The hunting patrol was strangely peaceful.
Or maybe strangely peaceful— but Sharppaw has only known the strange, up until now. She treads across mud and standing water, not pushed further into the muck by the heavy need to prove herself— because she has already done that. Deep in the mountains, she had dug and dug until her paws were frozen and sore; tearing at what would be ShadowClan's share of lungwort. She had trekked back; not lain tooth or claw on the annoying gnats that were chirping ThunderClan voices and RiverClan warriors. She came home with her prize, and no one had said " Welcome Home, Sharppaw! " until everyone had cried over Smogmaw's dead mate and thrown accusations around about something or other.
That's fine. It was all fine. Because Sharppaw could carry herself all on her own. She needed no one to sigh her name. She needed no one's approval.
( Well, that was not very true... But the approval she wanted, she got )
So dare he say, he is in a not - bad mood. It is enough to curb any anxiety towards leaf - bare, even. The season he'd been born in. That flashes of kithood told him were long, and cold, and starving, and horrible. Trek on, trek on. For now, he can still complain of stuffiness, and humidity. Oh, the humidity. Fog is lain thick across the marshy ground, tonight. She can hardly glimpse her own blackened paws, nor the clanmates that supposedly were all around her.
And then— flickering lights over the marsh. A pause. This place— this horrible place, it was one she unfortunately knew like nothing else. too - many moons of apprenticeship had surely gaurunteed that. But... he certainly could not remember a dozen tiny fires— or maybe... suns? Whatever they were, dancing across the marsh. Sharppaw can see no source, smell no smoke. She thinks, if she reaches back far enough, she can remember seeing something like this before, and never knowing the cause.
Her fur is bristling, but maybe it would be too foggy for anyone to tell. Jaws parting. " ...Hey, " The twitch of an almost smile, then falling into a grimace. " Some SkyClanner told me a story. That uh... If you follow those lights, they'll lead you to your death. Also, he completely just made that up for some reason. For no reason. A twinge. Who's someone objectively garbage on this patrol that he could harass? " You should uh... check it out, Maggotpaw. " Another half - smile. As a fellow apprentice, she can still say this.
Or maybe strangely peaceful— but Sharppaw has only known the strange, up until now. She treads across mud and standing water, not pushed further into the muck by the heavy need to prove herself— because she has already done that. Deep in the mountains, she had dug and dug until her paws were frozen and sore; tearing at what would be ShadowClan's share of lungwort. She had trekked back; not lain tooth or claw on the annoying gnats that were chirping ThunderClan voices and RiverClan warriors. She came home with her prize, and no one had said " Welcome Home, Sharppaw! " until everyone had cried over Smogmaw's dead mate and thrown accusations around about something or other.
That's fine. It was all fine. Because Sharppaw could carry herself all on her own. She needed no one to sigh her name. She needed no one's approval.
( Well, that was not very true... But the approval she wanted, she got )
So dare he say, he is in a not - bad mood. It is enough to curb any anxiety towards leaf - bare, even. The season he'd been born in. That flashes of kithood told him were long, and cold, and starving, and horrible. Trek on, trek on. For now, he can still complain of stuffiness, and humidity. Oh, the humidity. Fog is lain thick across the marshy ground, tonight. She can hardly glimpse her own blackened paws, nor the clanmates that supposedly were all around her.
And then— flickering lights over the marsh. A pause. This place— this horrible place, it was one she unfortunately knew like nothing else. too - many moons of apprenticeship had surely gaurunteed that. But... he certainly could not remember a dozen tiny fires— or maybe... suns? Whatever they were, dancing across the marsh. Sharppaw can see no source, smell no smoke. She thinks, if she reaches back far enough, she can remember seeing something like this before, and never knowing the cause.
Her fur is bristling, but maybe it would be too foggy for anyone to tell. Jaws parting. " ...Hey, " The twitch of an almost smile, then falling into a grimace. " Some SkyClanner told me a story. That uh... If you follow those lights, they'll lead you to your death. Also, he completely just made that up for some reason. For no reason. A twinge. Who's someone objectively garbage on this patrol that he could harass? " You should uh... check it out, Maggotpaw. " Another half - smile. As a fellow apprentice, she can still say this.
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ooc: PWOMPT! " Someone has said they've seen flickering lights in the marsh at night. Legends say to follow these lights will lead you to your death. " being annoying to @Maggotfur. but no need to wait <3
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