Intro to Hunting, the aversion of thought [Closed]

my brain:

Beartooth rose early, as he usually did, but this time with a greater purpose. It was the first time in a while that he had an apprentice. That particular apprentice happened to be Duskpaw, a cat he had chosen to mentor himself, and who was the daughter of the former Thunderclan cat that he had killed. The thought was an unpleasant one and he tried to push it away but it was the very reason they were set on the course of training together. He made it his duty to train up Flintfang's daughters well. After checking to make sure she was already up, he headed for the entrance and out into the ravine. There was no reason to waste time. Plenty of territory exploration and hunting was ahead for the day. He took comfort in that fact, that he would be able to lose himself into the usual duties of the hunt and of checking the borders. It was easy to forget he was even supposed to be mentoring another cat, something similar to the fact that he constantly forgot he was more than just another one of the clan's warriors. The bulky tom's ear twitched as he sat at the top of the ravine and surveyed the land below. Already he wished for this encounter to end quickly. They would hunt, and learn, and return to the clan for rest. Hopefully Starclan would offer him the kindness of a short day. When Duskpaw arrive, he nodded towards her and broke into a sprint down the ravine and into the territory, stopping only when they reached a fallen tree where he determined would be a good place to start. His expression did not change as he finally offered her some sort of a greeting, "Today you will see the territory and learn to hunt. It is the basics of your warrior training. There is much to do, so try to keep up and stay on task, Duskpaw."

"I'm ready." Duskpaw breathed as she reached Beartooth's side, watching the tom sitting near the edge of the ravine. The birds whistled in the air, chittering as leaves fell around them. As excited as she was to learn to hunt and fight, Duskpaw took her time this morning, finding a water puddle to lap at, taking a moment to pick the moss from her claws. The apprentice's den had been a well-needed change from that stuffy nursery. The she-cat didn't see an need for a nursery in the first place. Her father was dead and her mother was gone, and she didn't need any milk. Why not sleep with the apprentices? But there was no reason to protest as her wish had been granted. Dacepaw had helped her find moss for her nest, and she spent the night settled in next to the she-cat and Houndpaw. At least now no kits would crawl on her as she watched the stars at night. Being out of camp was freeing, yes. But she had grown up just outside these woods. If anything, it was more of a nostalgic feeling than a new adventure. Nevertheless, her small white paws still kneaded the ground quietly, gasping as Beartooth started in a sprint down the ravine.

Letting out a whimsical giggle, Duskpaw followed the tom as fast as her paws could carry her. The wind lifted her fur, fuzzying her pelt and sending her paws soaring. Perhaps if she jumped, she'd fly. The large tom stopped all too soon, waiting at a fallen log for her to catch up. Duskpaw thought about asking to run again, even though the feat left her winded. However the words that came from his maw quickly changed her aspirations. "Okay!" She squeaked simply to Beartooth's command, weaving with him as they padded into the forest. Her breath still came in gasps and the slightest giggle would grace her voice at the excitement of it all. Finally. She would hunt and be strong. Duskpaw wondered what Hazelpaw's face would be like when she brought back a fat squirrel! But the forest proved to be distracting. Bushes would rustle, and leaves would twirl down to the forest below. The apprentice found herself wishing to jump on the beetles on the logs, or the bees that would drift through the air. She almost tested her resolve before another sight caught her eye. Beartooth. Beartooth couldn't shrug his shoulders at her like the others did. He was her mentor! If anything, it was his duty to answer her every question and desire. Grinning, and armed with a cause, Duskpaw bounded to his side in a prance, tail high. "Where did all your scars come from? And why are your feet all weird?"

The deputy was contented to pad along in silence, and to find anything other on such a peaceful day surprised him. His paws stalled slightly and his ears twitched at the words. There was a large imprint in the mud where he had picked up his paw and he studied it for a brief second before placing it back and swallowing a lump that formed in his throat. Duskpaw requested something he tried to shove to the recesses of his memory. Pricklebush helped to breed a hatred for those grotesquely disfigured claws and it was something he longed to forget. But these things were not going anywhere. And as he gritted his teeth, tightening his jaw, he was reminded that the vastly overgrown fangs were his constant companion as well. For several moment, he said nothing and simply stood where he had paused. Wind whistled in his ears, rustling the leaves above and stirring on thoughts of all thing better left forgotten on the breeze.

