*generic training topic name*

Tawnystorm blinked her eyes open at the rising sun, only hesitating for a minute before rising to her feet. Though visibly distraught from her son's disappearance, she knew she had to get things done - and today, that would be training Weaselpaw. She'd already lost Otterleap - the least she could do is train her other son so he wouldn't share the same fate - even if his...attitude would kill any patience she had left.
Putting on a brave face, she padded into the apprentice's den. "Weaselpaw! Get up, we'll be training today!" she called, scanning the space for his familiar fur.

"I'm up!" The tabby tom yowled, writhing in an unruly mess of mess of fur and reeds. In a moment, Weaselpaw was on his feet and awake enough to run for the next few days. His nest was left in a less than perfect state. While the Windclan cat's attacked still plague his waking hours, Weaselpaw still slept like a rock during the night. There were advantages to over exerting oneself during the day. He did not even think to shake his pelt to clear away any scraps before rushing out of the den, only stopping to nuzzle his mother briefly. Fishstar had really blessed him with such an amazing mentor. The only sad part about becoming an apprentice had instantly been abolished by her mentor choice.

"What are we going to do today?" He meowed eagerly, a kit-like innocence still lined his words. Weaselpaw had quickly learned that cats thought something was wrong if he showed anything other than his cheerful side. His darkened thought were pushed away once more, but the stone in his stomach showed up again. Lying to Tawnystorm about where his wounds had come from had felt awful. However, Shellwater had ensured him it would be okay, and he could not bring himself to talk about the shameful attack. Instead of thinking about it, Weaselpaw smiled at his mother, grateful for the distraction of training.

Tawnystorm raised an amused eyebrow - or rather, the closest thing to it a cat can do - at Weaselpaw's excitement. It wasn't in the least surprising, knowing her son, but there was something about his endless optimism that often annoyed her. He was young and carefree - not old enough to know the hardships of reality, especially through his relentless cheerfulness. He hadn't seen the things she had, and even then, he hadn't been born with that pessimistic, or more accurately, realistic streak. Must be nice, she supposed.
"We'll be patrolling the borders, and then doing a bit of fishing. I'm hoping we can be as efficient and productive as possible - which means, Weaselpaw, no mucking around. I'm hoping we don't have to have a repeat of the fresh-kill pile incident. Understand?" Her voice was stern as ever. Though this was her son, she had no intention on giving Weaselpaw special tolerance for training. She'd made many fine warriors through a tried and true method, and he would be no different. She couldn't deny that as a mother, the urge to just let him do as he pleased and not put any pressure on him was strong, but his self-defence and strength came first in this instance - and maybe after Otterleap, she'd be able to keep at least one son safe.

He ducked his head and flattened his ears slightly with a light grimace. Memories of knocking over the freshkill pile were still recently in his head. Weaselpaw nodded quickly. The sternness in her voice went over the young tom's head, but he recognized how serious she was making their training out to be. His eyes sparkled, thoughts of darkness abolished for the moment, "I'll be the best apprentice, mentor-mom!" Weaselpaw meowed loudly, smiling up at her. They were finally going to train! He instantly darted for the camp entrance before realizing his mistake and skidding to a halt. There, he waited for Tawnystorm to lead the way.