Though it has been many seasons since Iciclefang has muddied her paws with apprentice tasks, she heads to the elder's den without shame. There is none, she thinks stubbornly, in caring for those who had served RiverClan diligently until their bodies had worn down. As an apprentice, she might have turned her nose up at the chore just as any young 'paw might now, but as a seasoned warrior and someone who has served on two leaders' councils and had her needs tended to as a queen, Iciclefang knows the core of Clan life is servitude.
Part of her does feel a little sorry for @HERONPAW ! . He'd been disrespectful, yes, and he did deserve to be punished for that, but Iciclefang had not missed the bad-tempered malice exuding from Midnightash. She hadn't disciplined the young apprentice in good faith; she'd done it out of spite and some personal anger. Still, what's done is done, and she'd not question a lead warrior — even one only a moon or so out of the apprentice's den.
"Here," she murmurs to Heronpaw, handing him a wad of fresh moss. "Start building a new nest. I'll collect the old bedding so we can throw it out." She extends her claws, claws that are well-honed and have seen many battles, and begins to shred the soiled old bedding to make it easier to roll up and dispose of.
The two of them work in silence for a few heartbeats. Iciclefang does not mind that. She had offered her assistance for many reasons, but to forge some kind of friendship had not really been one of them.
"The last apprentice who made this one was careless," she notes, her nose wrinkling. "There are more thistles in this than a spider has legs." Her ear twitches disapprovingly. "I only hope that wasn't Pinefrost." Her daughter won't be making elder's beds anymore, but she has only just left the apprentice's den herself; it's as likely as any that her former apprentice had been the one to build this nest. Iciclefang only hopes she'd taught her better than that.
Part of her does feel a little sorry for @HERONPAW ! . He'd been disrespectful, yes, and he did deserve to be punished for that, but Iciclefang had not missed the bad-tempered malice exuding from Midnightash. She hadn't disciplined the young apprentice in good faith; she'd done it out of spite and some personal anger. Still, what's done is done, and she'd not question a lead warrior — even one only a moon or so out of the apprentice's den.
"Here," she murmurs to Heronpaw, handing him a wad of fresh moss. "Start building a new nest. I'll collect the old bedding so we can throw it out." She extends her claws, claws that are well-honed and have seen many battles, and begins to shred the soiled old bedding to make it easier to roll up and dispose of.
The two of them work in silence for a few heartbeats. Iciclefang does not mind that. She had offered her assistance for many reasons, but to forge some kind of friendship had not really been one of them.
"The last apprentice who made this one was careless," she notes, her nose wrinkling. "There are more thistles in this than a spider has legs." Her ear twitches disapprovingly. "I only hope that wasn't Pinefrost." Her daughter won't be making elder's beds anymore, but she has only just left the apprentice's den herself; it's as likely as any that her former apprentice had been the one to build this nest. Iciclefang only hopes she'd taught her better than that.
… ❞