Rebellion[Open]

[shiningheart]

In the day time, with the sun shining fully down on the huge black stones that made up Snakerocks, it was a dangerous area. Adders liked to sun themselves out in the open where their scales could soak up the warmth, and they despised being woken up. For that reason, it was usually forbidden for apprentices to come to this area.

But Tawnypaw was feeling a little... rebellious. And besides that, no one could say she was being stupid about it either. She hadn't tried to hide her departure from camp, going out the front entrance in clear view of everyone. That's the key to making sure no one knew she was up to trouble; make it seem like you were doing whatever you wanted.

And besides, if there was no sun, the adders stayed away in their little hidey-holes where no one could reach them. So long as a cat was attentive and paid attention to their surroundings, they'd be okay. The moon, missing more than a few slivers but not yet a half-moon, shown down on her and turned the world to silver.

[/blockquote]
To recap. Tawnypaw's at Snakerocks, which apprentice aren't supposed to be at alone, at night..

[gray]

Soft little pattering footsteps sounded just a little out of place at night going out the front entrance of camp—the steps were so light that they marked the going of an apprentice, and a young one at that. Apprentices had no business going out into the forest at night alone, but perhaps this one had a purpose. There may be a reason, so there was no cause for alarm. Yet. There was a big white tomcat whom the pawsteps reached the ears of, and Whitestorm’s keen yellow gaze narrowed on the camp entrance. The entrance swished with the recent departure of said apprentice. He rose to his paws, deciding that on the off chance the apprentice was leaving alone that he should follow silently. Oh, you know it’s far more than an ‘off chance’ they’re going out on their own. You were an apprentice once, too, he reminded himself. It was true; all apprentices at some point seemed to do something mouse-brained or half-baked without thinking it through. It was part of being that age.

Whitestorm padded out of the camp and at first, his nose was assaulted by the clamor of scents of the entire Clan. As a result, he had to exit quite a bit before opening his mouth slightly to drink in the most recent scent—Tawnypaw. The little tortoiseshell-and-white daughter of Tigerstar. Shaking his head in resignation, he admitted that Tawnypaw probably was about to do something mouse-brained or half-baked without thinking it through. That, though, may just have been part of being Tawnypaw.

He followed her scent trail easily, as she made no attempts to hide it—why would she? She seemed confident that no one would observe her departure or come after her until she was ready to be found. Whitestorm sighed, feeling that he was definitely getting too old for this. Then he told himself to quit complaining, Tawnypaw could be in trouble. He was the only one who knew she was out, and it was his responsibility to take care of her. He still had a faint ‘benefit of the doubt’ thing going on, because maybe Tawnypaw was out doing a late-night assessment for Nettlestripe—certainly, it was plausible; plenty of mentors had given similar assignments before.

Then, he noticed the direction Tawnypaw was heading.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Whitestorm said softly to himself. He broke into a swift lope, deciding to just cut straight towards Snakerocks rather than follow Tawnypaw’s meandering path there. Before long, he was at the tumble of rocks dubbed Snakerocks for dangerous and very real reasons. The foul reptilian stench of adder lurked in the air despite the fact that all the snakes—in theory –were in their holes. Although… Were they nocturnal? Whitestorm found that he wasn’t entirely sure. If they were, they would be out hunting mice and such while Tawnypaw stood on the tumble of rocks oblivious to the possible danger. He could see her silhouetted by the moon, which was waning towards half-moon. Soon, the medicine cats will gather, he reflected, unless the Clan tensions get to them, too. He hoped not. The last thing the Clans needed was for the medicine cats to fall victim to the divisions of war.

