gotta hold myself down | falconpaw

[Flycatcher]

The journey cats had gone. They had left on the night of the gathering and by now there was no telling where they might be or where their travels had taken them.

Returning to camp had been strange enough, but waking up and missing several familiar faces had been even stranger. Still, just because cats are gone does not mean that clan life must grind to a halt, and so Flycatcher goes about his duties as best he can. Returning from a dawn patrol, the blue tabby would split away from the rest of the patrol, seeking out his son, whose familiar cream pelt he spotted across the camp. "Falconpaw!", He greets warmly, hurrying to stand by his son. "I thought maybe we could go on a small hunt if you were up for it. Or perhaps just a small walk?"

@FALCONPAW. ​

 

[FALCONHEART]

Falconpaw’s duties have all but halted, with so many clanmates gone and his mentor lying sick and frail in Berryheart’s den. The past few days have been spent tagging along with whatever warrior will allow him to go with them out of camp, tracking and hunting and trying in vain to catch more than just his own share of prey for the clan. With many of their best warriors either ill or gone on a dangerous journey, the clan needs all the capable hunters that it can get. Now, after failing repeatedly to catch anything on his morning hunt—distracted, the warrior he’d gone with had said with pity in their voice—Falconpaw slumps to his paws in one corner of the camp.

His posture screams frustration, as his mind screams useless. Everything is going wrong, and more than anything he just wants to curl up and hide for a while. But then the voice of his father breaks into his thoughts, and he tips his face to meet Flycatcher’s eyes. "A hunt would be nice," he responds, smiling up at the deputy. Flycatcher will understand, won’t he? "I did terrible at hunting earlier, though, so… I might not catch anything."​

[ find me way out there ]​

​

 

[Flycatcher]

Falconpaw confirms that a hunt would be nice. For a moment, Flycatcher studies his son carefully, making note of his posture before and how sullen he seemed. Flycatcher wondered if that was mostly down to his hunting struggles earlier or something else. "I'm sure you weren't that bad," Flycatcher smiles, attempting to reassure his son. "Come, let's go before I'm needed around camp."

With a flick of his head, Flycatcher gestures for his son to follow, leading him out of the camp and into the forest. As they walk, Flycatcher is aware of the many leaves now dotting the ground, some a yellowish green, some amber. None of them knew when the journey cats might return, but at this rate maybe even the snow would be on the ground again by the time of their return. Flycatcher briefly slows to scent the air but can't seem to pick up on much so suggests they push ahead further. After a while, he looks to his son and asks, "How have you been holding up with everything that's going on?"​