development MEMORIES OF YOU | first catch

[WOLFPAW]

Keep all four legs low to the ground. Your belly should barely touch the earth. Keep your tail sticking straight ahead.

With SkyClaw's relentless focus on training and ThunderClan's gradual recovery, hunting lessons had taken some time for Wolfpaw to wrap their head around. Each attempt at stalking seemed wrought with a new challenge, be it the crack of a stick or crumple of a leaf they hadn't even known would go brown at this time of year. Keep trying had been Rowanthorn's advice, and with nothing else to do, Wolfpaw had committed to just that. As the sun crawled towards its midday high, things fell into alignment for the young apprentice.

They were stalking a squirrel. They had found tall grass to hide in. Their prey hadn't seen them.

As the grey creature turned to pat at the earth, Wolfpaw moved forward a step, so soft against the earth it was as if a ghost was traversing instead. They spotted a glimpse at what the squirrel was doing, burying a horse chestnut, and swallowed a lump in their throat. They had to get this right. Another step, then another, then the rodent lifted his head and looked around and Wolfpaw froze mid-stance, eyes closed in a silent prayer to StarClan until he heard the pitter-patter of tiny hands against the soil again. Now or never.

Wolfpaw gathered their haunches beneath themselves and lept, squarely landing upon the creature's back. Screams and growls shattered the silence of the forest and Wolfpaw moved to press his limb against the creature's throat to mute its distress calls. As the noise began to die down, a shaken smile appeared on their muzzle. "I... I did it!" A rush of adrenaline almost convinced them to let go of the animal before remembering that it wasn't over yet, not while air still reached the squirrel's lungs.

They held the squirrel between their paws, watching as its violent kicks for freedom began to wane. But it did not succumb to its fate. The breaths of the rodent were ragged, angry; even if Wolfpaw let it go, it would not forgive them. Jet black eyes burned with anger and fear, pleading for a life that didn't feel like Wolfpaw's to take. Their jaws hung agape as they looked down at the squirrel, empathy acting like thorny tendrils gripping at his heart. The foliage shifted and Wolfpaw felt compelled to answer whoever, or whatever emerged. "If I do this... does this make me a killer?" It had felt different eating things that were already dead, like some natural cycle to life. Contributing to that cycle made the skin beneath their fur grow cold. If they had to starve to avoid being anything like Skyclaw... then all they would regret was that their last meal had been a mouse. "Its soul will go to StarClan... won't it?" That was the conclusion they had gotten from eavesdropping Thundergleam as a kit. "But... so did Howlingstar's... I can't... I can't do it..."


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[leafhusk]

leafhusk’s fur brushed against the foliage of her home. after countless days of twiddling her paws, she was free. the lack of cobwebs on her fur lifted an unspeakable weight from her shoulders. her legs could finally stretch outside camp, and she was able to provide for her clan once again. hunting was an amateur skill of hers, neither good nor bad. the molly’s paws were large, but her fur guided her through the earthy hues of thunderclan, undetectable to most preys.

a mouse hangs limply from her jaws while she pushes through some leaves. her golden eyes land on wolfpaw’s face of triumph, and then the… sad, wheezing squirrel in their mitts. her very deceased, very non-moving prey is placed delicately on the ground. "great job, wolfpaw." she smiles, yet it flattens while the apprentice begins to ponder. a surge of annoyance causes her tail to twitch, although she forces it to settle. it took her moons to be fine with eating freshly caught prey.

"it doesn’t. prey is to be eaten, as stated in the code... you’re doing this for the benefit of the clan." she shakes her head, trying not to focus on how the thing by wolfpaw’s grip writhes in agony. it’s all too familiar. her eyes glance away for a moment, then return. "besides, our prey doesn’t believe in starclan. it won’t remember you so it can’t haunt your dreams."

⚘

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[BASILPAW!]

( 𖤓 ) "ye-eaah wolfpaw!" the cheerful shout echoes from the pale throat as basilpaw skips out into the open, a mouse of his own clutched in his jaws. his sibling's first catch is something to celebrate, and delight sparkles in the green gaze of the boy, paws tapping across the ground. "good catch!" he goes to press against the cream point but halts as he watches the squirrel wriggle painfully in his sibling's jaws. basilpaw's tabby head tips, brow furrowing as wolfpaw stares down at their catch. "w-what's wrong?" he asks before his sibling speaks.

truthfully, basilpaw has never thought twice about killing prey. it seems the natural way of things, like how the sun rises and sets, and it certainly does not feel like murder. as the other apprentice stammers out their concern, though, basilpaw sets his mouse down, glancing at it as if seeing it in a new light. do prey souls go to starclan? is there a mouse starclan for good mice? suddenly he's not so hungry.

leafhusk emerges from the undergrowth, another mouse clutched in her maw and it joins basilpaw's on the ground as the lead warrior compliments wolfpaw. she has a very matter-of-fact way of thinking things over, and the cream tabby can feel himself being convinced. he's never felt guilt about this before, and it's not going to get him anywhere feeling it now. "leafhusk is right, wolfie," the boy confirms, blinking at his sibling with comforting green eyes. "it's for food, so it's not a waste, and it's not bad." he nods to himself as if he's convinced his own mind. a soft pink nose reaches out to gently nuzzle the worried other, breathing in the comforting scent of his sibling.