Calling out sternly, Whitestorm said, “Tawnypaw, what in StarClan’s name told you this was a good idea?” He padded forward, eyes wide, ears pricked, mouth open, hoping that if an adder stirred, he could be quicker than it. A twinge of doubt nudged his brain; what if there was an adder but he was too stiff and slow? Tigerstar would never forgive him and he didn’t want to see Goldenflower’s pain if he had to bring a lifeless tortie-and-white she-cat back to camp. “There could be adders out, come away.” Please, he thought, don’t be stubborn like you always are. Just listen to reason… one time. Poised lightly on his toes, Whitestorm readied himself to dart over to her at any moment. If an adder appeared, he had but heartbeats to determine the outcome of the evening.

word count // 676
ooc comments // I really love writing Whitestorm, can’t you tell? xD
tags // shiny & open

[shiningheart]

-amused- Yes, I can totally tell you love him. Seriously, 600 words.

As she approached the dangerous area, Tawnypaw halted. There seemed to be a gleaming ball of pure white atop one of the stones, seemingly waiting for her. But that was ridiculous. She hadn't made any plans to meet someone, and she was fairly certain she hadn't been suspicious in anyway, so who- “Tawnypaw, what in StarClan’s name told you this was a good idea?”

... Fox-dung. Whitestorm. He was one of the stricter warriors, and he wouldn't understand that she was just trying to have fun. Stuffy old warrior. Tawnypaw rolled her eyes pointedly and sighed loudly. "Whitestorm. Honestly, why am I even surprised? Were your 'some apprentice is doing something stupid' senses going off?"

He padded toward her, alertness in every hair on his pelt and uneasy twitch of his ears. “There could be adders out, come away.” No duh. Thanks for stating the obvious. She completely ignored him and leaped onto a stone the size of Highrock and sat with her tail curled around her paws. "It's fine. They don't come out until the air gets hot, and the nights are still cold enough that they won't come out until the sun does."

[gray]

I knew it! thought the big white tom with a mix of triumph at his rightness and despair at the little apprentice’s antics. What was she thinking? Right—she wasn’t. Apprentices rarely thought, they simply acted; in Whitestorm’s opinion, apprentices should have to pass a logic test before being named warriors. Unless they could prove they had the ability to reason through situations, rather than just charging in, they should remain apprentices. Obviously, if they couldn’t stop and think and form plausible reactions, they had missed something during training. In reply to his warning, he heard a loud huffy sigh. “Whitestorm. Honestly, why am I even surprised? Were your ‘some apprentice is doing something stupid’ senses going off?”

[/I] Attitude was evident in every word the apprentice said and in her very posture. She leaped onto a tall rock; Whitestorm’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. How much more foolish would Tawnypaw get?! “It’s fine,”[/I] sighed Tawnypaw. “They don’t come out until the air gets hot, and the nights are still cold enough that they won’t come out until the sun does.”[/I] Unfortunately, as he thought through this, he realized that the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cats logic was flawless.

Except… Gotcha! Whitestorm knew her father, and he knew Tawnypaw. He hadn’t been a warrior this long without learning a thing or two—or ten –about apprentices and their ways. “I don’t exactly need my senses, Tawnypaw—you certainly weren’t hiding yourself.” He returned her unfailing logic with some of his own. “And besides, what is this supposed to prove? You know apprentices aren’t allowed out here. It’ll only tell your mentor you could endanger yourself and others.” Whitestorm sat down and licked at his paw pad nonchalantly, but he still kept his ears angled towards the apprentice. All he really wanted was for her to come down so they could return to camp without any unfortunate incidents. “And no one wants a warrior that could endanger their Clanmates,” he added thoughtfully.

He continued grooming himself, swiping the large paw over his face. “Adders sure do smell foul,” he commented. He flicked his whiskers and licked his chest fur. He frowned when he felt a snarl, tugging gently at it until his pelt was smooth. Sometimes, he would rather grab the young ones by their scruffs and shake some sense into them. The senior warriors instructed everyone to stay away from Snakerocks for a reason. Cats had died before while trying to seem brave or carrying out some silly little dare. The rule was there to protect everyone, not to annoy others. Great StarClan, maybe ThunderClan should just give the little patch of ground to another Clan. Whitestorm! How could you even think something like that? he scolded himself. No other Clan had learned to adapt to the presence of Snakerocks in their territory, and that would certainly cost lives.

