This Could Be the Start [Closed]

His grass-green gaze cast over the warrior's den as he watched the sleeping frames of his clanmates. There was a sense of satisfaction settled in the pit of his stomach as he revealed in the new title he possessed and the seemingly more comfortable living arrangements. Perhaps it was all in his head but the nests for warriors felt that much warmer. As pleasant as it was, the calico knew it would have to end eventually. Burntstag could not stop in pursuit of the future. He was constantly looking ahead to the things that were to come, whatever they may be. With a slow blink, the tom rose and stretched his yet to be invigorated muscles. Bedding clung to his coat and the long fur stuck up in several places. Quickly he dispelled any debris and smoothed his pelt in preparation to head out for a morning patrol.

As he groomed himself, the warrior caught sight of Asterspark. After the death of Frogmarsh and the tom's eye, he had not been in the best state. Pity welled up in his chest. Burntstag had hoped to get to know the older warrior better anyway. Perhaps he could use something to clear up his mind. As he padded closer, the tom flicked Asterspark with his tail gently, "Are you up for a dawn patrol?" He was not daft enough to consider near Carrionplace, nor did the Thunderpath sound appealing. They could check the far reaches of the territory. Once glance outside had told him that snowfall had ceased for now. And despite the presence of the flakes on the ground, the wind barely seemed to be blowing. He waited for an answer, prepared to leave the den as soon as his companion was ready.

At the feeling of a tail laying along his back for only a few heartbeats, Asterspark turned his head to look at one of the youngest warriors in the Clan. When Burntstag mentioned a patrol, he couldn't help but remember back to what had happened just a couple sunrises ago, when the Carrionplace exploded and was engulfed in flames. That was the day he had lost not only his first apprentice Frogmarsh, but also his right yellow eye. Now that he was half-blinded, he couldn't perform any of his warrior duties nearly as well. And it really stunk.

Hopefully, this kind of patrol Burntstag had suggested would be just a normal patrol with no excitement. He just wanted a peaceful, calm day of hunting, nothing more. He would prefer to just sleep for the rest of his life and never wake back up, but he knew he couldn't, so this would have to be the next best thing. Asterspark offered the newly appointed warrior a lazy grin to cover up his true emotions from him. "Heh, sure thing, I'll come with ya. I've been dawn-ing to do somethin' productive anyway."

The calico's whiskers twitched in amusement at Asterspark's remark. Despite being raised in Shadowclan a majority of his life now, the pair of them had spent a very limited amount of time interacting. Frog had referred to him as lazy and useless in life. Both were traits the warrior had displayed before but there was far more to the blur-furred tom than what was on the surface. He could sense it. One glance at the older cat reminded him of their fallen clanmate and his heart twisted in a way it had not before. Even with her obstinance and an odd refusal of a clan name, Burntstag had grown to enjoy her company and see a similar potential that he now saw in her mentor. A great loss had stricken the clan, taking not only her life but also Asterspark's eye and left marks on a few other clanmates. Tucking away resentment for the instance was difficult but he managed without batting an eye.

Since the beginning, he had doubts about the clan leader's decision to ban hunting at Carrionplace. A patrol had been sent to check the area not long after and Frog's disobedience had lead to her demise. But the nagging feeling that Scorchstar had been the one to order the patrol nagged at the edges of his conscious. Outwardly, it seemed an event that proved the idea of the leader to be a wise decision. Burntstag could not quite pin his reservations, nor was he one to make irrational assumptions about signs or otherworldly things. With a flick of his tail, the tom banished the thoughts for now. He padded towards the entrance and slipped through to face the snowy landscape that stretched out before them. With little more than snow-laden dead foliage and the occasional tree, it seemed to stretch on for a while.

"I was thinking a simple border patrol of the far border. We could hunt along the way. But, as a senior warrior, it is, of course, your decision." Burntstag made the suggestion and despite the urge to lead the way, hung back to allow for the other tom to overtake if he wished. Studying the other cat's expression, the calico expected to see something that he assumed was hidden in the very recesses of his gaze. After all of the recent events, it would be difficult for any cat to not be pressed with the burden of sadness. And yet, Asterspark wore a seemingly unafflicted mask. His feathery tail swept up some of the snow behind him as the casual question was raised, "How are you managing, Asterspark?" With all this loss. It was a feeling he had known well as a kit. A certain reserved concern underlined the tone as his intense gaze seemed to pick apart the other tom. He hoped his question was not unwelcome. As clanmates, it was their job to care for each other.

The half-blinded tom rose up a foreleg in an attempt to shrug. ”Eh, ‘s fine by me. Let’s head towards the Thunderpath and hunt there, there’re more mice out there. I’m gettin’ tired of huntin’ in the marshes.” Usually, he wouldn’t mind letting another cat take the lead during a patrol, but with just the two of them, he had no choice but to. After all, he was the older and more experienced of the two. With a lazy flick of his tail, he led his Clanmate out of camp and towards the physical borderline between ShadowClan and ThunderClan territory.

Burntstag’s question was to be expected, of course. Every cat nowadays felt the need to ask him the same question. He had lost a lot in his life, yes, but he never heard anyone asking Redwing if she or her unborn kits were okay, or if Scorchstar himself was faring well after all the difficult events he must have had to face in his lifetime. Eh, whatever, he didn’t really care. He knew the answer he would give the younger warrior anyway. Well, an answer that dodged the real meaning behind the question.

Side-glancing over at Burntstag, he offered him a casual grin and a twitch of his whiskers. ”Well, it was a little hard leadin’ patrols at first, ‘specially when I was just startin’ out, but now it’s not so bad. So yeah, I’m managin’ well, thanks for askin’.”