The Art of Hiding[C]

Juniperpaw enjoyed her alone time. Now that she was an apprentice and could freely leave the camp, finding materials for her art pieces was easier than ever, even if finding the time to make her pieces was now harder. She often stayed up late to make them anyway, often staying out long enough to catch the sun rise over the pine trees and wash the forest a pale gold light wash. She's watch the gold and orange light ripple over the dark sky, deep red bleeding out from the horizon as the sun rose, red and magestic, over the distant mountains. She'd catch the early morning bird songs, and sometimes she'd hum along. She'd even venture into the forest once more, if she could, one last time before retiring to her nest. With no one else around, she could appreciate the forest in all it's beauty. The glossy feathers and soft dandelion fluff and small slightly crushed petals she'd weave into bushes and branches didn't quite look as beautiful as under the sunlight. It was also easier to spot the feathers crushed underpaw along the paths and the berries hiding in the bushes' shade during the day than at night. And so, she took to the day, volunteering for the day watch whenever possible so that she could hear the early morning bird call. Why did the rest of her Clan hate the sun so? It was beautiful, as was dawn and dusk. The black night sky was far too bleak; the early morning fog that nestled the cool forest and the cream streaks running through the grey clouds was a much prettier sight.

As the black apprentice stepped out of camp once more, she took in a deep breath. The morning fog gave her a cool feeling while the sun warmed her back in ways that the night could not. A voice, however, stopped her from enjoying her peace any longer, and she inclined her head to look at the camp's entrance, where stood a tom she knew by face but not name. "Oh... hello," She greeted softly, unsure of whether he had heard her or if she had even spoken.