- Oct 17, 2022
- 493
- 87
- 28
Patrol, patrol, patrol — everyday is hunting patrol day in leaf-bare. With their freshkill pile dwindling, more of their clanmates going hungry each day, and tensions brewing at the borders, Snakeblink cannot imagine spending a single moment in camp when he could be out doing… something, anything, really.
He worries that it makes him a poor mentor to Frogpaw. Frog-fishing only got them so far: the water soon turned too cold, the remaining frogs hidden too deep below the surface for easy reach. All that's left is the wearisome grind of tracking old, faint trails for hours, with half a chance of a prey at the end of it. There are only so many fruitless land hunting patrols an apprentice can be dragged on before any knowledge he might gain from them is overshadowed by the fatigue of a miserable, freezing routine. What is he going to learn from that? Perseverance? And frostbites, most likely.
The season itself is proving to be a better teacher than Snakeblink, and a crueler one. All the lessons it has to teach — in cleverness, survival, and kinship in the face of adversity — it imparts with great prejudice, through hunger and bone-grinding cold. These are important lessons to learn, vital ones… But with two more moons of this punishing weather to look forward to, they're hardly time-sensitive. Frogpaw could use a break.
(Frankly, so could Snakeblink. He's a warrior, though: in times like these, cats like him don't get much in terms of breaks.)
Snakeblink stops in his relentless pacing — got to keep himself warm somehow — to tilt his head up at the sky. It smells like snow. His empty belly aches with well-worn hunger pangs. If they don't go hunting, then what? Swimming is out of the question. So is fishing. They're already meant to go on a border patrol later today, and battle training… is something best left to other mentors.
"Let's not exhaust ourselves too early today, hm?" He looks down to his apprentice with a wry smile. As if Snakeblink didn't wake up exhausted; as if leaf-bare isn't burrowing itself in his very bones as they speak, wearing him down to a thin shadow. It shows early in his already-skinny frame, but he knows the rest of the clan is hardly faring better. Still: they must find humor where they can. For what humor it is.
"I know going on hunting patrols hasn't been very… illuminating as of late, so I shall let you choose an alternative. Either you can join today's joint fighting lesson…" There's usually one going on at the beech copse, lately. Fighting keeps the blood up and the adolescents warm, and a single skilled fighter can train a handful of apprentices while their mentors go hunt on their own. It's a good excuse if Frogpaw would like some time off from his mentor or to socialize with his peers out of the shadow of his ambivalent reputation: being a poor fighter himself, Snakeblink would hardly fault him for it. "Or we can do some stealth training. The snow will certainly make for an… interesting challenge."
It occurs to him that this might sound like he's trying to get rid of his apprentice, which is the exact opposite of what he'd like to convey. Grimacing,, he reluctantly adds, "Of course, I'd be willing to take on the battle training myself if that's what you prefer, but I must warn you that you would get much less out of it than you would with a better qualified teacher."
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— Snakeblink • he / him. 36 ☾, riverclan warrior
— a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
— gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo