London Bridge is Falling Down [Mist x OPEN!]

[prowler.]

______________________________________________________________

Hailstorm's gait was steady and powerful as he strode into camp, muscular legs easily propelling him across the flat arena. His immediate task was obvious, to deposit his findings on the pile, which consisted of one thrush and two mice, as he did so he glanced around camp, he'd returned in a neat two hours since he'd left, but his morning was already almost over. Stretching with graceful laziness Hailstorm espied the trio of felines over at the opposite corner of camp, for a moment he flicked his tail thoughtfully, debating his mood for idle chit-chat, before dutifully padding over toward the others, he had time. He arrived just in time to hear Willowpaw's last words - that was Willowpaw, right? - and gave a light, cooly effortless smile, he recognized the young monochrome apprentice as one that had not that long ago; at the last Gathering, in fact; encountered Hailstorm's own apprentice and been found somewhat wanting. Not that young Sootpaw was exactly lenient in his judgemental nature, he was a harsh critic to say the least and sometimes a handful.

Hailstorm quickly took in the others present, one of these was Whitetail, a feline he'd spotted around the camp before, but never really taken time out to sit and have a discussion with, so he flashed her a quick smile. The other was Mistpelt, Hailstorm smirked slightly more cautiously here - him and Mistpelt had always had more refined, professional experiences than anything else, they were both dutiful and profoundly loyal to their clans, but Mistpelt was an extremist believer of StarClan, whilst Hailstorm proffered a much more diplomatic nature of appeasement. Still, she had proven herself a good deputy to the date, so he had no argument, he just hoped her own ambitions for the clan would not cloud her judgement.

Moving with ease so that he was reclined comfortably, Hailstorm momentarily remained silent, letting Willowpaw's question hang in the air for a moment before turning his head in a slight incline to the apprentice. As he spoke, his words flowed with a rich liquidity that only he might pull off without sounding presumptuous, 'on the contrary, Willowpaw, any catch at all is a amiable one for any apprentice as leaf-fall draws ever closer to leafbare.' He said, pale grey-blue eyes glowing slightly as he encouraged Willowpaw to show more confidence and ease in his demeanour.

word count: 448

[/size]

[/center]

[Spec]

Mistpelt found herself nodding rather absently, a surge of quiet bluntness causing her limbs to stiffen as she held back a yawn. True, it was early, but she had no excuse for not being fully awake as soon as slumber left her eyes. Beside her, Whitetail wished her good health, proper for a warrior to grant upon her deputy, but shortly afterwords, a slight, yet powerful inquiry rose from her lips, obviously noting the previous cats that had graced her presence this beautiful morning. Her sublime ivory chest fur swayed in the light breeze, typical of leaf fall close to follow its more cold brother, Leaf Bare. Starclan would preserve Fogclan, they would find prey with ease and live off the land as Starclan intended – and rule. Weakness was not an option. Raising her head towards the pure white warrioress, her head dipped mysteriously, sea foam eyes suspiciously trailing down her form before resting heavily upon her gaze. Whitetail in general was a cat of faith, that much was obvious, but was she a cat she could trust? “Possibly, Whitetail, as it is of great importance. Forgive me, but it's been a while since I've gotten to know you personally.” With prove of her trust, Mistpelt affirmed, she could bestow the knowledge needed for Whitetail to be up to date on her plans. It was only natural that she ask herself if her intentions were purely to aiding Fogclan and ultimately aiding Starclan through the ivory deputy's will.

