In The Mud [closed]

That was humiliating. The way Emberpaw belted out a muffled snort made prickles run down his spine. A fleeting glimpse towards Ashpaw and Ebonypaw's expressions alerted him that crashing into the entranceway had appeared more prominent than he had thought. In a flash, his drowsiness had evaporated.

On second thought...

This was gonna be an awkward patrol. He needed to excuse himself, lest he embarrass himself even more. Smokepaw was about to blurt that he needed to go to the dirtplace when a much-welcomed russet figure came striding into view. Smokepaw swore that he had never before been so exhilerated at her presence before. "Redwolf, hi, yes, please do! I think that I'll go insane otherwise–"

...Uh, that wasn't what he had meant to say. That made it sound like he didn't like his accompaniments – which wasn't true! Well... perhaps not Emberpaw, he decided, in response to the pointed glare that he had cast. After briefly side-glancing daggers back, unscarred eye narrowed to slits, Smokepaw hastened his attention back to the others. This situation wasn't a good situation. Whatever happened to being cool, you oaf? Ebonypaw began to lead them out of camp. Dazed, Smokepaw scurried after her. She murmered something along the lines of Newleaf and a decent amount of prey, but in his self-consciousness, he hadn't paid heed. He looked like a frog-brain – and apparently, sounded like one, too, "N-No I mean like, no offense, just, uh, y'know, I don't like... like you guys– no– wait, what," His tongue flopped like a floundering fish out of water. This wasn't usual. Why was he so nervous? Incoherent sputters weaved from his mouth, spindling out in threads of unintelligable utters. Smokepaw didn't know what he was trying to say. StarClan, help him. Swivelling his head downwards, scuffing the moist soil with flumping paws, he mumbled ashamedly,

A feeble sigh buffeted from the edge of his maw, stiff muscles sagging fleetingly as he coerced himself to release the tension. At Redwolf's reposeful gesture, Smokepaw flashed her a relieved smile, lips twitching in breathless gratitude. Shuffling along by her side allowed himself to regain his composure, even if it had only been brief. Shuddering the awkward burr-like itches from his skin, exhaling in an attempt to subdue the uncomfortable embarrassment, he trudged on with renewed clarity in his step.


That was, until...
"Frog-brain."


It had been so muffled that he had assured himself it was merely his inner conscious, rasping reprimandments into his mind once again. A single alarmed glance in Emberpaw's direction, once again, proved otherwise. A distorted mask, acidic scowl its blatant centrepiece, contorted his face. Ludicrous indignance sparked in his expression, muzzle wrinkling in vexation. Yeah, no. That 'frog-brain' definitely had not come from his inner conscious. Glittering lights in his eye sharpened, tight and simmering. A snarl bubbled like froth in his chest, his tone hushing into a similar volume as Emberpaw's had been... although, the taut strain on his vocal cords pitched it higher than he had intended.


He tried to fire an insult back.

"Marsh-fa– stink– m-muddy– minktorog-broot...!"

Wait.
No.

That wasn't right.

Oh dung.
He had just called Emberpaw a... a...

His voice cracked.

HeLP.

Muddystinktoadfrogbrainfoot.
All those retaliations that had whirred in his brain had mushed into a horror.

Everyone, surely, had heard.

This really was a nightmare.

Yeah, mouth,
you've outdone yourself again!


Face flushing, appalled at himself, his eyes shot wide as he ripped his gaze from the other tom's. Had Smokepaw not wanted to abandon Redwolf's side, he would have turned tail right then and there and hurled himself back to camp, to go sit himself in the corner of the apprentice den and question all of his questionable life decisions. Like this. Joining this patrol was probably the most questionable life decision he'd ever made. Yeah, scrap all those other stupid major regrets of his. Smokepaw convinced himself that today was the single worst day of his life.

Smokepaw blinked numbly, heavy-hooded eyes flickering in distress. His head cocked to the side as Ebonypaw stepped back; he thought that there had been no issue with her leading the patrol – in fact, she had done it better than he ever could. When she swivelled backwards, he caught her gaze fleetingly. Fluctuating flares within him faltered with concern. Was that.. fear that had flashed in her depths? It unsettled him, subconsciously knowing that there was something disturbing her. His muse flooded with with battering perturbation and overwhelming hues and vivid icy lights and–

Oh, now he felt nauseated.
Why was he so dazed?

The one thing that shattered his befuddlement was a rustling in the spiny pine needles.

Prey.
Another opportunity that he hopelessly desired not to fail.

Please, weird divine starry ghosts, let me succeed for once!

Tripping sideways in frantic pursuit of the slimy creature, the apprentice lurched in the vague direction of the crackle, almost jarring into a nearby pine. All gracefulness and tact had shattered. Well, perhaps, he never even had any to begin with. Wincing, desperate, hastening and frenzied, he crumpled into an incredibly lopsided hunting crouch. Rump protruding way higher than it should, ragged breathing enough to alert all prey within a radius of five fox-lengths, he wobbled dizzily on swaying soles. Smokepaw looked ridiculous. His limited range of vision was blurred with smog.

Was this panicking? Was he panicking? Oh, why was he panicking?
It's just a toad!

If he could do just one thing right this evening...
Maybe, he'd survive this patrol after all.

With one heartbeat after flying into a flopping dive, he knew he had severely miscalculated. Although the sky was readily dimming, his shadow still cascaded over his target as he streaked forward. Honesty, he had no idea what he had been thinking. That had been a display of absolutely no technique whatsover, and as the slippery little beast rocketed away, Smokepaw was left skidding in the mud like the doofus that he was. The oozing residue flicked onto his pelt with the motion, icky splats tarnishing his already-unruly fur. Spitting a foul curse under his breath, skin prickling in shame, he bowed his head in embarrassment and plodded back with heavy thumps. Stupid blindness... he would always let himself down.

And he'd never hear the end of it, from Emberpaw nor himself.

Good-going, Smokepaw. You messed up again.