“The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.”

Sparrowstar |•| Female |•| Leader |•| 63 moons |•| Somewhat Away from Camp
Mentions: OPEN

Listening to the quiet murmurs of the creek below her, Sparrowstar allowed herself to become immersed in the calm of the situation. She lay like a jaguar across a sturdy branch parallel to the ground, her stomach resting on the sun-warmed bark and all four of her graceful legs dangling towards the water churning below. Her chin rested on the bark as well and the cat's eyes were gently closed, but she was not asleep. She would have to wait for that. Reminding herself of her duties, the blue molly fixed her paws onto the bark and stood, balancing almost immediately. Her claws remained only semi-retracted and gripped onto the tree with trained ease. She, like the vast majority of other clan-born cats, learned this skill quickly as a kit and could walk with ease along branches before she could even speak.

Sparrowstar moved along the branch, stepping easily onto the bole of the tree. She stopped, looking back towards the creek and then up to where the young fallen oak had caught in the branches of a much older sycamore across the water and created the sturdy slope. The cat's mind was filled with momentary worry that, long after she had ascended to Starclan, either the oak or the sycamore would splinter and break, ripping her favorite spot away forever. Digging her claws further into the bark as if to assure the wood, Sparrowstar moved forward again, heading towards camp in no hurry.

|:|



“Accidents happen. Our bones shatter, our skin splits, our hearts break. We burn, we drown, we stay alive.”


Foxpaw |•| Female |•| Apprentice |•| 11 moons |•| Camp
Mentions: OPEN

As several apprentices chased each other along branches, Foxpaw watched silently, her short tail hanging off of the branch behind her. Her tall ears followed the young cats' voices, their yowls of glee, their minor celebrations, their overall joy. A gentle smile found its way across the Savannah Cat's wild face as a young tom, Buckpaw, tackled his brother, pinning him onto the thick branch and pawing relentlessly at his face, claws mostly retracted. The pinned brother pushed his sibling off, sending the other apprentice a few inches away. Foxpaw's pulse quickened as Buckpaw was launched sideward, his small body nearly missing the branch. She stood quickly, ready to sprint to the younger cat's assistance and catch him on the branch below. Yet, with expert agility, the male sunk his claws into the bark and pulled himself up in a flash, soon replacing himself on the branch. Where one might express anger at nearly getting killed, Dewclan cats were prone to simply giggling and carrying on. Foxpaw couldn't imagine that, however. Perhaps, she rationalized, it was because of her foreign birth.

|:|



“Do not tell secrets to those whose faith and silence you have not already tested.”

Spottedsand |•| Female |•| Loner |•| 38 moons |•| Far from Dewclan Camp, Near Desert Border
Mentions: NONE; UNAVAILABLE

Abruptly, though not without warning, the unforgiving sand of the desert gave way to the soft fallen leaves and much welcomed shade of the forest. Spottedsand, having only ever experienced the bite of the desert, had never been very affected by the heat of the sand, but was certain that the forest held exotic power, of which she had never seen or felt. The grass tickled her ankles in spots where it interrupted the cover of fallen leaves left over from the aptly named Leaf-Fall. Small and pink, the molly's nose trembled with every new smell that met it, including the faintest hint of cat. Spottedsand paused — if it were still there, the tip of her tail would have been twitching with suspicion — and cautiously moved forward, following the scent to a thick, time-weathered log lying haphazardly across the forest floor. The scent on it was ancient, placed there generations before Spottedsand's birth, but so ingrained in the wood that it would likely remain until the end of Starclan itself. One glance down towards the base of the tree revealed the splintered remains of its trunk, the roots partway removed from the shelter of the soil.

Where this might have been a tragedy for long-dead Dewclan cats, this fallen spruce was a blessing for Spottedsand. Mustering up her last bit of strength, the cream molly began to dig a trench under the timber, hoping to carve out a sufficient den for her to rest in. As her shallow divot began to grow deeper, one claw scraped against something hard. Suspecting that the hindrance was a simple stone, the molly scraped the obstruction up with one paw and tossed it aside without bothering to glance at it. The chain of small vertebrae bounced along the leaves once before settling a short ways away.