IF YOU LET IT ALONE 𖤓 IT WILL SURELY GROW

• // "#FAC966"
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  BASILPAW 𖤓 HE / THEY, APPRENTICE OF THUNDERCLAN. MENTORED BY CAMPIONSONG. SIBLING TO MERLINPAW, WOLFPAW, SUNNYPAW. 7 MOONS OLD, PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a cream ticked tabby with high white, and green eyes. a tall boy sporting a chaotically ruffled coat of pale cream tabby. darker ticked stripes flow down his fur, and band around his legs and face. his chest, stomach, muzzle, and most of his tail are white, and he has ferny-green eyes that sparkle with mischief.
  

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[Bugpaw !]

*+:｡.｡ Bugpaw had never considered what it meant to take a life before. Although she couldn't say she particularly enjoyed the blood spill and bone snap that came with hunting for her clan, she also couldn't deny the primal satisfaction that came soon after. To hunt is to eat, to feed her family and friends, so no matter what she'll continue to follow in her brother's and Morningcloud's tutelage.

All that being said, Bugpaw finds Leafhusk's answer rather depressing. She glances between her clan-mates and the struggling squirrel, fighting for its life...what came after for the squirrel? Was there truly no starclan for those deemed prey? Bugpaw shivered, quickly shaking her head - and the troubling train of thought with it.

"It's a really good catch, too! I've never seen a squirrel so big - besides my sister," she giggles, eager to inject a bit of levity into the situation as she comes to stand beside Basilpaw, "Nut-thing can compare!"

*+:｡.｡ Updated 3/22/24

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  GENERAL:
  ♫ Bugpaw
  ♫ DFAB— She/Her
  ♫ 6 moons — Ages
  ♫ Daughter to Flamewhisker and Flycatcher
  ♫ Sibling to Falconheart, Stormfeather, Lilykit, Butterflykit, Scorchedpaw, Squirrelpaw, Sunpaw
  ♫ Thunderclan — apprentice
  ♫ Apprenticed to Falconheart
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ♫Physically easy | mentally easy
  ♫ Attack in bold pink
  injuries: None currently

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[MERLINPAW]

Merlinpaw had never been the best at hunting. Her paws had always been too clumsy under her feet, like she existed as this bearish lump of unstable mass and splintered bone, hulking over that which she had been meant to slide or slink beneath. Whenever Flamestar requested for her to just try again, she would always face the same dilemma. Somehow, a stray root or lone leaf conspired to ruin her hunts for her. Today, she only observed her fellow apprentices whom had already sharpened their blades, honed their keen skills to a fine point. Was she forever cursed to bear dull nails and maladroit maw? She simply followed her peers through the foliage, as though the blue tortoiseshell sepia were nothing more than an unsightly daub on the grand painting of the forest, one who could not chaffer with the natural conversation of near-silent bodies against the fronds and knolls. Merlinpaw, at least, attempted not to disrupt the hunt for the others. At least Wolfpaw, Basilpaw, and Bugpaw seemed to have much more of a handle on it than her, though that only sent more worries streaking down her spine, graceless rivers of shame running down her messy coat. At this rate, the young molly figured she would never catch up, and never understand what she had not been borne with.

She stayed back a little bit even as Wolfpaw hesitated to kill the squirrel, their grievances laconic like a spoken statement, even as their proficiency made them falter at the end. There existed the darkest part of her that spewed out jealousy like it were the most bitter of liquors, a mere stain upon an otherwise pure heart. Why did one who excelled more at hunting hesitate at the last moment? If she were in her sibling's position, she would not be the way she was now (as the mind, narrowed by its own naivete, shifted its blame outwards like a blistered wound). But she could not say that she would think of the same thing when facing the fear-laden eye of the prey animal, like the light that burned within it stood as a mere brevity to be extinguished, and she did not know if she had the strength to do the same. A killer... It was not until a few moments later that Merlinpaw shuffled towards her light-colored littermate. "It's okay... Every - Everyone's right... Um, if you eat it, it died for a, uh, g-good purpose..." The molly mewled to their sibling, though the words splayed ungracefully from her stuttering chords, like some sort of unspeakable incantation rather than an ideal that she was not sure she believed herself. Still, did dull golden gaze blink and whiskers twitch in concern. ​