private Love like ghosts (Scorchpaw)

[Badgermoon]

In an unexpected twist, his only daughter had become his apprentice. Badgermoon was pleased: while he had no favorites, he did think that Scorchpaw was likely to be an excellent fit as his apprentice. Luckypaw and Frostpaw, of course, were destined for the tunnels - an admirable destiny, but not one with which he could assist, at least not as a teacher of tunneling skills - and while he would've been overjoyed to mentor Rumblepaw, he was gladdened that the kit which was built the most like him would be his apprentice. Despite being a lookalike of her mother, Scorchpaw was already growing large and strong like himself, even possessing his snowy-white ear-tips. He thought he could see the beginnings of his broad shoulders and long limbs beneath her calico coat, perhaps a hint of his deep chest and powerful jaw...? Let's hope she doesn't inherit my anger, too.

But so far there were no signs of that, and Badgermoon wasn't the type to worry about what he couldn't change or predict. Besides, this was a time to cherish: their first outing into WindClan's territory, not just as a father/daughter duo, but as mentor and apprentice. "Well, littlie...which border would you like to see first?" he had told her that was the goal of the day, to become acquainted with the edges of the Clan's land, but he had not shared which first, because he wanted her to choose. "ThunderClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan, or the Horseplace?" the black-and-white tom gazed down at the little patchwork kitten, his expression serious but his eyes full of love.

@SCORCHPAW​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

It was unexpected indeed. Or at least, that is what Scorchpaw tells herself now; there had been signs all along that she would walk the moors rather than the black earth beneath them, but each outing makes the fresh wound sting that much more. She tries not to look morose. After all, she did get a good mentor; even beyond Badgermoon being deputy, he is also her father, and a cat that she very much looks up to. She would hate for him to see her... disappointed. Would he understand it, if he noticed? She'd just been so sure that she'd be a tunneler, that she would follow in Scorchstreak's pawsteps, that she would be at Luckypaw's side through their apprenticeship. But it's not meant to be. They won't even get their warrior names at the same time. Scorchpaw can't suppress her frown.

The butterfly wing she'd caught in her last whispers of kithood still perches behind her ear. Scorchpaw trails behind Badgermoon, and though she'd been morose moments ago she still does find a prickle of excitement in her paws to be exploring the moors at last. Finally she is getting a taste of the wild air that she'd been so curious about as a kit; windswept heather and nectar on the breeze, green earthiness where grass had been trampled, a nearly-dizzying openness that she's never felt before. The small hollow that WindClan makes its camp in is still open to the stars, but the gorse walls that protect it had always kept Scorchpaw feeling contained. Now there are no such walls; just plains as far as her eye can see. She is only reminded that this expanse can end when Badgermoon asks her which border she would like to visit.

Scorchpaw's small frown flicks up at its corners. She takes a moment to consider her options. She hasn't met any of the other clans yet, and as alluring as the Horseplace is, she can't imagine passing up the opportunity to meet one of them just so she can dive deeper into WindClan territory. "RiverClan," Scorchpaw decides, white-tipped tail flicking with renewed interest. Then, after another pause, her explanation: "I want to see the water."​

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[Badgermoon]

The infamous wind swept over the father-and-daughter duo as they departed the hollow, dry and cool, slicing through the humid greenleaf day and ruffling their pelts. Badgermoon inhaled deeply and tried to put aside his apprehension: of the borders to see, theirs with RiverClan was perhaps the most treacherous. Between the river cats' disrespect of borders and their recent assault on Cottonpaw, he could not help but feel a stab of apprehension at her choice. If anything happens to her... thought the bicolor tom, his jaw tightening, ...their river will run red with their blood.

"RiverClan it is. You must be careful, though, and listen carefully to what I tell you." this was, perhaps, a given, but he would be remiss if he didn't warn a three-month-old child before bringing them to the gorge. As they walked, he made sure to shorten his stride so she could keep up, his dark tail held aloft behind him. Just three months old. reflected the deputy: a ripple of unease cascaded through him. They're so young. Would it really be such a bad thing if they were allowed to be kits for just a little while longer? he'd never trained an apprentice from kithood to warriorhood before, having been assigned as Firefang's and Snakehiss's second mentor.

