The Falcon has landed (Open)

A blossom broke off from a branch that rested above SkyClan's camp. It fluttered in the breeze delicately as it descended towards a small rocky opening. The Newleaf weather was pleasant and warm, the sun was out and it revealed striking dark brown fur that sat in front of the nursery. Wide amber eyes gazing in wonder at the camp, flickering in distraction as the blossom fell towards the small kit. It's body hunkered down for a moment before he launched up at the small tree blossom. His paw striking it down fiercly with a confident smirk.
"...and that's how it's done." The kit muttered softly. He turned the blossom over with his paw as he glanced at the nursery entrance. No cat appeared to congratulate his catch. Typical. Bitterly, the young tom threw the blossom to the side. His attention focused on where most of the real action seemed to be. The center of camp. Warriors constantly moving and shifting around.

The flash of silver as a strong warrior came back from patrol, dropped his catch, then ran into another den. The sight of various cats grooming and sharing prey. The kit wandered for a moment, bewildered in the large space as he walked up to the largest warrior he could see and sat in front of them pointedly.

"What are you doing?" His question came out as partially curious, partially demanding. Tiny brown tail flicking against the ground.

Having been grooming his short, white pelt and enjoying the soft buzz of conversation that floated around the clearing, opening his eyes to see a kit sitting in front of him took the little tom a bit off guard. Looking around, he wondered if it's mother was somewhere nearby, but after a few moments, Tinylegs assumed the kit had come up to him on his own accord.

"I'm grooming myself," the small white and grey deputy mewed with a cheery smile on his muzzle, per usual. He definitely wasn't the largest warrior in physical size, but his spirits were practically higher than the sky itself.

The little brown tom tilted his head, intrigued by the concept. He had been groomed before, he groomed himself, but there was something he had been wanting to know, a question his parents often dismissed.
"Why?" He asked, his amber eyes narrowed as he looked at Tinyleg's small legs. "Aren't you just going to get dirty again? You are really close to the ground." Falconkit seemed completely unbothered by the rudeness of his own statement as he scratched an itch on his ear absently.

Turning his back so that it was in a more comfortable position, Tinylegs listened to the kit's new question. There were several reasons to keep one's fur groomed, but he decided to give a shortened answer, in hopes of keeping things simple.

"Yes, I am close to the ground," the small tom began happily. "But if I never clean my fur, then it'll become super dirty, and no cat wants to be around someone who smells of freshkill or dirt," he pointed out and rested his grey tail neatly over his tiny paws.

Falconkit wrinkled his nose at the thought. That did sound gross. He looked at Tinyleg's again, then towards the nearest tree.
"So how do you climb trees?" He asked, padding forward to poke at one of Tinyleg's forelegs curiously. "How do you fight? Oh! Wait." His amber eyes widened in excitement, sleek pelt fluffing up slightly as a new question sprang to mind. "What's your best fighting story! Can you tell me! Pleeeaase."

Looking down to his legs as Falconkit asked him about climbing trees, the small tom couldn't help but chuckle. "I climb them just like any other cat," Tinylegs purred. He understood where the question came from, seeing as though it didn't seem like he could climb very well.

Tilting his head, he thought about the question for a few moments and then came up with some sort of answer. "Well, it's been a while since I've been in a battle, believe it or not. I don't remember every detail, but what I can tell you, is that fighting isn't what young apprentices dream it to be," he began, remembering all of the times he had to fight off predators or other clans from his home. "When in a battle, everything happens very fast. Claws are flying, blood is most likely in your eyes, and the yowls of enemy and fellow clan cats drown out your thoughts. In most cases, you're given a choice on how far you need to take to the battle, which is what trips up most cats," the small deputy finished and let out a soft sigh.