private trying hard to weaponize ] onepaw

[HOWLPAW]

The camp is alive with the usual bustle—warriors preparing for patrols, apprentices tending to their duties, and kits tumbling about in play. Howlpaw sits apart from it all, perched on a flat rock at the edge of the clearing, its amber eyes flickering from one movement to the next. It holds itself tensely, as if bracing for something unseen, its tail wrapped tightly around its paws. The chill of the morning air bites at its fur, but it doesn't flinch. Cold is easy. It has weathered worse. A faint rustle near the warriors' den draws its attention, and its gaze sharpens instinctively. Just a cat shifting their bedding. Nothing worth noting. Still, its claws scrape against the stone beneath it, an unconscious reaction to the constant hum of vigilance thrumming in its chest. It can't shake the feeling that something is off. Or maybe it is off—always waiting, always watching.

Around it, clanmates pass by, some sparing it a glance, most ignoring it entirely. It's used to that. The flicker of distrust in their eyes, the wary glances at its scars. It's nothing worth noting. Or at least, that's what it tells itself. It prefers the distance, anyway. Crowds feel suffocating, too many emotions pressing against it all at once, like a wave threatening to pull it under. But today, something feels different. Howlpaw's chest tightens with a restlessness it can't place. Its teeth ache with the urge to bite down, to sink into something solid. It knows that won't help—not really—but the thought nags at it all the same. It hasn't bitten anything or anyone in days. Maybe that's why it feels so wound up, like a spring coiled too tightly.

With a low sigh, it shifts its weight, glancing toward the camp entrance. The forest calls to it, the dense canopy offering the promise of solitude and shadow. It wonders if anyone would notice if it slipped away. Probably. They always seem to notice when it is the one that steps out of line. Another sigh escapes it, this one heavier. The rock beneath it feels too small, the camp too loud. Howlpaw's claws curl against the stone again, scraping lightly as it glares at nothing in particular. It wants to move, to do something, but the heaviness in its limbs keeps it standing in its place.

@ONEPAW​

 

[ONEPAW]

જ➶ All day she has been moving even though most of her own given chores have been done amd she can rest for a while if she wants to. But resting is never on her agenda as there is always something that she can be doing. It is this precise moment that she finds herself bumbling and getting underpaws, adults looking down at her with slight annoyance in their gazes and her returning it with apologetic looks as she makes her way toward the apprentice den. Her maw is clamped around something but she pauses when she notices Howlpaw perched on the stone. Almost immediately she changes directions and she quickly bounds over dodging around a couple of warriors. "Howlpaw! Howlpaw!" The thing she carries drops to the ground and she quickly scrambled to pick it up again. With quick paws she turns back around steps up to the rock, hoisting herself up to sit beside the other. With glee sje drops what she has been carrying.

A rather large but clearly dead grasshopper.

"Look! Isn't it pretty cool! I found it out in the forest but I dunno what killed it. Do you think we can eat it?" Honestly she has never eaten a bug before. But this one is pretty big which means she can share it with someone. Her gaze is bright and crystal as she looks at her fellow apprentice before reaching a paw, tapping at the dead grasshopper before she suddenly gasps. "I forgot to ask how you were doing! Everything going okay? Ya know with training and what not? We can always spar together if you want! Oh! Oh! Or we can go hunting together!"​

 

[HOWLPAW]

Howlpaw's ears flick toward the sound of its name, the shrill call cutting through the ambient noise of camp. It doesn't react immediately, though its amber eyes track the approaching figure with guarded curiosity. It recognizes her energy before anything else—bustling, relentless, a storm of enthusiasm that Howlpaw finds both alien and exhausting. When she scrambles onto its rock and plops down beside it, the dead grasshopper landing with an audible plop, Howlpaw finally turns its head to face her fully. The sight of the bug stirs something in Howlpaw, a brief flash of memory: scavenging under dim stars, hunger gnawing at its ribs, the crunch of insect shells between its teeth. It had learned early on that survival didn't care about pride or taste. Food was food. The grasshopper, large and still intact, looks almost appetizing, though Howlpaw knows it would never say such a thing aloud—not when its clanmates already watch it with wary eyes.

Its tail flicks once, betraying a sliver of interest, before it coils tighter around its paws. "You can eat it," Howlpaw says flatly, voice low and steady, with none of the brightness she exudes. "It's not much, but it'll keep you alive." It glances at her, gauging her reaction. Her excitement seems genuine, a stark contrast to its own cautious reserve. She's too bright, too eager, but not in a way that threatens Howlpaw. Just in a way it doesn't understand. The offer to spar or hunt together pulls a quiet scoff from its throat. Howlpaw shakes its head, the motion slow, deliberate. "I don't need to spar right now." Its claws scrape lightly against the stone again, a subtle sign of the restlessness still simmering in its chest. It hesitates, considering her suggestion to hunt, the forest's earlier pull still lingering in its mind. "Hunting, maybe. The forest is quieter than here." It doesn't say it would prefer to go alone, but the thought lingers, unspoken, in the pause that follows.​