It was startling to have an apprentice so young, even more so since that apprentice was his daughter; he felt an almost unbearable amount of protective anxiety, and had to bite his tongue as they progressed past a small, burbling creek. She's not going to fall in and drown, hare-brain. You're right here, watching her every move. and indeed he was, golden eyes glued to her mottled frame as he leaped lightly over the ribbon of water. "There's stepping-stones, if you don't want to make the jump." Badgermoon said in casual tones, bending his head and taking a few laps of the cool water. He waited for the girl to join him on the other side of the water before continuing.

As they progressed through WindClan's territory, the sights and sounds and scents were remarkably rich: he tried to imagine what it must be like to encounter them all for the first time. The sweetness of heather, the vivid wildflowers, the endless rustles of the grass, the warm, dry earth against your paw pads...Badgermoon realized, with a start, that he did know what it was like to experience it for the first time - he had some upon this place and had fallen so wildly in love with it, he had devoted his mind, body, and spirit to its service. Someday he would lead the moorland cats, and now he had a family to raise upon its sunny hills. The joy of it all made a deep purr bubble out of his throat.

"Well, what do you think so far, my dear? Do you like it?"​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

She thinks not of Cottonpaw or their defeat at RiverClan's paws. She thinks only of the river, the great belt of force that snakes along the edge of their territory, as deadly as any adder. Scorchpaw has heard tales of its power and its beauty, and she hardly believes that the river cats can slip in and out of it unscathed. She heeds Badgermoon's warning with all the caution that he warns her to take. "Yes," Scorchpaw agrees, stepping carefully from now on.

She follows his great stride with ease, his tail flagging behind him so that she might know his placement even when she lags behind. She doesn't think of her own youth, for she has just graduated from kithood, the ultimate prison of childhood. She's eager to be grown, because being grown means she can follow Badgermoon to new adventures, and she can learn to hunt for her Clan and protect it, and she has a shiny new name to go along with it, too. She doesn't think about the vanishing of it all, about the fact that she will never be able to return to coddled days in the nursery, snuggled among her siblings. Maybe one day she will wish that she had, but until then, she flies dutifully on her father's current.

He leaps across the brook, and she calculates the distance, wondering if she could do the same. It's small and thin, and it doesn't thunder with the strength of horse's hooves, and she feels a surge of confidence to cross it just as her father had-- at least, she feels brave until her paws are at the bank and she must leap. Scorchpaw jerks to a halt, ceasing any momentum she'd built up in her clumsy bounce forward. The whites of her paws dip just barely into the cool water. She looks up to catch Badgermoon's careful gaze, and then looks away in shame-- she couldn't do it. He's kind about the shortcut, at least, and she eventually joins him on the other side of the bank to continue their journey, one arduous leap across stepping stones at a time.

Crossing the brook is like crossing a boundary; once she has entered the other side she is suddenly aware of her surroundings in a way she hasn't been before. The wilderness is back and it thrusts against her senses. Heather in her nose, sun in her eyes, wind in her ears; there is no escaping the vastness of the territory, and it is so open it almost presses her into the floor. She can see for fox-lengths upon fox-lengths. The grass is tall and thick and golden, splashed by sun, warmed by earth. The wildflowers are so sweet as to be sickly; bees buzz about them in their drowsy fashion. She hears Badgermoon purr and she thinks she understands why, for the beauty of the moors is so breathtaking. Little does she realize he thinks about raising her among these fields.

Well, what do you think so far, my dear? Do you like it? "Yes," the girl confirms, tail waving behind her. "It's beautiful. And it smells wild." And the wilderness sets fire to her limbs and makes her want to run with no care for where she goes. But she stays put, obedient, at Badgermoon's side. "There's so much of it, too. I had no idea." They've been walking for a while, after all, and she still has no idea when they'll reach the gorge.​

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