- Dec 30, 2022
- 153
- 64
- 28
They had always been a little different from the other apprentices. He tired more easily from his duties; playing was something that would be fine one moment, and the next, he would be on the floor befuddled. There were other little things he noticed about himself, especially now that leaf-bare had claimed their home, mainly that he strongly disliked the snow. At first, it had been fun to run around and push it off of the moors onto unsuspecting patrols (not that he would claim responsibility for such a thing happening), now, it was a burden, siphoning away his hiding places and leaving a biting residue upon his paws. Hunger and death seemed synonymous with winter, concepts that Snailpaw did not find himself completely understanding. Why was hunger so bad if you could just eat more food? Why was death so bad if it meant you would never be hungry again? No one seemed to give them a straight answer, so they had given up on that endless cycle of questioning and moved on to others - like why was he the one that needed to go on patrols? Why did he have to learn how to fight and hunt and do all the things that made him feel bad?
Such protests were seldom vocalised by the grey tabby, though today, he had decided to take matters into his own paws. It would not be the first time that Snailpaw conveniently went missing when his mentor wanted him for something and it would not be the last, still, the long-furred feline had left the cuddle pile of apprentices early that day to find another place in the camp to rest in peace. The fur bristled along his marbled back as he scurried about the open camp, dodging the sleeping bodies of his groupmates as he went. They heard a few grumbles when their clumsy paws accidentally found a tail or two, but a quick apology was enough to placate most of those he'd awoken. Snailpaw paused when he'd escaped the main horde of snoozers, and craned his neck up towards Silverpelt. The stars were fading with the morning's fast approach and already, he saw the shapes of warriors behind gaps in the gorse walls. Their ears flattened - it seemed it wouldn't be as easy to shirk work as they'd originally thought. Blue eyes shot toward the camp entrance, then back towards the shelter they'd left.
Panic struck Snailpaw as they heard a set of pawsteps crunching on the snow behind them, all too quickly, they dived headfirst into a pile of snow, biting back colourful curses as the cold nipped their ears. It was all strategy, of course: if someone asked them why they were awake, Snailpaw would have no answer, but if someone asked them why they were pretending to be a snowcat? The possibilities for a good cover-up would be endless. They poked their head out of the snowpile until just their muzzle and eyes were visible, the latter blinking innocently at whoever had spooked him. "Look! I'm a RiverClanner!" He beamed overenthusiastically to them, two lumps of snow moving subtly where the apprentice flailed their alabaster paws. It did not matter to them if their joke made little sense, the confusion from anyone who didn't pretend to get the joke would bring enough joy as it was.
Such protests were seldom vocalised by the grey tabby, though today, he had decided to take matters into his own paws. It would not be the first time that Snailpaw conveniently went missing when his mentor wanted him for something and it would not be the last, still, the long-furred feline had left the cuddle pile of apprentices early that day to find another place in the camp to rest in peace. The fur bristled along his marbled back as he scurried about the open camp, dodging the sleeping bodies of his groupmates as he went. They heard a few grumbles when their clumsy paws accidentally found a tail or two, but a quick apology was enough to placate most of those he'd awoken. Snailpaw paused when he'd escaped the main horde of snoozers, and craned his neck up towards Silverpelt. The stars were fading with the morning's fast approach and already, he saw the shapes of warriors behind gaps in the gorse walls. Their ears flattened - it seemed it wouldn't be as easy to shirk work as they'd originally thought. Blue eyes shot toward the camp entrance, then back towards the shelter they'd left.
Panic struck Snailpaw as they heard a set of pawsteps crunching on the snow behind them, all too quickly, they dived headfirst into a pile of snow, biting back colourful curses as the cold nipped their ears. It was all strategy, of course: if someone asked them why they were awake, Snailpaw would have no answer, but if someone asked them why they were pretending to be a snowcat? The possibilities for a good cover-up would be endless. They poked their head out of the snowpile until just their muzzle and eyes were visible, the latter blinking innocently at whoever had spooked him. "Look! I'm a RiverClanner!" He beamed overenthusiastically to them, two lumps of snow moving subtly where the apprentice flailed their alabaster paws. It did not matter to them if their joke made little sense, the confusion from anyone who didn't pretend to get the joke would bring enough joy as it was.