private we live and we learn [thriftpaw]

[GRAVELSNAP]

Being assigned an apprentice was not something that Gravelsnap ever expected, and yet here they are, a mentor, before they have even seen a full turning of the four seasons. Still, there is no room for self-doubt in their mind. They must be a good mentor, there is no other option. Sootstar is counting on them; the entire clan is counting on them. They haven’t had the chance to check in with their own mentor yet, to ask whether Houndthistle has any advice on how they should train their own apprentice.

As it is, Gravelsnap strides across the open moorland with their apprentice at their side, a mismatched pair of cats. Already they feel a bit protective over the child, despite the significant dislike that they have always held toward younger cats. Nothing bad will happen to Thriftpaw under their tutelage; the first step in keeping him safe will be to try and find out how much he already knows, to see what they will need to focus on.

"Thriftpaw," they say, an attempt to catch the apprentice’s—their apprentice’s—attention. "You weren’t allowed outside of camp before you became an apprentice. So I will show you around now." The moorland is vast, and they do not plan on keeping Thriftpaw cooped up in camp throughout his entire apprenticeship, so he will have to learn the territory’s layout eventually. Of course, Gravelsnap doesn’t intend to allow the cream tabby the freedom to wander about until he’s proven himself responsible. They will not lose this child, this apprentice who depends on them to teach him.

Up ahead, they can already see a familiar oily black path. It is devoid of roaring sound for now, nothing dangerous lurking about. "This here is the border with ShadowClan. You must avoid stepping on it; monsters walk upon it, and they will not hesitate to devour you." They recall the sight of grotesque blood smears across dark asphalt, the aftermath of a monster’s kill. They hope to never see a WindClanner’s blood pooling on the path—to lie in death upon the monster-path is fitting only for the rats of ShadowClan, never for a WindClan cat. They tip their head, hazel gaze flitting to their apprentice. "Any questions?"



// @Thriftkit
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[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]​

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[Thriftfeather]

There are times that Thriftpaw suspects he was born with a rabbit's heart instead of a cat's. It would explain why his heart kicks into speed so often — it's too small for his body, it needs to beat double time to keep up. Just like how Thriftpaw needs to take multiple steps to match the distance of one of Gravelsnap's strides.

"I've seen some of this," Thriftpaw tells Gravelsnap, sounding uncertain. It couldn't have been long ago, and already the memory is a wavering thing. He stays close to Gravelsnap's flank and eyes any gorse they pass warily, "And there was a — a bush cut my ear." That memory sticks in Thriftpaw's mind like honey, even if the lead up to it has been lost to him.

He wonders if this is anywhere near where he had been found. None of it looked familiar — Thriftpaw would remember seeing a monster.

"Does... does the monster ever walk off the path?" Thriftpaw whispers it to Gravelsnap, not wanting to be heard by the monster, "Can it run faster than a — can it run faster than me?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 3 MOONS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

The tabby at their side has to take quick steps to keep up with them, they notice, but Gravelsnap doesn’t slow their stride. Keeping up with them will be good practice for running the moor like a great WindClanner. That is their job now, their duty—training, teaching, protecting. Thriftpaw tells them that he’s seen some of the land before, and Gravelsnap only smiles and nods. Then the child tells them that he’d had his ear cut by a bush, and Gravelsnap’s smile fades just as quickly as it had come. Their basest instinct is to take it as a complaint, as whining, and snap back telling Thriftpaw to toughen up. But that isn’t what a mentor does, is it? That’s what their father does. And Gravelsnap is not their father, no matter how they were taught to be like him. "A bush… was it one of those?" They flick their eel-black tail at a nearby gorse bush, tilting their head toward their apprentice. "I’ve been cut by one before, too. It’s the same plant that surrounds our camp, keeps us safe."

