[FirexGray Private] Shoot smiles all around;;

[Whiskers]

His warrior ceremony was so close he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. And it tasted good.

Firepaw couldn’t believe what his life was becoming. One day, he was a neglected apprentice and now—now—he’s Firepaw, son of a council member, one of the favored apprentices of Miststar. And yes, it was clear that she favored him. He could see the future stretching out before his feet, the bramble and undergrowth burning away as he barreled down the path. Just a few more days. Just a few more pieces of prey to catch, few more mock battles to win. And just one faith test. He was on his way.

And because he was so close, he was working harder than ever. He had gone on two patrols today and now, he was reluctantly taking a break. But he couldn’t sit still. He could barely stand to stay in camp, especially because Finchpaw was in camp, and he was trying to avoid his dear brother at all costs. He didn’t want to rip his face off (okay, he did, but he shouldn’t), plus any sort of interaction would be all kinds of awkward.

So when he saw Finchpaw come out of the den and his brother looked at him, Firepaw panicked, fled to the other side of camp, where he just so happened to nearly run over Graypaw. He stopped himself short and blinked his shock away.

”Graypaw. Hey,” he said, sort of out of breath, though mostly from the panic, not the short flee. ”Uh, how’s it going?”

Well, a little interaction with a fellow apprentice couldn’t hurt. And he didn’t know Graypaw that well; he really should get to know as many of his clanmates as possible.

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[|| allie]

A small, gray shape lingered at the edge of the FogClan camp, barely noticeable if you were part of the hustle and bustle of everyday Clan life. But Graypaw didn't mind not being noticed; every cat needed some privacy at some point in his life. And as he munched on a finch, his small meal that would keep him alive for today, he thought. He thought about this new, FogClan way of life. About the new leader, Miststar. About his father. About how the weather was today. About anything and everything. And as he tore off the finch's tiny left wing and gnawed on it, his mind was wandering towards his thoughts of FogClan. The new FogClan, the way things were now. Graypaw didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. Something seemed... off, about Miststar, and it made his fur prickle uncomfortably.

In Graypaw's opinion, Owlstar was a better leader than Miststar could ever be, and he still hated himself for staying in this rotten Clan and not sticking by her side. The only reason he stayed was because he knew he had a secure home here, a place to stay the night. He wouldn't have that if he went wherever Owlstar and her followers left. It was an impulsive decision, and he had had to make it quick. He almost regretted it now. The small tom bowed his head and murmured a prayer to StarClan for their safety.

He was unwillingly interrupted by the sound of pounding paws, and Graypaw could sense the presence of another cat, a tom. Instinctively, he curled around his meager meal, protecting it from this unknown tom's claws. Then it spoke to him. It knew his name. Slowly, he opened his honey-colored eyes and took in this surprise visitor.

It was Firepaw, one of his fellow apprentices.

Graypaw didn't know the tom too well. He only knew that he was the brother of Finchpaw, the medicine cat apprentice, and the son of the great warrior Rowanheart. Graypaw also knew he was notorious for his fiery temper, and he was going to be a warrior soon.

"H-hello, Firepaw," Graypaw mewed, trying to sound friendly. Inside, he was slightly annoyed that the tom had interrupted him in the middle of his prayer, but he shook it away. He pulled himself onto his long, scrawny legs. "It's going... good, I suppose," he meowed. "Do you want some finch? You look tired." He offered up the other wing from the finch and attempted to grin at Firepaw, but it came out more as an awkward smirk.

[Whiskers]

Firepaw's head tilted and his eyes went down to the meager meal that Graypaw had tucked by his paws. It was so small and Firepaw wanted to snort at it-- he wondered how one cat could get any substance from such a small bird. And the way Graypaw had reflexively curled around it as if it was a piece of gold was weird. Weird to Firepaw anyway. He glanced at the fresh-kill pile and yup, it was stocked high. New-leaf was being extremely good to Fogclan and prey was so abundant it was crazy. Probably Starclan's gift to us now that Miststar's in power, he thought. Made sense anyway; after all, the snow had melted in but a week or two after Owlstar's departure. That was obviously another sign.

But anyway, that was all irrelevant. Graypaw actually answered him and for some reason, Firepaw had not been expecting that. He flicked his ears and tuned back in, just in time to hear Graypaw's offer to share his pathetic piece of prey.

His first instinct was to downright decline-- it was too small and if Firepaw shared it he'd feel like he was stealing. If it had been a plump rabbit, then yes, maybe he would have indulged. In fact he would have happily.

But then this instinct changed as Firepaw glanced down, yet again, at the bird and his mouth flooded with saliva, his stomach becoming uncomfortable with the pangs of hunger. It might have to do with the fact that this was no ordinary bird; it was a finch. And the idea of breaking Finchpaw-- excuse him, a finch's neck was a delightful one.

"Oh yeah, definitely," he took the finch and clamped down, reveling in the feeling of his fangs piercing the soft tissue. He had never noticed before, but Finchpaw's name was perfect for him-- he was named after a tiny, weak bird that wasn't even enough for two cats to share.

Firepaw lay down opposite Graypaw, now definitely obligated to hold a conversation with Graypaw since he had taken the poor little tom's food. "I guess I am tired. I went on a bunch of hunting trips today and...well y'know, the whole clan is adjusting to Miststar's leadership. But I think everything will be back to normal-- not as hectic-- in a few weeks. What have you been up to? I never see you on any patrols, come to think of it."

Then again, he had never looked. Graypaw had never been an interesting specimen, and Firepaw had enough friends; though one more couldn't hurt.

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