pafp ZOOBOOKS | tree climbing

Firefang couldn’t stand sitting still especially not now, she was always on the move especially so after Tigerfrost’s death. It wore heavily on her, it always would but like every loss of a beloved clanmate before she couldn’t afford to let it cripple her. She wouldn’t - couldn’t stew in her emotions they’d be the death of her only serving to hold her down and keep her from fighting another day. She didn’t deserve to mourn anyway, hadn’t earned that right they weren’t close so why did it bother her so deeply? Maybe apart of her sought out Gravelsnap at first to talk to him about things that meant more then petty banter but she as always had cold paws and thought better of it; they wouldn’t wanna hear it anyway.

Instead she asks if they wanted to come out with her on a hunt which took them out near thunderclans border where the moorland slowly became more plentiful dotted with trees as it melded into the forest. She hadn’t had much luck finding anything, it was hard for her to focus today she honestly wasn’t trying this was just a distraction and for the first while it really hadn’t been working. That is till her eyes curiously glimpse at one of the oaks they pass by and the first feeling of excitement pierces through her somber thoughts. ❝Ever climbed a tree before Gravel?❞ there’s a tone there that without saying implies that they would be today, a wolffish grin appears on her muzzle.

❝Bet I can scale it faster❞ she smirks. The spirit of competition had always inspired her even in the worst of her moods. There was no greater joy than showing off and beating someone down. Her shoulders roll as she gets lower already about to sprint but she can’t help but she can’t help but say one more thing ❝I’ll even play fair, I’ll give ya a head start❞

// @GRAVELSNAP
( )
 
Gravelsnap does not face their feelings head-on, as a rule. The tightness behind their ribs is easily ignored, the top-quick pounding of their heartbeat can be attributed to mere exertion. The easiest way to ignore their own sadness is to busy themself with work, and so when their friend invites them to go hunting with her, Gravelsnap agrees without much convincing. Their hunting is not the most successful, but at least they are not alone during this time—and at least Firefang is not alone, either. She must be having a hard time processing Tigerfrost’s death, the same as Gravelsnap.

The she-cat’s query sends Gravelsnap’s brows drawing together, mulling it over for a few heartbeats before responding. They don’t recall having ever climbed a tree, but they’ve always thought that it would be easy. Perhaps Firefang has, at some point, become something of a tree-climbing master? "No?" There is a question in their reply, and that question is quickly answered—bet I can scale it faster.

"Bet you can’t," they snap back, but it is without malice. They may think themself above the pointless games of kits and apprentices, but Gravelsnap is not immune to the draw of competition. The desire to beat others in something, to prove that they are better in some way, is often too strong to push aside. Now, especially, that desire makes itself known; one of the clan’s greatest has died, slain like common prey in his own home. The loss weighs heavily upon the clan, and Gravelsnap searches for ways to distract themself from any confrontation of their own grief.

His eyes narrow to slits when the she-cat suggests that she could give him a head start—in the name of playing fair. As if he has no chance of beating her without some kind of inherent advantage. "I do not need a head start." He nearly offers to allow Firefang a head start of her own, just to feel like they are on equal footing, but he’d rather hop into the gorge than intentionally sabotage any chance he has at winning.

The monochrome warrior coils their
body low to the ground, legs bunching beneath them as they prepare to take off. They look to Firefang, awaiting the older warrior’s call for their competition to begin.
[ DEATH OF A DREAM ]
 
WE'LL MEET AGAIN ☠︎°.♱ ————————————
Cygnetstare rounds the corner of a paw-hewn path (new, she can tell from the unbrowned grass and fresh scent of the snapped stems), and even the way she walks is just wrong: gawky, as though drunken, legs crossing over each other more often than not, swaying and leaning. As though they've freshly pulled themself from an untimely grave, an aura added to by the leftover tunnel-dirt speckling their chimera pelt and the perpetual stink of the grave that hangs over Cygnetstare's fur. When they must be aboveground, which is rare, they spend their time near the ThunderClan border, where they turn into a simple white leg and head, their smoky side concealed by the dappled shadows that also keep her flesh-colored eyes from spotting with starbursts of pain and her sensitive white spot from charring pink and raw. Like meat. The thought is almost appetizing.

She stops in her wobbly tracks, standing, swaying slightly, just standing there at the edge of a sufficiently thick copse. A mixture of floral prairie-smell, milkweed, a faint whiff of the ThunderClan border, curl around their nose. They giggle, softly; Gravelsnap, who she's pretty sure is the milkweed-scent's source, smells quite nice, and Cygnetstare's wide pink eyes train on where a pair of cats including the black-and-white warrior crouch and bicker. Content to watch from their relatively close distance, the chimera stands still, knobby knees swaying slightly as if about to collapse from the weight of their bony frame. Watching Gravelsnap and Firefang seemingly prepare to climb the trees. Watching.

[penned by dejavu - 𓅯]
———————————— ♱.°☠︎ DON'T KNOW WHERE, DON'T KNOW WHEN
 
Heatherpaw and Robinfang aren't too far behind Cygnetstare, the pair equally covered in a thin layer of dark soil. The tom's red pelt looks faded beneath the after-tunnel-glow. Though neither of them share the same deadly scent that covered Cygnetstare. Solely the peaty earth, and for the apprentice the added hint of rose he used to line his nest with the night before.

