Inconceivable! {closed}

The sun crawled lazily into the sky, casting heat out onto the moor. Finchstar blinked in tune with the yellow rays, sitting near the apprentice's den, tail flicking with each moment of passing time. An apprentice of his own was an interesting thing indeed. Not too long ago, Finchstar had been caught up in a leader's duties, and then he had been cast into grief alongside it. But things had settled down now, and while the moor still seemed empty without Brookclover, Finchstar had other outlets to place his heart into. Aspenpaw had been his last apprentice, and Finchstar, then Finchbreeze was so obviously young, flickering with each gust of wind. Now, with the gray tabby having taken the role of a medicine cat, Cloverpaw was Finchstar's new pupil, and it was safe to say he had learned a few things since his last mentorship.

The sun peaked the tallest hill, and it was time. Padding into the apprentice's den slowly, Finchstar gently placed a paw on Cloverpaw's shoulder, whispering; "Are you ready for an adventure, 'paw?" Meeting his eyes with a youthful grin, Finchstar let out a small chuckle, and then bounded out of the den as if he were a kit again. He felt light, drifting over the breeze like the rye. Cloverpaw had a young soul, and the leader's heart beat a little faster to be able to see his eyes as he gazed at the territory for the first time. The tom would be sure to give Cloverpaw some freedom, thinking he'd let him decide where their first destination would be. Oh, the things he had learned since Aspenpaw was his student. While Finchstar didn't look any older, his soul had aged, and so had his mind. Carefully, he exited the gorse tunnel and stepped into the merciful light of day, letting the brightness glow off his fur. Finchstar cast a sideways glance to Barleytuft's son, and gave him a cheeky wink, feeling swell.

"What do you think?" Finchstar asked, finding himself staring. "I remember my first time out of camp, the wind tangles in your fur, whispers in your ears, and offers to carry you away. It is a feeling rivaled by few." They padded through the sweeping ryegrass, stopping to sniff at an abandoned rabbit warren, and sitting for a moment as Finchstar pointed out what heather and lavender looked like. The two toms started slow, padding over the dirt and circling tussocks. The smile on Finchstar's maw seemed to be plastered to his face, a permanent thing in the presence of Cloverpaw. The striking silver tabby was a mystery to the leader. He had watched him at his mother's belly, but there was no personality then. Here, out on the moor, where the small tom could hop and run, this is where he truly shined, and the leader was ever ready to learn what kind of cat he would be. They climbed a taller hill, clambering onto a small rocky outcrop to overlook a meadow. Finchstar let his gaze sweep the territory. "The day is yours, Cloverpaw. Where would you like to go?"

Falling asleep that night had been hard, for Cloverpaw was brimming with excitement and anticipation for the next day's training session with his new mentor, Finchstar: WindClan's leader! He still felt starstruck about who he had been appointed to. Though his father, Barleytuft, had mentioned being friends with Finchstar more than once, and Cloverpaw vaguely remembered the tom visiting occasionally when they were young kits, the young silver tabby could hardly get over the awe of being the leader's apprentice. He and his siblings - save for Quailkit, whose ceremony had unfortunately been put off for another day - were excited by their new den and the future that awaited them with their new mentors. Cloverpaw, too riled up to lay peacefully, instigated a moss fight at one point. Finally before moon-high their energy died down, and he even managed to get some sleep in preparation for the new day.

Just the simple touch of a paw on his shoulder was enough to get Cloverpaw's attention and draw him from sleep in the morning. His light amber eyes flickered open and in the early morning sunlight he focused on his new mentor, Finchstar, waking him for their day. Cloverpaw's response was a tiny little trill, for he was aware of heavily sleeping apprentice nearby. Finchstar had retreated with kittish joy and Cloverpaw was energized by it; he pushed himself easily to his paws before he, too, raced from the den to bound across the camp clearing with his mentor. Even the camp itself still felt sort of new. He'd been allowed to wander it as an older kit, of course, but it was different now that he had his apprentice name! There were now places he was supposed to go instead of places he wasn't. He felt free as a bird.

The mentor and apprentice pair exited camp, and Cloverpaw blinked against the unfiltered sunlight. Sure, camp was always open, but the gorse walls always provided some kind of shade. Out in the open, on the moor, the sunlight came from all around and seemed to make all the blades of grass shimmer with its brilliance. Cloverpaw's eyes were wide and a toothy grin spread across his face as he took in the world. "What do you think?" the kind voice of Finchstar questioned from beside him. Cloverpaw didn't answer, still struck by how much he was seeing. His mentor continued speaking, musing on the marvel of the first time outside of camp. The silver tom nodded empathically, though he might not have worded it so poetically. It smelled like life outside of camp.