No, it was best to just whisk Tawnypaw away as quickly as possible without alienating her. A good, sound reprimanding would take care of the matter once he brought her back to camp—maybe he could get her mentor or the deputy to do it. Better yet, perhaps her mother could scold her. She would be more likely to listen to her mother than some silly old warrior, right? Soon, surely, someone would notice the apprentice’s absence and question it. Tigerstar may even send someone else out to go locate her, and if they found her sitting calmly atop the dangerous tumble of rocks, then she would never hear the end of it. Tigerstar would definitely not forgive her for being so stupid. He would never forgive Whitestorm, either, since Whitestorm should have prevented her from jumping up in the first place. If Tigerstar were angry with him, he would never be able to talk his leader and kithood friend out of his mouse-brained and half-baked scheme that had been poorly thought through.

Perhaps it ran in the family.

word count // 656
ooc comments // lol I give people something to work with usually, at least(:
tags // shiny & open

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[shiningheart]

[/i] would have ruined!"[/b]

Which was, of course, complete and utter dung. She had no intentions of ever having a mate, and honestly couldn't even see herself as a mother. She had too much pride to let the little furballs crawl over her like she and Bramblepaw used to do to Goldenflower when they were young enough to get away with it. For just a moment, she allowed herself to imagine having a small little look-alike of herself, depending on her and trusting her instinctively.

Tawnypaw's eyes softened just the slightest before she snapped herself out of it. The whole thing had lasted only a second, but she wouldn't doubt Whitestorm being able to see it. He was an observant old coot like that. Hoping to regain herself, she responded to his second statement of her putting others in danger. "Okay, one, I know what I'm doing. Don't mistake me for some mouse-brained idiot who doesn't think things through. My father is Tigerstar. How could he call me his daughter if I was anything less than brilliant?" Her tone turned slightly bitter when she spoke her next words. "Not that he actually does call me his daughter."

Shake it off, Tawnypaw, shake it off. Now wasn't the time to vent your frustrations. She breathed a subtle sigh and turned her back on the warrior, leaping to another stone the same height. "ShadowClan smells worse. Don't know why you're bothered by adder scent." she mewed lightly.[/ul][/blockquote][/size]

[gray]

Sometimes, the big white warrior just forgot what it was like to be an apprentice. That wasn’t exactly a bad thing, he knew, because if he still remembered exactly what it was like, then he would be the one dashing off on mouse-brained ideas—not to mention talking back to senior warriors. “…Maybe Nettlestripe wanted to have a midnight training session to... I dunno, test my senses without sight or something…”

[/I] Whitestorm held back a whisker twitch of amusement at the last bit of Tawnypaw’s outburst. Everyone in the Clan knew the contempt she felt at the thought of being anyone’s mate. He watched Tawnypaw’s expression soften just the slightest bit with thoughtfulness before she snapped at the second part of his little speech. He certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. Perhaps he had misjudged, maybe he had read the tortoiseshell-and-white apprentice wrong. Doubt shafted through his mind—that is, until he heard her words. “…Don't mistake me for some mouse-brained idiot who doesn't think things through. My father is Tigerstar. How could he call me his daughter if I was anything less than brilliant?”[/I]

Sighing, Whitestorm flicked his tail to emphasize his weariness at the subject. “Let’s be honest with each other here a moment. I noticed you leave and it is my duty as a warrior to make sure everyone in the Clan is safe—and, honestly, knowing you, you were running around hoping to get into something a little questionable.” He figured the direct approach was the best way to handle the apprentice at this particular moment in time, since she seemed so resistant to his unfailing logic. “On to the next thing. Tawnypaw, you and I both know that the parents do not define the child. You are unique and completely different from Tigerstar. Just look at… say…” He cast about his mind for someone who would be prominent in Tawnypaw’s mind, someone whom everyone knew the story of. Then, he found the perfect example, although he really hated to use it. He had—and still did have –a genuine affection and respect for the solid gray warrior. “Take a look at Graystripe, for example. His parents were loyal to ThunderClan through and through, yet he mated with an enemy warrior and left us for her Clan.”

