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Creepy Cobra
The golden apprentice grinned with sly pleasure when a delighted expression appeared on his mentor's face. That was great - maybe the grey warrior wouldn't dislike him so much after this. He had gotten the frustrating cat show some other emotion than irritation, and Lionpaw was a bit smug about that. Of course, said smugness didn't show on the outside, but it was there nonetheless.
For whatever reason, he was glad to have gained the older feline's approval. It made no sense since Whiteclaw was only a burr in his pelt, something that he was stuck with until a thorough grooming session. Perhaps it was because, despite having an outstanding skillset, Lionpaw was rarely recognized for it. While there had been a few warriors in the past who had made passing comments on his hunting abilities, and while Buckstar himself had said that he was "pretty gifted," none of the words had really stuck with the abyssinian. It was Whiteclaw's flick of a tail that had awarded him with that pleasure.
When should they get that running training in?
"Why not now?" Lionpaw challenged.
"Not just hide-and-seek, but hide-and-seek tag." He mentally noted that had Whiteclaw had called the rest of their clan idiots. In other circumstances, he would've jabbed at that, but he was too caught up in moment to question it right now. He could bring it up again later in case he got bored.
The thing about the phrase that bothered him was that it implied that Whiteclaw wasn't all that loyal to thunder as he seemed. The grey tom was marking him and Lionpaw separate from the rest of the clan, and the golden feline wasn't sure why. Was he calling a bluff and trying to impress the apprentice, or was there something more to his mentor than insults and terrible jokes? Lionpaw would discover the truth eventually, he told himself, no matter what it might be.
He raised his tail confidently when Whiteclaw let out a long breath and agreed with him. Ha, no cat could successfully win an argument against the abyssinian. Stubborn insistence for the win! Although it landed him in trouble in the worst of times, the trait allowed him to pull through when he needed it.
Smile two-point-O slipped onto Whiteclaw's maw, and Lionpaw was tempted to roll his eyes at the feline. How unnecessary. Luckily, the tight emotion disappeared quickly, replaced by a much more suitable look of determination, and Lionpaw huffed to himself in teasing exasperation at the growling and extra show of preparedness.
"Good," the apprentice muttered. He turned around swiftly, then closed his eyes, expecting for Whiteclaw to go run off somewhere.
"I'm counting to thirty," he declared.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine..."