Whatever kingdom come, it probably won't come quick (c)

Tallpaw unfurled himself from the tight-wound ball of his denmates. Most of them huddled as close as possible now that it was getting colder and they were all getting thinner. Stretching out his long legs, he winced slightly as his joints popped. He shook off the discomfort like dust from his pelt, he wondered if there would ever be a morning where he woke up without some sort of ache. His limbs kept on growing faster than the rest of him could keep up. Still, he lifted his head to the sky, satisfied that he had caught the last pale shimmer of Silverpelt before it melted completely into the pale morning sky. Breathing out a gentle breath through his nose, the apprentice flicked his tail in greeting, comforted slightly by the last remnants of the stars. At least someone was watching out for them.

He padded quietly out into the camp proper, relishing the first warm tinge of sun on his pelt. The last fringes of frost from the night laid like lace over the short grass where the warriors slept. The lanky tom slipped quietly across camp, careful not to tread on any tails as he stepped around his clanmates. Some of the warriors were still sleeping, others just beginning to blink the sleep of their eyes and a few places were empty now of anything but matted grass where a cat had previously slept. Tallpaw gently shoved his nose into Sootstorm’s soft fur, nudging the warrior once. “Sootstorm, sorry to wake you.” He purred softly, giving the tom’s ear an apologetic lick. “Want to come hunting with me?”

Tallpaw leaned into the affection, happy that Sootstorm seemed enthusiastic to join him despite the early hour. “I know a spot.” Tallpaw purred and headbutted the older tom’s shoulder affectionately. With his tail held aloft confidently, he led the way towards the open moor beyond the gorsewall. “Fennelbreeze took me there to hunt, we saw a lot of rabbits but didn’t catch anything.” Tallpaw glanced backwards at the warrior with a fierce grin, all sharp teeth and joy. “Other than the weasel, of course.” The lanky apprentice bounded happily down the rise, quickly lost in the long rippling stalks of moor-grass, heavy now with cold dew. The golden tabby shook his pelt free of the moisture, twitching his whiskers as the droplets spattered across his face as he pushed through the grass. “We’re almost there.” He mewed, easily covering ground with his long loping strides, avoiding the holes and burrows he had memorized since his last patrol.

They reached the area he and Fennelbreeze had last been hunting, and sure enough, the sweet wild scent of rabbit was heavy in the air here. With a flick of his long tail, Tallpaw indicated the direction he was going and stalked down the raise to hopefully find some prey. The apprentice scented the air carefully, before following a small but well-worn trail through the grass. A young soft-pelted rabbit was chewing at the stalks, completely unaware of its imminent death. Two more careful steps and Tallpaw sprung, sharp claws sinking down into the rabbit’s coat. The rabbit tore itself out from beneith his claws, and vanished into the tall grass, leaving nothing but a red smear in the dirt and chunks of fur between his claws. Tail lashing Tallpaw poked his head out of the grass, pelt prickling in embarssment. "At this point i'd be happy to find another weasel." he said, teeth gritted.

Tallpaw sighed, shaking off his disappointment into the early morning air. “I’m used to bad luck by now.” It seemed that the prey were just getting more desperate each moon. They hid better and escaped quicker and overall made hunting a frustrating experience more often than not. Tallpaw was glad Sootstorm had come with him, the tom’s comforting presence soothed the sting of failure, at least somewhat. He waited as the warrior disappeared into the brush, and came back with a rabbit swinging from his jaws. At least they would have something to bring back. The golden tom purred at the sight of the catch. “I’m glad these rabbits aren’t invincible, last time they were running circles around us.”
Despite the worry tugging at his chest and the sharp ache of his growing joints, the apprentice was thankful he still had Sootstorm to lean against.