A tiny voice, however, made the she-cat divert her attention to the small gray furred apprentice behind her, nearly disregarding his presence entirely since she was previously engaged. With a slight blink, her slit like eyes focused upon him, knowing at once that this young tom was one of the older apprentices – Willowpaw by name. She listened patiently to this tom's troubles, the concerns that fed on him daily. Without confidence, he would never mature into the kind of warrior Mistpelt wanted for the clan. Even at thirteen moons, he barely had the consistence of a sixth moon apprentice, if he was lucky. Her eyes hardened with every word he uttered, throwing explanation after excuse, stutter to stop, breaking any sort of speech pattern, as always. Before her was a cat that would need extreme treatment for his sins, especially if he's neglected confidence and determination for hunting, and a rather lousy shot at that. Needless to say, if Mistpelt was in charge, Willowpaw would never have a warrior ceremony, that is until he learned to act like a proper and mature warrior. The she-cat parted her lips, drinking in his fear scent before speaking – or rather before she was interrupted. By Hailstorm. Although she assumed him to be a handsome tom, his tastes were to lax for her tastes. And to confirm said thought, his words were all she needed to hear. She angled her body once more towards the apprentice, stony orbs glinting in his direction, locking eyes with a surge of force. “Willowpaw.” She mewed curtly after Hailstorm was done speaking. “As an experienced apprentice – borderline warrior of thirteen moons, one piece of prey is hardly sufficient. If you were to give one then take one, then the outcome would not matter, and more deserving cats would remain hungry. You can hunt better, Willowpaw, and until you have caught at least one more piece of prey, you are not allowed to eat. You must provide for the clan before yourself. Remember that.” Her eyes shifted towards the older tom, brows arched dully upwards, frankly unamused by his statement. “I would appreciate that you'd not encourage negligence, Hailstorm. Willowpaw needs to learn to serve his clan to the best of his ability.” The pile is low, and you can't afford to sin. Especially since that question was directed towards me. If Hailstorm continued this behavior, senior warriorship would be forever beyond his grasp.

[cazzy]

Whitetail stifled a sigh. She had half expected the words that came from Mistpelt. It still hadn't stopped her from hoping that she would be deemed worthy. The she-cat scoffed to herself, deemed worthy of what? A small frown played on her features, she wanted to be worthy of knowing something. That was obvious to her, but she felt she was missing part of the story.

Realizing her rudeness, by putting off a reply, the warrior meowed, "I understand, Mistpelt." Letting the words sit for only a second, she jumped in again. "I pray you forgive me for my rudeness, so in turn StarClan may too." Her tone was sincere and she angled her gaze back up at the deputy. There was something about this she-cat that made Whitetail want to be forgiven. Not only for this but for the rest of her sins? No, she found that too strong a word. Wrongdoings.

Some part of the white she-cat had always wanted to be forgiven. Perhaps there would be a day when Mistpelt could help. Opening her mouth to voice this request, she was bombarded by a rush of scents. She and Mistpelt were no longer alone. Whitetail felt her frown grow. She hadn't wanted to share her time with the deputy. And then they proceeded to speak, so she snapped her jaw closed.

The younger tom spoke first. Stuttering, he asked Mistpelt about hunting and food. Whitetail softened her features. Willowpaw seemed so much younger then her, but in truth the tom and her only had a few moons difference. It made her proud of herself. To see what a little confidence and faith could change a cat into. And as she listened to him talk, the warrior felt good not to have eaten this morning.

The second of the two, who had recently appeared, was Hailstorm. Knowing very little about this tom, Whitetail felt glad not to have expressed her feelings, about her wrongs, early. From the little she got off the older tom from before, and his recent speech to Willowpaw, his faith seemed to fall just short of what was necessary. It would have been appalling to explain her problem about faith to one like him. The she-cat held silent, not entirely sure what to make of this rush of action.

[/size]

[Slug]

'on the contrary, Willowpaw, any catch at all is a amiable one for any apprentice as leaf-fall draws ever closer to leafbare.'

Willowpaw raised his head, eyes glimmering with hope at Hailstorm's words. "R-really?" He whispered, ears pricked and shoulders squared, tail quivering behind him eagerly. However, all his happiness flew right out of the window when Mistpelt said his name-- the tom immediately knew what was coming next. “As an experienced apprentice – borderline warrior of thirteen moons, one piece of prey is hardly sufficient. If you were to give one then take one, then the outcome would not matter, and more deserving cats would remain hungry. You can hunt better, Willowpaw, and until you have caught at least one more piece of prey, you are not allowed to eat. You must provide for the clan before yourself. Remember that.”

Willowpaw nodded slowly, then bowed his head, shoulders slumping as allowed himself settle down, like a deflating balloon: pop had gone his hope. Pop had gone his food! Just like that. All because of a few words from a she-cat. "...I d-did p-provide fo-for the c-clan. It w-would b-be e-equal t-to g-give o-one t-then t-take o-one." He whispered a bit too loudly to himself, tail drooping considerably at his own words. Mistpelt wouldn't care the point behind his words, though. She probably had her mind set on the fact that Willowpaw could do better-- and, feeling guilty, Willowpaw realized she was right. He was a older apprentice-- close to becoming a warrior. He needed to hunt more than ever! Especially now that leaf-bare was just around the corner.

