- Sep 2, 2023
- 190
- 56
- 28
The trees’ leaves have begun to peel away, falling like red and brown snake shed across the forest floor. The coming of a new season, a colder one. Falconpaw remembers clearly that he had been born sometime during the coldest of the seasons, but he doesn’t remember much from his first few months of life. He’s heard that the coldest time of year is the hardest to hunt in, the hardest to exist in, and ThunderClan will need all of the warriors that they can get to provide for the clan. Unfortunately, Falconpaw can’t call himself a warrior yet. It’s a sting, the thought that Stormfeather had managed to become a warrior before him, but he supposes her injuries balance it out. Either way, though, the boy has set his sights on improvement, and he knows what he must do to achieve it.
He’s found a tree just on the edge of camp, where he’s certain his striped pelt is visible to anyone within camp who hasn’t yet settled down for the night. The tree isn’t too tall, but it’s tall enough to provide a challenge—and its bare branches are brittle, already having caused the apprentice to take a tumble (or seven). Frustration tenses his shoulders as Falconpaw braces his forepaws against the trunk once again, worn bark providing little grip as he begins to draw himself up its side. He quickly makes it to the same height he’d been at before his last fall, but after that the only available holds are a tangle of broken branches caused by his own prior attempts. He clenches his jaw and lifts a paw to test out the unbroken part of a branch, clinging carefully to the tree and trying to ignore the shaking in his limbs. He can’t be getting tired already—he has so much more practicing to do. He needs to make it to the top of this tree before morning!
Pale ears flicker backward at the sound of paws disturbing the leaves somewhere behind and below him. A clanmate, and probably a warrior who seeks to scold him for being up past the last patrol’s return. He knows, he knows that rest is important. But how can he rest, how can he sleep, when his clan will need him soon and he still isn’t prepared to help? He can’t just sleep, not when there’s training to be done. Not if he wants to pass his assessment the second time—if there is a second time. Will Burnstorm give him another chance, or is he doomed to be Falconpaw forever?
No. He won’t be Falconpaw for any longer. Before snow fully covers the ground, he’ll receive his warrior name in front of the whole clan. Which means that he can’t have any distractions like being told to go to sleep. He needs to get this right this time. With a careful flick of his tail, the boy calls out softly, "I know, I know, I’m up late. Just… just let me try one more time, okay?" He hopes that whoever has stumbled across him isn’t in too dreary a mood, but he also doesn’t stop himself from continuing, "Promise—I promise I’ll go to sleep after this. Just one more try." If a bit of desperation bleeds into his tone, then that’s between Falconpaw and the stars, isn’t it?
He’s found a tree just on the edge of camp, where he’s certain his striped pelt is visible to anyone within camp who hasn’t yet settled down for the night. The tree isn’t too tall, but it’s tall enough to provide a challenge—and its bare branches are brittle, already having caused the apprentice to take a tumble (or seven). Frustration tenses his shoulders as Falconpaw braces his forepaws against the trunk once again, worn bark providing little grip as he begins to draw himself up its side. He quickly makes it to the same height he’d been at before his last fall, but after that the only available holds are a tangle of broken branches caused by his own prior attempts. He clenches his jaw and lifts a paw to test out the unbroken part of a branch, clinging carefully to the tree and trying to ignore the shaking in his limbs. He can’t be getting tired already—he has so much more practicing to do. He needs to make it to the top of this tree before morning!
Pale ears flicker backward at the sound of paws disturbing the leaves somewhere behind and below him. A clanmate, and probably a warrior who seeks to scold him for being up past the last patrol’s return. He knows, he knows that rest is important. But how can he rest, how can he sleep, when his clan will need him soon and he still isn’t prepared to help? He can’t just sleep, not when there’s training to be done. Not if he wants to pass his assessment the second time—if there is a second time. Will Burnstorm give him another chance, or is he doomed to be Falconpaw forever?
No. He won’t be Falconpaw for any longer. Before snow fully covers the ground, he’ll receive his warrior name in front of the whole clan. Which means that he can’t have any distractions like being told to go to sleep. He needs to get this right this time. With a careful flick of his tail, the boy calls out softly, "I know, I know, I’m up late. Just… just let me try one more time, okay?" He hopes that whoever has stumbled across him isn’t in too dreary a mood, but he also doesn’t stop himself from continuing, "Promise—I promise I’ll go to sleep after this. Just one more try." If a bit of desperation bleeds into his tone, then that’s between Falconpaw and the stars, isn’t it?
[ find me way out there ]
