[Captain]

@Trickster~

A gentle hum rumbled from the older tomcat as he stepped out of his den and into the spacious clearing, where he was greeted with a soothing blanket of sunlight that shone itself through the trees above him. It was a rare sight indeed, considering how close they were to the cold season these days, so he would not dare complain to see even a single ray of warmth now. Of course, Flintheart was not one to have a huge fondness for the snow, but in all honesty, what feline actually liked the season of Leafbare? It was harder to hunt with less prey around, cats were easier to be prone to sickness and disease, kittens would surely die from the harsh temperatures if not taken care of properly and there were numbed paws and frozen whiskers to go around for everyone when you go out into the hunting grounds. The tall Burmilla had experienced the cold far too many times in his life than he liked to admit, yet he still would complain about it no matter how old or used to it that he got. He shook his head, knowing that today was not the day to be thinking about such pesky things such as this, he had things to do this morning and they were very important. Flintheart would give the occasional clan member a silent nod of greeting as he passed them, heading over to the den where the apprentices of Thunderclan slept. Normally, he would let Ebonypaw sleep in and take this time to relax, which he hardly did anyways, but this morning was not the time for that. He poked his head into the den, peering through the darkness of the area, seeing several warm bodies of young cats - apprentices - who were still asleep with gentle rises and falls of their chests. “Ebonypaw, wake up.” He mewed softly, yet loud enough to get the attention of his student, “Meet me out in the clearing.” Without another word, the male turned and headed out into the center of camp once more as his long tail swished back and forth behind him. It had been nearly a quarter moon since the battle at the Gathering and Flintheart had almost recovered fully from everything, his wounds were no longer bleeding and just shone as scars on his face and sides, clearly seen because the fur did not grow back over them, unfortunately, but the mentor seemed to sport them with a certain sense of pride that he had lived through yet another violent battle. The long slash across the left side of his face was most noticeable, being the nastiest and deepest of the cuts that he had received, but Flintheart did not mind at all. He had rested and made sure to let his apprentice regain himself for a while before starting up training again. The dark grey-furred tomcat gave a slight sigh as he sat down in the bare dirt at the edge of the clearing, not even bothering to get a piece of prey or lay down. He did, however, start to groom his fur, dragging his rough tongue over the fur on his shoulder as he now silently awaited Ebonypaw after being called forth this morning.