[when you wish upon a star] pollenpaw

An ear-grating snore jerked Deertail awake, chasing away a vague dream about hunting squirrels in the trees. Amber eyes snapped open and long limbs jerked as the snores continued, growing louder and chasing the sleepy fog from Deertail's head. Blinking groggily, the slender tom cast a glare at his uncle and former mentor, Barkstep. The brown and white tom was curled up in the nest beside Deertail, snoring in his nephew's ear. Sighing, the young tom tried prodding Barkstep only to have the longhaired tom snuffle, snort and roll over to continue snoring in someone else's ear. Yawning, Deertail peered around at his fellow warriors. It appeared to not quite be dawn yet, his fellow warriors snoozing peacefully, seemingly oblivious to Barkstep's deafening racket. Wriggling around in his nest Deertail tried to find a comfortable position that allowed him to cover his ears but in the end gave it up as a lost cause. Sleep wasn't happening.

Creeping through the den, Deertail tried to avoid stepping on his clanmates before finally slipping out into the camp clearing. Curling silver fog crept around the birch trees around SkyClan. The moon was low near the horizon, waiting to trade places with the sun. Looking around at it all Deertail couldn't help but think it felt surreal. Camp at night was...relaxing. He didn't have to worry about Lynxheart creeping around to bite his tail off or tripping up in front of Pinestar. No judgmental eyes and twittering apprentices. Just starlight, a bit of mist and quiet shadows. Breathing a sigh of relief, Deertail settled himself on the edge of camp just tucked into the shadow between the warrior and apprentice dens.

It wasn't hard, despite his long limbs and bony structure, for Deertail to curl himself up in the shadows. When he was young his mother, Asterflower, used to marvel at his ability to fold up and make himself look impossibly small and harmless. Growing up it had become a fantastic skill to have because it allowed Deertail to go unnoticed more often than not. Being so long and lanky it wouldn't be hard for the young warrior to command attention. If he held his head high, had a sharp gleam to his amber eyes and strode through camp like he belonged there...well someone might just believe the young tom had earned his warrior name...that he could make anyone proud. Laying his head on his tucked paws, Deertail tried to chase those thoughts off, in part because he knew better. Barkstep told him time and time again that he was not a useless warrior, that he hunted and patrolled the treetops without fail.

'Not every warrior needs to be made of fangs and a bad attitude.' Barkstep's advice rang in Deertail's ears as his gaze turned to the pale stars overhead. At the time Barkstep had been talking about Lynxheart, full of aggression and bitter anger...and to an extent Deertail believed his uncle. Not every cat could have the battle-hardened heart flaunted by seasoned warriors. No clan could survive with that kind of environment. They needed the soft spoken, the gentle, the observant. Cats like Deertail...like so many of the apprentices he saw shuffling their paws, ducking their heads in shame when they failed. Being soft of heart didn't make his claws dull but they certainly made his mind churn, restless but too afraid to step outside of the persona he'd known all his life.

Closing his eyes, Deertail listened to the distant hoot of an owl and tried to let the evening breeze soothe him.