Finchstar lead the way across the moor and Cloverpaw followed swiftly behind, and though he found himself distracted often his mentor was always right back to observe and teach. Cloverpaw was eager to learn whatever the ginger-and-white tom had to say; he smelled his first rabbit warren and a strange thrill rippled through his pelt. I'm gonna catch one of those someday, he thought with determination. He saw heather and wondered how it had looked before the flood - he hadn't been born yet, but everyone talked about it. His father had to console them early on to reassure them there wouldn't be another flood, and since then it was hard to get them to not play "don't fall in the flood."

Cloverpaw followed his mentor up a hill and found as he was partway up that his legs and paws were burning with effort. Do warriors really walk this far every day? he wondered, panting as he tried now to finish ascending the slope. It was the steepest thing he'd ever climbed. He sat at the top beside his mentor and gave one of his forepaws a lick. "Where would you like to go?" Finchstar asked, and instantly the weariness in his feet was forgotten. "I wanna see the Gorge!" he announced. "Mom and dad tell me it's dangerous, but I heard other cats say it's neutral now. Why's it so dangerous if there aren't any enemies there?"

The gorge was a romantic place, not due to its relation to danger, but more because of the beauty that it wrapped itself in. Finchstar had been there many a time, and frankly was disappointed nothing sincere or huge took place in that spot. The waterfall made a good backdrop for adventure, and the deep fall heightening the scene. But for Finchstar, no memories of significance had attached themselves to the place yet. Perhaps it was time to make some. "The gorge sounds like a wonderful idea. I like your mind Cloverpaw, it seems you have a longing for adventure as well." They turned to pad in that direction, weaving in between tussocks and leaping over the occasional rock.Finchstar took a moment to ponder his apprentice's questions about the place, wondering how he could give the striking tabby some wariness, without making him resent the clifffalls.

"It's not necessarily the cats that make it dangerous, although on any border, you should always keep your eye out for the opposite clan. The gorge just happens to be the border with RiverClan, and although it is now neutral - which I am impressed that you knew - it is still a good idea to stay on your toes." But the other half of Cloverpaw's question had been left unanswered, and Finchstar smiled wide and let the land speak for itself. They crested a hill, and a few foxlengths in front of them sat a massive rift in the moor, the wound bled water, gushing and pulsing, spraying droplets down below. "Welcome to the gorge, 'paw! Now the real danger, one more prominent and serious than any cat, is the drop here." Finchstar padded closer and held out his tail to single Cloverpaw to stop. "Don't get too close, Barleytuft may eat my ears for dinner if I allowed his son to fall into the void." The leader gave Cloverpaw a wink, showing he was kidding. "This is certainly an interesting place, the world we live in will never get boring, but promise me you will be mindful of the drop." A smile, and Finchstar found he missed being a mentor.

Cloverpaw was delighted that Finchstar agreed with his suggestion to go to the Gorge, and admittedly the apprentice was pretty pleased with himself for having remembered what he'd heard from his Clanmates. He'd never been outside the camp but he'd learned plenty about what lay elsewhere in the forest and on the moors from his father, mother, and apprentices who came and went when he'd lived in the nursery. When he moved to the apprentice's den his first thoughts were of all the things he'd get to see that he'd heard of as a kit. Somehow, the Gorge had been the place which stuck in his head. He was excited to see it, and he followed his mentor with new energy in his paws as they wound their way across the moor, paws swishing through the green grasses.

As they walked, Finchstar began to explain the dangers of the Gorge. He stated that it wasn't the cats who made it dangerous, although they could make it dangerous. He also added that it was the border between RiverClan and WindClan, and Cloverpaw gasped and asked enthusiastically, "Really? Are we going to see a RiverClan warrior, then?" The leader praised Cloverpaw's knowledge and the silver tabby felt his chest warm with pride. He'd have to keep listening to what other cats said so he could impress his mentor!

As they drew over the crest of the hill, Cloverpaw stopped dead in his tracks with amazement, pale amber eyes shooting wide. Immediately he viewed what must have been the Gorge, a massive tear in the earth with an unsettling roar coming from its depths. Surely no cat could cross that - it was probably bigger than camp! The silver tabby simply stared with amazement as Finchstar spoke, confirming that it was, indeed, the Gorge, and at last he revealed the danger of the Gorge: the drop. Without being told, Cloverpaw had felt it: felt the ominous fall without truly knowing it. Still buzzing with excitement, but fully alert by both his own instincts and his mentor's words, Cloverpaw edged forward until Finchstar stopped him. The silver tabby tom leaned slightly to try to peer over the edge and felt a breeze flutter up from the depths, ruffling his round face fur.

The apprentice immediately took a step back and sat, mewing obediently, "Yes, Finchstar, I'll be careful." He tilted his head and then looked at the elder tom, asking, "Where did it come from? Has it always been here?"

