The forest is too busy (Frostpaw, OPEN)

[Spec]

Mistpelt watched the scene unfold, sensing obvious tension between the small group of cats before her. Her mouth parted, about to speak, when a tiny voice beside her drifted into her ears. Her ears flickered in the direction of the kit, angling her gaze as those sea foam orbs settled upon the little tom as he greeted her so sincerely, bowing his head respectfully. Her eyes flashed, suppressing a hiss as she realized that he was without an escort, parading himself around camp (she assumed) without permission from his mother.”Falconkit, shouldn't you be inside the nursery?” Her voice was void of hostility, placing upon itself the tenderness of a scolding mother upon her kit. She saw all kits as her own, every single cat in this clan, was hers to care for now, and correct, protect from their demons. Of course, she didn't want to scare the youngster and give him any reason to dislike her, so a small, teasing grin found its way onto her jaws, halfheartedly backing up her accusation with relative good humor. She was good at that. Despite this, her spine tingled with displeasure at Frostpaw's reply, so careless in her words...Did she think she was invisible to Starclan's wrath upon this non-believer?! She wanted to strike her clean in the face, to spill her blood, perhaps if she was purged of her blood, than she would finally see sense. Ultimately, Mistpelt did not trust herself to acknowledge this speech, for if she did, there would be hell to pay for it. And dear Firepaw, quite the spitting image of his father, except half the patience, but of course, he was still ranked as an apprentice, still battled sin. She momentarily pitied the young tom, knowing how far Owlstar had cast him aside, neglected him as her own faith and duties. The smile reemerged across her features, arching a brow subtly in his direction when his mouth formed words of reprieve, however hollow those words were intended to be. His tune would change soon enough, so she paid no heed. As far as she was concerned, Firepaw showed the most promise out of all the soon-to-be warriors, and she would make it her duty to see him through unhindered by the sin that nipped at their heels. The deputy's diverted her attention, however, when Falconkit also spoke once more, after a long pause. Of course, being just of apprenticeship, his question wasn't as innocent as one might suspect. Inwardly, she cursed his Starclan forsaken mother of not applying the basic answers to her own kits! Quicker than a flash of lightning, Mistpelt eyes stormed and calmed all at once. Her voice was concise.”On the contrary. Even when Their own children shamefully turn their back on Starclan, Starclan never turns Their backs on them. As is the gift of Their loving grace.” She turned flickeed her ear in Frostpaw's direction, giving no further indication of her displeasure to her status ; lower than dirt. Yes, Starclan never forgot Their children, even when they were blinded. Straightening, she spoke once more, this time addressing the whole company.”Since you all seem so hopelessly bored, I have no choice but to assign you duties. The elders have been complaining of ticks, Frostpaw, you are to see Brightnose, get mousebile, and rid the Elders of ticks. Blackpaw, escort Falconkit back to the nursery. I think Birchtail would appreciate some fresh kill as well.” Her gaze lingered temporarily to each apprentice, finally landing on the ginger furred tom, a smile twitching across her lips.” Since Owlstar is dealing with other matters, you may accompany me on a hunting patrol, if you so desire.” Each assignment was increasingly less frustration, giving dear Frostpaw the most demanding task, followed by Blackpaw, then Firepaw.

[Whiskers]

Firepaw's snout was facing the ground and he snorted at Falconkit's question. Gosh, the kit was really ignorant-- when he had been that young, Firepaw remembered listing off the warrior code, Starclan's desires, the story of how the clans came to be, etc. His dad had spent many grueling hours teaching him and Finchpaw the ways and whims of the holy, sparkling star cats. The memory of the sessions almost made him snicker. He had found them boring back then, especially when Finchpaw refused to relent with his annoying, senseless questions. Rowanheart would spend a whole day explaining one simple concept to him, but it wouldn't matter. Finchpaw had been so dense. It looked like the kit in front of him (who was he again... his name was like Hawk-- no Falconkit) was just as ignorant. Hadn't Birchtail taught him anything?

He was about to spit out the answer himself, but Mistpelt beat him to the punch, reciting each word as if they were dipped in honey. Starclan loved them, one and all-- supposedly. Only it was a dirty lie, since they despised and spit fire on all non-believers. But little Falconkit needed to hear the sugary sweet answer now, when he was a kit, and later he would learn of the despicable Pineclan that plagued their forest.

