| Sprucepaw |
Right... so once again, a change of plans. It seemed this cat wanted to leave camp after all. Fudge had no problems with this. The further away he was from Monster, the better. Even if this new cat talked way more than he liked. It was fine. The more Talky spoke, the less he had to speak, so in a way, it was a win. And it seemed he didn't really expect the young apprentice to speak at all, considering he wasn't taking questions either which... was honestly a relief.
It was sometimes daunting, this whole socializing thing. Cats had so many expectations of how you had to react to whatever nonsense they said, and it couldn't be just a reaction. No no. It had to be the
right reaction. It was all a bunch of canned ham, as far as he was concerned. Actually no... scratch that. Canned ham was actually tasty, thank you very much. Whatever! It meant he was off the hook on the whole exchange of words thing. As long as he paid attention to this cat's continuous need to pat himself on the back, he'd be good.
Finally, they seemed to arrive at their destination. A massive tree out in the territory. It was large enough to stand out even among the rest of the stems in this heavily wooded area. Before he could even begin to wonder what in the world Talky was expecting him to do with this giant, he began his yapping about once more, this time managing to genuinely catch Fudge's interest. Quirking a brow on his deadpanned face as the only show of expression, the young tom turned from the warrior to the tree, green eyes studying the sheer magnitude of it.
Climbing. It had been one of the things he had always loved back in his housefolk's nest. The housefolk themselves had been... less than happy with his tendencies to clamber over anything he could find. The magical, cold food box. The little caves that were suspended upon the walls of the nest and filled with foods and other goodies. The tall tables with stuff on them that was so fun to push to the ground.
Ever since his arrival, Fudge had only had two chances to even try climbing. One was that strange little game Angry had made. The one in which they were supposed to climb a rock and find a so called RiverClan cat among the rest of the cats. He'd proficiently managed then, despite how young he'd been. The second time had been when he'd tried to get that stupid squirrel. He'd failed then, having been unable to climb to where the squirrel stood. The Havana Brown mix wondered why that day, and it seemed he had his answer now.
It seemed that climbing these trees was very different to climbing up the smoother surfaces the housefolk nest had offered. It wasn't about speed and jumping at just the right time. It was about patience and knowing where to sink your claws into. He'd used the wrong technique. Hmph. The long furred apprentince narrowed his eyes. He wouldn't be making that same mistake a second time.
Keeping his eyes on Walkie Talky, he watched as the cat expertly climbed to the first branch and down. Expression still blank, he turned to gaze at the warrior, nodding once as his whiskers trembled, the only sign of excitement on his otherwise deadpanned face.
"Understood," he mewed in a clipped voice before turning his attention back on the tree, small claws flexing and unsheathing.
Carefully, he placed one paw on the trunk of the tree, testing its firmness and strength - Talky
had just said it took patience, after all - before finally sinking his claws into it, propelling himself up with ease. He followed the first step with another, his emerald pools glinting as a ghost of a smile crossed his face.
This was it. This was what he had loved doing as a kit. Well... younger kit. Finally, a small slice of home in this chaotic place. A small gift of familiarity in this endless nightmare. Instinct took over, and before he knew it, the chocolate point was on the branch, the breeze blowing welcomingly into his fur as he closed his eyes with contentment, for just a moment forgetting everything and almost feeling like he belonged in this place.
The moment was gone as soon as he opened his eyes, remembering himself. This was not his home. This would never be his home. He was just staying here, learning what he could and surviving, but he would never be like these cats. He would never worship the stars. Would never claim false friendships that would break the moment he was no longer of any use to them. Would never have a family with them. Would never belong. The sooner he got that in his head, the safer he would be.
Following his previous steps, Fudge climbed down, landing expertly with a small hop in front of the tom.
"Performed," he stated in an unfeeling voice, deadpanned expression meeting the warrior's as he waited for the tom's evaluation, his tail tapping lightly as he found himself missing the feeling of the breeze among the branches of the tree.
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spooky sleek. [Flameflicker]