effort, the future, A BEAUTIFUL STAR! [C]

Silverpaw

Hawkpaw was insufferable.

No, he wasn’t.

Somehow, Hawkpaw had become a fixed attachment in Silverpaw’s life. He didn’t mind, really– he’d taken to not needing friends beyond the limited few he already had, but he figured if he had to call Hawkpaw anything, “friend” would be the best word. Silverpaw afforded him begrudging respect; there was an understanding between them born of unspoken similarities. They’d spent most of their downtime together since their first interaction, even if that was just sitting silently in the same empty corner of camp.

It was that first proper interaction that made Hawkpaw so insufferable, though. He’d beaten Silverpaw during a spar– pretty soundly, too. And he’d only just got his name! It made Silverpaw’s pelt sear. He liked Hawkpaw fine, if they weren’t in the same space. He wanted to claw Hawkpaw’s dumb muzzle off, otherwise.

It was probably a weird way to think about friends.

Silverpaw didn’t voice this not-spite, though he did take it upon himself to pit himself against Hawkpaw as often as possible. More frequent spars (which was growing into a mutually favored past time), hunting matches… he’d even made a competition out of caring for their elders, just to puff his chest out and proudly insist he’d scraped more ticks off (ignoble work, but it was a win nonetheless). Padding alongside Hawkpaw today was no different.

“Hey.” Silverpaw looked sidelong at the tom beside him, looking him over for a minute before snorting and turning forward again. The sticky wetlands had given way to the soft, inviting earth of the Pine Grove; and with that shift in terrain came the sounds and scents of birds, rodentia. Silverpaw’s gaze sweeped the clearing until he spotted a crow, just alighting near the base of a sturdy pine tree, ruffling through the carpet of needles. “No lizards, frogs, rats or whatever. Bet I’ll catch more prey than you.”

Without waiting for confirmation, he flicked his tail and stalked off after the black bird. He dropped into a low crouch, mindful to keep his weight even as he crept closer. The crowd hadn't even noticed his approach until he was springing forward, claws outstretched, and by then it was too late. He bore down on top of it, sinking his teeth in its neck. It squawked, but the sound died quickly with the bite to its spine, and the large bird went limp in his jaws. Silverpaw marveled privately at his catch before turning around, holding it up proudly before letting it unceremoniously drop to the floor. "Whenever you're ready, Pigeon."

Silverpaw attempted to catch a bird... attempt successful! -3 SP.

Silverpaw was infuriating.

No really, he was. He just also happened to be good company, and Hawkpaw’s only friend. Ever since their first spar, they’d been spending more and more time together. A not insignificant amount of that time was spent bickering, but Hawkpaw didn’t mind it, really. He found he liked having company. At some point, it occurred to him that he’d been very lonely for a while now. He wasn’t really sure how friends worked, but he was pretty sure whatever he and Silverpaw had going on probably counted.

Silverpaw was annoying, mouthy, and absolutely refused to call Hawkpaw his actual name. He was also, like Hawkpaw, intense and often hardworking. He liked Silverpaw. He’d sooner die than admit that to his face and make his already significant ego bigger, but he liked Silverpaw. There was a burning in Silverpaw’s eyes that drew Hawkpaw in.

They spent much of their free time sparring or competing against each other. It was as frustrating to lose against Silverpaw as it was gratifying to win, and it was kind of an addicting feeling. Silverpaw kept coming back to him, and Hawkpaw kept seeking him out in turn. Maybe the way they interacted was strange, but Hawkpaw didn’t care. He liked the adrenaline that came with wrestling in the dirt with Silverpaw almost as much as he liked the actual act of winning.

Hawkpaw’s ears swiveled about as he padded beside Silverpaw, flexing his claws in the soft bed of fallen pines beneath his paws. Hawkpaw tilted his head towards Silverpaw when he spoke in indication that he was listening, slowing to a stop when Silverpaw did. He opened his mouth to agree to the terms of their newest competition, but Silverpaw was already stalking off, Hawkpaw’s agreement an assumption. It made Hawkpaw roll his eyes and wrinkle his nose at the retreating black and silver pelt, even if Silverpaw was right.

