The Lodestars {CLOSED}

Finchpaw sat near the entrance of Windclan camp, his tail flicking with anticipation. The new sun that had arrived in the sky now made his orange tabby pelt glow a handsome gold. The small hill he crested had become one of his favorite spots ever since the sun had returned to the sky. He felt as if its rays were stronger here, and the higher vantage point made a good post to watch for patrols coming and going.

Finchpaw was looking for a hunting patrol in particular, his paws itched to run the moors, and since his mentor, Ryecloud was busy, he was hoping a kind warrior would adopt him into their patrol. The tom watched with narrow eyes as cats milled around the camp, masses of browns, grays, oranges, and red. Brookpaw! At the sight of the she-cat, a small murmur escaped Finchpaw's mouth, he rose to his paws and padded his way down the hill. The red apprentice was standing near her mentor, Barleytuft. The group looked like they had a sense of duty to them, and Finchpaw made the assumption that the two cats were on their way out of camp. Approaching the group, the orange tabby dipped his head, meeting Brookpaw's eyes on the way up, and flashing a smile to Barleytuft. "You're leaving camp?" The apprentice questioned, head cocked to the side slightly. "Would you mind if I joined you?" He awaited their answer, feeling content with the hot sun on his back, his favorite cats milling around him, and the prospect of a good hunt.

Ever since Barleytuft had been given an apprentice, he had practically never once stopped moving. The energetic tom spent a good amount of time with Brookpaw, the quick and clever and surprisingly mature she-cat who he had been lucky enough to get as his first apprentice, taking her on border patrols, teaching her how to fight and defend herself, showing her the best places to catch different prey, and even just telling her about the forest and the other Clans. There was so much information to pass on, and he wanted to make sure she got the education she deserved.

Whenever Barleytuft wasn't focused on patrols and training his apprentice, he was most often found lingering around the medicine cat's den where his best friend Oakberry had to stay until she recovered from her time away from WindClan. He would have moved his nest to the den officially if he thought he could get away with it, but since the great battle with the Exiles there was a lot of coming and going, even without an official medicine cat. He knew he was needed elsewhere, and today that "elsewhere" was hunting.

Barleytuft had received a few minor wounds during the fight, but he was perfectly healthy for hunting, and so the tom sought out his apprentice, Brookpaw, to have her tag along. As Barleytuft was preparing to leave, another tom who he knew as Finchpaw padded up, excitement glimmering in his eyes. "In fact, we are leaving camp. Hunting patrol." Finchpaw asked if he could come, and Barleytuft glanced to Brookpaw, checking that she had no protests before nodding at the tom's question as he replied, "I don't see why not."

With that, Barleytuft flicked his tail and began to pad out of camp, listening carefully to see that both apprentices were following.

The shadow of her mentor made the apprentice's reddish coat only appear that much darker. Even as she aged, Brookpaw kept her compact, lithe frame. It made flying over the slopes of the moorlands that much easier. She trod lightly next to Barelytuft as they prepared to go out hunting. Since earning her apprentice title, the young she-cat had spent plenty of time running the lands and learning the best techniques for hunting. The thought of being able to spend more time with her mentor and show off her skills was appealing. Although she had missed the battle, Brookpaw had kept up a vigorous training regiment and even managed her first border skirmish. At this rate, she would be sleeping in the warrior's den. Perhaps Brindlestar would even notice her progress and make her a warrior early. Her whiskers twitched at the idea.

At the scent of Finchpaw, her best friend, the russet-furred apprentice snapped into attention and her eyes met his with an easy smile. Thankfully Barleytuft was in the mood for another cat. She might have protested Finchpaw come along but with such an easy going tom training her it was not a shock that he was open to the prospect. Neither her nor Finchpaw had been chosen to fight against Lichenmask's brood of traitors so they had been focused on picking up the slack coming from having several injured cats. It was not that they never spent time together but that she always looked forward to more. Working and training alongside the tom was one of the most natural things to her. As natural and her paws barely skimming the earth in the most Windclan of manners. Finchpaw and her were merely instinctual.

Despite the fact that she did not think too much into it, her heart seemed to beat a bit faster when he joined them. As Barleytuft glanced at her she did not hesitate in giving her consent. Barleytuft had been busy visiting Oakberry since she returned and had kept busy with his own duties. This would give her the time to spend with two of her favorite cats. Brookpaw followed closely behind Barleytuft, making sure to keep stride ahead of Finchpaw. She flicked his nose in a playful manner and teasingly meowed, "You'll have to try and keep up with us if you want to patrol with Barleytuft and me. We're some of the fastest cats in the clan. And we don't have time to mess around with slow-paws." With a glance back up him, Brookpaw reassured the tom it was merely her manner of messing with him, which she assumed he likely understood by now anyway. They had been close since kithood.

