ALWAYS SUNNY ABOVE THE CLOUDS \ first catch

[FERNGILL]

Fishing, again. One of the most important skills, yet one he had not managed to grasp yet, even after ten moons of training. Guilt gnawed at him- he was making Mudpelt look bad, wasn't he? Making him look like an awful teacher when, in reality, Fernpaw was the one who was awful. Often he avoided the thought because it made him sad to think about it, but... even though his dad grinned at him, encouraged him every day, he was sure that beneath that smile his father was just disappointed. Even though he'd grown, Fernpaw was still small- even with a boost in size, no skill had come in tandem. It felt like he was stuck.

Out again, though- and every lesson he'd ever had whirled around in Fernpaw's mind, whistling in the wind as it spun and spun and spun. You could hear his mind whirring as you passed him, concentration stormy on his face. Strike fast. Where they're going to be. Keep your shadow off the water. Techniques that seemed simple on paper, yet seemed more and more impossible every time Fernpaw failed.

He was determined, though. For all the waters he had swam through, the fire of his determination had never extinguished. And so, seeing the glint of a silver scale in the sun, Fernpaw took a feverish strike- a scoop, like Dad had said-

Between his maw- he felt it. That was the key, that scoop- sweeping it into his mouth! Through the slimy, slippery silver of its scales, Fernpaw grinned bright enough to rival direct sunlight. "Loo-k!!" he mumbled through his mouthful, eyes glimmering with relief.

\ @MUDPELT but no need to wait for him!! ​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Petalnose]

I FIND COMFORT IN THE SOUND AND THE SHAPE OF THE HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Petalnose had kept side glancing towards Fernpaw as she was resting by the water, hunting as well. But the suspense of it all tore her focus away from fishing. She watched and prayed to Starclan in her mind for the apprentice to get his catch. She tensed as she watched. And then he had caught it. A smile immediately formed on her lips as she saw the young cat get his catch. She wasn't a social being but Petalnose felt the need to congratulate him. This was a big milestone for the apprentice. A memory he should look back on. She lifted up to her paws and approached him slowly, eyeing the fish curiously, "Great catch." she mewed proudly, aiming to nuzzle his shoulder. Her tail was lifted proudly for him and then slowly lowering with her as she sat down. "I'm sure you'll make your mentor proud." A purr erupted from her throat, looking if his mentor was around.

[⋆]​

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[CLAYFUR]

Fishing hasn’t been the same since the raid. Sitting by the water hasn’t been the same. Nothing has been the same, and nothing will ever be the same again. But what can he do—besides cry, because stars know he’s done enough of that to last a lifetime—other than attempt to push through? He can’t bring his mate back, he can’t undo death itself. So he’s forced to keep going, to keep living, cruel as it is.

With the amount of RiverClanners who were injured in WindClan’s raid, every able-bodied cat is having to chip in more, to support the clan. They can’t go hungry, not when they need to recover. So the chocolate tabby is out hunting, following the scent of a bird that he’s sure is just out of sight, up in a tree somewhere. He’s sure he’s getting close when he spots a ginger pelt, with a larger chocolate form beside him—and not too far away, the dappled figure of Petalnose.

He reaches the group just as Fernpaw pulls his catch from the water, and Clay stares openly at the fish. That’s his first fish, right? "That’s a good catch, Fern." His enthusiasm just isn’t there; he feels guilty, because Fernpaw is proud of himself and Clay is his uncle so he’s also supposed to be proud of him. And he is proud, he’s happy that his ginger-striped nephew is doing well even though it took him a while to reach this point.

He forces a smile onto his face, feels dust costing his tongue, his teeth. It’s chewing on charcoal, smiling through it all. "You’ll be the best fisher around here in no time!" Like Petal, he agrees that Mudpelt will surely be proud of his son’s catch. Who wouldn’t be?
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[ YOU ARE THE STARS TO ME ]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Fishing was never something Ravenpaw was good at either—this stemmed from being a drypaw. However, like any good RiverClan cat, Ravenpaw loved the taste of fish and he often had to force himself to go out on fishing lessons with Darterwing to practice his technique. He simply could not be eating all the fish in the kill pile when all he brought back was land prey.

He was having better than average luck fishing this time around and had managed to nab a his own fish only a few minutes before Fernpaw would make his great catch. At Fernpaw's muffled squeak of triumph, Ravenpaw turned his head around. There he was, a fish clasped in drenched jaws. "Was that your first one?" He chuffed. "No way." The hint of amusement and praise for the cat he considered to be a friend was lingering just there in his tone.

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[dovethroat.]

For once, Dovepaw had come to scene without trailing behind Ravenpaw to do it. In his stunning act of independence, however, he did not seem to display much confidence in other endeavors. Though Dovepaw was not a drypaw—if anything, he actually displayed something resembling skill in the art of it—he was no good at fishing, either. As his mentor had told him, he had no instinct for it.

Unfortunately, when you were no good at something, that meant you trained it more. And doubly unfortunately, Dovepaw was not exactly improving.

Glancing over at the sound of Ravenpaw's voice, Dovepaw gathered what information he needed rather quickly. "Oh, uh," he stammered. "C-Congrats." Not as close to Fernpaw as, say, his friend, he was unsure what else he ought to say.

[⋆]​

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[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw caught her first fish at about four moons, and she'd never forgotten the sense of accomplishment it'd brought her. The fish had been small, slippery, and it had taken her time to get her technique right, but that fish had filled a kit's belly. She had contributed to her Clan. Fernpaw has been so despondent about his skills, even when he tries to disguise it, and the gleam of satisfaction in his bulging blue eyes causes his more accomplished sister to smile.