Tallpaw flicked his long tail over Sootstorm’s nose, trying to lighten the mood. He fixed his face back into something close to upbeat. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip. He hadn't meant to broadcast his disappointment. The doubts about his skill always stayed tucked up close to his chest. He couldn’t admit how much it tore into him that he couldn’t provide what he needed to. WindClan was starving and the prey kept running right through his claws. Sootstorm was good at prying his ribs open and letting the sun catch all his unhealed hurts and doubts. Maybe it was good for him, to talk about them, to work through them, but Tallpaw certainly preferred all his short-comings to stay buried. He had to be unshakeable, always ready with a smile and a helping paw. Anything less and he might start to feel the weight of everything again.

Shaking his head fondly the lanky tom rolled his shoulders back, shoulder blades painfully obvious when his skin stretched over the protruding bones. He faced the rippling sea of grass again, mouth open to scent for any prey that hadn't caught wind of their presence yet. The wind through his whiskers was faint with rabbit. “I can do it myself, experience is the best teacher right? There has to be a rabbit stupid enough for even me to catch. Just gotta find it.” With a sharp-toothed grin, the golden apprentice vanished into the tall grass, not waiting for Sootstorm’s reprimand. His striped pelt was nearly invisible against the muted silver and golds of the dry leaf-bare stalks. He would catch something, he had to catch something, if only to smooth over Sootstorm’s concern and his own screaming doubts.

Stalking silently through the grass, his belly fur just a whisper against the earth, he stepped lightly towards the rabbit. Suddenly a brown-furred blur flung itself at the rabbit, wrestling his slinking body around the poor creature. Tallpaw reached his head above the grass, looking for Sootstorm over his shoulder. ”Hey look, a weasel!” Tallpaw had a fierce delight in his eyes as he launched himself at the weasel, fangs bared. He tore the long creature off the rabbit, wrenching his claws into it’s tiny shoulders and flinging it down into the grass. Before the weasel could get its feet under it, the apprentice grabbed it between his jaws and sunk his teeth into its yielding flesh. The weasel shrieked in agony and turned its head to grab the apprentice’s paw, hanging onto it for dear life. The golden tom hissed, dropping the weasel, but the stubborn creature held fast. ”If we manage to kill it still counts as fresh-kill right?” Tallpaw said, full of mirth despite having a small predator clamped tight to his leg. This at least, was something he was good at.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A weasel approches!

Tallpaw used Snap and Swift Strike dealing 11 damage and -17sp

Weasel used gripping bite on Tallpaw, doing 7 damage for 2 turns and -15sp

Tallpaw:
14/20hp (-6)
43/60

Weasel:
9/20hp (-11)
120/135

Tallpaw snarled in delight as Sootstorm batted the weasel away, killing it cleanly. He would have something to bring back too, even if the warrior did help him kill it. Tail held aloft proudly, the young tom went to snatch up the dead weasel to carry it back to camp, but was immediately smothered by the press of Sootstorm’s fur. “Go back to camp? But the weasel...?” The rush of adrenaline from the fight finally caught up to him, smacking him straight in the chest with a wave of dizziness. Still a little keyed up, the golden tom growled low in his throat, pushing the warrior away with a knock of his thin shoulder.

Sootstorm had him outmatched in both weight and skill, but Tallpaw couldn’t stomach the thought of going back to camp empty-pawed again. Guilt jabbed him more sharply than the lingering pain in his leg, but he wasn’t going to limp back to camp with nothing to show for it but his own blood. The disappointed glances of his clanmates and their too-sharp ribs were getting too hard to ignore. With his ears flattened to his head, the apprentice whirled around to go back for the weasel, lying limp in the grass. “I don’t need anyone to check up on me. It’s not that bad. You killed it before it could do any real damage.” The tom stubbornly hid his limp, his leg did ache, the pale golden fur matted blood from the broken skin, but it only stung a little when he put weight on it. “Waste of herbs anyway.” The tom muttered, inwardly cringing back at the thought of the dim interior of the medicine den.

Nothing but bad things happened there, the scent of sickness and grief mingled too thickly with the sharp tang of herbs. “Go grab the rabbit you caught earlier, we can’t leave it here for the foxes.” With the weasel swinging from his jaws, the tabby hopped awkwardly back up the rise to wait for Sootstorm to retrieve the rabbit.