***
The first thing Acornpaw saw the following morning was ginger fur. When he opened his eyes all the way, Acornpaw glimpsed Beesting, Addertooth, and Pebblefur in the den.
Beesting was dragging Cloverpaw out of the den by the scruff of her neck. “Nomph complaints-mph needed-mph!” the sharp-tongued tom growled as he left.
Addertooth was staring after Beesting, surprised, and gently prodded his apprentice, Gorsepaw, awake. The dark brown tabby tom shifted upwards and quickly groomed himself. “Where’s Cloverpaw?” he mumbled, then answering his own question, added, “As if I couldn’t guess... in the jaws of Beesting.” Addertooth nodded and grinned, then led Gorsepaw out.
Acornpaw was already washing himself by the time Pebblefur walked up. “My condolences to Cloverpaw,” he purred, rolling his eyes. “My father was always like that to my sister as well.”
“Hm?” Acornpaw pricked his ears. “Beesting is your dad?”
“Yup,” replied Pebblefur. “Quailflight, Beesting, Cherryfeather, me. That’s my family- feisty, mean, just plain annoying and rude.”
Acornpaw chuckled. “My condolences to you!”
Pebblefur smiled and exited the den with his tail raised high in the air. Once again, as he guided Acornpaw across the clearing, the gray tabby stuck his tongue out at Cherryfeather, who was sharing a dusty rabbit with Specklepatch.
Cherryfeather returned the tongue and then looked back at Specklepatch with a beam.
Pebblefur broke into a sprint, and Acornpaw was panting by the time he reached the older tom’s pace. “Cherryfeather and Specklepatch- the two night patrol friends.” Pebblefur informed Acornpaw.
The gray cat halted and stood catching his breath as he spoke. “Becoming awfully close. I wouldn’t be surprised to see kits sometime in the future.”
Acornpaw inaugurated his mouth to say something, but Pebblefur still continued. “Speaking of kits... your mother appears quite plump. She’s been mooning over Hazelstar lately, hasn’t she?”
Wow, Pebblefur sure likes to gossip. Hopefully it’s just today that he does this... thought Acornpaw.
“Yes, she has,” Acornpaw answered. However, he wanted to train. “What about the first assessment?”
A happy expression spread over Pebblefur’s face like an eagle opening its wings. “Of course, of course. Show me your best hunting crouch,” the tom ordered.
Anxiety poured over Acornpaw. His heart beat faster than usual. “Well, I- er, it’s not perfect yet,” Acornpaw stammered as he crouched down into the worst hunting stance he ever saw or did.
“Nervous?” Pebblefur chortled softly. “I was too, and it made my crouch deformed. But Feathertickle let it pass by, and soon I had it. Act like no other cat is around but you.”
Silently, Acornpaw closed his eyes and relaxed, letting all the muscles in his body go limp. Finally he straightened his position as best as he could, and wiped off the imaginary mud that sealed his eyelids shut with his mind.
“Well done!” praised Pebblefur. “Wow, you really have that down,” the gray tabby carried on. “Almost perfect!”
Those were exactly the words that Acornpaw wanted to hear, and he smiled.
Pebblefur fixed a few awkwardly angled limbs then simpered. “Great job,” he murmured.
No comments:
Post a Comment