state of dreaming [aurum]

The dream was chaotic flashes of dark claws and bright teeth—there was blood involved. The scent of it was coppery and thick on his tongue and when Dewpaw woke for a disoriented heartbeat he thought that he was going to have to convince someone to run with him to Beetleberry’s den. His heart was hammering in his ears, and he looked up—hyper-aware of his little brother drooling on his flank where he’d rested his head in the night. Dawn light was visible cresting the horizon and Dewpaw’s jaws parted in an exhausted yawn. He’d been thinking of something last night—trying to come up with a useful manner to provide shelter for the elders but allow them a decent view of the stars. He’d been working out the idea of a gap in the roof but trying to figure out how to work it in in a manner that wouldn’t collapse it structurally when he’d finally been ushered to bed by one of the cats on guard last night.

Not that they’d be ready to listen to your ideas yet anyway.

Dewpaw’s jaws split in another enormous yawn and he considered hunkering down in the pile of apprentices that were his siblings once more when it occurred to him he’d probably be expected to be up soon anyway. Sleep temptingly dragged him back to its warm depths but he carefully pulled himself out from underneath Mintpaw. Making extra sure not to trod on Rockpaw—he liked his pelt thanks—and with a glance toward Leafpaw as he considered waking his eldest brother up he slipped away from the sleeping cats and stood in the center of camp.

I wish there was something I could take that would wake me up. Dewpaw thought with a yawn, he shook his pelt out. His eyes felt heavy and he felt slow to start. Maybe Beetleberry knows something? I’ll stop by the den when he’s not too busy and see what he has to offer. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him about herbs and stuff anyway.

Training would be interesting at the least! They’d all of course been curious enough to get Ratwhisker to show them a few easy moves and the like—if Dewpaw was honest he was far more interested in the idea of learning concepts rather than actual fighting moves—and Dewpaw himself had never been a cat that was subtle about his want to learn. The border that hemmed him in had grown just a little bit at their naming ceremony, and Dewpaw couldn’t stifle his excitement over the matter. It tingled to the tips of his paws, how far would Blackwolf take them?

Where is Blackwolf? Dewpaw tried to spot his mentor and decided that it would be good to just wait at the entrance of camp. He was keenly aware of a blossoming worry that he would disappoint his mentor—indeed Dewpaw frequently worried that he’d disappoint anyone at all—and even more aware of the fact that he was uncertain he’d be anywhere near as good as his brothers at fighting.

“Blackwolf?” Dewpaw called, clearing his throat. He wasn’t sure if his mentor was awake or asleep. Was it even technically dawn? “I’ll be waiting at the camp entrance, no need to uh—don’t worry about hurrying or anything.” Did it sound like he was trying to rush his mentor into training? He hoped not.

Dewpaw sat down, trying to sweep his worries away. Maybe he could even figure out some different fighting moves that hadn’t been used before? If he thought ahead enough and worked out something that Blackwolf had never seen then he wouldn’t be a disappointment after all! Of course there was the chance that he’d flub it—no, he’d just make sure to calculate it exactly. There was something to think of along with that elder’s den idea now too.