"Y-yes, Mistpelt." Willowpaw droned, eyes tired as he ignored the soft, almost curious guur? from his stomach. "Th-the c-clan m-must be p-provided b-before m-myself." He then sighed, curling his tail around his paws. "I w-will n-not e-eat u-until the c-clan has b-been benefited, y-yes?" He asked, then shook his head. He already knew the answer. "I will not eat until the clan has been benefited." He repeated, more softly, but without question in his voice.

He then quickly sneaked a grateful blink at Hailstorm, tilting his chin downward in a barely noticeable nod, as if saying You tried your best.

[prowler.]

______________________________________________________________

Hailstorm watched as Mistpelt turned first to Willowpaw and then to himself before responding. Immediately he had to bite back his lip at the Deputy's slightly cruel words, and negligence? He smarted a little at the term and glanced back to Willowpaw just in time to see that slight confidence Hailstorm had tried to inspire crumple and the apprentice return to his previous stuttering, shy self. He resisted the urge to frown and bite back at the she-cat it is not negligence to inspire confidence in an apprentice and appraise them, but negligence to crush that. A refusal could've been kinder-worded he thought, but held his tongue, it was not his place to outrule the Deputy.

As she warned him anyway, he'd have to reply, he considered briefly before replying diplomatically, raising his brow slightly as he did so, 'as you say, Mistpelt.' More thought followed this quickly as he couldn't simply abide the dejected look of Willowpaw, all hope deflated, and tentatively he spoke again. 'If it was't a trouble, I could go out hunting with Willowpaw perhaps? See where improvements can be made whilst catching some more food for the clan. That is, if you don't have any argument with it and if Willowpaw doesn't mind the company?' He said, glancing with a slight light in his eye as he looked toward the apprentice.

All he could do was hope that Mistpelt wouldn't bring up Sootpaw on this occasion, which would actually be a good question - where was Sootpaw? Hailstorm resisted the urge to frown, his very, well, strong-willed apprentice had been progressing nicely and they hadn't had any training session planned, but still he'd prefer if his apprentice wasn't lazing about on any day when hunting should be done, even if it was his "day off". It was then that Hailstorm's stomach gave a light growl, he hadn't eaten today either and had hunted more than enough, but still, he felt it not right to eat whilst another goes hungry - in this case Willowpaw. Still, he couldn't resist rolling his shoulders a little to flex his lightly fatigued muscles as the early light splayed its fingers over his thick grey fur.

word count: 434

[/size]

[/center]

[Spec]

Onwards the she-cat's mind trudged, head held high. There was little need to suspect that Willowpaw and Hailstorm were almost beyond her help, but they could always could be hope for the young, even if said younger one hadn't a shred of confidence within him. It was disappointing really, to witness blood go to such waste. Either way, compared to the toms, Whitetail's words held interest and with that, an inquiry for forgiveness herself. Without letting it show, Mistpelt was pleased, enough for her to share her plans with her as soon as these unfortunates left her presence. She took no pleasure in the ruminant thought of punishment. She-cats could be so much more agreeable, but then again, they were of the fairer sex, the most reasonable on countless occasions. Inwardly, she bade the white female to be patient for a bit more, contemplating what words would echo from the mouths of the accused before her. At first, Willowpaw glanced down, dejected. The realization of his sins washed over him, and because of this, flashed him a gentle smile. Surely, he understood the error of his ways and would keep true to his word and would pray to Starclan for his forgiveness. The ivory ad black ringed she-cat shifted slightly as Hailstorm spoke, momentarily diverting her attention from the apprentice and onto the grown warrior. “Of course, more prey is graciously welcomed, Hailstorm.” She spoke frankly, with the softest hint of feathery authority. “Good idea.” She nodded even as the last syllable left her lips, all the indication she was going to give as to her permission. Naturally, Sootpaw came to mind, but there were enough cats out on hunting patrols. If she found Sootpaw lazing about, she would give him something useful to do, simple as that.

[cazzy]

ooc;; Feel free to skip over Whitetail for right now. I am away for Thanksgiving and I don't want to hold anybody up. ^^

[Slug]

He felt so useless now. So utterly stupid. So... unimportant the moment Mistpelt had said those words, and now... now he had to go hunt, and without a doubt he would fail, come back empty pawed, and still wouldn't be able to eat until he caught something. He could already see the looks of his clanmates, their smug, laughing eyes on him, mocking him and his skills, pleased that he was going to go hungry-- pleased that he would starve. He shuddered a sigh of sadness, rising slowly to his paws, his stomach asking him angrily what he was doing, and why he wasn't getting something to eat!

