[redshiftreign]

GOOD LITTLE GIRL, ALWAYS PICKING A FIGHT WITH ME.
[ @Estelle [sleepypaw]]

grousepaw trotted into camp, shaking twigs and leaves from his dense, mottled pelt. he had just been out training with mistle, getting scuffed up from his sparring. ready to relax for the day, he smoothed down the fur on his chest.

shadowclan camp, the prison he so reluctantly called home. with tall, imposing walls surrounding him from all ends. each warrior felt like a warden, scrutinizing eyes waiting for weakness or flaws to seize him up in their claws and tear him apart. he probably should have been afraid, but he was more annoyed. a yawn escaped his jaws, tongue curling as he stopped in front of the kill pile.

once he had aptly yawned, he dipped his head and fetched a plump thrush from the pile, a mouth full of feathers as he skimmed the clearing for anyone of interest. boring. boring. stuck up. pretentious-

his amber gaze landed on a particular spotted she-cat just a few moons younger than himself, looking as if she had just gotten back from training, too. a lazy grin wormed its way onto his muzzle- oh, this was gonna be fun. it wasn't every day he got a chance to poke at the minds of the shadowclan 'royal family'. he grabbed a finch, too, as a peace offering, then trotted over.

sitting down just a pace away from her, he put his prey down at his paws and flashed a grin. "you look tired, princess," he mused, lifting a paw to nudge the finch her way, head tilting a bit. princess. he had learnt that word from his father. something about the kid of queen, or something. and he'd heard dawnstar referred to as the queen of mean- he wasn't really sure, exactly, he just knew it was fitting. he chuckled to himself under his breath. "'s the boss lady wearing you out? how's training comin' along, newblood." he wasn't much older than her, and surprisingly, also not much more experienced (with how much he shrugged off his mentors- bouncing between them like a case of greencough, never sticking with one for long. they all got tired or fed up with his apathy eventually -it was no wonder he wasn't good at much but fighting). he just liked poking at the dynasty, and honestly, he wanted to hear her perspective.

a part of him wanted to carefully pick apart each argument in favor of the leader, criticizing each minute detail until his point was proven. but there was a time and place for that- plus, mistle would send him through the sun if he tried to mess with dawn's grandkits too much. it pays to have family in high places, grouse supposed, humming to himself.