After what seemed to be an entire moon's time, his low voice seemed to shatter the silence, "I was born with these claws. It is the way I am." Something about that, he found, was reassuring to himself. That was it. They were a part of who he was and that was a thing that would never change. Beartooth had never considered it before as he had hardly been confronted with it in such a blatant way. But there was a bigger question of why. Why was cursed with such monstrosities that only served to exacerbate the chronic issue of his battle-ready nature? The deputy looked away from his apprentice. A moment of relief was snatched away in an instant. It seemed he would never truly find peace in his condition. This was the also the way that he was. A soundless sigh escaped the edges of his maw. Duskpaw would have had to strain in order to hear such a sound.

The scars. She wanted to know about the scars. Well, it was only a matter of time before Duskpaw would learn the true life of a warrior was not to be attributed to the enthusiasm of kits. There was far more than a sought after name and the glory of a ceremony. Beartooth looked at the kit, seeing only her father as he spoke, and there was an unusual wavering to his tone, but only once and subtle in its nature, "Scars come from battle. It is fighting that makes the mark of a warrior on your pelt. Not a glorious thing." His eyes sought out something anything other than this to focus on and he was blessed with the scurrying of a mouse ahead. Beartooth said nothing to the she-cat other than a silencing flicker of his tail as he went to focus on the pursuit of his prey. A mouse was far easier to face than the curious prying of a young cat. This he knew, and this he found solace in. Creeping forward, the tom waited until just the right moment to pounce. As much as he longed for the ease of the hunt, his mind plagued him relentlessly now, with thoughts that pounded louder than the flood once had over the territory.

It slipped through his claws. And the mouse was gone. Disappeared into a hole in the ground. Beartooth frowned and turned to face Duskpaw once more with a simple acknowledgement before continuing on their journey into the forest, "I hope you learned something, Duskpaw. Don't let your mind cloud your duties."

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

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'Hunting Dice' : 8

A few silent moments had passed after Duskpaw's questioning entered the air, she continued to pad along the leaf mulch, until realizing Beartooth wasn't following. Maybe he was tired. Spinning around, she pranced to his side, eyes wide as she inserted herself into his gaze. A few simple words fell from Beartooth's mouth, and that was it. A giggle followed shortly after, Duskpaw's whiskers twitching as she stared into his face. What a funny cat. He didn't talk as much as Dacepaw or Houndpaw did. He was even more quiet than Bonewatcher. Feeling fluttery, the she-cat placed her own small paw on top of Beartooth's large one, staring at the scene for a moment, watching as the leaves fluttered around them. "I wish my claws were like yours..." She breathed, long fur breezy in the wind. "Beast claws!" She exclaimed, voice still careful as the tom answered her second question. Like before, this one was also somewhat of a disappointment. Duskpaw found herself frowning as they padded deeper into the trees. The answer given was dreadfully simple. The apprentice had always viewed scars as something exciting. After all, Bonewatcher had told her that her father had so many! But no matter. Beartooth was much older than Duskpaw. Maybe when Duskpaw was an old warrior, she would have scars as well. Beartooth couldn't stop her.

But the tom has disappeared, stalking along the undergrowth, massive frame low to the ground. Duskpaw wished to run after him but stayed still, head cocked as she ran through all the possibilities of what he could be stalking. The wait soon became too long, and the young she-cat began tip-toeing after him, a good distance away. When the deputy made the jump, it shook the ground. Duskpaw's ears shot up in surprise as a mouse scurried away, weaving between the leaves. It had escaped. Eyes narrowed in thought, she bounded after Beartooth once more, state of mind still as unaffected as it had been this morning. Beartooth asked if she had learned anything, and the apprentice simply shrugged, kicking away a stray stick. "I don't like mice." She spoke, subject varying wildly from the original question. Perhaps it was for the best the tom wasn't able to catch the little thing. It was the first food Duskpaw had eaten after Littlesun took the milk away. It was the last food she had smelled before watching her mother leave. Mice were boring. "Beartooth?" The small cat asked, green eyes now directed to a rocky outcrop up ahead. "Let's catch one of those!" A squirrel nibbled on a beech nut, fluffy tail dreadfully intriguing. Never before had Duskpaw tasted a squirrel. Often they'd taunt her as she slept in camp, running on the branches above her head. She wanted to eat them. Licking her lips, the cream-and-gray cat kneaded her paws into the ground, gazing at her mentor with pleading eyes. "Will you teach me?" Duskpaw asked, wanting to run once more.