beach boy blues [C]

Rowanpaw

When Poppyshine had announced their assignments, Rowanpaw had been... disappointed. Or, disappointed was too gentle a word. He'd been vexed, he thought with a succinct nod. He'd been hoping for something more exciting, and he'd been entirely unable to hide the way his eyes lit up when his mother mentioned scouting out a fox den. But that'd been for the warriors. He had the dawn patrol with Perchstar in the morning, at least, but for the time being... elder duty. It was his job as an apprentice, and he'd been hounded about it enough times by Stormdance, but he had no love for the work. What elders they had were belligerent, and they smelled funny, and they were such a drag. He could only hear the same story so many times before he thought his ears would fall off from boredom. But he might as well get it out of the way now, or at least out of the way for the day, so he could focus on his outing with Perchstar. Grumbling, the apprentice found a lean trout at the top of the fresh-kill pile, bundled together every ounce of patience he had, and made his way towards the elder's den.

"Twistpool," Rowanpaw called out around the fish as he drew closer. The old tom was already outside-- thank the stars, he didn't have to go barging into their stuffy den --and the ruddy-coated tom looked at him through narrow, appraising eyes. There was a second of hesitation where he wavered on his paws, studying, before padding closer with no care for the elder's personal space. He released his mouthful unceremoniously, letting the trout hit the earth with a dull thmp, and pushed it just as gracelessly closer. "I have been charged with the exceedingly noble task of... taking care of you, as it were. I am sure you're capable though, despite your seasons. I trust I will not be sticking around long." There was almost a challenge in his voice, like he was entreating the elder to tempt him and see how long either of them would last in shared company. Innocently, Rowanpaw sat down, laying his bushy tail haphazardly across his paws. "I will check you for fleas, if you would like, though you ought not pass them on to me. I will not be pleased."

Twistpool

Twistpool was lounging in the sand outside the elder’s den, enjoying the last fleeting greenleaf rays as leaf-fall grew around them. He could never go too far, not with his aching joints. It takes him a whole moon just to get the energy and pain tolerance to make the trek to Fourtrees, and then he could scarcely get himself to lay dirt outside the camp for the next moon. One day his body will just give out and that will be that.

He opened his eyes when a shadow passed over him and an annoying little voice called out to him. He turned his head to look at who it was and recognized the twerp as the deputy’s son. Twistpool could not be bothered to learn the names of all of these cats that come and go, not at his age. It’ll come to him soon enough.

Twistpool watched the fish be dropped onto the ground and his expression soured. His dull eyes returned to looking at Rowanpaw, entirely unimpressed. When he finally finished yammering on, Twistpool replied, “You can start by getting me a new meal. You’ve ruined that one.” He hit the fish back in Rowanpaw’s direction, where it flopped uselessly at his paws.

Rowanpaw

Twistpool had looked at him with nothing short of disdain on approach, and the elder’s expression had only grown less fond at the sight of his meal. What, were elders not fond of eating now? It wasn’t like any other apprentice’s were coming to spend their precious time with the dusty rat. He wasn’t really in any place to be choosy about his food, the way Rowanpaw saw it. He could almost hear Poppyshine and Stormdance chiding him in unison for being so disrespectful as the thought passed through.

But choosy Twistpool was. He batted the fish away with a heavy paw, and Rowanpaw watched it bounce closer, his own nose wrinkling with indignation. ”A new one? I think not.” He huffed, giving the trout a solid smack to send it back over to Twistpool. Maybe that hit had overdid it, as the fish was now solidly caked in sand. Now the elder would have had right to complain, but still, it was nothing a quick brush of the tail couldn’t fix. ”It is a perfectly fine fish, Twistpool. Freshly caught, sitting right atop the fresh-kill pile. I am sure whichever warrior caught it had exactly you in mind as they hauled it back to camp. I do not see any issue with it, and I certainly do not intend on replacing it, unless you plan on arming yourself with sticks and thorns to chase me around camp until I do. Though,” Rowanpaw cocked his head, batting his eyes a little as he went on, ”I suppose you’re not one for chasing young cats like me. Past those early seasons now, are you not?”

Twistpool

Twistpool watched with abject offense when Rowanpaw hit the fish back harder. He looked down at the fish, now caked in fresh dirt and sand, the glossiness of the scales long gone as it was now peppered with filth. When his gaze rose back up to look at Rowanpaw, he did not let his expression give away the anger at this pest’s insolence.

He allowed Rowanpaw to finish speaking. The foolish kit, insolent little foxdung. He blinked slowly at Rowanpaw, letting the silence settle between the both of them. He then reached out a gnarled paw and slowly pushed the fish back towards Rowanpaw. He allowed even more grit to get stuck up into the fish’s gills, and for some of the gentle fish skin to give way so even more filth wiped onto the edible part of the meat. He did not withdraw his hand when he finally finished pushing it and instead he began to speak in as steady a tone as Perchstar would use. “Well now, Foxkit. If it is a perfectly fine fish, then I implore you to eat it just as it is now. If you can do that for me, without wiping away any of the delicious garnish you have bestowed upon it, then perhaps I won’t inform your mother or our leader about what an awful, horrible, rude, and downright insufferable apprentice you are. You’ve lingered longer than most in that apprentice den, haven’t you? I’m sure that if they caught wind of your poor behavior, you’d easily spend a few more moons there. Is that what you want?”

It was no bluff, either. Twistpool was not below embellishing stories for the sake of screwing over a cat that got on his bad side. And this apprentice had gotten there faster than most. Twistpool might have been a fan of his moxy if he hadn’t directed it so rudely in Twistpool’s direction.