"Good catch," she says, giving him a little nod of approval. Clayfur does his best to give his nephew some acknowledgment, but grief has worn his enthusiasm down. The tortoiseshell looks at him with sympathy before letting her pale eyes skip to Ravenpaw. Everyone had something kind to say except him.

"What would a drypaw know about catching fish?" She snorts. She knows Ravenpaw hadn't meant to be rude, but Fernpaw is so proud of himself that she can't help but try to defend him.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[FERNGILL]

Ah- in his rushed announcement, one borne from a firework of pride, he'd not noticed quite how many had been watching- or had been called by this slightly-momentous event. Through the skin of his catch he grinned at Petalnose, who gave her modest congratulations. And- Uncle Clayfur, who had been so, so sad lately- who he wanted to see smile again more than anyone in the world, if that could even be possible- even he mustered up a small grin, one Fernpaw knew probably wasn't easy to give. He grinned back, hoping that some aspect of his expression might end up the best kind of contagious. Even if it was just for a moment...

Best fisher- that was a high hope, and one that made Fernpaw giggle a little at the sentiment. That was- deeply impossible, but who knew? Maybe this new technique would change him completely!

And then, then- night-painted pelt of Ravenpaw, a friend forged among the reeds- there was a laugh in his voice, but it was a good-natured tone, one the small ginger tom recognised. They'd not... been particularly close for very long, him and Ravenpaw, but he must know how much this had meant- for how long he'd been struggling for it. His congratulation- in tandem with the lingering Dovepaw's- made his grin grow wider still. And even- even Iciclepaw he'd never seen look like that, not at him. She smiled, congratulated him... congratulations, thrown his way. Like the rarest sort of birdsong, it was a wonderful sound!

"He's- he's right, though! I can't believe it took so long," he chirped, not letting the acknowledgement of his skill-lagging dampen his mood even slightly. And Ravenpaw was right to be surprised, even if he was a drypaw. Ten moons old- seven moons of training, and one fish. But even one was a start. "Better late than never, though, hah," and his happiness spilled from his words in laughter.

One. But one was enough to fuel him, if he'd been coping with zero all this time.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

Fernpaw was not his apprentice and perhaps that was a good thing, he'd always been a softhearted and quiet young apprentice, a little slower to start than others and a bit too bumbling at times but generally always in goodspirits. He would not have handled Smokethroat as a mentor as easily as Iciclepaw had, he imagined it would have been a far more upsetting experience for the orange tom. Whereas Iciclepaw had thrived under the strict and pushy regime he set upon her, Fernpaw would have shattered into pieces quickly. Some cats were just not built for it, but so long as they served their clan otherwise who was he to judge. He could never see Fernpaw as a notable fighter, but a fisher would suit the scruffy kit fine in his opinion.

A paw raised, he swung and aimed to cuff Ravenpaw on the ear for his remark all the same. "Let's see you do it then, drypaw. Hop on in, scoop us out one." It was an order, his voice crisp and chilling as the ice that once coated the river's surface and that lone orange eye honed in on the younger black cat intently as he watched the hesitance, the pointed uncertainty, before the facade broke and he grinned, "...I didn't think so." His head raised back up, turned pointedly away from the other as he stepped forward closer alongside Iciclepaw's side. "Good form, Fernpaw. Keep it up."
Was it true this was a little past due? Perhaps, but he was not his mentor. As far as he knew hunting and fishing was on the lower end of Mudpelt's training priorities. It was really only his business if Fernpaw was not making any improvements, in which case he'd take it upon himself to go and prod Cicadastar on the matter.
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[RAVENSONG]

Ignorant to the perceived insensitivity of his words—Ravenpaw's compliments had always been blunt and strangely worded—he was taken aback at Iciclepaw's remark. Drypaw wounds him again and Ravenpaw feels a knot forming at the back of his throat. Do you—think that I do not touch water at all? He thought incredulously, pulling his head back. He decides to be prudent and bite his tongue, turning his head to offer Fernpaw a weakened, unsure smile.

His ego is repaired just slightly when his friend reassures him. Fernpaw had caught on to the good-naturedness of his blunt joking. Ravenpaw's smile strengthened and he echoed Dovepaw's congratulations before continuing. "When I finally swim across the river, you can say the same to me—" He is cut off shortly by the cuff to his ear, flinching sharply as if he had been struck much worse than he had been—only because he had not expected it. Eyes wide, he turned his head to see Smokethroat. He had been fishing, just not with his body in the water. Yet, natural fear and manufactured embarrassment guided his hesitance and his skin burned under his dark fur.

At least Fernpaw still had his first fish!

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[MUDPELT]

Seven moons of training had built up to this moment. Where Mudpelt was talented in fishing and combat, Fernpaw lacked in those very skills. The one thing he did seem to excel at had been swimming, and stars was his father proud of that! But there is more to being a warrior than cutting through the current with ease, and the tom knows that. So he'd been hard at work these last couple of seasons trying his best to hone his...most challenged kit's skills, to little to no avail. But today, that changes. His son and apprentice scoops the large silver fish out of the water and clamps it in his jaws. His blue eyes shine, his grin evident even as he holds the prey in his mouth, and Mudpelt is beaming.

"Fernpaw! That was fantastic!" The young father trills, excitedly stepping in place before he swiftly circles the smaller red tabby repeatedly, brushing against him and frankly acting childish. He can't help it, he's elated! "Look at that fish! You should bring it to your mother, she'll love it!" He purrs before glancing towards everyone else who offers their praise. He puffs his chest out subconsciously, pride for his apprentice shining through. He wants Fernpaw to bask in this moment; he deserves it. "That's right! That's my son!" He brags, teeth bared in a cheery grin as he lifts his head high and wraps a forepaw around his son's shoulders in an excited embrace.​