"Shade, did you want to learn how to hunt for real?" Of course they did, they were Ferndance's child. Aside from the daily food delivery, a short while had passed since the cinnamon tabby had been able to spend some proepr time with her brood. With the day to herself and Shadepaw stuck in camp as her mentor patrolled, the opportunity had finally presented itself. It wouldn't be long before they were deemed old enough to drift out into the wider territory, to see the sights so many had taken for granted, to feel the thrill of adrenaline as one chased toads and battled trespassers. She wanted Shadepaw to grow up, the world was just funner when you weren't confined to the restrictions placed upon you by a tiny body and a developing mind. The independence to be oneself was crucial, no matter how often she'd tried to instill it within the quartet, Ferndance didn't know if the lesson would stick until they'd stepped out from their mentor's shadows and found the light for themselves.
She drifted closer to where the black tabby had set herself up, leaning over to lick the top of their head in greeting. The cinnamon tabby had had two apprentices prior, one who'd gone missing, one who'd been re-assigned as she found herself too pregnant to see the other through to the end. Shadepaw wasn't technically her apprentice (though she'd wished to mentor any of her children were), but bad luck could not strike her three times in a row... right? The idea seemed nonsensical, too superstitious for even the creator of superstitions. She leaned down to Shadepaw's level. "I think it's time you learned how to make the frogs of ShadowClan pay for their crimes..." Eyes flash with a sardonic intensity, the toothy smile of the cinnamon tabby twitching in amusement. Hunting was already like a sport to the tabby, so crucial to one's identity that she didn't know a Ferndance without it (not that her inner world was that deep to begin with). She didn't know if her exaggerations would make it even more meaningful to Shadepaw, but they were entertaining at least. "... of living." Truly, the greatest crime of all for a creature destined to end up in one's stomach.
@SHADEPAW