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Duststorm
Summitpaw
An oriental longhair sat by the entrance of camp. She was tall for her age, 9 moons. Her fur was groomed neatly and her yellow eyes conveyed annoyance. In Summitpaw's mind, she didn't even
need training. She was perfect enough as it was. She was sure she was probably going to dislike this cat. Of course, she hadn't even met her mentor, but she was already determined to be stubborn with them if they wanted to act like they were better than Summitpaw.. or if they were simply against her views. Summitpaw kept her pelt smoothed and waited, her paws kneading the ground below her as she huffed. The hot-headed, rebellious apprentice hated waiting, but she couldn't take off without her mentor.