well, they're no friends of mine! — granitepaw

[DOGFUR]

Chilledstar had given Dogfur the easiest apprentice in the history of ShadowClan. While Dogfur would have preferred their first to be a silly little kit that he could mold himself, he was given a nearly trained and full-grown apprentice by their late leader. The longer Dogfur chewed at the bone of this thought, the more he came to realize that Pitchstar might have not exactly been the model mentor—not with how he was losing grasp on reality before his untimely demise. Hah, Dogfur's ragged pelt shuddered and twitched. Losing grip on reality—imagine!

Needless to say, Dogfur did not have any worries about Granitepaw failing an assessment. The apprentice seemed much more capable than a handful of ShadowClan's warriors, but that had been an observance from a distance. It was time for the real thing.

Before they retired for the night, Dogfur had asked Granitepaw to meet them before the sun rose the next day in the middle of camp. He would have hoped not many cats were up by now. When he saw the monochromatic fur of his apprentice, he purred loudly, thrashing his tail like a whip against the ground.

"So... what did Pitchstar teach you anyway?"

@GRANITEPAW

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[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepaw still thinks Chilledstar has chosen his new mentor as some kind of practical joke. He cannot even look at Dogfur without grimacing. He resigns himself to having to practice meeting his strange yellow eyes without visibly blanching. Flea-bitten mange-pelt, and for what? To babysit him until his warrior ceremony? Pitchstar's corpse could do just as good of a job.

The gray and white tom exhales, closing his eyes. Counts to three. Counts down from three. He can't delay his warrior ceremony by being aggressive to his mentor. Starlingheart is counting on him to become a warrior so the two of them can fulfill their dream, so they can become mates.

He re-opens his eyes and fixes Dogfur with what he hopes is a neutral stare. "So... what did Pitchstar teach you anyway?"

Granitepaw opens his mouth and what falls out is, "Fuck all." He flicks an ear. Oops. "I mean... he didn't take me out much. He spent most of his time wallowing in his den. Surely you know that." He grimaces, but this time it's at the memory of Pitchstar.

Better not to think of the way he'd died, writhing madly at Granitepaw's feet, foam decorating his open jaws.

Better not.

"I've learned from watching other cats and going on patrols," he admits to Dogfur.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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