Cloversong | Female | Warrior | 26 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: {none}

Curled comfortably in the warm, dry hollow that made up the warrior den, Cloversong dozed. Her thick tail curled around her lean figure, her appendages tucked securely underneath the underside of her smooth coat, glistening from a recent grooming even in the faint gloom of the cavity; sunlight cast a faint glow of illumination that filled one section of the hollow, allowing the rough integument to warm in temperature. The welcome sound of birdsong reached her triangular auditories, soft, sweet, soothing and pleasing to her sense of hearing. Settled contently in her nest of dark green moss and the feathers of an unlucky avian that fell prey to one of her clan-mates' claws, Cloversong felt as if she could the majority of the day snoozing, she felt boneless in that relaxed way only achievable through a good night's sleep. The trance was broken, however, by the sound of play outside the den; the apprentices again, going by the sound. Groaning softly at the disturbance, Cloversong shifted in her nest, stretching her pillars off to the side, where the muscles would take the chance to loosen, her toes parted as she did so, followed by an arched back that would further loosen all those joints that had grown taut from her sleeping position. Reluctantly, Cloversong rose from her nest, flicking away pieces of moss from her dark black-and-ginger coat with a lengthy tassel before picking her way towards the entrance of the cavity, blinking furiously as the morning light shined into her piercing green eyes. Cloversong ducked her head out of the warrior's den, stifling a wide yawn as she surveyed the world around her, a world of winding branches and half-active clan-mates. Sure enough, the apprentices were playing around, tussling among the thick limbs of the branches in a mock-fight that would have been rather alarming if she wasn't as confident in their balance and climbing abilities.



Snowpaw | Female | Apprentice | 9 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Foxpaw, Swantail, Palefang [indirectly]

Snowpaw balanced daintily on a thick branch, her claws dug securely into the thick plating for extra security as she watched the apprentices a little ways' off, her white coat was ruffled by a slight breeze that further sent the leaves of the trees rustling and caused the undergrowth below them to shiver. Her round, yellow eyes watched the apprentice's actions with mild interest, it was slightly amusing to watch them tussle on the branches but she lacked the will to join them. It seemed that a fellow apprentice, Foxpaw, was also more content to just watch though the spotted she-cat looked more worried than amused. Raising her thick tail in the air, Snowpaw continued her slow padding along the branch, taking the time to leap and descend and wind around other branches and obstacles in order to be more closer to her other clan-mates. Currently, Snowpaw couldn't spot her mentor, Swantail among the half-awoken cats, nor could she see immediately spot her half-brother Palefang, Snowpaw wasn't worried however, she was more interested in gazing down as she found a more comfortable spot to sit near the apprentice's den. Below her, through the thick canopy of leaves and branches, she could just faintly see the ground - something that no normal Dewclan cat would pay attention to. In Dewclan, their lives were in the trees; they hunted int he trees, they slept in the trees, they patrolled in the trees. The ground wasn't exactly something your average Dewclan cat would find appealing, especially since they avoided it at all costs, and yet, Snowpaw couldn't help but gaze at the ground and wonder what it would be like to not live her life in the trees, to instead travel with fine dirt underneath her pads instead of bark and chase the ground-dwelling prey such as the quick rabbits.

|Honeyflower •Female • Warrior • 42 moons • A bit away from Dewclan camp • Mentions: None |

Golden, honey colored eyes scanned around the trees as she quietly hopped and leaped between branches. She didn't quite have a plan on what she was doing, simply exploring the trees she'd spent so much time in since... forever. She'd hear the occasional scrabbling paws of a squirrel, the soft paws making her think of the young kits who ran so easily along the branches. As much as she tried to avoid the thoughts, she couldn't help but feel she missed out on training her own kits to run along the branches. A scary process, she was sure of, but one she still wanted to experience along side- hm. Just as she started to get lost in her thoughts, she leaped a bit early, being sucked from her thoughts as she missed the branch she'd been aiming for. Instantly, she slammed her paws down on the branch directly below, claws sinking deep into the bark as she dangled there for a few moments, taking a few seconds to scold herself for getting distracted.

The white she-cat pulled herself up, muscles tensing as she tried to regain her balance on the branch. She allowed herself a moment to let her heartbeat slow, eyes looking around. In the distance she could hear a soft bubbling creak, head tilting slightly. "I don't think I've been in this area..." She said softly to herself, ears turning. She did her best to find the stream, leaping across more branches before she reached the edges of the trees, the stream not too far away. With curious eyes, the she-cat would sit to watch the stream, the gentle chirping of birds filling her ears. What a calming place! A soft purr escaped the she-cat.