His stern gaze softened a little. “And of course Tigerstar calls you his daughter. Things are just quite busy; we are at war, you know,” he attempted to joke, hoping Tawnypaw would quit being so obstinate and just get off those StarClan-forsaken rocks. “But he won’t be calling you anything if an adder decides it wants a tasty apprentice as a late night snack.” As he spoke, though, she pointedly turned her back and went higher onto the rocks, practically stopping Whitestorm’s heart. Does she have a death wish? he wondered. “ShadowClan smells worse. Don’t know why you’re bothered by adder scent.”[/I]

Because adder equates to death, he sighed mentally. He should have brought someone else with him. He was too tired for bandying words with some young apprentice with serious attitude problems. Had he been a different sort of cat, he’d have just left her there to deal with the consequences—whatever they may be.

But he wasn’t that sort of cat, and whatever the outcome, it would weigh heavily on his conscience. He decided that, if Tawnypaw refused to come down this time, he would go up after her and drag her down by the scruff. And then proceed to carry her like a kit all the way back to camp. Perhaps a little dose of ‘humble’ would serve her well. Whitestorm shifted on the ground; it was getting quite late now, and he wanted to be up early to go hunting or maybe do a quick once-over of the borders before everyone else rose. Yes, it certainly was time to assert his authority. He would give Tigerstar’s daughter one last chance first, however, and hope that she had some grain of sense within her. Determination was one thing. Mouse-brained inflexibility was another beast entirely.

Once again with his leader on his mind, he thought of the whole disaster-in-waiting with BloodClan. Maybe that runs in the family, too.

word count // 700
ooc comments // aww, I love Whitestorm. I had the urge to add ‘disrespectful whippersnapper’ at the end.
tags // shiny & open

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[shiningheart]

[/b] With two hops, she was beside the white warrior once again. "I'm not ready to go back to camp, though. So long as I stay away from the dangerous areas, like the borders and this place, can I stay out here?"[/blockquote][/ul][/list]

[gray]

After so long that Whitestorm had already risen to his feet in order to leap onto the rocks and grab the apprentice, he heard a huge huff. “Fine, fine, whatever. Don’t get your old man fur ruffled.”

[/I] She was, of course, still completely disrespectful. However, he had to resist the strong urge to sigh in relief. She bounced perkily off the rocks and within the space of just a few heartbeats, she was standing on the forest floor next to him. “I’m not ready to go back to camp, though. So long as I stay away from dangerous areas, like the borders and this place, can I stay out here?”[/I] StarClan above, Tawnypaw had a lot of mouse-brained ideas! So, she thought that he would let her prance around the forest all night? She needed a serious reality check—not to mention a little reminder as to who was in charge at the moment.

Flicking the tortoiseshell-and-white apprentice lightly with his tail, he gathered up a stern voice and said, “Well, Tawnypaw, I should think that since you seem to be asking me for a favor, you’d be a bit nicer to me.” He puffed out his chest and slyly added, “You wouldn’t want my ‘old man fur’ to get ruffled, now would you?” In truth, he really wished she would just give up and admit defeat so he could go back to camp. He was exhausted from getting up for dawn patrol that morning and he wanted to get some sleep, maybe stretch out for a bit to prevent anything from getting stiff. He never got elder-stiff, of course, but any little bit was detrimental, at least in the big white tom’s eyes.