Cloverpaw's enthusiasm was energizing to say the least. Finchstar felt a kick in his step as he walked, letting the grass sweep over his legs. Seeing the gorge from the eyes of an apprentice once more, and its massive presence in the moor seemed to even expand. It sucked in all the wonder like a ravenous beast, and one could sit and watch the waterfall for ages, leg fur pricking at the thought of falling into its depths. The solemnness that appeared in Cloverpaw's voice as he answered the leader made his whiskers twitch. Barleytuft's son was spunky, and yet smart. He appeared to recognize the seriousness of the drop, and Finchstar nodded to confirm what he felt was true. It was a dangerously beautiful place, and he hoped his apprentice would come to respect it just as he did. "I certainly wish I knew where the gorge came from. A cat with that kind of knowledge must be wise indeed. Or very, very old." He gave Cloverpaw a wink, and flicked his tail to signal the tom to follow him along the cliff line, padding towards the flatter part of the rift.

"It's possible you may come across a RiverClan warrior, 'paw, but how you speak to them is the important thing." The hills sloped downward, and a view of the forest cut through the moor. Tall trees sat in the distance, far away, only the size of a paw pad. There were so many cats that roamed these lands, all with an agenda, something to drive their hearts. And perhaps even more important than the gorge, more important that Outlook Rock, was the skill to converse with the many souls of this world. Finchstar valued his skill at weaving stories, springing tails, bluffing with his very life. It was perhaps his only skill, but one that had served him well. It was important Cloverpaw learned of such a thing as well. He certainly had the bounce for it. "A lot of elders may tell stories of battles, and wonderous victories, but the real victory, is avoiding a fight all together." He gave his apprentice a cheeky smile, stopping on a taller part of the hill, gazing over the gorge - now significantly less steep - and into RiverClan's territory. "Sniff here, 'paw. Do you scent that? That is what RiverClan cats smell like. Brookclover used to say it was fishy... Now, what would you do if you spotted a cat from another clan crossing the border here? What would you say to them?" The mention of his mate was bittersweet, but it was impossible to blind himself to her. Even his own apprentice held her namesake, and even the scent of far-away cats held her memories.

When Cloverpaw asked where it came from, he had a few moments in his mind for his imagination to explode with colorful thoughts and ideas, each more elaborate than the last: the biggest rabbit had built a tunnel that collapsed; a big tiger clawed the land into pieces; a monster tried to strike a cat there. However, Finchstar answered swiftly, and he admitted that he wasn't certain where it had come from - or at least, he'd never been told. Both the leader and the apprentice marveled at the thought of a cat who could possibly know where The Gorge came from and when it appeared. Cloverpaw tried to muse who might be the oldest cat in the Clan. He knew his father was older than Finchstar, and his mother was older than his father, but she didn't know where the Gorge came from. Who did?

It was a question they couldn't answer, and so Finchstar moved onto one he could. The pair took off along the edge of the Gorge, and the ginger-and-white tom informed his apprentice that he could, perhaps, see a RiverClanner, and that he needed to watch how he spoke to them. "What do you mean? Do they not speak cat very well?" Cloverpaw joked, though truthfully he really didn't understand Finchstar's meaning. An unfamiliar scent wafted through the air, catching his attention, and he went silent to sniff and listen to his mentor's words.

"A lot of elders may tell stories of battles, and wonderous victories, but the real victory is avoiding a fight all together," Finchstar stated, and Cloverpaw nodded once in acknowledgement, still wondering what the odd smell from the distance was. Now, though, he understood that Finchstar meant he needed to speak carefully to avoid a battle. His mentor pointed out the source of the scent and Cloverpaw's ears perked up, eyes glinting with excitement. I wonder if Mistypaw has seen RiverClan yet! he thought, eagerly padding over to drink in the scent. It washed over his tongue and wreathed through his nose, and sure enough a pungent and oily flavor distinguished itself from his own. Finchstar had continued speaking and asked Cloverpaw what he might say or do if he saw a cat crossing the border.

The silver tabby tom jumped to stand upright, his tail flinging up in the air. "I'd ask them if they know the Gorge ended right there!" He looked at Finchstar and added, "A-And ask if they have business in WindClan! Right?" his paws worked at the ground, and he crouched for a moment, rocking side to side. "And then if they got too close without permission I could jump on 'em!" At that the apprentice pounced forward onto a small ant mound, smacking his little paws down onto the dirt and scampering creatures.