Thriftpaw asks next after the monsters that they speak of; do they ever leave the path? No, is the obvious answer. But Gravelsnap isn’t sure. They haven’t seen a monster leave the path, but then again, they’ve only seen a monster once or twice. "The monsters have never left the path from what I’ve seen. But I wouldn’t put it past them—bloodthirsty, vile creatures." They think of Briarstar… or what remained of her. "They can run faster than any cat. Especially faster than you. Until you’re a warrior, you’ll stay away from the thunderpath." They don’t explain to the child what a thunderpath is, why it’s called such; a lesson for a future date, they suppose. This is merely a tour. And a test.
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[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Thriftfeather]

Thriftpaw nods an affirmative when asked about the bush that cut him, rather than vocalize it. He'd noticed the bush that cut him is the very same one that encircles camp, protects it, if Gravelsnap is to be taken at their word. A heart surrounded by ribs — is a heart ever at risk of being pierced? Thriftpaw's own has never learned to settle, and suddenly it feels less like a strange thought and more like an eventuality.

But Gravelsnap's warning about the Thunderpath strikes true. He doesn't want to go near the thunderpath, not now and certainly not when he is a warrior. He doesn't want to see a vile creature, not knowing it can run faster than him, or knowing that it may be unpredictable.

"Is there something else you want — is there something else you want to show me here?" Thriftpaw asks, because he doesn't know how to say he doesn't want to be here anymore. He feels too close to the thunderpath already. Surely a monster would be able to spot him or Gravelsnap in an instant?​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 3 MOONS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

The child asks whether that was all they wanted to show him, and Gravelsnap flicks an ear. They are trying not to be short with their apprentice—their irritability with kits will not assist them in training this golden-striped menace. "I only wanted to score you where the border lies. On the other side is ShadowClan territory." They do not look at Thriftpaw as they respond, but stare off across the thunderpath. Are any ShadowClanners there, watching? Waiting? Hoping for an opening to attack? He will not give them one. He has an apprentice to defend now.

They flick their tail, grimacing. They had hoped that perhaps Thriftpaw would seem more interested, just as Gravelsnap himself had been when he was younger. "What do you know of ShadowClan?" A simple way to judge how much Thriftpaw already knows—Gravelsnap needs to get a feel for how knowledgable his apprentice is in the ways of clan life, as well as for how experienced he is with hunting and fighting. He knows nothing of this child yet, and as with everything else in this world, he needs to know more.

No matter what the other tom says, Gravelsnap will tilt their head, squinting at the child. "We should go to the border with ThunderClan next," he suggests, already looking in the direction of the clan that rejected Sootstar’s request for an alliance.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Thriftfeather]

ShadowClan territory.

Thriftpaw looks back over the thunderpath with far more apprehension than the already sizable amount he had before. He sees plainly how they've earned their name; the land is lower there, shielded from the sky by a line of needly-leaved cypress trees. A thought strikes him then: just how big are the territories? How far beyond his sight does WindClan stretch? How far beyond its borders does the world stretch?

It would be enough to overwhelm him if he dwells on it, so Thriftpaw redirects his thoughts with an ease that comes from unfortunate practice. He doesn't need to worry about the size of the world — he only needs to know the size of WindClan's borders. He's being shown WindClan's borders. This is a good thing.

"I know ShadowClan is... a bunch of frog-eaters?" Thriftpaw answers like he is tasting the words for the first time. The look he offers to Gravelsnap is uncertain and seeking.

Thriftpaw nods his assent to Gravelsnap's suggestion. ThunderClan's border sounds far better than ShadowClan's border, assuming it isn't monster infested. "Do there —" His nose wrinkles, that isn't right! "Is there just ShadowClan and ThunderClan? That have borders with us?"​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 3 MOONS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

The apprentice’s response to their question is uncertain, nearly a question in itself. They note such uncertainty for later—they will need to teach Thriftpaw more about the other clans of the land. They will need to build his knowledge, and his confidence alongside it. They simply aren’t sure how they should do such a thing. "That’s correct. ShadowClan is a bunch of frog-eaters. But they are also thieves, liars, and hypocrites. They want to destroy WindClan. They are cursed by StarClan." To be cursed by the stars is a fate that Gravelsnap wouldn’t wish upon anyone but their enemies. But Briarstar and then Pitchstar met their ends abruptly, both having multiple of their lives ripped away in one go. What other explanation is there for ShadowClan’s misfortune?

