a valorous life [open]

The nice thing about nightmares was that they woke you all the way up. It took less than a minute for Flypaw to pull himself upright this time, grumbling and blinking and shaking bits of nest material loose from his claws. He was in the apprentices’ den. Once he realized that, everything else usually settled into place, as it did now. Careful not to drag any more of his nest with him, the small apprentice stepped out onto the earth. Staying inside had never done him any good before, and if he had to be awake this late, he might as well take advantage of it. At his first step toward the den’s entrance, his back paw came down on something solid and furry, and he glanced down to see a tail trapped beneath it. “Sorry, Her—”

Flypaw’s mouth slammed shut. With a muttered “never mind,” he swept out of the den.

Greenleaf's weather could be finicky, but he'd gotten lucky tonight; the skies over RiverClan were brilliant. The moon hung high and unobscured, an impossibly thin sliver carved out of one side as a reminder of just how close the next Gathering loomed. Flypaw crossed the camp to sit at its edge, his tail dangling in the sand just short of the water. Silverpelt, too, shone brighter than ever. He tilted his head to see it better, as if the perfect angle might be the thing that made any one star look different from the next.

Finkit had rudely been awakened by a sneeze from one of his denmates. He's been having such a peaceful dream too, sunbathing in camp, a full belly. Such a shame it had to be ruined by something as silly as a sneeze. Thoroughly agitated, Finkit huffed and waddled out of the nursery, teal green eyes sharpened angrily. Some cats just can't be considerate if their life depended on it. He thought bitterly, but a dazzling twinkle caught his eye, and the lazy tom-kit sat on his rump, head turned skyward. "Woah..." Finkit breathed, entranced by the beauty of the starlit expanse above him. It was then he noticed a pitch dark pelt not too far from him. I wonder what that cat's name is, he thought, peering curiously at the night colored tom. If he had white speckles and hints of galactic shine, Finkit thought the apprentice could almost pass as part of the sky.

If he kept his eyes closed, that was. He had warm ambery honey colored eyes like his mother. Speaking of.. "Ma's never gon' let me hear the end of this one," The cream kit grumbled, ears pinned. He cast a cheeky grin towards the fellow RiverClanner. "My ma's a bit uptight sometimes. Pop's is too. He doesn't like when I call him that." Finkit told Flypaw, a mischievous look in his eyes. Now that he wasn't tired, he figured it wouldn't hurt to talk a bit. After all, Flypaw liked the stars, so he couldn't be too bad. "Name's Finkit, what's yours?"

Stumbling pawsteps and a soft voice split the quiet. Probably the apprentice whose tail he’d stomped on, coming to complain at him. If he’d thought a second longer, Flypaw might have noticed that didn’t add up; as it was, he squared his shoulders, braced for an argument he wasn’t sure he had the energy for, and turned to face…a kit. A small, fluffy, cream-colored kit wearing an almost conspiratorial grin. Flypaw’s forehead wrinkled. Was Finkit old enough to be out this late? Was he supposed to be out at all? Flypaw had of course kept every inch of himself in the nursery until he got the word from his mother, but every kit’s parents were different, and he didn’t know Finkit’s, so he couldn’t be sure—

Flypaw blinked, and a decision was made. “As long as you stay in camp, I won’t rat you out.” He said it like a warrior’s oath, eyes wide and solemn. Watching the stars alone was all well and good, but company might help the time pass—especially company he’d only just met. Finkit wouldn’t know enough to judge or poke or prod. “My name’s Flypaw,” he said slowly, as if trying to remember how conversation worked. “Did you come out here to see the stars, too? It’s a good night for it.” Sitting taller (not that it made much of a difference), he tipped his muzzle upward.