"Since Owlstar is dealing with other matters, you may accompany me on a hunting patrol, if you so desire"

Firepaw's head snapped up, his eyes growing massive and round. These sweet words erased all bad thoughts about Mistpelt from his head for just an instant. A hunting patrol? AN ACTUAL HUNTING PATROL! I can finally learn something and from Mist--

Oh now the repulsion was back again and he kind of wished he didn't want to go out of camp so bad. He couldn't exactly say no anyway. No cat said no when the deputy offered to take you out hunting. So though he was more or less pissed at her for making goo-goo eyes at his father, the urge to run and hunt and breathe in the fresh forest air was so strong. It tugged at his chest. A small struggle began within, each side pulling.

But it was a quick war and Firepaw imploded with happiness as he gave in.

"If I desire? Aw man, I definitely do desire! Thanks Mistpelt, you're the best!" beaming, Firepaw hopped to his feet, his eyes staring up at Mistpelt as if she was a Starclan cat herself. He could go back to being mad at her after they went hunting!

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[Crowzerplorodon]

Ugh, this was not how he was supposed to spend his quiet time. Believe it or not, Blackpaw had actually begun to look forward to relaxing in the shade, maybe convincing Frostpaw to talk so he could get to know her better. She was an interesting cat and Blackpaw just loved interesting. He didn’t mind so much either when Firepaw came up, he liked Firepaw enough too. However, Mistpelt and Falconkit were the last straw. Any chance he had of getting some rest after days of nonstop work were lost and he sat up abruptly, licking his flank quickly to distract himself and keep his temper in line.

… Wait, wasn’t that kit old enough to be an apprentice by now? Blackpaw could have sworn he and his sister – where was Cinderkit, anyway? – were apprentice age. Hrm, that was strange. Owlstar was not the kind to forget something like that. Then again, he was about warrior age and she had made no mention of his own ceremony. Perhaps he and the kits were in the same boat. Sort of. His ears twitched and he stopped bathing, not wanting to lick the rest of his fur off. Wouldn’t do good to lose his good looks, now, would it. Customary grin back in place, Blackpaw look up at Mistpelt, his face a mix of amusement and annoyance as he regarded the she-cat. Oh yeah, he probably should give her some respect. But to be totally honest he never liked the light colored deputy much. He’d rather take orders from Owlstar any day of the moon.

Which is why he was royally pissed off when Mistpelt ordered him to take Falconkit back. He was practically a warrior who deserved some peace and rest time! Not an apprentice who needed to escort a silly kit back to the nursery. It grated him, that it did. Especially since it was Mistpelt… but he would swear if it was anyone else he’d be just as ticked. Except maybe Owlstar. Tail twitching, Blackpaw shot a low ‘Yes, Mistpelt dear’ to the deputy, padding away from the tree and signaling with his tail for Falconkit to follow, eyes ablaze with annoyance.

… Not that he was angry or annoyed at the little tom. No, he actually liked Falconkit and his sister. Blackpaw just didn’t want to be wasting part of his day taking this kit to the nursery which he probably could do by himself. Sure, Birchtail wanted prey. But that was easy enough to get, all he had to do was grab something from the fresh kill pile… Which was looking pitifully empty. Blackpaw’s ears straightened. When was the last time someone went hunting? Oh, he would have to rush right out after taking Falconkit back. The pile just could not stay looking like that.

“Ok Falconkit, lemme get you over to Bir…” As an idea formed in his head, Blackpaw grinned again, ears pricked like devil horns. Making sure Mistpelt was out of hearing range – which she was – Blackpaw turned to Falconkit, hoping that the brown tom wouldn’t be too stuck up to not agree to this and tattle on him. “Hey Falconkit… you wanna come out with me hunting? You can bring your sister too, you’re both practically apprentices. And hey, I’m practically a warrior.”

Yeah… it would probably delay his warrior hood. But oh well, hanging out with the kits and disobeying Mistpelt’s orders were just what the Medicine Cat ordered to cure his overworked schedule.

