camp PEPPA PIG - muddy puddles

[LARKPAW.]

Larkkit had mixed feelings about the rain. On one side, it was wet and made things smell funny, but on the other, the rhythm of the droplets was a soothing sound and the sky was dark with clouds. However, because of her avoidance of the world outside the nursery, she hadn't realized that going outside after the rain could be so... 'dangerous'.

Not long after she had woken up for the day, Larkkit decided to assess the weather, unaware of the mess awaiting her outside, "The rain stopped," she murmured to herself, glancing outside the nursery. "But it's still a little cloudy. I should go outside."

Despite her blue eyes being locked onto her paws as she padded outside, desperately trying to avoid eye contact, she did not see the twig in front of a puddle. As she went to avoid the mud, she stepped on the twig and squealed, tumbling forward and making a splash in the dirty water.

Soaked, cold, and all messed up, Larkkit managed to step out of the puddle, her mind racing. "Oh no, now I'm all muddy..." she groaned, shivering. "Do... do the other kits play in this... for fun?! But their fur..."

How was she going to clean up her pelt now?

"Speech"​

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LET THE THUNDER ROAR!​

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[STORMFEATHER]

It was too stormy and cloudy to be assigned to anything for the morning yet. Although Stormpaw wanted to be the best warrior that she could be, she enjoyed moments of rest. She had barely become an apprentice and her mind was already spinning with how many things she had to keep track of and learn. Surely nobody would think ill of her if she slept in a little during a rainy day.

And so, the torbico apprentice was stretching her legs out, brushing out of the apprentice den as the rain subsided. She yawned and looked both ways for any sight of Owlear. To her surprise, she did not see the old tabby, but her former den-mate slip and slide on a muddy puddle. Stormpaw's eyes widened in concern and she bounced over.

"Oh Larkkit! I'm so sorry. Here, want me to help groom it off?" She fretted, holding up a white paw against the icky dark mud.

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[OWLEAR]

Should Larkkit hold on to her distaste for the dirtier aspects of their territory, her apprenticeship would certainly be a troublesome one. ThunderClan was not always made of beautiful clear skies and glimmering green leaves; sometimes they are thunderstorms and swelling riverbanks, or the acrid stench of a bloodied fox. There would be many moons for anyone to learn such aspects of this life, but he's not entirely separated from the amusement he feels when kittens are surprised by it. He is near the elders' den, strangely enough, conversing with one of the retired mollies about the state of their clan and the recently made apprentice. She is nosy, but pleasantly so, asking about Stormpaw's progress and his own expectations. He tells her that things are going well, that he has high hopes. He asks what she thinks of her, what her thoughts are on the kittens she must share camp with each day–

And that is a well enough moment to be confronted with just what he had been discussing. He tuts softly as he finds his paws and follows his own apprentice, though the noise is gentle and sympathetic. "Perhaps we could beg Berryheart for some clean moss. Best to get it off you while it has not yet dried or we'll have to dunk you in the river," he teases lightly.

˗ˏˋ〚  OOC NOTES INFORMATION 〛´ˎ˗

• ooc: —
• 
  ──── owlear. senior warrior of thunderclan. cis male.
  ──── approximately 90 moons old, yet still youthful.
  ──── pansexual and single,   though with past flings.
  
  ──── a chocolate tabby with long, thick fur and a broad-shouldered build. despite his age, he is still a strong, imposing tomcat with clear, attentive eyes. though they are a muted hazel, they seem to twinkle with silent wisdom and a warm, deep-seated joy.
• "speech"

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[LARKPAW.]

Eyes glancing over apprentice and mentor, Larkkit then looked to her paws, shuddering. She wasn't sure how to respond, words escaping her. Her head turned towards Owlear, though she kept her gaze down. "No! I mean, um... That... that, um.. it would..." Why was it so hard to simply say the moss would be fine?

"Moss... moss is... I don't want... th-the river... scary..." She didn't know what to do. What if they took it out the wrong way? Why couldn't the words form when she was talking to others? Murmuring to herself was fine, thinking was fine, but...

A sigh escaped her. "Moss... please. No river, no grooming..." That would work well enough, wouldn't it?

"Speech"​

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LET THE THUNDER ROAR!​

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