private head in the clouds | training thread

[Cherrypaw [in.]]

"THAT'S WHEN STRANGE SENSATIONS, START TO GROW"​

---

There was so much happening in just the past few weeks. With their apprenticeship, Morningpaw's death, his own sister getting attacked by a ShadowClan warrior, and the tension between clans growing as leaf-bare deals its frostbitten blows, it was stressing Cherrypaw out much more than he would like to admit. His father wasn't helping much either; the gathering had only been last night and Patchpaw demanded he tell her everything, to which he obliged with reluctance. In fact, he hadn't told her everything, most particularly of Cicadastar's wrath-fueled tirade against the other four clans. It would only stress her out further, Cherrypaw decided.
Unfortunately, while he was at the gathering, his father was also keeping him well away from mingling with the rest of the clans, per his request. It was getting quite annoying, with him keeping an eye on Cherrypaw whenever he went.
It was hardly even midday--who could tell anymore when the sun liked to hide behind a wall of clouds stretching from horizon to horizon--and Cherrypaw was already itching to get out of camp. His breathing was growing noticeably heavy, inhaling the chilly air into his lungs, though he wasn't too sure as to why. It worried him quite a bit, though he chose not to mention it. Berryheart was already stressed enough--he looked awfully terrible after Morningpaw's death, not to mention the rest of the clan... she was his own denmate, too. He hadn't known her very well, but judging from the hushed, sorrowful atmosphere that hung over the camp, she was very well loved for how short of a time she had with them. His chest squeezed tight at the thought.

To an outsider's perspective, Cherrypaw laid inside the apprentice's den next to the entrance, still as a rock with his tail and fur serving as the only comforts against the bitter freeze.

I need to get out. With a sudden jerk of his paws, Cherrypaw lifted himself to his feet, glancing around the camp. Stagstrike was standing nearby; maybe they could go on another hunting session. At least it would help, with how little food they had left on the fresh-kill pile. Most cats in the clan, including his family, weren't looking too good. Oftentimes they went to bed with starving bellies and their ribs jutting out, Cherrypaw noted with a frown. She needs to stop giving me all of her food. Maybe if I can catch something for her, she'll actually eat something.

With a more certain resolution now, Cherrypaw strides towards his mentor, head lifted high.

"Hey, Stagstrike! Can we go out for a hunting session today?"​

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[Tybalt [Stagstrike]]

He was surprised that Emberstar had elected to give him an apprentice. He'd only recently become a warrior, and he doubted that the training methods he was most used to were the kind his clanmates would approve of. He'd listened begrudgingly to Hollow Tree, and though his precision had improved under her tutelage, he still more employed the techniques his parents had taught him as a child than any of those his clan appointed mentor had taught him.

Tybalt's muscles tensed as he exited the warrior's den, bracing himself against the leaf-bare chill. He caught the sight of movement near the apprentices den and saw the red and white shape of his apprentice padding towards him and calling out his clan name.

Hunting. He wanted to go out hunting. They might as well. Tybalt's amber gaze flitted to the fresh-kill pile. It was nearly empty. "Sure," he answered through a yawn, unsheathing his claws as he stretched his legs and padded towards the exit to the camp.

"And you might as well call me Tybalt," he added. I never asked anyone to call me Stagstrike.

 

[Cherrypaw [in.]]

"THAT'S WHEN STRANGE SENSATIONS, START TO GROW"​

---

Cherrypaw followed closely after Tybalt, watching him with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Most other clan cats and their apprentices would have raised an eyebrow or two at Tybalt's training methods, but he didn't judge him for it. To Cherrypaw, his techniques were no different than any other clan technique, and though Tybalt was certainly odd, he was taking a liking towards the warrior.
"Are you not clan-born?" He speaks suddenly. They were out of camp now, left alone out in the snowy wilderness of the deep ThunderClan forest. "You go by Tybalt. Most clan-cats go by two-worded names. It's only reasonable. Were you a barn cat? What was it like?"

While his questions are straightforward, if not outright blunt, Cherrypaw meant no harm in it. He was born in a barn along with his sisters, and though he doesn't remember much anymore from the barn before they left, his dad's conversation with him and his sister left him worried. What was going to happen to them if they chose to stay with the clan?
Even then as his head is flooded with all sorts of strange questions and confusion, he remains silent, electing to follow alongside Tybalt with flattened, timid ears. Nothing's making sense anymore.​

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[Tybalt [Stagstrike]]

Tybalt shook his head. "I'm not," he answered. "I took a clan name because I had to, not because I wanted to. And I wasn't a barn cat. I was a city cat. It was..." he trailed off, thinking. For much of his life, he'd had little else to compare it to. "It's easier to survive here. City cats fight more. They fight dirty. There's less food to go around, so you either fight for whatever scraps you find or you don't eat. You get sick more. The best most city cats do is keep a wound clean and dry, and it doesn't always work." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was all I knew. I was used to it."

"But there are more twolegs around, and they dont want cats around. They don't want mice or rats around either. They'd feed them poison to get rid of them, and some cats would eat the poisoned ones, and then they'd get sick and die. My mom died from eating a sick rat, and then my dad and I came to live in the forest...and then a fox got my dad, and I ended up here. The name they gave me is all I have left of them."

 

[Cherrypaw [in.]]

"THAT'S WHEN STRANGE SENSATIONS, START TO GROW"​

---

"Oh." Cherrypaw pads alongside his mentor, thinking on this for a second. "I went by Cherry, up until my dad brought me and my sisters here. We had to pick up names, too... I wonder why they didn't let you keep your name. It's much cooler than Stagstrike," he comments casually as he glances up at Tybalt. There was a new curiosity in his round eyes; Tybalt intrigued him more than anycat he's met so far here.

"I didn't know you were a city cat. City cats always sounded a lot meaner than most cats, as far as I know anyway. They'll say the same thing about kittypets, too, but..." He pauses a moment, then continues on to ask, "If you were given the chance to leave ThunderClan to go back home, would you take it?"

His father's voice rings in the back of his mind, and Cherrypaw can't help the frown that grows on his face. He liked ThunderClan, and he was sure Spotflare was offering it to them because of the many recent events, but at the thought of abandoning ThunderClan at a time of need, it felt no better than cowardice. He hardly remembered anything from the barn, and as far as he knew, it had burned down a long time ago.
Why would he want to go back, he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling there was more than cowardice behind his father's actions.​

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[Tybalt [Stagstrike]]

A small purr rumbled in Tybalt's throat as Cherrypaw complimented his name. "Thank you," he said. "And city cats are mean. They sort of have to be to survive. If you're too nice you'll get taken advantage of. Or you'll make a friend and get attached." He shrugged his shoulders. "And it's usually better not to get attached." It was a lesson he'd been forced to learn after the loss of his parents. Tybalt himself had never minded kittypets, provided they kept to their own gardens. It was dangerous for a softer cat in the city.

Drinking in the scents around him as they walked, Tybalt pondered the younger cat's question for a moment. "Maybe if things were different," he said finally. "If both my parents were still alive. If my mother hadn't died, I doubt we ever would've left it. After my mother died my dad couldn't stand to look at the place anymore. I couldn't either. There's nothing waiting for me there anymore. The cats that mattered to me are gone."