Cloverpaw's cheeky remarks had Finchstar chuckling as they padded down the hillside, not even Aspenpaw held this much spunk. His former apprentice had been witty, yes, and as sarcastic as the leader himself was, but Cloverpaw had a raw, impulsive energy that was almost a contagious thing. Finchstar found himself seeing the moor in a new light as Barleytuft's son made comments on the things he saw. The sun shifted higher into the sky as the two adventurers made their way towards the flatter part of the moor. The gorge mellowed out into a less intimidating feature, and the leader's whiskers twitched as Cloverpaw made note of it. "That is very true, the gorge does end here, yes." A wide smile spread across the tom's face. Never in his life had he thought to marvel at the end of the gorge and yet Cloverpaw was enamored with it, this world was truly beautiful, full of surprises.

He sat to listen to the rest of Cloverpaw's dialogue carefully, nodding in approval as he noted he'd speak with the imaginary RiverClan trespassers first, and then stifling a laugh as he then stated he'd jump on them. "I do very much appreciate your fire, 'paw. And it is always good to inquire with any potential trespassers about their business and intentions, and they best fear the mighty Cloverpaw." Finchstar gave the stunning tabby a wink. "However it may be best to keep a cool head, only attack when absolutely necessary, you may pick up some of their fish scent if you strike a RiverClan warrior! Good job, 'paw. Your logic is sound, and more wisdom will come with time." Smiling, Finchstar lifted his nose to the wind to catch scent of the moor, checking for any rabbits. "Here, leave your scent along this line to help RiverClan remember the borders, and then we'll continue our journey. Where would you like to go next?" Finchstar stood and gestured towards the far off treeline, farther down the moor. "That way is ThunderClan and ShadowClan territory, and behind them is SkyClan, although our territory doesn't ever meet theirs. Or, if you'd like to try your paws at hunting... I do scent some rabbits in the breeze." There was a twinkle in the orange tabby's eye as he gazed at Cloverpaw, wondering where his heart would take him. The ryegrass flowed and swished with the wind, sending the subtle noise of a raspy call through the land. The sun stood high and heather petals drifted in the breeze. The moor was vast and full of wonders, Finchstar loved seeing it from an apprentice's eye again, a pure thing it was.

Of course, the best thing to do when faced with uncertainty was to laugh about it, and posing his uncertainty as a joke seemed to suit his mentor as well, for the older tom was chuckling as they made their way towards their new destination. Finchstar didn't answer, but he didn't need to say anything for Cloverpaw to know his answer was wrong. Already the silver tom was learning Finchstar's teaching style to wander and wonder rather than directly answer, and as a young wondering wanderer the apprentice was glad to simply follow and see what the answer might be. It was only the faintest bit disappointing, as they walked along the crack in the earth which held roaring waters, that he wasn't walking to the answer about the strange land feature's origins; mostly it was exciting to think of all the possible causes that couldn't be disproven.

After Cloverpaw's enthusiastic demonstration, Finchstar grinned. The apprentice righted himself, looking quite pleased as he shook a few tiny black bugs off his paw and placed it down again, shining eyes watching his mentor closely as the leader considered his response. He'd seemed pleased enough with the first comment about where the Gorge ended - Cloverpaw couldn't imagine how someone might miss it - and it seemed as though Finchstar was satisfied with the rest as well. The ginger and white tom spoke with laughter in his voice as he complimented Cloverpaw, saying RiverClan better fear him. Though his mentor was being facetious, the silver apprentice puffed out his chest playfully - and deflated only slightly as Finchstar suggested a different approach.

Cloverpaw's sharp eyes watched Finchstar with interest as he explained it was better to only attack when necessary. The leader threw in a joke, but Cloverpaw suspected his playfulness was to take the edge off the seriousness of the conversation. Still, he was willing to take praise and correction where both were due, and Finchstar had a way of doing both smoothly. Cloverpaw beamed as Finchstar complimented, "Your logic is sound, and more wisdom will come with time." "Especially with you to teach me!" Cloverpaw purred enthusiastically, his praise genuine - though sprinkled with a bit of desire to sweeten himself to his mentor.

The leader moved on, offering Cloverpaw a chance to mark the border. I wonder if Goldenpaw has gotten to do this with Raventail yet! he thought as he left his first scent marker proudly. No one will dare steal prey from WindClan when Goldenpaw and I are warriors! Cloverpaw sprang from his spot and bounded to Finchstar's side. He asked where they would go next - or what they might do - and once again the apprentice marveled at his fortune in a mentor: the leader, his father's friend, who would let him pick what direction their first patrol took. Finchstar offered to teach them to hunt and Cloverpaw found himself nodding vigorously, dropping to the earth as if he would spring forth right then to catch his first piece of prey.

"Yes! Let's hunt!" Cloverpaw trilled from his crouching spot on the ground, turning his round face up to Finchstar's with wild, excited eyes. "I can learn the borders any time - I wanna see what rabbits are like!" He was familiar with rabbits as fresh-kill, but he thought to electrifying stories of rabbit hunts he heard in the nursery and a primal instinct inside him longed to follow in those pawsteps.

