Growing grouses (Open)

'This. Is a frivolous waste of time.' Grousepaw thought to himself bitterly as he sat near the entrance of the apprentices den. His short pelt spiked against the cold of the snow that continued to fall at an infuriating rate. He cursed that it continued, and felt distinctly displeased that he couldn't hunt anymore for the day. The young tom had tripped over a hidden stone and slightly twisted his hind paw. While it was nothing serious, he wasn't allowed to hunt for a day.

The industrious Grousepaw hated nothing more than being useless for a day. He had already helped the elders until they were too tired. No queens needed tending, indeed it seemed like every cat had somehow gotten everything that was possible given the weather, done. His muzzle twitched in displeasure. Surely there could be more. What about the tunnels? The thought crossed his mind, but he shook it away. If he wasn't allowed to hunt, he certainly couldn't go into tunnels where loose rocks were everywhere.

Instead the tom huffed and placed his head down on his forepaws. Ears flattened in displeasure until somecat would come and talk to him.

Murkpaw was done with the day. He stalked across the clearing, the sharp scent of mousebile still tingling in his nose, and right past an apprentice who was for some reason standing in front of the apprentice den instead of inside. Mousebrain. if you're going to freeze, do it in your nest. Of course it was the apprentices who were crazy and wanted to actually do something for the Clan that got to take the day off. Not him, no. That would be unfair.
His pelt gave a last shiver as he padded into the den. It wasn't much warmer than outside, which was annoying, but at least he could curl into a shivering ball there. Despite that, he still paused for some reason, looking over his tail at the apprentice who was still lying there.
After a moment, with an explosive breath, he turned and sat down in the entrance, away from the cold snowflakes. "What are you doing?" The words held a faint curious contempt he didn't bother to mask as his tail twitched behind him. What cat sits out in the cold the whole day?

"Waiting." Grousepaw answered curtly. His blue eyes flickered to the other tom's, 'Murkpaw' his mind supplied helpfully. 'Silverstreak's apprentice... Smokepelt's 'son'.' Grousepaw shifted to sit up, an itch behind his ear he lifted his good hind leg to scratch at with an air of casual indifference. In truth however, he considered the tom an uncertain variable. They hadn't spoken much, but what he had seen wasn't comforting. The other tom was often grumpy and irratable.

"I want to be out there. Doing something. Not sitting here waiting on a dumb injury." He turned his own glare to his other hind paw. It was slightly swollen at the joint. Not impossible to walk on, but his short pelt made the injury more obvious. "The den is meant for apprentices who have done their work." He glanced back at the open entrance distastefully. As thought it personally affronted him that he was so close to it. He was loathe to go into it and concede defeat. What would his mother think of that? Being defeated by such a weak injury.

Murkpaw lifted a non-existent eyebrow at the other tom's spiel of Clan-headed nonsense. Nonsense to him, anyway. A lot of other cats seemed to live and breathe it for some reason. He only just managed not to roll his eyes as he  shifted, wrinkling his nose and wishing there was some way he could get rid of that star-forsaken smell still locked in his nostrils. "What's the point? Your mentor's not going to drag you outside when you're dead. If I were you, I'd go and sleep for a moon while it lasts." Wouldn't want to be you anyway.
A cold gust of wind swirled around the entrance, and he flinched as he got a face-full of stinging ice. "Or you could go and eat all the fleas on the elder's pelts," He growled as he swiped at his face, attempting to blink out the ice crystals stinging in his eyes.

Maplepaw sat in the apprentices den, grooming herself. She pricked her ears, listening to the cats outside the den. She felt kind of sorry for Grousepaw. She couldn't imagine not being able to perform her duties. Heck, she couldn't bear being bored even for a moment. She wouldn't wish that upon any cat. Maplepaw stopped washing her bi-colored pelt and got up, arching her back in a stretch. She trotted out of the den to find Murkpaw talking to Grousepaw. "Hey, I wouldn't mind keeping you company if you want to stay out here." She said cheerfully. " Sitting outside alone isn't doing anything. It's funner to be with friends!" Maplepaw sat down between the two toms, looking at them both. "So. What are we gonna do? This conversation doesn't look like it's going anywhere" She said, mischief in her mix-matched eyes.

