private THOU ART I | downypaw

[SOOTSPOT]

Sootspot had not used the tunnels to ShadowClan since the day he had taken kits from their home. Under a tense guise of neutrality, there had been no need for him to explore past the vast underground of the moors, but time and hunger had put an end to whatever tepid bond remained between the groups. With Bluepool's death, it had been difficult to find cats willing to come with him, believing it to be a desperate mission if a Lead Warrior hadn't come back alive. Despite that, he wasn't alone. Tentatively, the chimera poked his head out of the tunnel's exit, blinking at dawn's scarlet light shining through gaps in the wetland trees. To Sootspot, it had made the most sense to arrive at this time, ShadowClan patrolled both night and day, the time in between when parties had to be organised gave him and his ward a slim window to do what they could to keep WindClan fed. He moved a paw out of the former badger's den, flinching at the signature marshland squelch beneath it. 'Mother... how could you ever like this place?' It was filthy, unkempt and the once-home of the rogue he now knew to be a father.

The small cat pushed himself out of the burrow, turning his head and tasting the air. Nothing recent. "It is safe," he murmured into the tunnel, hoping it would be enough for Downypaw to emerge. A long time had passed since ex-mentor and ex-apprentice had hunted together, with Rattleheart around, the idea that he would ever get to talk to her again seemed nigh impossible - how lucky it was then, that the Lead Warrior would rather abandon his duties and pop out treacherous little urchins than finish training the stolen protege. The smile on Sootspot's maw was brief, fleeting, the happiness of the reunion with someone he'd once thought of as his child marred by the chill in the air that came with being in such a place. "We will hunt as many frogs as we can and keep their bodies in the tunnel. If ShadowClan finds you, run, we cannot reveal how we got here." WindClan was known for their speed, but Downypaw was young, short of stature and unfamiliar with the swamp. His order to avoid the tunnels was a death sentence, but they had to have known what they'd signed up for when he suggested hunting on richer lands. She would just have to avoid getting caught, as would he.

@downypaw
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[downyfur]

Run. It is all he's ever told them to do, and all they're really good for. Downypaw pulls themself out of the tunnels once more, not into the dawn-glazed moorland, but what seems to be the rooted, wet underbelly of it. Momentary glory strikes their gaze, and wide-eyed they turn around themself, pressing experimental little paws against the black floor with an inaudible pap-pap. "Right," she says, after a slight delay. "Sorry." They offer it on instinct, snatched from their maw like a rabbit kit from its burrow.

It's oddly right, being back underneath Sootspot's tutelage. They could not say they were happy, but they were comfortable, slipping right behind him as was their place instead of being invited up to stand where Rattleheart did. The lead warrior-turned-queen never showed it, but a sense of trepidation on their behalf had always haunted Downypaw when with them, like their apprentice was a poor caged thing to be shown the greater goodness of the world, but not all at once lest they get overwhelmed.

Rattleheart, always so good and gentle with them, was overwhelming in the freedom he tried to give them, like standing in bare fields with a thunderstorm crawling overhead, and every infinite direction to run in. She cannot even breathe freely with Sootspot, but at least she knows where to go.

The idea of getting caught—and being unable to flee to certain safety—is a nerve-wracking one. ShadowClan would shred Sootspot alive if they saw him again, and Downypaw thinks they might be able to get away with being held prisoner if Sootspot didn't interfere. Still, their best outcome hinged on simply not being caught.

Actually doing the stealing is a far easier task. The frogs are all around them, and they hardly make their presence unknown, which serves doubly as a disguise for any errant noises they may make. If rabbits have brains, frogs only have half, they think as pearly fangs sink into one of the slime-skinned creatures. Why would ShadowClan ever starve at all? No wonder they all came to this territory when the rogues came.

windclan apprentice | "speech." | tags​

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