[Cloud of Diamonds]

Seriously? Were Falconkit's tall ears decieving him? Had Blackpaw-a senior apprentice-honestly offered to take him out? The brown kit had thought he was condemned to boredom when the deputy had ordered him back to the nursery-just for asking a perfectly legitimate question! She really was a dedicated StarClan devotee, though perhaps in not a completely perfect and pure way, he was beginning to think. Though it was against the warrior code...oh, who cared? For once the kit was prone to ignoring the rules. He was practically an apprentice, and was thankful Blackpaw was treating him as such. It was better than that silly ginger Firepaw had given him. He mewed softly, "Thank you, Blackpaw! It would be an honor! We are breaking the code, but...I am practically an apprentice and not some mewling newborn, like Mistpelt seems to think I am." He ended in injured tones. "It's not as if we're stealing prey or trespassing, after all. And you're right, you do look like you're a warrior already." Indeed, Blackpaw was an apprentice Falconkit looked up to. Experienced and clever, like the young tabby wanted to be. "I think Cinderkit's in the nursery, shall I go fetch her?" He wanted to go right away, never mind Cinderkit, but she was his sister and deserved this as much as he did. He could stand to wait a few seconds in politeness to the kind nearly-warrior who'd offered him something exciting to do.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw couldn't help smirking at the way Mistpelt quickly shoved her beliefs in the little kit's throat. Typical Fogclanner! Mistpelt really was jostling with Rowanheart for prize badger of the clan. She felt a distinct feeling of amusement as she sensed more than a slight disapproval coming in her direction from the deputy. Of course, she knew that she was probably the most well-known clan "troublemaker", but it still made her purr when she saw such cats effected by what she did, even in a negative way.

However, her subtle smile soon left her face. The overgrown kit (no, not the actual kit, but Mistpelt) had assigned them both tasks, claiming they were bored. No, she was NOT bored. She was quite content. In fact, she could have sat here quite happily for the day after spending all that time talking to that slightly-obsessed loner and mouse-brained kit. Yet, it wasn't the fact that Mistpelt had assigned her a task that irritated her most, it was the task she had been assigned.

Was Mistpelt truely an idiot, or had she not heard enough of her to know of her dislike of Medicine cats?

A blank look crossed her face, one tainted with a displeasure similar to Mistpelt's own. If the she-cat was going to be so heavy handed with her beliefs and orders, Frostpaw would do the same with her retorts.

She waited until the overly (and embarassingly) excited Firepaw shut up before she gave her return with serene calm.

"The elders can keep their ticks." She spoke clearly with no hint of spite. In fact, her voice sounded more like a sigh of irritation than a challenge. She turned her gaze unwaveringly to Mistpelt, standing her ground clearly. Her body was not marked outwardly with defiance, that was something Frostpaw could manipulate easily so not to cause trouble, but her gaze held plenty of it.

She wasn't scared of the she-cat. She thought nothing of her status. No, the she-cat would have to earn her respect, and perhaps show that she had the ability to be reasonable, before she would even consider following her orders.

"I have my beliefs, and my beliefs are that medicine cats tamper with fate. I refuse to visit the medicine cat den or to speak to her. If the elders have ticks, they can keep them for I will not go against the rules of life by giving them anything to 'ease their suffering'. If they've lived this long, I'm sure they can deal with a few insects."

Just after she had finished replying, she could hear Blackpaw's semi-tactful refusal of the older she-cats order and she felt her respect for him growing. They were definitely different cats, the dark tom and she, but they had a similar spirit that held them together. Perhaps he would be worth talking to at some point. After she had won (because she would win this arguement), perhaps she would join him on his hunting trip. It was obvious that she wouldn't be able to stay in camp now, why not go do something semi-enjoyable and shut the zealous she-cat up?

[Spec]

