camp whistle while you work // den repair lesson

Training. Training! Why would Orangeblossom think it would be a good idea to have Butterflytuft host a training session one anything? She had been mulling it over all morning; what in StarClan could she teach all of the far more capable warriors? What did she offer? And that’s when it hit her. What do I offer?….Well, I work on dens a lot. Perhaps that’s what she’s good at. It’s better than hosting a hunting lesson, at least. No one would bother listening to the forest’s worst huntress.

Luckily, a few cats actually showed interest in her lesson today. She crouches by the nursery, working the growing holly bush tendrils into the dead branches of the fallen tree. Sometimes, it’s still difficult to be around it, but as time passes and she spends more time with the kits, the area slowly becomes filled with happy memories again, replacing the images of Snowpath’s crushed body.

“Make sure it’s nice and tight,” The tortoiseshell chirps softly, gaze drifting to the paws of the cats helping her. “And if you need to wiggle in some brambles to fill in any gaps, I can help show you how to do it best!” For once, she actually speaks confidently. This is her happy place, helping out around camp and doing what she knows she’s good at. So even though her voice is still soft and gentle, she speaks clearly, with bright eyes and head high.
 
I've been trying not to
Ivory teeth lay clamped tight around the end of a wayward branch. Lithe muscle buckles and jerks as the patchy apprentice tugs at the trapped length of wood. Yet despite how hard he pulls it refuses to budge. "Butterflytuft!" The grizzly black phantom finally calls, relinquishing his hold. Frustration is evident on his face as he turns to face the gentle molly, forked tail lashing back and forth. "I can't do it." He grumbles once she is close enough. Blue green eyes flicker back to the overgrown stick. "I wanted to move it off to the side but it's stuck in the bush." What could he possibly be doing wrong? Surely it wasn't that hard to move something as simple as a branch. Taking a step back he glances up at her, awaiting guidance.
Go off the deep end
 

⭒✧ Chalk didn't know much about Butterflytuft, save for her bright bandana and quiet nature, so when he discovered the molly would be responsible for training he had endeavoured to be present. Settling across the way from the warrior and Plaguepaw, he let his ears stand tall to catch the snippets of conversation. Butterflytuft tended to the barbed foliage, plying the group with helpful advice. Chalk, well-versed in the enthusiasm of teachers, let a small smile splinter his pale snout. It was carved clearer as the tom acknowledged their status' as past shelter captives, now free to weave amongst the pines.

The lash of Plaguepaw's odd tail and his frustrated tone pulled one ear aside. "Is it trapped under something else? Or part of the main trunk?" His own paws tethered to neat, though a little loose, clutch of twigs the daylight warrior so was unable to see the apprentice's patchy form properly. The words were partly redundant, he knew, with their tutor likely on the way to sort the struggle, but Chalk was always one to offer a solution.
⭒ ———————————— ✧⭒
 
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FIGFEATHER

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Sometimes even a cat like Figfeather couldn’t fake it. As an apprentice she had a mantra, “chores are just as important as any other task. Chores are vital for clan life to progress smoothly”. If she hadn’t convinced herself the importance of clan chores, of duty, of cleanliness, of campkeeping, she might’ve just gone insane.

Now as a warrior, seldomly did she lower herself to apprentice chores. More often than not she was hunting, and when she wasn’t hunting she was on a border patrol.

Yet today, Orangeblossom hadn’t called her name… she was left without much to do until her sister rallied the clan for some den reinforcement lessons. Figfeagther forgot just how boring this could be, yet she stood among the others pulling and tugging brambles without an audible complaint.

”This was easier to do in the last nursery…” Figfeather notes to anyone not preoccupied with Plaguepaw’s predicament.
 

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It's still difficult for Greeneyes to be near the nursery, and the warrior doesn't think the grief brought on by its new appearance will ever lessen.

Still, Greeneyes knows he can't avoid the nursery forever, knows that time must continue forward, even if he so desperately wants it to not.

Butterflytuft holds a lesson today on den repair today at the site. While the warrior already knows how to weave brambles together to patch up rubbled shelters - and isn't the most fond of the chore - he decides it's better to come support his older sister than to avoid the whole scene all-together.

Besides, it's a good opportunity for Falconpaw to learn too, since the apprentice will likely be bound to do the chore at some point.

He works beside Figfeather, pulling at brambles as he silently hopes the lesson will be over soon. Ears twitch at Plaguepaw's grumbling, letting out a small laugh at Figfeather's comment. "Definitely easier," he agrees, nodding his head before turning to the side to check in on Falconpaw.

"How are you doing, amigo?" he asks, "Need any help?" Greeneyes hopes he's doing better than Plaguepaw, at least.

// apprentice tag: @falconpaw!
 
CALLIN' IT QUITS NOW ✧°.☀ ————————————
Falconpaw didn't have any bad memories of the nursery- after all, he arrived after whichever tragedy had last occurred with Skyclan's nursery. A breath left him as he stepped up beside Plaguepaw- a gently bump of their shoulders to offer the dark furred apprentice a soft smile, before turning back to the nursery walls itself. Chores weren't a bad thing, after all. He knew they were necessary, just as necessary as the cats back in the sewers moving garbage and working to keep their sleeping places dry.

Part of Falconpaw wondered to himself why he hadn't asked to see his father.

He shook out his fur, reaching up to pull a bramble out of the walls of the nursery. He was still learning how to do all of this, and developing his body was part of it- but he looked like he was having an easier time then Plaguepaw. Greeneyes' words caused him to pause, and he lowered himself down, looking at his mentor. "I'm doing okay. It's.. a stretch, but hopefully I'll get even taller soon." Falconpaw offered, a tiny smile on his face towards his mentor.


"SPEECH"
[penned by dallas - ]
———————————— ☀.°✧ BABY, I'M A WRECK
 
Her ears perk up as she is called over by a young, frustrated voice. She quickly abandons her weaving to trot towards Plaguepaw, who glares dejectedly at a trapped branch. She slips in next to him, a patient blink cast his way as she trills softly, “Don’t force it. If it doesn’t want to move, let it live there.” She sits back on her haunches so that she can lift both forepaws off the ground, demonstrating how one can make a wayward branch a sturdy part of a den wall. “Just work it in like…this,” The tortoiseshell mews, her tongue sticking out slightly in focus. “There.” The branch now lies woven between other twigs and brambles, snug as a bug. Content, she gives a smiling nod to the apprentice and steps back.

She turns to pad over to where her younger siblings are working, her whiskers twitching happily. “How’re you guys doing?” Butterflytuft inquires with a purr, fluffy tail waving. Any distaste they have for the chore goes unseen by her; she is merely happy they’re here! She sits next to Figfeather, peeking at Falconpaw with a small smile as her brother helps him.