Cloverpaw's shot at flattery sent a purr rumbling down Finchstar's throat. He gave the silver tabby a smile, probably the thousandth one this day, but it was a testament to his heart. The leader loved the open wind and the moor grass, and it didn't feel so lonely with company. His apprentice certainly filled many gaps with his wide personality, and Finchstar was glad to see him in this light. Their first day out of camp, and the leader already had a strong desire to be good friends with Barleytuft's son. Maybe he was subject to the love in this world, but there were worse conditions to have. "You have kind words Cloverpaw, you make for a good cat to adventure with." Another wink, and the leader began to pad up the hill towards the center of the moor. The wide slope seemed to halve the sky, stretching up to its depths, as if you could run into the very clouds. The sight would never get old.

"That is a very good thought, 'paw. Borders can be boring at times, let's make sure you have a rabbit to bring back to camp instead." Heather swayed against their pelts as they padded into the big blue, the sun stretched higher with every step, beating down on the toms with its heat. The wind was a sharp relief, and Finchstar often found himself closing his eyes to stare into it, wondering if Cloverpaw loved its wispiness just as he did. The top of the hill revealed more and more of the endless meadow, gorse flowers dotted the landscape, and ryegrass rippled like a green wave of water. "Alright, lift your nose high and part your jaw slightly, can you smell that?" Finchstar asked, doing the same as he commanded Cloverpaw. The scent of rabbit was strong, it reminded him of soil and seeds, although the hint of something warm and tasty made his mouth water. Another scent, and Finchstar spotted a dingy brown thing father down the hill, nibbling on wheatgrass, ears swiveling side to side. "Look there, do you see it? That's a rabbit. It's downwind, which means it can't scent us. The wind is blowing towards us and away from our prey. This is the best way to hunt." Finchstar tore his gaze away from his apprentice, setting yellow eyes on the rabbit once more. "Do you want to try and catch it?" The leader asked, grinning widely. "Here, I'll circle the prey and run at him, drawing him towards you. And when it gets close enough, jump on him and try and bite his neck, alright?" Perhaps the leader was asking too much of his new apprentice, but the consequences of losing the prey were fair. It was Greenleaf, there were many more rabbits to go about, and it would give Cloverpaw some experience. "Alright, watch my tail, 'paw. When I raise it, that's the signal to run! Don't be worried, you'll do wonderfully."

Padding down the slope in a wide arc, Finchstar kept his frame low to avoid spooking the rabbit too early. The tall grasses hid his orange pelt, and soon the leader found himself behind their prey. The beast was trapped. Cloverpaw on one side, and Finchstar on the other. Memories of Brookclover ran through his head as he executed the technique. The russet she-cat was the fastest cat to ever grace the moors, and her speed when hunting was something to marvel at indeed. Memories of her lay everywhere, pumping through his blood like honey. They kept him warm when he was lonely, and sparked his heart when he was sad. And now, Finchstar was making new memories. New things to tell his mate when he finally reunited with her in the stars. And what a memory this would be. Finchstar and Cloverpaw, a new apprentice, a new friend. Starting in a sprint, Finchstar yet out a wild yowl to spook the rabbit up the hill towards his apprentice, raising his tail to give the signal. The sun watched them all, and under it they lived glorious lives.

The silver tabby's tail quivered with excitement as Finchstar agreed to hunting. Cloverpaw could hardly believe that he'd only received his apprentice name yesterday and already he was going to be learning how to chase rabbits and hunt for the Clan. He'd be ready for his warrior name in no time! Well, he had forgone learning the borders for now to learn hunting instead, but surely they could wait until he could feed himself and his Clan! Besides, it had sounded as though things were rather peaceful between the Clans right now, so surely he could wait a little longer to reinforce borders like the one he'd just marked! He followed his mentor eagerly over the next hill and towards the hunting grounds.

The pair slowed and Cloverpaw's mentor instructed him to scent the air. Cloverpaw turned his head in the direction that Finchstar indicated and lifted his nose, parting his jaw ever so slightly. The strongest scent that hit him was the smell of the wind, and for a moment it chilled his sinuses so he shivered. Still, he felt the scents of the moor washing over his tongue - dirt and rain, grass and flowers - and at last he was able to distinguish something else familiar, his goal. "Rabbit!" Cloverpaw trilled with excitement, immediately turning his bright eyes on Finchstar. His leader was looking elsewhere, at the source, and eagerly the apprentice followed his gaze to spot the creature plodding among the grasses several fox-lengths away down the length of the hill. Immediately the wild instinct to chase it threatened to seize him, but instead Cloverpaw just dug his claws into the ground and stared at it with wide, eager pupils.