Once they surpassed the camp walls, Brookpaw's pads itched to race ahead but she pressed back the feeling not wanting to outpace her mentor. She slowed a bit to pad along beside Finchpaw and parted her maw slightly in the process. As she drank in the chilly air, there was the scent of hare on the breeze, one that she had come to know well. The she-cat broke away with silent footfalls in the direction of the creature. It was closer than she thought. Rounding the creature was easy but its ears pricked noticing something was wrong, even with its back facing her. Brookpaw cursed softly. She was downwind and everything. And then, an idea popped into her head. Maybe she couldn't stop this creature from running but she could control where it went. With a soft thump of her hindpaws she launched forward, chasing the hare towards Finchpaw. Hopefully he was ready.

The hot sun soon gave Finchpaw up to the wind, its rays no longer warmed his bones as the strong gusts of the moor now buffeted the three cats. The orange tabby flattened his ears as the trio made their way out of camp. He was glad Barleytuft and Brookpaw agreed to let him come along.

The tom wondered if Brookpaw minded that he had decided to patrol with them. Not that she didn't like him, they were best friends. But her loyalty to the clan was unrivaled, and it amused Finchpaw how serious the red apprentice was about it. He knew her well though, and understood that Brookpaw's seemingly "no nonsense" personality could sometimes be just to tease him, and Finchpaw found that he quite enjoyed it. Barleytuft, on the other paw, and from what he understood, was a much different cat. Finchpaw didn't know much about the warrior, but knew that the cat was quite easy-going like himself, and felt comfortable around him.

The orange tabby's ears perked as Brookpaw shot a challenge at him. She thinks I'm slow... Finchpaw thought, whiskers twitching with amusement. "As you wish," the apprentice teased, a smile on his maw. I'll show her.
He hoped an opportunity would arise where he could, in fact show Brookpaw and Barleytuft a good catch.
The cats had now padded a ways away from camp, the wind tugging at their fur. Finchpaw wished the heat of the sun would come back, but the pale white sky offered no promises, and the apprentice decided he would just have to make do.

Finchpaw watched as Brookpaw broke away from the group, padding up a hill. She's probably scented something... He told himself. With a sniff, he confirmed that indeed, there was rabbit smell in the air. Barleytuft and Finchpaw stood waiting, hoping Brookpaw could confirm a catch, when suddenly, a drum of pawsteps sounded through the ground. Finchpaw caught a glimpse of the russet-furred apprentice, and the rabbit, now being chased up a hill, right towards him.

Quickly, the apprentice unsheathed his claws, ready to tackle the prey as it made its way towards him. It all happened so quickly, the white hare had caught sight of Finchpaw's orange pelt, and made a sharp turn to escape, but Finchpaw was ready. He tore after it, catching it mid-slip, and lowered his head quickly to make the killing bite.

The apprentice raised his head, jaws filled with rabbit. He closed his eyes for a brief second. Thank you, Starclan... He whispered to his ancestors, yellow eyes opening. Finchpaw smiled, lowering the rabbit to the ground. "That was wonderful." He breathed to Brookpaw, commenting on her chase of the rabbit. The apprentice gave a nod to Barleytuft as well, thankful for such luck on the moor.

The member 'lemongrass' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 7

Once out of camp and into the open, Barleytuft took in a deep breath of the crisp moor air, the wind biting cold despite the return of the sun; however, even that couldn't halt leaf-bare. The frosts grew more frequent and lasted longer, and the days were shorter. The normally cool winds that brushed the landscape were even colder, and tried bitterly hard to pierce the coat. Barleytuft hated his thin pelt. He couldn't imagine how he was going to survive the winter, but if he had survived the battle with Lichenmask and the Exiles then he could deal with a little cold. Besides, his apprentice and Finchpaw needed strong examples to learn how to be strong warriors - maybe he wasn't the strongest, but he was stubborn!

They hadn't traveled far when suddenly Brookpaw broke away; Barleytuft perked his ears and parted his lips, watching where she went as he scented the air. He scented the hare as well, and the young warrior felt his muscles tightening in preparation for a  chase, should Brookpaw need it. When the rabbit broke away, Barleytuft felt the urge to spring for it, but he noticed it veering directly towards Finchpaw. They're a natural team, Barleytuft thought proudly as the ginger-and-white apprentice raced with Brookpaw to cut off the hare and chase it down. Finchpaw killed it cleanly, and Barleytuft called out, "Well done, you two!" as the apprentices met in the middle.