With his training goal complete for the day, above-ground roaming filled the remainder. Despite only having been training for roughly four moons now, Heatherpaw was spending so much of his time below the surface that being exposed to openly in the moors made him start to feel uncomfortable. At least having the present of other nature like trees, shrubs, or spiny plants felt better than complete open rolling hills.

Robinfang had noticed just that, and with the presence of their fellow Clanmates, figured some idle chat might be good for him too. Really, Heatherpaw's first thought is that they're no SkyClanners. Was he supposed to be good at tree-climbing?

"What happens to the loser?" The red tabby instigates the siblings with a half smile.

WINDCLAN APPRENTICE ✦ RED MACKEREL TABBY ✦ 7 MOONS ✦ TAGS
 
Firefang has indeed not climbed a tree she figures she'd be good at it without having any inclination about the right way to do it to her this victory is ensured she just waits for them to take her challenge; they should know she'd never let any cat live it down if they wimped out. They do of course and she's thoroughly entertained, they shoot back and they're one of the few she can allow to do such a thing without immediately earning a tongue lashing of expletives. They refuse her generous offer and she smirks ❝You're loss is gonna be even more embarrassing now!❞ she cackles, drawing down even closer to the ground her hind legs tensing up and tail lowering. They wait for her orders; if only their peers would be more inclined to listen like they do! Before she can give the call she can hear the sound of paw steps as two of those curious clanmates draw closer. An ear twitches at Heatherpaw's question, for her losing was enough of a shame and the idea of consequences for that said loss didn't occur to her until now. She ponders for a second before blurting out ❝Loser gets to be on the other nest duty for a whole moon - now READY SET GO!❞ she doesn't wait for a argument over terms and conditions - she makes a decision for them as the one who proposed the competition and she plays as unfairly as she always does.

She doesn't wait for them, not like she said she would've they denied that advantage and she wouldn't give it to them now. She shoots off the ground hauling ahead as fast as she can her fur blowing in the wind of her momentum. She doesn't look back, doesn't check if Gravelsnap is besides her or even ahead her blood rushes and all that's in her mind are the blur of shapes and the thrumming of adrenaline in her veins. She reaches the tree and leaps for it, claws sinking in where she lands and it's clumsy she almost slides down the trunk her footing is far from perfect her claws dig in too deep and she slows as she tries to find her pace. It never occurred to her how much strength was needed to pull oneself up, she always thought it was just some innate skill all cats had and that Skyclan held no true advantage when it came to their own skills. Maybe she was wrong, but she figures being able to run fast and strike hard were more important then knowing how to climb fast anyway.

She can hear the sound of claws next her and does her best to scramble up to the nearest branch that could hold her weight and once there she'd turn and look to see Gravlsnap either already on another branch(or her own) or still clambering up. A comment would surely be ready on her tongue the moment she saw.

//14/20 roll!​
( )
 
Bluepaw stands beside her fellow tunnelers, brushing dust from her soft gray pelt. Firefang, in her usual explosive manner, has challenged Gravelsnap to a tree climbing contest. The young she-cat can’t imagine wanting to be so high up in the air; she feels lightheaded just imagining it. Even the Tallrock and the Outlook Rock are a bit much for her. In a strange twist of fate, Bluepaw has come to prefer the dark tunnels lying beneath the earth, the familiar and close scents of dust and her Clanmates, dirt between her toes.

Cygnetstare only, as her name suggests, stares strangely at the moor runners competing. Heatherpaw asks what happens to the loser. Nest duty, of course. Firefang is bursting with energy, rushing for the trunk and scaling a portion of it with more aplomb than Bluepaw had expected. She flicks a glassy emerald stare to Gravelsnap, giving them a tiny nod of encouragement. “Good luck.” It’s said low, with quiet confidence in the cat she considers a friend.


[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 
Their audience is not lost on Gravelsnap, and he nods stiffly, confidently, as Bluepaw nods to them and wishes them luck. They offer the younger she-cat a brief, grateful smile; they’ll need all the luck they can get. They snicker when the other warrior tells them that their loss will be more embarrassing since they’ve denied a head start. "You mean your loss," they say back, their voice playfully challenging. They enjoy Firefang’s company, the friendly competition she offers.

Firefang states the loser’s punishment—nest duty for the other—and they scowl. They can’t lose now. They have no other option but to win. As soon as she states the conditions, though, she takes off. No! They scramble after their friend, caught off guard but determined to keep up with her. They aren’t the fastest cat on the moor, but they are a moor runner in their own right; they manage to keep up with her, if only a few steps behind. When they reach the tree, she’s only slightly ahead of them—this is their chance to catch up, to pull ahead. Their claws sink into tree bark, grip tightly, and they awkwardly begin to shimmy their way up the tree trunk. Their claws slip, and they look over to Firefang. She’s struggling, too! How does SkyClan do this every day?!

Their momentary glance takes their attention away from the task at hand, and Gravelsnap feels their claws slide free of the tree’s bark at once. "AGH!" They crash to the ground with an utterly humiliating, uncharacteristic shriek, crumpling onto their side when they land. They’ve probably lost—but there’s still a chance. Maybe Firefang has fallen as well. They lift their head to search for their friend, and their heart drops when they look up. Above them, a shadow looms on one of the lowest branches of the tree. They grimace, letting their head drop back to rest on the ground. Nest duty for a month. They consider putting thorns in her nest, an echo of what Dazzlepaw and his dumb friends had once done—but they aren’t cruel, only annoyed.


// bro rolled a 12
[ you put the fun into dysfunction ]