- Sep 26, 2023
- 164
- 19
- 18
RIVERCLAN
APPRENTICE
FOUR MOONS
BLIND IN BOTH EYES
BIOGRAPHY AND TAGS
APPRENTICED TO PIKESPLASH
PLAYED BY SHEOGORATH
Part of him is being selfish. Greedy. This was his very first, real catch. A robin, so fresh that it had not yet gone stiff. It was still warm. And as the boy trots back into camp with head and tail high, he's suddenly reminded that he can't even eat it. Not according to the so-called warrior code, anyways. The rest of the clan probably won't even realize how important this is to the boy. He had been bringing in crowfood for weeks, claiming it was fresh-kill. Of course they wouldn't know how special this robin was. But as blind eyes dance toward the nursery, Nettlepaw starts to feel the creeping poison of bitterness as it seeps throughout his mind. He wanted to celebrate his catch. Instead, he'd be giving it to Apricotflower and Hazecloud, and the other Queens and their kits inside. He tries not to look sour about it. Nettlepaw wants to be a great warrior of RiverClan some day, and that meant following the code. It meant keeping his clan-mates safe and fed, even at the cost of his own belly. It meant bravery, and sacrifice.
But he still can't help the irritation.
Nevertheless, Nettlepaw makes his way to the nursery, his fresh robin clamped in his jaws. Darkwhisker and Foxtail hadn't caught anything, which meant that it was up to Nettlepaw to make sure the kits got fed a fresh meal. He stops at the mouth of the reed woven den, milky eyes piercing the shadowy depths within. Dropping the feathered bird at his paws, he speaks into the darkness, "Hazecloud? Uhh... Bitekit? Anyone in there want a fresh meal?" Nettlepaw inquires, and he silently hopes that nobody answers. It's selfish of him, he understands. Perhaps the cold of leaf-bare was getting to the youth, or perhaps he had always been this way. Many in RiverClan called him prickly and volatile for a reason, after all. Was his reputation that of a porcupine in a cat's skin? Add snow and food scarcity on top, and it was a recipe for disaster. For now, though, Nettlepaw keeps his bitter temper to himself. At least for those inside the nursury, the robin meant more than just mere food. The feathers would warm the nests of those within, or serve as toys for the kittens to play with.
But he still can't help the irritation.
Nevertheless, Nettlepaw makes his way to the nursery, his fresh robin clamped in his jaws. Darkwhisker and Foxtail hadn't caught anything, which meant that it was up to Nettlepaw to make sure the kits got fed a fresh meal. He stops at the mouth of the reed woven den, milky eyes piercing the shadowy depths within. Dropping the feathered bird at his paws, he speaks into the darkness, "Hazecloud? Uhh... Bitekit? Anyone in there want a fresh meal?" Nettlepaw inquires, and he silently hopes that nobody answers. It's selfish of him, he understands. Perhaps the cold of leaf-bare was getting to the youth, or perhaps he had always been this way. Many in RiverClan called him prickly and volatile for a reason, after all. Was his reputation that of a porcupine in a cat's skin? Add snow and food scarcity on top, and it was a recipe for disaster. For now, though, Nettlepaw keeps his bitter temper to himself. At least for those inside the nursury, the robin meant more than just mere food. The feathers would warm the nests of those within, or serve as toys for the kittens to play with.