Tinypaw | Female | Apprentice | 10 Moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Snowpaw, Foxpaw (Indirectly) Cloversong (Directly)

Tinypaw was perched upon one of the higher branches, eating away at the carcass of a scrawny mouse. While it didn't completely fill her up, one of the good things about being so small was that she didn't need much food, and it was more than enough for now. As she ate, she looked down at some of the other apprentices gleefully chasing each other among the trees. She really wanted to join them. She could probably run faster than any of these apprentices, she thought, but she wasn't strong enough to knock one of them over and playfight with them, like some were doing now, and she didn't want to risk getting embarrassed. So she allowed her gaze to drift over to some of the other apprentices, Snowpaw and Foxpaw, both of whom also seemed to be watching the playing cats. Snowpaw, by the looks of it, found their antics amusing, but Foxpaw looked rather worried. She considered approaching her when she suddenly caught sight of her mentor, Cloversong, coming out of the Warrior's den. Tinypaw quickly finished what was left of her mouse and bounded over to the older she-cat, jumping from branch to branch just as gracefully as a cat who had been born in Dewclan. She slowed down slightly as she got nearer, not wanting to leap over too quickly in case she'd startle her, and she finally came to a stop a few paces away from Cloversong. "Hello, I hope you slept well," She mewed, her large, triangular ears pricked up, "Are we going to be doing anything today?" Her mentor had a reputation for being a little reckless, but Tinypaw didn't really mind. It made things more interesting, and also meant that perhaps she would be more willing to let her go farther away from camp.

Ebonypaw | 9 Moons | Tom | Apprentice | Location: Camp | Mentions: Cloversong, Tinypaw [D] Snowpaw, Foxpaw, Sparrowstar [ID]

The raven black tom had been up just before the sun rose, his yellowish amber eyes watching his fellow apprentices with tight scrutiny. Ebonypaw had to resist the urge to pounce down into the playful battle with his den-mates; he would probably only screw things up. He surveyed the cats' battle techniques, a small smile coming to his lips at the sound of their yowls of glee. He knew they were only playing. Ebonypaw's perpetual gaze flicked towards Buckpaw as his brother pushed him off; the tom's body remained still as the apprentice caught himself and pulled himself back up. A chuckle escaped his vocals at the sight, thankful some cat hadn't freaked out and raced to his assistance. That truly would have been embarrassing. He'd watched the two siblings enough to know Buckpaw would be alright, if Ebonypaw sensed danger he would have launched himself towards his den-mate. Ebonypaw lowered himself to the branch and allowed one paw to dangle off the side. The tom caught sight of the Savannah Cat, Foxpaw, preparing himself to rush to aid Buckpaw and tilted his head.

At the sight of Cloversong exiting the warriors den and Tinypaw pouncing over to the tortoiseshell, the tom rose to his paws and sauntered down the tree, tilting his body weight backwards and letting himself slide for a moment. He stepped onto a few of the fallen trees, padding by the tussling apprentices and up to the two she-cats; "Have either of you seen Sparrowstar anywhere?" Ebonypaw asked the two, his gaze flickering over to Snowpaw and humming quietly. He wondered if she, too, wondered what it would be like to run on the ground. They lived their whole life in the trees, rarely ever setting a paw on the grass below. The dark tom had always wanted to see what it'd feel like to run free without having to jump branch to branch. Of course, the trees provided safety from the deadly predators roaming the territory.

Cloversong | Female | Warrior | 26 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Foxpaw {indirectly} Ebonypaw, Tinypaw {directly}

Eyes verdant in the morning light, Cloversong slowly stepped carefully out of the hollow, a petite forepaw finding the branch that served as a sort of direct path out of the warrior's den, as she gingerly allowed her lower half to step out of the cavity until she was completely on the branch, her supple body bent slightly as she settled back on her haunches in order to give her unsettled chest fur a few swift licks, Cloversong could hear the approach of light pawsteps. The warrior glanced upwards momentarily to catch sight of her apprentice, Tinypaw as the apprentice maneuvered her way along the winding branches in an effort to reach her, Cloversong flicked an ear faintly before dipping her head once more to slick down the ruffled fur of her stomach. At the sound of her apprentice's voice, Cloversong finally straightened her frame into a respectable sitting position and gave the ivory feline a pondering glance. "Hunting, perhaps. I saw a birds nest yesterday, if we're lucky, we can swipe a bird and an egg both. Wouldn't that be a treat?" The young she-cat swiped her tongue along her muzzle simply at the thought of breaking into the fragile shell of an egg and tasting the delicious yellow mouthful inside. Cloversong glanced away from Tinypaw and gave a small nod of greeting towards a dark apprentice who had also approached. "Morning to you, too, Ebonypaw." Cloversong replied light-heartedly, slightly amused. "If Sparrowstar's not in her den, I don't know where she is." A small shrug of the she-cat's shoulders ended her answer. "Perhaps Foxpaw's seen where she went. She was up before me." She offered.



