A Disappointment to Myself [open]

Starlingstorm’s pelt had felt heavy and far too warm the entirety of the day. He knew most of the Clan would find him mad if he said it, but as the weather edged into warmer territory the predominantly black tom longed deeply for the cool breezes of leaf-fall. He knew it wasn’t likely—what little respite they got from the rain would slowly be beaten back by the sun’s warm rays, and he would wish that his dark pelt didn’t seem to absorb all the heat it had to offer.

So, unable to truly feel comfortable in the camp, he’d split off for the trees. The tom could only imagine what it was like on the really hot days for WindClan—Starlingstorm didn’t envy them in the slightest. He preferred the rustle of leaves, the feel of a strong and sturdy branch under his paws, the heavy scent of undergrowth in his nose. These were the things that screamed home to him—if not the faces he recognized every day in his Clan-mates.

Tree-hunting was special to SkyClan, and he was a seasoned warrior. Sure they could hunt on the ground, but it felt good to leap from tree to tree. Starlingstorm was a small cat, but—like any SkyClan warrior—his leap was with little contest. Carefully, Starlingstorm balanced himself on a branch and started to inch forward, eyes and mouth trained for prey.

The scent of water vole hit him and startled him—it took the warrior a heartbeat to realize it was below him. Obviously. Voles weren’t tree-climbers after all. Peering over the edge, Starlingstorm attempted to spot the creature—if he could pounce on it from above then he could bring it to the Clan. Pale green eyes brightened at the sight of the creature, but he froze a heartbeat later when a familiar pelt came into view.

He watched Creampaw with mild interest, his heart dropping for her at her missed catch. Starlingstorm considered giving her some pointers, but a feeling of panic rose up in his chest at the idea. No. He needn’t waste her time, or annoy her with his words. After all, she had her own mentor in Deertail. She didn’t need advice—and it would save her the embarrassment of having been seen.

Starlingstorm spun tightly, intending to retreat silently without drawing attention to himself. Starlingstorm knew, however, the instant he put his paw down on the branch that he’d made a mistake. A small crack creaked underpaw, he felt the branch dip—now that he was paying attention to something that wasn’t the scent of vole he realized he should have known. The branch had been dipping since he set paw on it, this was a rookie mistake.

It snapped and with a startled yowl he plummeted for the ground—luckily he hadn’t been that high up. Starlingstorm landed on all fours a mere mousetail’s length in front of Creampaw. The warrior’s eyes were wide and embarrassed—his fur was standing on end and his startled surprise was clear on his face.

Then the branch crashed down just behind him, and with a spooked yowl he leaped a few pawsteps to the left. He stared at Creampaw, embarrassment prickled at his pelt. He tried to think of something to say—he so rarely let himself speak with others in the Clan after all. He didn’t deserve to.

“Er—that was… JUST. JUST DROPPING IN HAHA! Do... uh. Do you need help learning how to catch voles?” Starlingstorm decided to go the “what that definitely didn’t just happen to me” route instead. He glanced back at the branch, embarrassment made his ears hot and the small warrior coughed. “I mean, I know how to catch them. You were close there!”