Palequiver -

Palequiver had meticulously prepared for this next session following the unfortunate unraveling of her previous attempt. Her perception of his distress fueled her own; she’d been unable to eat, couldn’t sleep without tossing or turning, desperate to mend the rift that’d been created. It’d been terrible, not because of him—never—but because it just had been the wrong move under the circumstances. This time, however, she had an ace up her sleeve. A surprise.

If her bright little boy Coldpaw would just give it (her) a chance, Palequiver knew he would like it.

Carefully-constructed cheer held her features in a fragile caress as she approached him from the other side of the clearing, her tail tip flicking with nervous energy. “Oh, Co-o-o-o-oldpaw!” she greeted, syrupy sweet and tentative, honed in on him to watch for even the smallest of reactions. “It’s a fine day, isn’t it?”

Palequiver’s pulse thrummed like a trapped moth beating its wings in a desperate escape gambit. “My dearie, it’s about to become even better, as Mentor has a surprise for you.” Over-the-top enthusiasm blurred the line with desperation. “Now just close your eyes, and let Mentor guide you to it.”

Palequiver -

Palequiver bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from slipping an inch, resolute in the determination that her surprise she’d curated just for him would chase his bout of the grumpies away in a flash. “Why, if I told you that would defeat the purpose,” she responded, too upbeat. “Let us go see it, shall we? Remember, eyes closed! Follow the sound of my voice.”

Despite what she’d said, her tail tip cautiously came to rest on his shoulder to be his guide while she brought him through the forest. Every now and then, Palequiver glanced at Coldpaw to survey his emotional state and how he was faring. Her cheer didn’t crack, even though she knew his eyes should be closed.

“Alright, open your eyes, my darling,” Palequiver purred, trepidation building as she peered to him in search of any semblance of approval while overhead a tree curled over their figures. A hive hung among the branches. “Surprise! It’s your very own beehive!” It had taken Palequiver hours upon hours to locate, her attempt at righting a previous wrong. Because this one, she had dutifully scouted beforehand to ensure there were live, active bee residents—as that had seemed to severely disappoint her fragile little Coldpaw last time. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

Palequiver -

The corners of Palequiver’s grin drooped when the surprise bees didn’t land with the anticipated joy, but Coldpaw had always reacted in more… subtle ways to her affection. Breath shallowing, she scoured his expression, seeking out what she wanted to see in the unstated: he hadn’t left yet, no storming off, and that was something. That meant he couldn’t truly hate it, could he?

No, of course not. If he did, he would’ve made that much clearer.

“Oh look at you! Just beaming with excitement. I knew it. I knew my boy couldn’t stay cross forever.” The fragile determination feigned a chipper tone of celebration, and Palequiver claimed the empty victory.

Palequiver clung to his suggestion (demand) like a lifeline as she brightened again. “Training, yes, what a perfect idea! That’s my clever little tom,” she cooed as her tail tip affectionately smoothed the fur on the top of his head, rounding his slightly-smaller form in assessment. He was growing so tall these days… “We’ll begin a session at once. What would you like to learn today, dearie? Perhaps a lesson in scaling the most daunting of trees,” whether she knew how to do it proficiently was irrelevant, “or how to bend the shadows to your will?”

Palequiver -

“Mind the pricklies, dearie. You never know when a most unseemly creature might give chase, and one must always flee with dignity.” Palequiver could’ve shuddered at the thought of her precious boy a tail-length ahead of any mangy canine hoping to get its jaws on him. Teaching him self-sufficiency was a dreaded process she warred with herself over, but the fear kept her on track for training a future warrior rather than focusing only on training a future son.

Palequiver took his demand as approval. (Of her.) She surveyed their surroundings—near nightfall, perfect for a stealth lesson, low light trickling through the undergrowth. “You are not some bumbling ThunderClan fool. You are ShadowClan’s finest silk whisper. And the first truth you must hold is this: stealth is not merely survival, it is an art form. One must master the craft of dissolving into shadow. Just as one must master the craft of shining when the moment demands.”

Her demonstration — meant to be a vision of ghostly elegance — carried with it all the tragic delicacy of a cracked heirloom teacup balancing on the edge of a shelf. Nevertheless, she righted herself, smoothing the ruffle of her tail as though the misstep had been intentional, a piece of a grander choreography only she could envision.

She turned to him with too-bright, too-glistening eyes, "Now, darling boy — show Mentor what you have learned."

Palequiver -

Palequiver’s eyes gleamed with feverish pride as Coldpaw delivered his proclamation and set to demonstrating his stealth prowess, her heart fluttering at what she perceived as a mirror of her teachings — the sheer, blinding majesty of him. Oh, he was magnificent, wasn’t he?

In response to his accusation that she had failed her art lesson, Palequiver’s ear gave the tiniest, most ladylike twitch, but showed no other outward signs of irritation. "But do remember," she murmured, stepping around him, her tail forming an elegant curl above her spine as she evaluated his stance, "even the most splendid depiction is nothing without the artist who envisioned it first."

Once she was finished examining, Palequiver dipped her head in a gesture of exquisite approval. "A performance worthy of the stars." She sighed in refined delight, carefully ignoring the way his coat practically glowed against the dark undergrowth like a beacon belting out "I am HERE!" to every passing fox.

"We shall polish you into a veritable legend yet," she purred, ever so sweetly. "Imagine — the envy of all the Clans, gliding unseen, untouchable." Palequiver’s tail grazed his spine, a subtle correction, then stood before him. “Once more, my dearie. Practice it in the underbrush, as if approaching an enemy camp.” One never knew when that would come in handy, after all.