Week 1
Blazingpaw can no longer ignore the task weighing on his shoulders and back. The week was coming to a close, and doing nothing till he gets kicked out of ThunderClan was not a good way to show the world that the new apprentice is tough. It was now or never become a warrior. Sparrowstar may had been hinting to that with her two fancy ol’ words “not lenient”. Blazingpaw finally understood what lenient means at last, and it did not soothe his anxiety.
Stomach ready to hurl out chunks, he padded into the elders’ den carrying nothing but what could’ve felt as the last pieces of his dignity falling apart. His nose wrinkled and wriggled at the smell of dust and, Blazingpaw could only dramatically guess the next one, the rotten flesh of the living corpses - or elders, as a bunch of lame and dumb suck-ups would say.
The next thing he sensed wasn’t actually a thing, it was a bunch of
old things. Most of these elders have pelts mixed up of aging gray and whatever color they were born with. Some look horrendous, covered with scars from forgotten battles. Others were disabled warriors forced to become an elder. Blazingpaw disliked them, thought that those cats were draining resources, but of course he could not say that or think about it longer than he should. Especially when his dignity -surprise, surprise, there was leftover pieces- was hanging on a thread.
Let’s get this over with, the ‘paw thought as he scanned the elders closely, looking for the one that wouldn’t cause much trouble to him.
@
Veinyard @
nocturnal naiad @
oleander @
SplashyLumi