So, it was just another night. Thrushpaw was bored. He hadn't been able to get out for training. Ever since his father had... well, gone, he had no one to train him. In some ways, he felt that he was missing a part of him, but at the same time, he wasn't really familiar with his father, so he couldn't get himself to feel worked up. The vigil was sad, and he felt terrible, but nothing like his mother who was completely devastated. He had never seen her out if sorts like that. It was even worse that she wouldn't come out of the warrior's den. He hadn't seen anything of her for nights...
With a heavy sigh, he sulked through the camp. What could he do? He went and picked up a frog and began batting at it with his paws, but he couldn't bring himself to eat it. After staring at it for a few minutes, he finally pushed it away and set his head on his paws. He didn't even look up to hear who was coming towards him when he began hearing paws on the ground near him.