welcome to the storm [thriftpaw]

[GRAVELSNAP]

Between the cloud cover and the canopy above, there is no blue sky in sight. It’s oppressive, the way the forest seems to press in against their ribs. It’s almost as though the trees themselves don’t want WindClan here. Or perhaps the trees only reflect the wishes of the ThunderClanners. "We aren’t allowed to go much farther into the forest," they mutter to the golden-striped tom at their side, allowing their bitterness to shine through. The other clan’s leader had so graciously accepted them onto her territory, and yet treats them as though they’re no different from the rogues who took their home. Gravelsnap’s lip curls, eel-black tail lashing behind them as they stalk across fallen leaves. "But ThunderClan chose the worst territory, anyway, so why would we want to?" They turn to fix Thriftpaw with an expectant look, searching for agreement. They’ve acted as his mentor for months now, and they can only hope that they’ve managed that some of their irritation toward the other clans has rubbed off on their apprentice.

Their apprentice. They can hardly believe that he’s nearly of warrior age already. They remember their confusion, at first, at being burdened with the responsibility of training a cat so young. Now, though, despite their rocky patches, Gravelsnap feels as though they’ve both done well. But just as everything else does, this will end. Thriftpaw will become a warrior and receive a new name, and Gravelsnap will no longer see him all the time—a blessing and a curse, truly. They’ve grown surprisingly fond of their apprentice, but they will be glad when the weight of the responsibility of training him is lifted. They clear their throat and ask quietly, "Are you nervous about becoming a warrior soon?" They know that there is an assessment to be done before Thriftpaw is made a warrior, but isn’t this, facing down both illness and bloodthirsty rogues, trial enough?

// @Thriftpaw​

[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]​

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[Thriftfeather]

Homesickness is a feeling that is all too familiar to Thriftpaw. He feels it often — but never like this, never for a place. ThunderClan's territory is different than WindClan's. Thriftpaw's sight is crowded by trees that grow in so thickly they swallow the horizon whole. Undergrowth reaches from the ground in a confusing tangle; Thriftpaw feels as though he cannot walk three steps without catching his pelt on some manner of briar.

Gravelsnap is kind enough to show Thriftpaw around, and Thriftpaw tries to be grateful in spite of his disdain for what has been presented to him, up until the point that Gravelsnap asks Thriftpaw why anyone would want to see more of it. He senses Gravelsnap's annoyance, shrinks beneath it even though he knows (knows!) it isn't directed towards him, and then makes a conscious effort to straighten himself.

"ThunderClan has bees instead of brains," Thriftpaw's own lip curls into a mirror of Gravelsnap's expression, despite his rabbit-heart kicking into nervous speed.

The next question catches Thriftpaw off guard. His tail fluffs and gives a single lash before he can remember to keep it still and smooth. Embarrassed, he tucks it close to his body and places a paw over it, "I feel like I just — it feels like I just became an apprentice," It feels like Thriftpaw was just dropped on the sandy ground of WindClan's camp, shivering. It feels like he's lived an entire lifetime here. He frowns, "Are you sure I'll be..." He starts a vague gesture with the paw he was using to hold down his tail and then, remembering himself, places it back down, "Ready? To be a warrior? There's still so much — I just don't know everything yet."​

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 8 MOONS ✦ TAGS​