to wrestle with an angel for more than a name [c]

Forest Speak
Feral Speak

Before falling asleep, Silverdusk had spent their waking hours drilling it into their head that tomorrow would not be wasted. She would not wait until sunhigh to contemplate taking Mountainpaw out for training, she would be there, rising with everyone else. Despite promising an early start, sleep did not come easy to the molly and they ended up oversleeping. It wasn’t exactly dawn when they awoke, but at least it wasn’t sunhigh, which was a relief. They stood, green eyes lingering on the empty space in their nest. The moss was worn and sour where she slept, but the space that Wiggleworm usually occupied was fresh and green. They hoped it would sour soon, but as the days wore on more doubt wormed its way into their mind. Silverdusk roused Mountainpaw, with a gentle paw. Most of the other apprentices were out training already with their far more competent mentors, a pang of bitter resentment washed over her. “Mountainpaw, I have come to get you for training.” she mewed ”Meet me at the fresh-kill pile, you will need all your strength for battle training.” Silverdusk grinned, she was sure the offer of battle training would entice their niece. Green eyes swept over the fresh-kill pile for something to eat, there was a frog, which was unusual. The site of the amphibian caused the warrior to frown. Was she being mocked, or was their grief making her irrational? Either way she pointedly ignored it, opting for a mouse instead. It was bland and tasteless and it made them miserable.