The eerie expression of neutrality did not crease beyond the utter irritation she felt for this little apprentice. However, in times like these, her rank would definitely affect her status within the clan, like it or not. It was the Warrior Code, it was Starclan's will. Frostpaw was beyond saving, as she could feel the negative aspect of her faith writhe beneath her gaze, cower before her as the demons they were. Together, they bound the ivory white she-cat up, entangling her within their grasp, unlock-able, and unbreakable. If Mistpelt hadn't been so warped in inner anger and frustration that presented itself to her, she would have been consumed with pity, yet as all teachers, a lesson would eventually be learned. Frostpaw would understand just how wrong she was, sooner or later, and be punished for it. At first, her eyes remained slits, hollow of emotion, or any indication that the opposing she-cat dug into her flesh. Medicine cats, in general, weren't a bane, but in the matter of faith, Brightnose was hardly qualified to be a leading figure in Fogclan, and if it wasn't for her knowledge of herbs and the healing art, she'd been gone long passed. She doubted that kindhearted sap had any sense at all when it came to divine communication the their Ancestors. But that was beside the point, right now, they're were more addressing matters to conspire. Keeping a level gaze with the she-cat, she gave pause to Firepaw's enthusiasm, and would address it after she was done.”Frostpaw, one must learn to overcome any type of feeling or emotion to do the greater good. Even if you might have lessened feelings towards another, a warrior must ask mature and get what needs to be done, done. Ticks or no ticks, it is of the same nature, as the appreciation returned by those respected and admired warriors retired in the elders den. “ Steady and as calm as she had become, it was hard not to notice the gentle hum of a suppressed hiss behind her words. Conformity now, Mistpelt...that would be what They would want of you. No sooner as her lyrics cut off, her eyes lowered towards Firepaw, dismissing Frostpaw with a wordless gesture; a flick of her black ringed tail. A thin smile dawned once more upon her face, narrowed and directed solely upon the ginger tom.”Come on then, Firepaw, if you're ready.” Already, the ivory hued deputy started across the clearing, body edged as she moved with liquid grace, sinew rippling noticeably underneath her pelt in sublime waves, casting her sea foam gaze ahead, solely for what was to come.

{{{Exit Mistpelt}}}

[Whiskers]

Oh great, Frostpaw was running her mouth again. Bla bla bla. Firepaw felt her tactless barbed words taint his happiness, and stir the beast within him. When was she just going to shut up about medicine cats? It almost... almost felt like she was personally insulting him, though her words and her hate were aimed at his brother. Where was Finchpaw anyway? This would be a great opportunity to point out how she clearly didn't give a mouse's tail about him, and was more than happy to spit venom at his name when he wasn't in earshot to hear. But no, Finchpaw was too dense and fell for her trap everytime.

Firepaw's fur prickled and his lips curled in agitation. If only Mistpelt wasn't around... he'd give her a wound that would have her begging for Brightnose! Instead, the ginger tom only threw a glare at the silver she-cat and "muttered" loud enough for everyone to hear, "Well you sure have no trouble talking to Finchpaw."

He didn't get the chance to tell her off further, as Mistpelt was clearly in no mood to stay around and argue with Frostpaw. (Disappointing, as Firepaw would have loved to see Frostpaw get told off.) So the ginger tom just left her with another scoff before bolting after Mistpelt.

He didn't want to be disrespectful to her, but he felt a need to inform her of Frostpaw's attitude. Clearly she didn't understand the way the silver cat liked to operate. "She probably won't obey you, since you're not around to supervise her. She'll probably lie down and sleep or slip out the back. Frostpaw thinks she's better than all of us and so she's above taking orders," Firepaw growled.

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[Slug]

A pair of yellow-green eyes watched the scene unfold, darting to and fro from each feline, taking in every detail and studying it with intense curiousity. Willowpaw was not one to stare, but he could not help but notice the tension in the situation-- like almost every other Fogclanner who were wandering about the camp, he had become entranced with the whole ordeal. He had awoke early, strangely not aroused from his slumber by a nightmare, but by another apprentice. It seemed he had rose just in time to see the show start.

However, the "show" quickly ended with Mistpelt and Firepaw departing from the group. It seemed more like a retreat, in Willowpaw's eyes. But that was just a stray thought-- the deputy could most certainly handle an apprentice.

If that apprentice was Frostpaw, though, Willowpaw was not too sure if anyone could handle her. But that's what made her so admirable. In some ways, at least. She was stubborn, a trait that Willowpaw lacked, very much so. He use to have it. At least when he was a kit. Rebellious to boot! Ah, those were the good days.

Right up until Snow-whisker died.

Ears slapping flat against his head, Willowpaw winced at the memory of the white tom's frozen corpse, so stiff it was as if his bones had turned to stone. That image would forever be carved into his mind. It haunted him, mocked him, even called to him in ways that Willowpaw was afraid he was far too obsessed with the thing called "death". The apprentice shook his head, forcefully throwing the painful memories out of his skull. Now was not the time to remember these things, nor will it ever be. The past was the past, the future a mystery, and the present a gift.

Willowpaw only prayed to Starclan that his gift wouldn't turn around and bite him in his hide.