Finchstar began to explain the plan, as well as their situation. They were downwind. Cloverpaw wondered for only a moment what that meant, as the elder tom quickly explained. Being downwind was best; it meant the prey couldn't smell you, but you could smell it. He nodded energetically to show his understanding and stared again longingly at the rabbit as he listened to Finchstar explain what he would do, and what Cloverpaw should try to do. The apprentice nodded again, and he felt no fear or trepidation in the face of possible failure: he only felt the overwhelming desire to run and learn.

WindClan's leader then crept off to carry out his plan, moving soundlessly across the terrain. Cloverpaw was in awe of how swiftly and smoothly the ginger-and-white tom moved through the grasses, and for a moment it didn't occur to Cloverpaw to try to get in position himself as his leader began to set up the play. It wasn't until Finchstar had nearly finished putting the rabbit between himself and his apprentice that Cloverpaw remember what was expected of him. He gazed with concentration as he tried to recall the way Finchstar had crouched, and his silvery frame dropped low to the earth with energy coiling in each bent leg. He edged his way down the hill, glancing constantly from his mentor to the rabbit, still unaware of their presence. Cloverpaw's heart was pounding in his ears and his vision threatened to lose sight of all but the rabbit.

The caterwaul that Finchstar loosed to frighten the rabbit nearly startled Cloverpaw out of his crouch as well, but it served just fine to remind him of his orders. The apprentice's pale eyes glanced just in time to see the ginger-and-white tom's tail shoot into the air: the signal! Cloverpaw immediately focused back on the rabbit which, sure enough, did exactly as Finchstar had said. The brown creature began to race towards Cloverpaw, and by the time it realized he was waiting to cut it off it was too late. The rabbit skidded on the ground but only came to a halt as the silver tabby tom's body slammed into it fearlessly. Cloverpaw could hardly think as he wrapped his legs eagerly around it, pricking his sharp nearly kitten-claws into it and holding it close to clamp his teeth on its neck. The rabbit only thrashed twice before he found his mark and ended its life.

Immediately as it dropped to the earth, Cloverpaw skittered to his feet and whirled to gaze with wonder-filled eyes at his mentor. "Whoa! Finchstar, I did it! We caught a rabbit!" He turned to drag its body in front of him, using all his energy to try to throw it towards his mentor. It was heavier than he expected and simply rolled unimpressively in Finchstar's direction, but Cloverpaw wasn't to be disheartened. "My first rabbit! I want to know more - teach me more about hunting!" he cried excitedly. He paused, and added with a winning - and apologetic - grin, "Please?"

Cloverpaw attempted to catch a rabbit and succeeded, spending 3 stamina.

Cloverpaw
20/20 HP
77/80 SP

The member 'Grandmaster Suma' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 8

Finchstar held his breath as the rabbit thundered to Cloverpaw's hiding place. He refused to doubt his new apprentice, but wondered if he had been wrong to let such a young cat try and catch something almost as big as himself. The slightest bit of fear put a new energy into his step, and Finchstar ran harder until he could see over the ryegrass, see Cloverpaw. And he did it. He leapt out with brave paws and brought the prey to the ground, cutting off its life with a swift accuracy. "Cloverpaw!" Finchstar breathed, surprised, proud, exhilarated. His apprentice rolled the furry thing across the peat grass and the leader stepped closer to sniff it, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. The moist, windy smell of grass and flesh swirled through the orange patched tabby's nostrils, and he lifted his head with a smile. "You did it, 'paw! You really did it!" Blindingly happy, Finchstar made his way over to Cloverpaw and rested his long tail over his shoulders for a brief moment, displaying his pride in his apprentice. "Wait until we tell Barleytuft! And Graybriar. They'll want to know more about your catch, I'm sure. I'm proud of you, Cloverpaw." He offered his apprentice a wide smile, feeling truly alive. A run with the wind, a solid catch, and the smell of heather in the air. There was no truer way to live.

Whiskers twitching at Cloverpaw's excited questioning, and then a more controlled "Please?" Finchstar failed to resist his charm. "Of course. You've done the hard part, and now I'll teach you the strategies and tedious matters. Not quite as exciting, but just as important. The first thing you need to do after a catch is bury it, that is if you're not planning on returning to camp right away." Finchstar brushed away some dry grass from the ground and began to claw at the dirt below. "Burying the prey keeps it out of sight from other predators, as well as keeping it cool during hot days like this one! Be sure to remember where you hid it though... I once lost a pheasant to the dirt, and have never found it since." Finchstar smiled as he reminisced on his own apprenticehood, and found it was much easier to remember it in the presence of a cat who held that same youth. Cloverpaw was more than just a companion, he held a certain aura to him as well. A youthful and fiery thing.