Snowpaw | Female | Apprentice | 9 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Cloversong, Ebonypaw, Swantail,
Palefang {indirectly}

Snowpaw glanced up from the ground sharply, her skin burning in embarrassment underneath her alabaster pelage. What would her clan think if they saw her staring at the ground like some kind of idiot? A brisk survey of the surroundings cats made her relax slightly, everyone seemed to be caught up in their own actions to have noticed her, and for that she was thankful. As her gaze swept over the warrior cat's den where the mottled she-cat Cloversong was sitting and speaking to two apprentices, Snowpaw could feel her whiskers twitch with unease as she caught eyes with Ebonypaw, the dark male giving her a rather thoughtful look. Quickly glancing away, Snowpaw rose to her paws once more and began to pad among the trees again, hoping to catch sight of Swantail so they may engage in some training or hopefully Palefang, so they may sit and talk for a little but most of all, Snowpaw wanted to avoid that considering gaze of Ebonypaw. Had he noticed her? Did he suspect? These questions were like tiny ants crawling over her coat, distracting her as she struggled to focus on what she was doing. Her claws gripped the rough skin of the tree securely but if she were to misstep, her claws wouldn't be enough to save her from plummeting to the ground below. Such a travesty was a deadly feat that Snowpaw took seriously where other Dewclan cats might shrug and continue on with their lives, another difference that separated her from the clan cats she had grown up with.

• [ Palefang ] •
Male | 24 Moons | Oriental Siamese Mix | Deputy
Location: Camp | Mentions: Snowpaw, Foxpaw, Cloversong, Tinypaw, Ebonypaw {Directly} / Sparrowstar, Tigerstripe {Indirectly}

Palefang’s eyes narrowed as he caught a flash of white among the undergrowth, claws sinking into the branch beneath his paws with unrestrained frustration. Did his mother think he wouldn’t notice her frequent visits to the ground? What started as indulging nostalgia had turned into an everyday habit, Swantail silently creeping from the warrior’s den to the forest floor hours before the sun’s rays peeked through the canopy. What would the rest of the Clan think if they knew? Would her loyalty be questioned? ’At the least she’s building up more muscle,’ he considered reluctantly. It must be utterly exhausting to climb from camp to the ground and back every single day.

Turning his back on the scene below, Palefang steered himself upward, rapidly scaling the trees around him until the familiar scents of his Clanmates wafted toward him on a gentle breeze, Seconds later the slender colorpoint tom pulled himself onto one of the thick branches that made up camp, icy gaze scanning the area for disturbances, pleased when he found none. The dawn patrol was filing back into camp, Tigerstripe and his apprentice notably missing, but Palefang remained unperturbed. Tigerstripe was a seasoned warrior and he doubted the pair had run into any trouble.

Sparrowstar was also missing, but it wasn’t unusual for the older she-cat to seek out momentary solitude. She would return before long. The sight of his half-sister padding carefully across a branch a few mouselengths below had him beckoning her closer with a wave of his reddish-cream tail once their eyes met. From the looks of it Swantail would arrive late this morning and Palefang wouldn’t allow Snowpaw’s training to suffer due to his mother’s tardiness. Perhaps returning to camp to find her apprentice gone would remind Swantail where her priorities ought to be.

His own apprentice's lanky, spotted form was hard to miss among the leaves and he summoned Foxpaw next with a commanding call of her name. Many of the apprentices and their mentors still lingered in camp he noted, glancing over Cloversong and Tinypaw as Ebonypaw ambled over to join them. An idea came to mind. Some of these apprentices were too young for an official assessment, but the weather was promising and the wind in their favor today. It wouldn't hurt to to assess the young cats' skills and see how their training was coming among.

“Cloversong, Tinypaw, Ebonypaw, don’t leave camp,” he called down to them. “Once Sparrowstar returns I will have an interesting task for all of you.”



• [ Swantail ] •
Female | 48 Moons | Oriental Siamese | Warrior
Location: Camp | Mentions: Sparrowstar {Directly} / Snowpaw {Indirectly}

Swantail raced across the mossy ground as fast as her legs would allow, relishing the feel of dirt and vegetation underfoot rather than endless bark as she tore after a fleeing rabbit. Swantail knew very well she shouldn't be hunting here, but in a moment like this it was so very easy to forget all of her misgivings. She missed this feeling everytime she returned to the trees, a pining for the forbidden land seeing her bright blue eyes glancing below every chance she was given. Palefang didn't like it. If Feathercloud noticed she pretended not to.

