AFTER THE FIRE, AFTER THE FLAMES [ ✦ ] thunder dusk patrol

[BURNSTORM]

If Burnstorm could pretend the news about his mother hadn’t hurt in his very core, like some vital piece of him wasn’t now missing and would never come back, he would. He would wear a smile as he made his way through a familiar forest with his cousin and one of his friends. He would have turned to his apprentice who was only a paw full of moons younger than him and he would have asked the dusty brown tom if he was excited for his warriors assessment. But he doesn’t. Save for the occasional order he is quiet, subdued. Grief reigns supreme in his mind.

They are almost at the RiverClan border when finally he speaks something that is not “make sure you dont miss marking that spot over there” He turns to Wolfwind and this shot at levity finally escapes his heavy tongue "What did one RiverClannner say to the other when they noticed their friend was grumpy?" he waits for the inevitable “what” before he replies "Dont be so crabby" the joke is a lame one but it makes the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. An attempt. He does not wait for Wolfwinds reaction before he trots ahead again, coming to a halt at their border with the water dwelling cats across the way. "Right lets be quick about this" if they’re lucky, they will make it home before it gets too terribly dark out.

// @WOLFWIND @EMBERPAW! @Falconpaw @sandthorn

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[Petalstep .]

PETALPAW — Keep about your wits.
The wait for her warrior ceremony was maddening. Spare for Fernpaw she was the oldest apprentice in the den, and embarrassingly becoming the largest- though, that was partly her parents blame to take. Whatever they looked like, Petalpaw cursed them silently for their large paws and broad shoulders.
To distract herself from her anxious wait, she took up as many extra patrols as her mentor would let her, even resorting to fine-tuning her land prey skills in preparation for the impending leaf-bare.
She is crouched, well-hidden between the reeds when she can hear the idle chatter across the river.
Or more specifically- the horrendous joke one of them pops.
She shoots a knowing look to her mentor before popping her head out from the reeds, an alabaster cloud in the sea of yellow-green. She felt like an eye sore.
"I can hear the crickets from all the way over here." While she doesn’t shout, her voice is still patronizingly noticeable, turning to the rest of the hunting patrol she had tagged along with. The apprentice doesn’t offer any greetings, leaving that to the warriors that seemed to care more about pleasantries.


"speech"

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[Velvetpaw]

Velvetpaw is not like Petalpaw yet. Far younger and smaller (though his heft would come in time, he's sure), his warrior ceremony is often the least important thing in his mind– though that's not entirely because of his youth. Adjusting to clan life is still hard, especially after cats of his former ilk had made such a damned mess of the place. Not only did he have to clean up the physical mess they'd left behind, he also had to do repair work on his own reputation. No, I won't drive you out of your home when I'm older, promise! The whole thing makes his head spin and his heart burst; maybe the red pelt that braised his ribs was really just a stain of anger seeping out of his insides.

Timberpool has once again seen fit to drag him out on a patrol. Not that Velvetpaw minds; he'd much rather be out than cooped up in camp. Maybe he would've been practicing his hunting crouch like Petalpaw if he were more antsy, but he's not, so he sticks to just marking their border instead according to the brown tabby warrior's instruction. What he can't let pass him by, however, is Burnstorm's joke. Petalpaw's retort is the thing that makes him chuckle; it had truly landed flat on its face, in his opinion, but then maybe he was the crabby RiverClanner in question.

"Good one," Velvetpaw calls, sarcasm thick on his tone like a wool sweater. "Do another!"​