Barleytuft approached them and mewed, "Brookpaw, I'm very impressed by your quick-thinking and knowing your limits for your speed. Directing the hare towards Finchpaw was probably the only way to ensure any of us could catch it." He turned to Finchpaw and added, "And you paid excellent attention to your surroundings and your Clanmate, and reacted quickly when you recognized the situation. All of those skills will make you excellent warriors someday." The last part he addressed to them both, and then he said, "Why don't we each try to catch one more piece of prey and then call it a patrol? I have a feeling we'll get plenty for the Clan."

With that offer, Barleytuft carried on with the patrol, heading further into the rolling moors. After several fox-lengths the sandy tom heard a soft scrabbling in the dirt, and less than a tail-length away a slender rabbit emerged from its den, ears twitching fiercely. After checking that he was downwind, Barleytuft crouched slightly, grateful for his pale tabby coat that blended well with the dry and dying grasses of the moor. Just come out a little farther, he thought. As if answering his request, the pale tan creature leaped out a few more pawsteps, and Barleytuft lunged skillfully, swooping down like a hawk to quickly end its life.

The member 'sumashira' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 2

ooc: lemongrass you did the thing ahhhh. also. heck me dice.

In a flash, the hare had darted for Finchpaw, just as she had planned. And as expected, the other apprentice had managed to make quick work of the creature without so much as a squeal. Seeing all this, the red-furred she-cat slowed her pace to a trot as she reached the pair of toms. As she passed Finchpaw, her tail flicked his coat affectionately. The way he had managed to so skillfully recognize what she was doing and had been prepared to catch the prey was truly magnificent. One day he would be as great of a warrior as Barleytuft. She glanced between the two, hints of a smile forming on her maw. Windclan was lucky to have such amazing cats, and Brookpaw was more than grateful to have them at her sides.

As her mentor praised both of them, she dipped her head respectfully at the words before raising her head and tail with pride. Their training over the past couple moons was already paying off. Barleytuft was a wonderful teacher and Brookpaw an eager student. In the usual fashion, they had bonded as mentor and apprentice. Personalities meshed well and had made them incredibly close and she had grown to hold him in the highest regard both as a warrior and as a friend. Hearing his words of affirmation spurred the apprentice on. Padding a couple steps towards the warrior, she meowed, "Thank you, Barleytuft. You taught me such quick thinking." As soon as he broke away to continue the hunt, and encouraged them to do the same, she swiftly turned to break away from the patrol once again. Only one more catch and she would be set, ready to head back to the shallows in the moor that made up camp.

After she had created a distance between herself and the others, Brookpaw parted her maw once more to drink in the scents that were carried by the breeze over the slopes. A particular smell finally came to her, one that she had only caught wind of on a pawful of occasions. Squirrel. Fox dung. Brookpaw cursed silently in a breath. As much as she held disdain for the forest-dwelling clans, she had to admit that they had skill in being able to catch the fluffy-tailed creatures. Although she knew the chances of success were slim, this was prey nonetheless. Allowing her delicate pawsteps to brush over the drying grass of the moorlands, Bookpaw crept towards the squirrel, unblinking. Her gaze was trained on the target so well that she did not notice the massive brown and white bird diving for the same prey. The blood-chill screech that tore from the eagle made her skid to a halt only a tail-length away from the squirrel and snap her gaze to the skies.

Oh, Great Starclan... The thought was instinctual and not an intentional attribute to the starry ancestors who had cursed them. She couldn't help it from slipping into her head as she faced the massive bird. And she was far too close to stop the talons that raked across her throat before she could even blink. Scarlet drops splashed across the moor as blood immediately welled up from where fur and flesh had been ripped away. There was a stinging sensation, highlighted by an immediate burning from the wound. Brookpaw's head swam as she leaped to the side. Despite the blurring reality, the she-cat let out a yowl to call the rest of the patrol before gathering as much strength as she could muster in her hindlegs and springing. She caught it's wing and hauled herself up onto the back of the creature, briefly slowing its flight and felling it to the ground before he began to thrash in an attempt to dispel her.


Eagle used talon strike on Brookpaw, dealing 10 damage and using 10 stamina.

Eagle
HP: 60/60
SP:190/200

Brookpaw
HP: 10/20
SP: 80/80


Brookpaw used leap and hold on eagle, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina. Eagle is held for 1 turns.