"Hmph. A little cold isn't going to kill me." Grousepaw declared, his gaze cold and dissapproving as his head tilted upwards proudly. "Sleeping a moon would be disgraceful! The clan needs feeding, not lackadaisical louts who can't be bothered to try." He stood, wincing as a sharp pain raced up his hind leg and forced him to sit down once more. Movement from the den distracted him briefly, catching sight of the ginger and black apprentice with the odd eyes. 'Hm... Maplepaw, Lilyflower's apprentice.' He recognised, his gaze returning to mere indifference. 'Always moving. Just as a windclan cat should be, unlike the lazy lout here.'

"Is it? So far the company has been rather... inefficent.." He huffed. Her mention of friends made him ponder the benefits of such a thing. Was it more useful? 'Not really... It would actually slow down my effeciency if I had to worry about friends.' His decision made, his jaws parted to make a statement, but descretion held him back. Ruining ties with any clanmates wouldn't help. That could incidentally weaken his clan relationships... and he couldn't have that. He needed to be a strong asset to the clan. Instead, he simply dipped his head to her. "I suppose it isn't. Forgive me, but this... 'conversation' is not my strong point." He confessed. An uncertain feeling in his stomach which turned to perplexion as he registered Murkpaw's last statement. "Eating fleas would be disgusting. I hardly think the medicine cats would approve of the stomach ache after."

Murkpaw glanced to the side as some weird cat bounced up to them. Urrgh, why does everyone have to talk all the time? To the side, Grousepaw was going on about lazy apprentices and whatever in frozen icicles he wanted to blather about- Wait. Did he just call me a lackadaisical lout? His head snapped around, yellow eyes turning into fiery chips of ice as he glared at the stupid apprentice. Before he could snap anything at the hare-brain, the tom just moved on, adding even more insults to the veritable pile he was heaping on top of Murkpaw's head.
"Lout? You're the one who's doing nothing, hare-brain," He snarled, contempt written all over his face, before he sucked in a breath and dared to register the rest of what the tom was saying. Conversation? An insult slugging match, you mean.
The leader's son also apparently took everything too literally. Murkpaw just glowered, completely oblivious to the fact that his twitching tail was spiking behind him. "A stomach ache would be good for you. The medicine cats would love listening to you talk," He growled under his breath, annoyed that the apprentice between them stopped him from taking it further.

(i apologize for angry boi in advance)

Maplepaw watched with annoyance as the two toms bickered with each other. Typical. "Will you two daft furballs stop arguing?! This isn't solving anything!" She growled, jumping up from where she was sitting. "Maybe it would be better if the both of you get yourselves busy doing something. It would be better than sitting here bickering." Maplepaw suddenly regretted entering this conversation, but she was also curious to see where it would lead. "Or maybe we could just calm down and have a conversation without it evolving into a fight." She could tell that Murkpaw wanted the situation to escalate from the fiery look in his eyes, but Maplepaw wouldn't let that happen. She calmly sat back down, curling her tail around her paws.

Grousepaw's ears flattened. Teeth slightly bared as he lifted his injured back paw with a grimace of pain.
"In case you forgot, I'm injured." He retorted, then huffed with a sterner glare. "You were just saying how much you'd go sleep for if it happened to you." His comment was distracted by the she-cat who had come over. His head tipped thoughtfully in her direction. It was true, sitting and bickering really was doing nothing for them. He thought silently over the various things they could try to do... but most of them involved heavy movement, which he was supposed to avoid.  'Or... I could just do it and Briarpaw would never know.' The thought was entertaining for a moment before he frowned and shook his head. Briarpaw may not know, but it would cripple his effeciency to damage himself more.

Still, he didn't enjoy the thought of admitting as such as he turned his gaze to Maplepaw.
"Well, what would you suggest then." He asked her, his thoughts turned to Murkpaw briefly as he pondered 'anything will be better than Murkpaw's. Unless he decides to train.'

Murkpaw grumbled under his breath as the she-cat growled at them both, exasperation evident in her voice as she asked for a genuine conversation. Not with this rock-head around. He glared pointedly at Grousepaw, though he didn't dare to say it aloud. Sometimes, just sometimes, he found himself wishing he could talk to someone without them acting all weird and either falling silent or throwing insults back at him. He shoved the desire back down ruthlessly, idly listening to the other tom's question while ignoring him.

"Go jump on your leg," He muttered, tail-tip twitching behind him. Why can't they all just sleep? There's nothing to do around here anyway. Shivering, he twitched an ear as a stray snowflake landed on it, shuffling his paws and trying to keep them warm. Anything would be better than standing around. Lifting his voice, he meowed half-sarcastically, "Just train with some cat. Or do a three-legged hopping race to the lookout border."