Swantail's heart ached. She understood her children's disappointment, but she had accepted long ago this desire for the ground was not something she could ignore. Why couldn't Dewclan claim the forest floor along with the trees? Swantail often wondered what must have happened in the Clan's early days to make these noble cats leave the ground behind forever. She had never dared ask, but her inquiring mind had her tongue feeling a bit loose this morning. Perhaps after the day's training was done Sparrowstar would not mind indulging her curiosities...

Training! How could she have forgotten!? Swantail skidded to a halt, glancing upward and despairing at the sight of the sun. The rabbit quickly escaped among the underbrush as Swantail hurled herself at the nearest trunk, clambering up clumsily and losing her footing several times, lucky enough to catch herself on a nearby branch each time rather than plummeting down to the ground. The faintest sound of movement overhead went unnoticed in her panic as Swantail scrambled to reach camp before her absence was noticed. She mustn't keep Snowpaw waiting!

Her claws gripped a branch just above her head, yanking herself upward and freezing as her nose practically collided with another cat's chest. Her heart nearly leaped from her own chest as she recognized Sparrowstar's scent, as if the blue-gray fur in front of her face were not already a clear giveaway. "M-my apologies Sparrowstar!" She gasped, shimmying along the branch awkwardly until there was enough space for both herself and her leader, yanking herself up onto the thankfully stable perch. She did her best to force down the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots. Had Sparrowstar seen her on the ground?



• [ Cinderpaw ] •
Male | 8 Moons | Oriental Longhair Mix | Warrior Apprentice
Location: Outside Camp | Mentions: Tigerstripe {Directly}

The past two moons had been hard on Cinderpaw. Every time he closed his eyes images of his father's death tormented him, haunting his dreams and memories alike. For many days the young tom had been unable to leave his nest, curled into a tight ball of misery even his mother and sister couldn't save him from. Tigerstripe had been very understanding throughout the entire ordeal and Cinderpaw was forever grateful for his patience. Today was the first day he had set paw outside camp since the incident.

His heart still ached, but the pain had dulled enough for him to realize he had responsibilities he could not continue to neglect. The first few moments out among the trees clearly had an affect on the gray apprentice all the same, every sound resulting in a jumpy reaction that left him feeling embarrassed and the warning screech of a racoon in the distance causing a fearful growl to rumble in his throat, though the awful creature was too far off to be of any threat to the patrol.

Eventually this time with his mentor observing their territory proved fruitful however, by the end of the patrol Cinderpaw had stopped leaping at every sound and his movements were less guarded. Following Tigerstripe down to the next branch and landing just behind the larger tom, Tigerstripe's suggestion caught him off guard and he paused. Glancing after the rest of the patrol as they headed for camp, the thought of hunting for his fellow trainees was appealing after so much time spent holed away in the apprentice's den. "Alright," he agreed eagerly. "Where should we hunt?"

Newtfang ; Female ; Elder ; 77 moons ; Dilute Calico ; Dewclan camp ; Mentions: Open

The soft light of the sun wandered into the elders' den and woke the sole she-cat from her nap. She rose, stretched, and cringed as she heard the crackling in her old bones. "Good day," she mewled under her breath as she exited the den. Her ears flicked here and there as commotion bubbled around her. She was immersed in the din, but she felt no inclination to contribute to it. As an elder, her life was no longer quick-paced and noisy but easy and languid like floating on a calm river. Instead of hunting or fighting, Newtfang's roles were quite simple: keep the past alive, keep the youth busy when no one else can, and learn the art of storytelling. Newtfang admitted that she was still in the process of perfecting all three of her understood roles in Dewclan.

She sighed and slowly stretched out on the branch, eyeing the trees for her niece Thistlecloud. Thistlecloud, as Newtfang had noticed, had become the stoic-but-jokester cat that her father Owlheart, Newtfang's deceased brother, was. She regarded her niece with respect, for she had let her guard down to care for her aunt after Owlheart passed. As the thought crossed her mind, she smiled in quiet remembrance and sent a prayer to Starclan to keep her niece well.

