picking quills and nettle leaves out of the wolf’s pelt [c]

Nettleweaver approached Wolfpaw and Quillsplash, several mice dangling by their tails from his maw. With a grin he placed them down in front of the tom’s. “Breakfast for my favourite ward and my favourite co-guard!” he purred, settling onto his belly opposite them. Nettleweaver was very surprised to find himself on the rotating guard that was put in place to see over the delinquent Wolfpaw, mostly because he didn’t particularly think of himself as very senior, but that didn’t mean it was unwelcome in the slightest. He was grateful for the opportunity to have a turn unravelling what was going on behind the apprentice’s eyes. If the odd bits and pieces he’d picked up on were to be believed, then this would be lots of fun, and he enjoyed a challenge. Wolfpaw was quite the juxtaposition to Hedgepaw.

“Sorry if you don’t like mouse, Wolfpaw, I just thought it’d be nice to match, prevents fighting, but if you tell me your favourite I’ll remember it for next time.” His whiskers twitched, he always started with something small when trying to get what he wanted.Prey, season, colour… Easy, wear them down. His gaze flickered to Quillsplash briefly, and he pursed his lips. It felt wrong trying to pry secrets from Wolfpaw infront of Quillsplash especially given their relationship. He didn’t want to damage his friendship with the tom, The older warrior was very important to him. The white tom supposed he’d just have to know when to draw the line, and if it ended up going sour he’d just have to give up on figuring Wolfpaw out for now.