They scooped the rabbit into the dirt together, covering its brown pelt with soil. Taking a breath, Finchstar set his eyes on Cloverpaw once more and decided he should know a proper hunting technique. It had been skill that his apprentice managed to catch the rabbit the first time, but that skill could be multiplied with a good stance. "Alright. The prey is buried, and should be safe from predators." Finchstar came to stand beside the silver tabby, and let his muscles relax, setting his paws farther apart from each other, digging his claws into the ground. "Stand how I am, 'paw. Keep your paws far apart, and unsheathe your claws into the soil. This is a good stance to use before running at your prey. Your claws can gain traction in the dirt, and a wide pose like this one keeps your paws from getting tangled." The leader gave Cloverpaw a smile, coming to sit normally. "Don't worry about stealth, it is rarely important on the moor. There is no cover to hide behind here, so instead, WindClan relies on speed to hunt." Finchstar watched his apprentice carefully, wondering what he would think of the information.

Cloverpaw didn't want to stand still, his body still swimming with energy at the memory of his first successful catch. He bounded forward towards it and his mentor, his dark-ringed tail high in the air and quivering with excitement as he set his paws on the rabbit and moved it around, feeling its quickly cooling fur and examining its powerful muscles, forever stilled. Finchstar's cries of pride and excitement filled the apprentice with an almost euphoric feeling of excitement - he had caught his first rabbit! Finchstar was pleased, and the tom laid his ginger tail over Cloverpaw's shoulders. "I did it!" he echoed Finchstar giddily, and then at the mention of his parents the silver tom gasped and mewed, "Yes! Oh, I can't wait to tell them! And Goldenpaw and Mistypaw too! They're gonna want to hear all about it!"

But he couldn't stop there; he knew it, and so did his mentor. He had to learn more, and Finchstar was glad to teach him. The first step after catching prey, apparently, was to bury it. Cloverpaw was eager to get his paws dirty, so as soon as he saw the technique that his mentor used to clear the earth away he went in swiftly to help, quickly dirtying his small, pale silver paws as he helped to scoop dirt from the hole. He had no idea how big it needed to big in width or depth, but he watched Finchstar's actions carefully and mirrored them confidently, eagerly. As they spoke Finchstar explained the importance of the technique - as well as the risks of doing it poorly. Cloverpaw chuckled to think of his mentor's missing pheasant, a fleeting competitive thought of "someday I'll find it!" flashing through his head before he was distracted again.

They had finished the hole and placed the rabbit in its depths in no time, and Cloverpaw covered its body with the earth they'd dug out feeling immensely proud and useful. Finchstar stated that their task was complete, but for good measure Cloverpaw quickly spun a circle over the earth to tramp his scent into it. Satisfied, the apprentice turned back to his mentor, and his ears pearked at the sudden command. Cloverpaw's pale face turned half serious, though light of wonder and excitement to learn to shimmered in his eyes; he immediately began moving and readjusting to emulate the stance, glancing up and down with a determined expression as he set his paws in what felt like a good position and did as he was told. He continued trying to perfect his stance as Finchstar spoke, feeling powerful, poised, and ready to chase.

Finchstar walked over to him but Cloverpaw didn't relax yet. When the leader was beside him Cloverpaw asked with a little giggle, "How's this? I feel kinda like a big doofus, but you looked so cool when you were doing it!" It was a bit of an overstatement, but he did feel a little awkward with his paws placed so particularly on the earth.

Cloverpaw mimicked Finchstar's stance, spreading his paws farther apart, digging his claws into the ground. The silver tabby commented on the silliness of it, and Finchstar's whiskers twitched. "You're doing wonderfully. The rabbits won't have time to tease you for your silly pose if they're dead. A silly-looking predator is better than a slow one." The leader made a few adjustments to his apprentice's stance, placing a paw to guide his own. "Perfect! You'll be the fastest cat on the moor before you know it, paw." The leader let his gaze trace the sky and find the sun, thinking that soon the day would get almost too hot. It would be best to return to camp soon and let Cloverpaw show his catch to his family, but maybe they'd get a drink of water first to wetten their throats. "Come on, let's take a break at this stream here before we return." A small gurgle of water bubbled over rocks, cutting through the ryegrass and twisting and swirling beneath the bushes. The sun reflected off its ever moving surface, white light sparkling from the sky. Finchstar felt happy, content with the day. It certainly had been wonderful to relive his youth again, but perhaps he was too young to even reminisce of such a thing. It was only leaf-bare when he had still been only a warrior, wild and heart-heavy. And now the grass was green with life, and he still held that kit-like state of mind. He could thank Cloverpaw for it. Today had been fun, carefree and light. The silver tabby at the edge of his vision held more worth than all the stars. In fact, all of WindClan did. Finchstar wanted to give them the very world.