He turns his back on the thunderpath, setting off in the direction of WindClan’s border with the forest clan. Thriftpaw asks whether the two already-mentioned clans are the only ones that share borders with WindClan, and they shake their head. "The ThunderClan border is this way. And after we pass that border, we’ll come across the most dangerous border." Their lip curls into a snarl, the image of a black-furred apprentice flashing through their mind. "RiverClan lives across the gorge, and they want us all dead. Their leader is plagued by insanity." They appreciate their golden apprentice’s curiosity, his willingness to learn more, but they can’t help but wish he hadn’t asked about the other borders.

Ahead, they can see where the border with ThunderClan lies, and their ears flatten against their head. "We’re nearly there already—it isn’t too far. When we reach it, tell me what you smell."​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Thriftfeather]

As Thriftpaw follows at Gravelsnap's side, he cannot help but glance backwards at ShadowClan. He's lucky to have a mentor who knows so much about the other clans — lucky to have been warned about their nature. Cursed by StarClan... because they want to destroy WindClan, or because of everything else about them? Or are they that way because of the curse? A shiver runs through Thrifrpaw, and his attention snaps back to Gravelsnap's current lesson.

RiverClan also borders WindClan, Thriftpaw learns. Hearing about how ShadowClan has so many flaws, and how RiverClan has a leader who is sick with something called insanity, Thriftpaw is suddenly grateful that he is here. If he was to be in a clan, he should be glad that it is the best clan.

"What's wrong with ThunderClan?" Thriftpaw asks, because he's coming to understand that each of the clans bordering them have something wrong with them. His voice doesn't settle into anything resembling calm, but the nerves that had shaken it have eased. He's learning, Thriftpaw reminds himself. Gravelsnap is teaching him so many things. This is all good.

His response to Gravelsnap's instructions are a solemn nod. Anticipation builds under his skin with every step closer they take to ThunderClan's border. This is all good. Thriftpaw doesn't need to worry about the world beyond this.

Thriftpaw's nose crinkles. He glances to Gravelsnap — is this the border? — and answers as if he'd gotten the confirmation, "It's all... other cats. And leaves," Was that all Gravelsnap was expecting? "And — and the smell of the other cats is old."​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 4 MOONS​

 

[GRAVELSNAP]

Their eyes shift from the border ahead to their apprentice, a pleased expression sliding onto their face. What’s wrong with ThunderClan? They are proud of their apprentice already, grateful with how quickly he is learning. Perhaps being a mentor will prove to be easy, given such an intelligent apprentice. They scoff in response, though, claws flexing in the dirt. ThunderClan could have been WindClan’s ally, once. "Sootstar went to ThunderClan to propose an alliance, a defense for both clans against other clans like ShadowClan and RiverClan. But Howlingstar is self-serving and stupid, and scorned her." And how dare she-! Who would turn down a cat like Sootstar, someone who, though small, has such an imposing presence.

They shrug at the thought of the forest clan, though. "ThunderClan hasn’t been a threat… yet. But Sootstar will defend the clan from them, if they try to do anything." They think of their smoky blue leader calling out the other leaders at gatherings, shouting about hypocrisy and disrespect. WindClan has a fierce protector, both in arguments and in fights.

The golden-furred child explains what he smells, and Gravelsnap nods once. "Good," they praise, though it’s stiff. They cannot expect such a new apprentice to know the exact scent of each clan so soon, and they are proud that Thriftpaw can tell that the smell is old. "ThunderClan hasn’t marked this border well in a while, then. They must be growing lazy." For a moment, they contemplate taking advantage. They could muddle the scent line, move WindClan scent just that much farther—but they will not be the cause of another fight. They can handle themself in battle, but Thriftpaw cannot. They will need to focus on his fighting skills, and quickly.

"Take note of ThunderClan’s scent; I will test you next time. And—we’ll begin your battle training soon, but until then I expect you to be on every patrol with me. Dawn, dusk, all of them." They flick a dark ear at the child, expression stern. They aren’t above dragging their apprentice around by the ear, if need be.​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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