Despite not being a queen any longer, no one could tell Saplingpetal that she couldn’t see her friends any longer. The tabby was having a tough time transitioning to a warrior, but she was trying - incredibly hard. Yet, not too hard since whenever you’d see her, she’s lounging in some remote shady area and gossiping with a few like minded queens. Not to forget to mention that her maternally instinct was embedded in her. Like a virus. She still called her apprentices-aged son, her little kit. Jaggedpaw was far from being a kit, and he’d alert her on that in a heartbeat. Saplingpetal, she’d dote on him anyway; groom his pelt, making him look presentable, cuddle with him when he needs comfort from mommy... the former queen remembered when Jaggedkit was simply processing the world with those pretty large eyes of his. When he used to hide his little body in her fur to hide himself from the world.
Being a warrior? That was kinda rocky. Her hunting lessons weren’t up to par. She hardly could perfect basic warrior fighting techniques. Not like anyone should have the audacity to berate her because she’s known the life as a loner more than anything. Her son was half clan, therefore have potential to be a great warrior for Thunderclan. Saplingpetal wasn’t useless per se...well, that was debatable. She had skills, yet she was also pretty skill-less, if that makes any sense. Saplingpetal was hardly ever a pessimist. Her mind was programmed to escape every negative strand in life. Basically, if something bad happens, she didn’t believe it existed. Although, lately all the juicy gossip been about Riverclan recently, and all the troubles that the other clans started. She didn’t understand it much, but she liked to be within the inner circle of it all.
Saplingpetal occupied her time with grooming a short pelt. Recently, she decided to do a “hunting patrol” with a group of cats, thinking she could perfect her skills in catching prey. It only ever bit her in the rear end. She was pretty sure that a few thistles were still on her bum from skidding across the ground instead of using natural cat instincts. She wasn’t deterred by much. Cats fail every time, right? Even grown cats...who should know how to
hunt...and
fend for themselves... that sounded completely negative for a mind as far fetched as Saplingpetal’s was. She needed cuddles from her precious little boy, but instead she filled her disdainful thoughts with little hums that usually filtered all the negatively.
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Canine