SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS \ cringe fishing fail

[FERNGILL]

It was quiet where he sat, cradled by the spindly limbs of the reeds, the hunting patrol he was on settled a little ways away. Even a tom as gung-ho as Fernpaw could only stay oblivious to his own failures for so long. After a certain point, the realisation became heavy and shadowed, eclipsing his optimism. He'd not caught a single thing. Not a fish-scale had snagged on his claws. In six moons of training... it was almost laughable. Again, and again... he'd had it explained to him so, so many times and every time he thought he understood he fluffed it again, again, again!

Concentration looked... odd, on such disproportionate features. The furrow of his brow against glassy goldfish eyes looked out of place. But that flare in his eyes- that total determination, it was as tangible as ever. Today would be the day, he was sure of it. The words of his father, a mantra at this point, repeated in his mind- strike fast. Where they're going to be. Catch them off guard. Catching the glint of scales in the sun, he-

Swiped. Water splashed in his face and dampened the fur of his leg. Pondwater eyes creaked open to find no fish on land, nothing skewered on his claws, and... well, with that almighty display, likely no more meals within a considerable area.

His form deflated.​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[Cindershade]

"Your shadow was above the water, Fernpaw." A shadowed hue appears from behind him, a carp dangled loosely within her jaws as she drops it by her feet when speaking. She had silently witnessed the failure the gangly apprentice had attempted, missing his kill by a hair and rewarded with only a soaked form. He visibly deflates in front of her, his form slouching in disappointment as she approaches the ginger tom. "Fish are wildy perceptive of their surroundings, despite how stupid they are. Being prey, they've adapted to seeing shadows above them and sinking deeper into the water. You must be faster—strike where you think they're heading. You can also wade into the depths and wait for them there. It takes patience when fishing." Her chartreuse gaze traces over him, a edge of sympathy melting her usual stoic hues.
"Try to hide within the reeds and undergrowth—they're a bit bare here. When Green-Leaf comes they'll be thicker and easier to hide in. I can't tell you how many times I've missed a catch when learning to fish. Heh...it just takes continous practice." Her tone comes off cool, but she tries to empathize with Fernpaw as best she could. She remembers the frustration of missing a catch, a fish sweeping by her claws or darting in a different direction than she aimed for. "Let's find you a different spot to try again. The river is full and there are plenty of opportunities to try again."
​

[ SILENCE IS DEAFENING ]​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

"A good attempt, Fernpaw. The energy was there." The form was off, but Cindershade had already explained that as he arrived, seeing the dejected and scruffy little apprentice trying to fish and failing might have annoyed him before. He'd been an apprentice for how long and still couldn't remember to watch his shadow over the water? But now Smokethroat mostly felt relief he was even trying and an eagerness to redirect his moping to something productive. The new sense of life in the air, the presene of fish once more filling their river to the brim, perhaps it put him in a charitable mood though he probably would not extend that same charity to Iciclepaw; she could handle the more direct way he spoke but her brother was a bit softer. Smokethroat pads forward, checking to see if the tortie behind him was still coming along or if she'd wandered off to find her own fishing spot since he'd called a training break to hunt; nonethless he paused alongside the dark spotted molly and offered a rare smile.
"Let's try again around the bend. They like it there because of the trees hanging over the water, the shade. They may not notice an accidental shadow then."
He was less worried about bringing anything home now that the freshkill pile was being stocked with abundance, everyone had gone a little stircrazy at the temporary camp and the moment the chance to fish sprang up they all took it. It was pleasing to see.

Apprentice Tag - @iciclepaw
​

 

[iciclefang]

Iciclepaw's own successes with hunting and fishing have not passed to her brothers. With sympathy, the tortoiseshell watches at Smokethroat's side as her ginger-furred brother fails another attempt to snag a smelt. Her pity is tangible in the air, but it's ringed with a kind of impatience. "I'm sure Mudpelt told you that, Fernpaw," she says with a furrow of her brow. "Remember? When we were kits? No shadows on the water." It had just been for fun then, in the puddles of rainwater gathered in their camp, but...

She sighs, but it's near-silent. Iciclepaw wants Fernpaw to succeed so badly in hunting and fishing, the same way she wants Darkpaw to strengthen his resolve and fight his enemies knowing he's bringing honor to RiverClan. She does not understand why they're both so incompetent. Despite it all... she loves her littermates.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

​

 

[FERNGILL]

He should have guessed with such an almighty display he'd attract a bit of a crowd; by no means was it something that annoyed him, but it did burn beneath his skin a little, like someone was holding a sunbeam against him. That keen sting of embarrassment... he didn't feel it often but he indeed felt it, enough that he could recognise it well enough. Everyone was perfectly nice- no one had venom in their voice, no one berated him. Shadows on the water- he'd forgotten it, in all the other techniques he was trying to remember.

He nodded along to Cindershade's words, but as she spoke them they seemed to get further and further away from him. So many options- fringed with a small anecdote about herself missing a catch that coaxed a small laugh from him. "You've missed catches...?" It was... nice of her, to offer her aid like this. Smokethroat too- with his patch-pelted sister tagging behind- offered a different, perhaps easier position. Rising to his feet, a small sigh left him as he prepared to move to the place Smokethroat had suggested. No shadows on the water.

Shimmering slightly with a thin threat of tears, Fernpaw's vision trembled between the faces of Cindershade, Smokethroat and his littermate. Iciclepaw had something... in her voice, something he couldn't quite pick apart. A strangeness that fringed her typical neutrality; not an unkindness, though. Was he making Mudpelt look bad? Like an awful teacher? When- he'd said, Iciclepaw was right, he'd said before to watch for the shadows, and yet...

"Wuh-what if I nev-never do it?" It was a defeatist thought, but in the throes of his emotions he could not push it away. "If I haven't cah-caught anything by now, wuh-what's gotta change?"​

✦ penned by pin ✦​