comfort and hope when he felt low. He always imagined it would teach him to fly away from whatever bad thing was plaguing him, no matter how minor it was. He imagined it bringing a small worm to a nest full of chicks, and smiled slightly, thinking of how nice it would be to see what baby birds looked like. Maybe come New-leaf he could find a nest... 

"Hey, Ravenpaw!" The voice, the sound of his name, made his daydream vanish as he snapped back to the present. Perking his ears, he turned his head to spot Rabbitleap trotting towards him. His eyes widened. He didn't know the warrior very well, and talking to cats he didn't know was... not enjoyable. He batted the black feather with a paw, a nervous tic that betrayed his uncertainty as the brown tabby drew near. "Would you like to come with me to gather materials to insulate the dens?" Ravenpaw looked up at Rabbitleap's nose, which was a friendly brown colour, and gave a quiet nod. Then, remembering that being quiet was rude, he mustered up some attempt at a response. "Uh, sure... Rabbitleap?" The end of his sentence went up into a question, because he wondered for a second if Rabbitleap's name was Rabbitleap or if it was Rabbitleaf. No, Rabbitleaf was a dumb name. But wait, did rabbits even leap? They hopped but could that really be called leaping... "I'm Ravenpaw." He noted, realising they hadn't really spoken before. Introducing yourself was what you were supposed to do if you hadn't spoken before, right? "If... you didn't already know."

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon the collection of moss and feathers. His green eyes lit up, and the tension in his shoulders eased. "Hey!" He meowed with interest, shuffling to his paws. "What kind of feathers are those?" His voice sounding more energetic and cheerful with each passing moment, he bent his head to inspect the feathers. "Are we using feathers and fur from animals to help insulate the dens?" It was a transformation almost as impressive as that of a butterfly. Suddenly, the socially awkward tom was bright-eyed, eager to speak and smiling, excited by the prospect of collecting feathers and other things he finds interesting. He looked up at Rabbitleap, whiskers twitching, as though trying to suppress himself from launching into a detailed, excited story about how he had found his raven's feather or why he finds feathers interesting, or about the rabbit bones he had found laying out on the moorland, perfectly clean and an eye-catching cream-white colour. The effort of keeping all this information from bursting out of his mouth was difficult, it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with his paws. But Galestorm had taught him that speaking too much without listening was rude, so he fought his hardest to hold his stories back no matter how much they pushed to be free.</sub>

You grimace, then smile.

815 words Amber