Willowpaw couldn't help but wonder as well. The deputy was just another cat, though higher of rank. Surely she could understand his needs? Surely she could understand that he could not hunt appropriately until he had something to eat-- oh, mercy, Willowpaw suddenly realized that he tried to pull a stunt of disobeying, he wouldn't have a chance against the clan! He'd be chased out, thrown out from the little comfort he had from the FogClan.

'If it was't a trouble, I could go out hunting with Willowpaw perhaps? See where improvements can be made whilst catching some more food for the clan. That is, if you don't have any argument with it and if Willowpaw doesn't mind the company?'

Willowpaw's head shot up, eyes wide with surprise as he stared at Hailstorm, catching his glance, the older tom's eyes filled with this... light. A light that urged hope into the apprentice's chest, and a inkling thought of happiness creep from the corners of his mind. Thank you, Hailstorm! Thank you, thank you, thank you! He thought, nearly bouncing in place, tail raising high in the air as his ears swiveled forward with a new energy. Suddenly, Willowpaw felt stronger than ever before. Not in the physical sense, mind you... but he felt stronger on the inside-- he felt ready to take on the world!

"I would appreciate that, Hailstorm." Willowpaw said brightly, practically beaming at the other tom-- however, hearing "Of course, more prey is graciously welcomed, Hailstorm. Good idea.”, Willowpaw really did beam like a silly fool at Hailstorm, eyes crinkling at the corners as he did so. "Can we g-go now?" Damn. His stutter was back. But at least it wasn't as bad as before. So, without waiting for Hailstorm's reply, Willowpaw began trotting towards the camp entrance, tail swaying in the air behind him.
---

OOC: So, uh... o3o Should I make the Hunting thread, or you, Prowl? xD -shot-

[prowler.]

______________________________________________________________

A smile couldn't help but crawl across Hailstorm's maw as the younger tom replied with such hope-infused enthusiasm, confidence restored. His tail raised and curled slightly with satisfaction that he had successfully been able to improve Willowpaw's likelihood of becoming a more confident, non-stuttering warrior. His brow raised in surprise as Mistpelt was seemingly unable to find flaw with the idea also, but quickly concealed this with a silent enthusiastic but calm look. He turned to nod toward Willowpaw as the apprentice reared at the chance of going hunting with company and grinned to see he'd already began walking toward the camp entrance.

Before he himself made his departure he turned respectfully to Mistpelt and Whitetail and dipped his head in respect to the two. 'Looks like I best be off then, good hunting ladies.' With that he turned on heel and without an afterthought trotted dutifully after Willowpaw, his massive muscled physique easily closing the distance between the two before matching the younger's stride. As he did so, he flashed the young apprentice a smile before the two completely vanished from camp view.

ooc: you can if joo like dear? |3
word count: 243

[/size]

[/center]

[thistle.]

Inky-black lips curled back in distaste and green eyes narrowed into slits as the owner of those features overheard parts of a conversation, which was currently being held between FogClan's deputy, an apprentice, and a couple of warriors. Hailstorm and Willowpaw left shortly afterwards, though - a good thing for her, because the she-cat didn't want to be with that stuttering, pathetic Willowpaw while she spoke to Mistpelt about her required duties that day. Hailstorm might be able to tolerate him, she couldn't. Concealed in the shadows and the sharp fragrance of herbs covering most of her scent, the she-cat was currently well-equipped for eavesdropping. Her intentions weren't for abusive purposes, however; Warblerstep was simply interested in knowing what the discussion was about before she intervened. The brown tabby had slept late, so she had no idea about what she was expected to do.

She stepped out of her hiding place casually, ruffling her pelt to shake off the lingering scraps of leaf and bracken. Dipping her head curtly to the two she-cats, she greeted, "Hello Mistpelt, Whitetail." A tinge of bitterness traced her voice faintly. It was to nearly everybody's knowledge that she resented being polite to anyone, but it was never good to be on the deputy's bad side. "Everything going well, I hope?" Dawdling on trifle topics was even harder, but it was, she thought, a positive way to start the conversation. "Mistpelt-" she practically ignored her fellow warrior Whitetail, "-I've just awoken and I don't know whether I've been assigned to a patrol later or not. D'you think you could tell me if you have any plans for me today?" She faked a small yawn, as if hoping that would somehow emphasize her words.