The chill that had greeted Daffodilpaw this morning was unlike anything he'd ever felt before - even with the arrival of leaf-fall, words and stories can't quite do it justice, though it seems as though many of his clanmates seem equally unsettled by the cold. With short fur fluffed out as much as it can, he gladly finds himself swept up in a patrol set on gathering more materials for nests. Battle training with cold-stiff limbs sounds miserable right now, and hunting even worse; this, instead, feels like something more feasible for him to succeed in.
At first, he hangs back, following the lead of the others, though it's quickly clear that they're meant to split up. Probably a good idea, he concedes, even if his pelt prickles not just from the cold at the thought of searching on his own,
Fawnwhisker having sent him off on the patrol without her assistance for a change. What if he can't find anything at all? What is he even looking for, really - moss is good and all, but should he also be keeping an eye out for something else? Daffodilpaw can still recall the cozy, lined nest he and his littermates had shared in the nursery, even if the memories feel like a lifetime ago, and he's pretty sure there had been...feathers of some kind in there.
Uh, feathers - yeah, feathers, he can work with that, probably. As his other patrolmates' chatter starts to fade into the background, Daffodilpaw finds himself truly alone, the forest having fallen still with the encroaching frost. Alright, where to start? He's certainly not
catching his own bird, that's for sure; maybe he'll find some feathers scattered about the ground? The longer he walks, however, the colder his paws grow, and still nothing. Thoroughly disheartened, the idea of moss doesn't sound quite so bad anymore, if there's even any to be found that hasn't been blighted with frost.
The meager patches along the ground are all thoroughly soaked, and as his hopes begin to spiral even further, Daffodilpaw is suddenly met by a boon of a sight - a few scraps trailing up the trunk of a nearby tree. The higher it goes, the more untouched the moss appears, and he begins to heave himself upward, one clawhold at a time, until he's reached one of the lower branches. Breath steaming into the air in front of him, Daffodilpaw takes a moment to regain his bearings, and the apprentice is lucky he does, as before him lies not just the bits of moss that would have been embarrassing to take back. There, nestled in the crook a few branches above, is the remnants of a bird's nest, twigs already beginning to scatter in the wind, though that's not what really draws his attention; there, floating lazily down to the ground, is a feather, and he can see a few more sticking out.
A few minutes later find Daffodilpaw marching back to the meeting spot, head held aloft for once along with a mouthful of feathers. Not wanting to risk losing any of them, he keeps his jaws firmly closed, though he does jerk his head in Quillstrike's direction, a smile curling onto his features even as he tries to resist the urge to sneeze.
![qqvWQU9.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/qqvWQU9.jpeg%5D)
