Half Tall, Half Quick

Tallpaw was stretched out in the sun, eyes half-closed as he tried to savor what warmth was left at the end of the season. He was in the best sunning spot in camp, now conveniently empty since Goldenpaw was busy training. He half-expected her to return any second and flop on top of him in retribution, but for now he enjoyed the moment of rest without her bulky shoulders jabbing into his sharp ribs. One large ear twitched at approaching pawsteps, but they were too light and too measured to be Goldenpaw’s. The tom looked up to see Quickpaw trotting over. He hadn’t interacted much with the she-cat, it already felt like a slight intrusion on his part to have shoved into her family circle.

Sootstorm had been a steady and guiding presence in the moons of emptiness that followed the death of his own family, and in the time since Sootstorm had earned his whole-hearted devotion, the same he would have given to his littermates and mother had they survived. The warrior had shifted the empty places in his heart into the light where the sun could catch them, and softened the deep ache of loss to something manageable. Goldenpaw was also sneakily creeping into the soft spaces between the jut of his ribs, where all those he treasured tended to stay. Slowly, painstakingly, he was building something of a family around himself again. Maybe Quickpaw could be included too, given they were technically siblings now.

He twitched his long tail up in greeting when she was close enough. Hunting? A prickle of something close to unease buzzed under his pelt. Everything always seemed to end in either empty paws or pain when he went hunting. But the only way to fix that was to keep trying. StarClan knew he could use the practice. And it would be more productive than lying in the sun. Shoving down any lingering anxiety, he pulled himself to his paws, trying not to wince at the ache in his joints. He was rail thin, only rivaled in bones by Duskpaw. He was thin to begin with, built with slender features and a lean build like his mother. The constant growing didn’t help, and neither did the famine, and of course, skipping meals and pushing portions of what little he did eat towards the ever-ravenous Goldenpaw was also counter-productive to getting any amount of fat to stick to his ribs. ”Of course, might as well enjoy the fair weather while it’s here.” He purred, taking the lead out of camp.

Immediately the wind brushing against his fur made all of his aches feel subdued and far away. Taking a deep breath of sharp cloud-scented air, he turned to grin at Quickpaw. “I’ll race you to the next rise, see if you live up to your name?” He gently knocked his shoulder against the pale she-cat’s, every sharp line softened in comradery.

Tallpaw shook out his golden pelt, making a show of stretching his long legs. “I dunno, guess we’ll find out.” He said with a playful flick of his tail. The thrill of the open moor was shimmering under his paws, and the breeze tugging at his whiskers only added to the pressure in his chest, every part of him ached to dig his claws into the grass and run until the tips of his ears brushed against the sky. He gave her a quick nod, pausing for a moment before yowling “Go!” With a powerful push of his haunches, he launched forward, long legs extending out to cover the ground in long loping strides. His spine bent and extended in an even tempo, working in perfect rhythm to his thumping heart and heaving lungs. Every breath brought a fresh rush of joy and the grass whipped past in a dull silvered blur. With Quickpaw beside him and the whole of WindClan's territory fanning out before his paws, it felt like he could keep running until the seasons stretched to nothingness. Like the moment between one wild heave of his lungs and the next could last for eternity. It was obvious this was in his blood, what every peice of him had been made for.

He glanced over to look for the pale flash of Quickpaw's pelt, but she was a few tail-lengths away. Throwing a competive grin over his shoulder, he flattened his ears and pushed harder, feeling everything but the wide blue of the sky and the tug of the wind fall away. He ran like the very wind had called him son, as if it lightened the weight of his paws and his pelt, so he barely skimmed the grass. Finally he bounded up the rise and skidded to a stop, each rung of his ribs clearly visable against his skin as his chest heaved while he caught his breath. Lightly plumed tail held aloft in victory, he headbutted Quickpaw's shoulder, much more gently than he would with Goldenpaw, considering the pale she-cat was about half the size. Blood pounded past his ears like a roar of victory, he felt giddy with it. You're fast." He panted, giving her a mintue to catch her breath as well. "Maybe you'll catch me next time."

Tallpaw grinned down at Quickpaw, still slightly winded from the run, but feeling all the better for it. “I’ll look forward to our rematch then.” He lifted his head to look down the rise at the rippling moor spread out golden and wonderful before them. He sighed, enjoying the crisp air that rushed into his lungs. “We should make ourselves useful. Hopefully the prey isn’t in a racing mood.” He padded down the rise to scent for prey nestled in the grass. Hopefully the weak sunshine had coaxed the rabbits from their warrens. Picking up a scent, the golden tabby fell easily into a hunting crouch, belly fur just barely whispering against the ground. The wind changed suddenly, blowing his scent towards the rabbit. Alarmed, the creature turned it's beady eyes on him and fled. The tom lashed his tail once, annoyed, and hoped Quickpaw had better luck.