private CAUGHT YOU RED HANDED // barkjaw

// @BARKJAW time to sit this lass down and give her a lesson of life

Adrenaline pumps through her veins as she dashes through the undergrowth, brambles and thistles snagging at her pelt. She doesn't let it bother her, the grin on her face is proof of that. She's known in the clan to be reckless, a troublemaker who wouldn't quite be a rebel, but wouldn't be a top student, either. This, though? This is new. Perhaps the third or fourth time she's crept out of camp in the middle of the night through the dirtplace entrance. With age comes confidence, and she is brimming with the stuff. And for a moment, she believes she's gotten away with it again. A small head is poked through the bramble wall, hazel slits flicking to and fro to make sure no one is looking. The night guard is facing the other way. If she can creep quietly enough, she can make it to the apprentice's den no problem.

A soft snicker is stifled, however, as soon as she hears a rustle of leaves behind her. With a small gasp, she whirls around and expects to find a predator, perhaps one of those dogs from moons ago. But instead, she comes face-to-face with her mentor, who sits casually by the oak tree as if he'd been there all along. "Barkjaw!" The tabby and white girl bristles in surprise, a grimace immediately appeared on her face. "Whaaat are you doing out here?" She drawls awkwardly, stomach already turning in circles.
 
For as old as Barkjaw may be (not even that old at all, truth be told), his apprentice thought him more out of date than their oldest of elders, it would seem. Maybe it's only that he'd been there himself, a wily youth who wanted nothing more than freedom. Or maybe he knew her better than she'd like to first think. The first time he could pass off as nothing, but the second and third? By then he'd been thinking of a battle plan. And at the fourth, he sits in wait. There's a low, lazy lean to the tabby tom, pale gaze bright beneath the moonlight. There's no immediate disapproval on his face — that's all intentional — but it doesn't make the weight of his attention any less unpleasant. "Looking for my lost apprentice, of course. Nearly had the whole camp up in search a' you. Imagine how worried we must have been, finding your nest empty without a sign of where you'd gone."

Though he means every word of it, said like it's from some other timeline where this truly was what happened, there's a dry drawl to it that speaks to sarcasm, to prodding her in search of a lie. Daring her to pretend this was nothing. "Have any mind to share what's so important out there? Not heading on back to your twolegs, are you?" As he moves a pace from the oak tree, Barkjaw's tone turns acidic and harsh for one brief moment.
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  • ooc:
  • ──── barkjaw, with bark referring to his dark coloration, and jaw to his acidic words as well as his debilitating bite.
    ──── warrior of thunderclan, and previous member of the marsh group. strong dislike for other clans, though he is not cruel.
    ──── uses he - him only, and will not respond to anything else. single, despite a lightly flirtatious nature.

    a surprisingly short chocolate tabby, though with a powerful stance and solid build that projects a greater size in competency. his eyes are pale and harsh, an intense light mint.
  • "speech"
 
Stormypaw's eyes widen at his words, her paws shuffling against the forest floor. The whole clan up looking for her? She chews on her bottom lip nervously, tail hanging limp behind her in embarrassment and shame. She didn't mean to worry anyone; she just wanted to feel the adrenaline but racing through the trees at night....with...no one knowing....Okay, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

It's her mentor next question that has her standing bolt-straight, shocked eyes locking onto him with a gasp. "No!" Her cry is desperate, honest - she needs Barkjaw to know she'd never do that! "I'm loyal to ThunderClan forever! I'd never go back!" To be caught and scolded is one thing; to have her loyalty questioned is another. It's an accusation that sends thorns into her stomach. Stormypaw's claws slide into the earth beneath her as she stares wide-eyed back at the older tom, slack-jawed in wait of his response. He believes me, right?