Shaking away the deep thoughts, the leader bent his head to lick up a few laps of water, the cool drops relieving his sore throat. He waited for his apprentice to do the same, when an idea formed in Finchstar's head, followed by a wide grin. "Cloverpaw, look over there, underneath that bush, do you see it?" Memories and memories flowed through the leader as he stepped over the stream and padded towards the bush he had directed Cloverpaw to. In the shade sat a nest of hard grass and stray sticks, wound tightly together, the work of talons. "Eggs!" Finchstar crooned in almost a kit-like tone. Three creamy white eggs lay in the nest, spotted and shining in the light. It was a whimsical thing, but WindClan had held these items to a high value, as long as the leader could remember. "Have you heard of the egg game, 'paw?" Finchstar asked, slowly nudging the hard shell from its den with his nose. "If a cat can bring an egg like this one back to camp unharmed, they'll be deemed skillful and talented. Sometimes we'll even eat them, although I've never found them to my liking." Another ginger roll, and the egg tumbled from the nest, landing softly on the ground below. "These ones are grouse eggs, who make their nests on the ground. Would you like to try, 'paw?" The grin did not fall from Finchstar's maw during the whole encounter, and the leader felt as light as a feather.

"We can call it a hunting exercise. To work on patience and wit. I'll carry your rabbit back for you if you'd like, and then you'll have two things to show the clan!" As the sun crept higher and the heat beat down, Finchstar found his way back up the hill and unearthed Cloverpaw's catch, feeling proud of what his apprentice had achieved. The walk back down the slope was cool, a slight wind picking up to soften the warmth. Grass whispered and clashed as he found his apprentice's side again, rabbit in tow. "Rr youh remdy to goh?" Finchstar mumbled through the fur, trying his best not to chuckle at the sight of the egg between Cloverpaw's paws. A new test, a new adventure.

Cloverpaw kept his pose as best as he could despite how awkward it felt, for Finchstar spoke of it with satisfaction and encouragement. He wasn't convinced, since it felt so uncomfortable, and he shuffled his paws ever so slightly. When he looked up again, Finchstar had left his own pose and come to help adjust Cloverpaw's. The apprentice did his best to move the way that his mentor wanted, but by the end he felt like he must look like the most ridiculous cat in the world right then. Yet again Finchstar spoke encouragingly, and Cloverpaw tried his best to memorize how weird it felt so he could do it again in the future. Well, truthfully, even just standing in it for those several moments had made it a bit more familiar. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"I dunno why I have to stand so funny to run after rabbits," Cloverpaw said with a smirk, "but if this is how I've gotta do it I'll remember!" Finchstar stepped away then to relax, gazing at the sky, and with his permission Cloverpaw relaxed as well, standing straight from his hunting crouch. Finchstar spoke of a break and water and Cloverpaw nodded in vigorous agreement, as if suddenly realizing how tired, hot, and thirsty he was.

Finchstar, skilled in navigating the territory and in finding things needed for survival, quickly found a stream of cool water which Cloverpaw bounded towards and began to drink from greedily. His mentor arrived at a more leisurely pace, and when they were both finished quenching their thirst they backed away. Cloverpaw was just wondering what they might try and do next when Finchstar's voice called, sounding delighted. Immediately his pale amber eyes swung to land on the bush, trying to see what might be under it. His mentor withdrew a pale, oddly shaped object from the dirt. It rolled unevenly over the ground and Cloverpaw's eyes widened as he stared at it.

His mentor asked if he'd heard of the egg game and Cloverpaw shook his head. "No, but I wanna!" Most of the apprentice hadn't talked to him and his siblings when they were still kits, and they'd been too busy settling into their new den to talk about other things that apprentices did. Fortunately, Finchstar was quick to explain the objective, and though the reward was little more than a title, Cloverpaw immediately felt his desire to accomplish the goal. His paws were working at the ground as his leader pulled the egg a little closer and offered to let him try. "Yes please!" he exclaimed brightly, inching up to the little egg. Finchstar offered to carry his rabbit and Cloverpaw nodded agreement, fixing his eyes with joy on the egg.

The leader returned a few moments later with the unearthed rabbit, and Cloverpaw's eyes glimmered with joy as the moment came. He slowly worked the egg onto his forepaws, pressing them tightly together and holding the egg in the crook of his ankles. "Oh, gosh, and I thought that hunting stance looked funny!" the apprentice joked, but his heart was racing with excitement. "I'm ready, Finchstar!" he purred.

ooc: gonna roll dice, 1-2 means he succeeded in carrying the egg - edit: HE DID IT

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The walk home was long - or rather, in Cloverpaw's case, the waddle - and the sun shone down even hotter on them than it had earlier. The silver tabby tom could feel his elbows aching and paws cramping as he inched his way down the entrance tunnel of camp, panting slightly as he brought his prized little egg in held on his paws.