Grounding up some courage, the silver furred apprentice made his way over to the three under the pine, almost stalking. There was no need to be cautious, but you never knew with Frostpaw...

"H-hello, Frostpaw. Gre-greetings, Bl-Blackpaw and Falconk-kit."
---

OOC: e_e I am so rusty.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw simply smirked at the older cat's scolding, wondering what in Earth's name she was talking about. Had the cat listened to a word she had said? She didn't dislike Brightnose or Finchpaw, she disliked their jobs and the idea of using herbs to heal someone in any way. Why would she need to 'put aside her differences'. And what was all this foxdung about working towards the 'greater good'? To her, the greater good was non-existant. Why did cats need to rely on medicine cats to live, why not through their own power? Why did she have to respect another based on their age? Why was death no longer an honourable thing? Was living really the 'greater good'? How was keeping a few incapable cats alive going to help them at all? She didn't understand. Not one thing in that speech had made the remotest bit of sense to her. It made her want to openly laugh, it was so nonsensical.

However, before she had a chance to retort, Mistpelt announced she was leaving with Firepaw and her retort died on her tongue. Darn it! Why did perhaps the most interestingly deluded (so intrigingly interesting) cat she had met in the past moon have to withdraw before the debate even began? And WHY did she have to take Firepaw with her?

Yet, her trail of thought was rather abruptly interrupted with the red tom's frank remark. Before she had a moment to think, she found herself yowling;

"Idiot! That's because I'm not mouse-brained enough to hate a cat based on their job, status or beliefs."

She growled to herself. It annoyed her that the apprentice though so little of her that he believed she was purely up to no good, it was ridiculous to hear that the apprentice assumed such a thing without knowing a thing about her. She could barely recall having spoken to the little kit before, how could he assume such a thing?

Yet, at the same time, it pleased her immensely. From this comment, it was blantantly obvious that Firepaw knew little about his brother. He knew nothing of his doubts, of his true feelings, or of the alliance they had formed. Finchpaw knew she hated his job, she would not pretend he didn't, but he was ok with it... and he perhaps despised his job as much as she did.

So, did Firepaw's comment make alarm rise in her heart? No way.

She was just distracted with her thoughts when yet another cat spoke. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts (and feelings of superiority) that she had neither heard nor scented the tom. However, she could have sworn they'd been trying to sneak up on her anyway, so she wasn't too surprised that she hadn't noticed.The cat's voice instantly gave him away. There was only one cat that she knew that spoke like that; Willowpaw.

Turning around to see the tom emerge from the forest, she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Hello Willowpaw." She said simply, "No need to stutter."

The tom's habit irked her a little, but she knew that downright insulting him was only likely to make him do so more.

[Crowzerplorodon]

Blackpaw, distracted by the little bantering going on between the other three cats only nodded, mumbling a quick ‘yeah, go get her’ to the kit before turning his full attention to his other clanmates. Falconkit could find his way to the nursery easily, especially if he wanted to go quickly. From the look in the kit’s eyes, he wanted to do this just as bad as Blackpaw did. For different reasons, of course.

Frostpaw held her beliefs (or non-beliefs) highly, Blackpaw noted. She wasn’t about to let go of them just because the clan’s deputy told her off. That was something worth admiring, he mused with a grin, watching as Mistpelt said something that Blackpaw couldn’t quite make out. He wished he was a little closer and almost scooted toward them again when the deputy left, Firepaw in tow. A shadow of his father, Blackpaw thought, watched the long furred tom pad off in Mistpelt’s… er, shadow. Poor guy, he seemed to be overshadowed by a lot of cats, now, didn’t he? Never getting a break from being overdone. Maybe one day his big break would come. Or not, especially if he kept conforming to the ways of the older warriors and didn’t break a path for himself.

“I never realized we had so many idiots in the clan,” he said, grinning to himself. Of course in his mind, Blackpaw fit right into that idiot category. Honestly he never met a bigger idiot than himself. But not like he’d let anyone else that, oh no. It was much easier to go on with his high and might attitude. It was a lot more fun, too, but that was beyond the point. Right now the only point was getting Falconkit and Cinderkit out of the camp and on their first hunting trip. Where were they, anyway? Falconkit was sure to have grabbed his sister by now.

His ears flicked back, a little late, as he finally paid notice to Willowpaw. “Heya, Willowpaw,” he greeted with a nod. “What’s happening?”

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