Despite his desire to turn in for the night, he knew there was no way he could convince Tawnypaw to come back to camp. He couldn’t let her run around outside on her own for hours. She might promise not to do anything dangerous but, in his experience, others made promises just to break them. She was curious—a good quality, yes –and would be likely to find something not smart to get involved in, simply for curiosity’s sake. She probably wouldn’t mean any harm by it, but it couldn’t possibly end well. Finally sighing in defeat—there seemed to be a lot of sighing going on that night –Whitestorm said, “Fine. But I come with you, and we’re going to do something productive.” He was already prepared for the groan of disgust he was about to receive from her, but he didn’t exactly care. She had asked. Those were his conditions. If she didn’t like it, she would just have to go back to camp like every other apprentice in ThunderClan.

word count // 456
ooc comments // are you happy now? this length is so much more normal
tags // shiny & open

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[shiningheart]

Wait, really? Whitestorm was letting her stay out? She'd been kind of half-expecting for him to grab her by the scruff and drag her kicking and wailing back to camp. Not that she wasn't appreciating the chance, even if the warrior was determined in following her. She could tell by his look that he was bracing himself for complaints and gripes. She almost wanted to know what he thought when she shrugged carelessly. "Meh, do what you want. I won't turn down the company of one of the more experienced warriors."

Was that another shot at his age? Yes. Yes it was. Honestly, she didn't even mean anything by it. Whitestorm was only a few moons younger than Tigerstar. They'd trained together as apprentices. StarClan help her if her father discovered she was inadverdently calling him old by calling Whitestorm old. "Any requests for where to go? If not, can we try the Owl Tree? Nettlestripe said it's a good spot for night hunting because we can follow the owls that live there."

Of course, her mentor could also have just said that in the hopes of Tawnypaw trying to go there and being carried off. Nettlestripe made no secret of his distaste for the spawn of Tigerstar. Well, maybe he did. He was almost pleasant enough while in camp, around others, but out in the forest the figurative claws came out. He never actually scratched her during battle training.

[gray]

Not all apprentices were like this, Whitestorm remembered. He remembered training Sandpaw. She had had a lot of spirit, yes, and a lot of drive. However, she had been a bit less mouse-brained than Tawnypaw—it was funny how she sneered at any sort of perceived ‘special treatment’ because her father was Tigerstar and yet she seemed that she felt entitled. To a lot. It was clear in her stance, in her actions, and definitely in the way she spoke. “Meh. Do what you want. I won’t turn down the company of one of the more experienced warriors.”

[/I] The white tom suppressed a sigh or an eye roll—he wasn’t yet sure which one he wanted to do more. He really wasn’t that old. Was he a senior warrior? Oh, most certainly—but, he was no elder. He was still fully capable, and he was starting to get tired of these offhand jibes. “Any requests for where to go? If not, can we try the Owl Tree? Nettlestripe said it’s a good spot for night hunting because we can follow the owls that live there.”[/I] The Owl Tree was so far away. And, anyways…

“If you really want to spend a night watching an owl get your target before you do,” Whitestorm meowed dryly, “then please, be my guest.” Owls were quick. He didn’t want to get roped into staying out until dawn teaching her to dodge owls. He ran through several different locations in his mind, not entirely sure what Nettlestripe had already gotten around to teaching her. A partially formed idea floated around the big tom’s brain, but it all depended on a couple things. “Tawnypaw, how good are you at climbing?” he asked.

Personally, he enjoyed climbing. Whitestorm had an excellent head for heights, and even as an apprentice had excelled at scaling a tree and snagging a dumb, fat squirrel from several fox-lengths above the forest floor. He still fell back on that tactic whenever he wanted an excuse to take longer while hunting, or whenever he just felt the urge to climb. The world looked so different from that height, especially closer to the top of the tree. The world looked small, almost fragile. From up in a tall tree, it almost looked like something Tigerstar truly could unite as one—despite the fact that the idea was still unwise, no matter what the world looked like.

Whitestorm stretched. “If you’re even halfway decent, then you and I are heading over to the Great Sycamore.” The tall tree was one of the tallest in the entire forest, and was where he himself had learned to climb—not that that was out of the ordinary; most mentors took their apprentices to the Great Sycamore to learn. The tree stood out so much because it was surrounded by oak trees. It was also a good place to hunt—without owls ending up with your intended prey. This was, again, proof of the value of logical thinking.

word count // 499
ooc comments // if she does climb, then we can start a new thread over in the great sycamore and spam thunderclan territory with whitestorm & tawnypaw xD
tags // shiny & open

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