It was a good catch. Silverpaw was a quick and effective hunter. Hawkpaw admired him as he moved, his back to Hawkpaw so he could not catch Hawkpaw staring. Again, Hawkpaw would never give voice to these thoughts, but in the privacy of his own head-- well, he could think whatever he pleased, after all. He let his expression settle into something more disgruntled when Silverpaw turned to look at him again, crow dangling proudly from his mouth. Hawkpaw tilted his head, then replied, “The name is still Hawkpaw," Before he turned and began his own hunt.

Hawkpaw pushed through the bushes. Opening his mouth, he drinked in the mingled scents in the air. He caught a prey-scent so unfamiliar to him he nearly didn’t identify it. Following the trail a few steps forward, he spotted a rabbit scurrying through the bushes. A rabbit! Now that’d be an impressive catch. Hawkpaw could feel his pupils widening as he lowered himself down. The dumb thing must’ve wandered across the border from Windclan.

Moving forward as close as he dared, Hawkpaw leapt forward in a pounce. To his delight, he landed squarely atop the unsuspecting rabbit. It squealed and attempted to escape his strong paws, but a swift bite brought an end to that. Scooping up his catch, Hawkpaw held his head high as he returned to the clearing he'd left Silverpaw, a rare burst of pride shining in his eyes. "How about that?" He rumbled.

Hawkpaw attempted to catch a rabbit, and succeeded! -3 SP

Silverpaw

Hawkpaw looked as pleased as he ever did with the display of the crow-- which was to say he looked like he made his nest entirely out of thorns and pointed stones. Silverpaw rolled his eyes, calling out, “A smile would look nice on you!” even as Hawkpaw turned to stalk away. He followed for a few paces until he’d reached the brushline, where he paused and blinked dumbly. What was he following for? He supposed he just wanted to watch. Silverpaw shook his head and picked his head up to watch Hawkpaw’s stark white pelt disappear through gloom and foliage.

Admittedly, he was actually pretty disappointed he couldn’t-- or wouldn’t, either way --follow. Hawkpaw was nearly as skilled as he was, and with the time he’d been losing without a real mentor, they had nearly the same amount of formal training. And, honestly? He just liked to watch. Silverpaw turned his ears as far forward as he could instead, listening close and breathing in deep.

Hawkpaw didn’t make him wait long, at least. Something squealed, sharp and desperate before it was quickly silenced. Silverpaw straightened, eyes wide and expectant. The pawsteps approaching were faint, but he caught them thanks to the otherwise still air and his own devoted attention; and sure enough, Hawkpaw returned to the clearing with a proud catch of his own. For a half-moment, Silverpaw just beamed, pride reflecting in his own eyes. A rabbit was an impressive catch, after all.

... A rabbit?

Silverpaw’s ears twitched back and the scrupulous glower reserved solely for his friend returned. Hawkpaw was excellently skilled in doing anything he couldn’t. Silverpaw’s nose twitched, and his eyes crossed a little to look at the thin lines separating the fur down the bridge of his muzzle. Refocusing his vision, he tipped his chin up at Hawkpaw and hummed, “Good catch. I still think the crow is better.” His thick tail waved dismissively, and he brushed past Hawkpaw’s shoulder to make his way toward the undergrowth. “I wonder if that rabbit came alone. Wouldn’t that be impressive, carrying a bird and a rabbit back to camp?” Intense green eyes slid back to look over his shoulder, studying Hawkpaw’s own burning stare before disappearing through the bushes.

Silverpaw had to pad farther away than Hawkpaw, but sure enough, he caught prey-scent on the air. And his goading appeared to be an omen, as the scent that attracted him was a hare’s. The fur along his spine rose with anticipation, and he dropped into a low crouch, grateful to already be downwind of the creature. He crept through the darkness until he spotted its dusty brown form in a shaft of moonlight. Don’t screw it up this time, he instructed himself, gathering his weight in his muscles. Don’t think. Without anymore hesitation, he sprang forward. The tips of his claws pulled out tufts of the hare's fur, but his paws only closed around empty air as it ran off shrieking. Silverpaw's stared after it, ears flattening and lips curling as quiet fury started to bubble in his chest. He stamped a paw against the mushy ground, puffed a strong breath out of the corners of his mouth, and whipped around to make his way back to the Pine Grove proper.

When he returned to Hawkpaw, he'd shaken the brooding from his countenance, though looking at the rabbit set beside his earlier catch made his claws press into the earth. Squinting, he snorted, "You just got lucky. You won't this time."

Silverpaw attempted to catch a hare... attempt unsuccessful. -3 SP.