Upon not being able to immediately find Thistlecloud, Newtfang rose from her post and trekked down towards the kill pile. As she began to eat a squirrel, she amiably regarded the cats that passed; she slightly hoped to strike up a conversation with some of her clanmates.

Cloversong | Female | Warrior | 26 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Palefang {indirectly} Tinypaw {directly}

Cloversong's attention was snagged by their deputy, Palefang, as the lithe tom paused on a branch a little ways' away, calling out to them. She nodded briskly and felt a pang of disappointment, she'd had her eye on that bird's nest since yesterday, the delicious pale egg constantly in her thoughts and plaguing her dreams. Egg were a treat Cloversong wished she could obtain on a daily bases, they weren't rare but it was difficult for her to spot the brown nests in the branches, almost blending in to it's surroundings. "Looks as if we won't be hunting after all," The tip of her tail flicked in irritation. "At least, not soon."



Snowpaw | Female | Apprentice | 9 moons | Dewclan Camp | Mentions: Swantail {indirectly} Palefang {directly}

Snowpaw finally spotted Palefang among the branches, the tom's pale, short coat moving gracefully among the trees, She opened her maw, ready to call out to her half-brother, but then his eyes caught hers and with a motion of his long tail, she clamped it shut and began to saunter towards him, a feeling of affection swelling in her gaze though it was slightly smothered by the confusion she felt for her mentor. Where was Swantail? Snowpaw had looked everywhere in camp and could not find the she-cat so similar in build to her son, was she off with a patrol? Snowpaw was a little disappointed the older female hadn't taken her but she wasn't one to complain. One she scrambled onto the same branch Palefang was perched upon, she pressed her alabaster body into him, a purr rising in her throat. "Morning."

((nobody else was posting so I decided to ;;))

“The real man smiles in trouble, gathers strength from distress, and grows brave by reflection.”

Sparrowstar |•| Female |•| Leader |•| 63 moons |•| Somewhat Away from Camp
Mentions: Swantail

Walking steadily along the angled tree, Sparrowstar set her eyes on a thick branch in the direction of camp and smiled slightly. Solitude was much appreciated at times, but the kind leader obviously relished in the familiarity of home. Thus, her leap to the next branch was not done in apathy but she instead crouched and bunched her hind legs happily, removing her hard grip from the bark with her front paws and holding herself steady with her back. The tip of her tail grew firm with concentration and stood up almost perfectly straight as the blue molly lept towards the branch, all of her focus on the branch even after her claws gripped the wood. If her mind had strayed, it would have been easy to miss the branch entirely. Sparrowstar had been fortunate enough to not have lost a life before, but falling a dozen feet would certainly have broken the streak. As well, she did not notice as Swantail's hurried form clambered onto the branch and nearly thrust her nose into the white spot on the Leader's chest. "Swantail!," she exclaimed, surprised and startled. The claws on her back foot sunk further into the bark, holding her there as she leaned backwards, nearly sitting. "Don't startle me like that," she scolded gently, allowing her pulse to calm, "But I'm glad you're here. I won't look so strange walking into camp late." In truth, Sparrowstar hadn't noticed her warrior on the ground, but the earthy smells emanating from the molly's sleek form hinted at it. Still, the Leader only offered a suspicious glance and waited for Swantail to turn and lead the way to camp.

[Posting Foxpaw and Dryclan later, needed to spit this out first.]

“Accidents happen. Our bones shatter, our skin splits, our hearts break. We burn, we drown, we stay alive.”


Foxpaw |•| Female |•| Apprentice |•| 11 moons |•| Camp
Mentions: Palefang [Semi-Indirectly]

Foxpaw’s eyes remained trained on the playing apprentices, though she had sat back down by now, until her attention was commanded by Palefang’s familiar voice. Slightly startled, she twisted her head and turned her abnormally tall ears towards her Mentor, looking at him with a degree of relief. Carefully, the apprentice stepped toward the end of the branch, planting her claws deep into the bark. As her lanky form collected itself into a crouch, the small tail at the end of her spine extended outward behind her instead of straight up like most cats. Exhaling finally, the savannah cat sprang toward the branch she was aiming for, one a little over a foot higher than the one she launched from, and overshot it massively. Her paws reached for the branch that now sat expectantly below her and, in mid-air, Foxpaw's eyes grew wide and her ears laid flat. Anxiety and fear flooded her mind as she floated a foot above the wood. With nothing below or around her to hold her securely in place and thus, she began to follow the rules of physics: What goes up must come down. And that she did. Luckily, however, she landed on the branch a bit further forward than her intended target, safe but shaken.