Brookpaw
HP: 10/20
SP: 70/80

Eagle:
HP: 54/60
SP: 190/200

The member 'Reindeer Ripped' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 10

ooc: dice dice baby

The member 'Reindeer Ripped' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Effect Dice' : 1

ooc: sorry for the wait! I was stranded because of heckin delayed flights

IC: The orange and white tabby dipped his head at the sound of Barleytuft's praise. Finchpaw was pleased with the catch he made, and was glad Brookpaw and her mentor felt the same way. The heat of the hunt had somewhat warmed Finchpaw against the cold harsh sky. Ever since the sun came back, the apprentice had always felt the sky seemed more vast, filled with more opportunities than usual. It also made him feel quite small. Being out here on the moor, his clanmates by his side. It was a feeling Finchpaw would always remember.

The Windclan apprentice stood by Brookpaw's side as Barleytuft broke away from the group, having scented some prey. Finchpaw blinked as the cream-colored warrior lunged on top of some unseen creature, ending its life a moment later. The apprentice felt a flick of pride for his clanmates, or maybe just for being a cat in general. Being able to hunt with such grace, Finchpaw was certainly glad he wasn't a mouse, or a rabbit.
It was Brookpaw's turn next, and Finchpaw turned to gaze upon her, wondering what she had caught wind of. He lifted his nose to the sky and caught the same scent...squirrel. It was brave to venture all the way out here, away from the trees and the forest. And Brookpaw was brave to go after it... Finchpaw couldn't recall being taught by Ryecloud how to catch a squirrel. In Windclan, all hunting training consisted of was speed and swift turns, Finchpaw had not the slightest idea what was needed to bring down a forest dwelling creature.

Finchpaw cocked his head, watching as the russet-furred apprentice stalked closer to the squirrel. The apprentice was well aware that he was in for a show. Either Brookpaw would catch the squirrel, or there would be a wild chase through the moor. Both outcomes made his paws twitch with anticipation, ready to jump up at any moment.
But when Finchpaw did jump up, it was for different circumstances.

The unforgiving cold sky of winter again proved to the three lodestars how small they really were, as an earsplitting shriek split the sky. Eagle.
Finchpaw gazed on in horror as the giant bird swooped down toward the very prey Brookpaw was after. "Brookpaw!" The apprentice yowled, the eagle's talons closing on Brookpaw's neck, spraying the wheatgrass crimson.
Finchpaw was going to be sick. It was a mix of the adrenaline coarsing through him, and utter fear for his best friend. His breath caught in his throat as Brookpaw leaped on top of the eagle, dragging it toward the ground. Great Starclan you're amazing... Finchpaw thought, his panic fading out to awe. Even though Brookpaw had hold of the eagle, the tom still feared that somehow the bird would take off into the sky, bringing her with it. Narrowing his eyes, Finchpaw made a running start toward the bird, the ground a blur beneath him. Without a second thought, the orange tabby launched himself off the ground, claws outstretched. He hissed with satisfaction as they made contact with one of the eagle's wings, ripping through the feathers, turning Finchpaw's white paws a blood red. As the tabby landed on the ground, he swung his head toward Barleytuft, yellow eyes wide, knowing that, without the warrior, they may not make it out of this fight alive.


Finchpaw used Front Paw Strike on Eagle, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina.

Finchpaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 70/80

Eagle
HP: 48/60
SP: 190/200

Barleytuft had just begun to pick up his prey to return it to where he had left his Clanmates when his eyes shot up to see the huge feathered creature, only a moment before it let out a shrill cry and dove down towards the moor - towards where he knew the apprentices would be. "No!" he yowled, immediately abandoning his catch to sprint the distance between him and the diving bird who had now disappeared behind a dip in the moor. Barleytuft heard a cry of pain and Finchpaw's terrified cry an instant later from over the rise and felt his stomach sink into a knot - Oh, no, please not Brookpaw! - and pushed himself harder.

As Barleytuft broke the rise, time seemed to almost slow and he had only a heartbeat to take in his surroundings. He did not slow as he lunged from the crest of the hill down towards the eagle, who Brookpaw had somewhat clumsily pinned by scrambling onto its back. She's too light, Barleytuft thought desperately. If the eagle finds its wings and takes off it might take her with it. The powerful wings, indeed, were flapping, but faltering. The blood in its feathers came from a gushing wound on Brookpaw's neck, and the warrior could see pain glazing his apprentice's eyes.

Finchpaw had already rushed in and landed a few blows on the eagle, and Barleytuft was midair about to collide with the predator when the younger tom sought him out. In that instant, Barleytuft's sandy body slammed into the eagle, dislodging Brookpaw from its wing and sending the bird rolling in a flail of panicked feathers. Upon collision, Barleytuft had heard a crack, and after a moment of ensuring it wasn't something of his, he felt satisfaction knowing the bird had been wounded badly somewhere. In an instant, he knew he and the apprentices would be on it again.