Waking Up to a Day Dream [open]

    The warm light of morning pulled Hailpaw from his slumber, olive orbs blinking open to a new day. His fellow apprentices lay in scattered clumps around him, still fast asleep if their obnoxious snoring was evidence of anything. Emerging from the apprentice’s den, the grey tom stretched luxuriously, long legs stiff from a restless sleep. The death of Falconstar had been a heavy loss to clan morale, a strange leaderless void left where he used to stand. Hazelclaw had not yet been given her new suffix, nor a new deputy named, thus there was a certain tangible uncertainty in the air. Cats preferred not to speak about it, not to confirm how much the lack of StarClan-approved leadership was bothering them, but the change in clan demeanour was clear enough. Until she made her trip to the moonstone, those under her command would be restless.

Seeing no point in lounging around camp all morning, and with no hint of dawn patrols in the works (presumably because that was a deputy’s responsibility and there was none to speak of), Hailpaw exited the camp, not bothering to tell Lightwhisker his plans. She was likely still sleeping and he knew her to be quite a bear before noon. He was confident he could take care of himself, anyway, and was unlikely to run into anything too out of the ordinary.

His paws naturally carried him flush to the ThunderClan borders, an innate urge to check on the security of their territory, as if keeping others out could also keep the uncertainty and weaknesses raging through their camp in. Tabby stripes flitted through the familiar oaks, morning shadows casting a dappling of light across the forest floor. As he skirted closer and closer to the sunningrocks, a peculiar scent crossed his path, distinctly different from those of his clan mates. Immediately, he hurried to follow the scent, halting in brief disbelief as his eyes found the two felines, standing within the border lines. He recognized the first as Whitewater — a wave of satisfaction coursed through him. What praise he would receive when reporting this back to his clan: the deputy of RiverClan, a trespasser. Him, the valiant protector of ThunderClan. The other, a silver tom, by the looks of it, had a sleepy staleness to him that spoke of a long slumber. Hailpaw bared his teeth. A long slumber? How dare that fish-smelling waste of fur! Without hesitation, the apprentice approached, aggression clear in his stance.

“This is ThunderClan territory,” he growled, a low sound in his throat, “and I strongly advise that you leave immediately.” The threat was obvious — though big words for a relatively young apprentice, he had every intention of following through to the best of his ability if the two refused to vacate the premises. If no cat pushed back against their trespassing, they would do it again, he was sure. Over his dead body. Besides, he scoffed at Whitewater with barely concealed resentment, the deputy of RiverClan would never hurt a lone apprentice, no matter their aggressive stance. Duckstar regime was one made of cotton, soft and shapeless. The fact that the white-furred tom happened to be in the wrong surely helped, as well. A clan with such political unrest should seriously watch where they step — consider walking on egg shells. RiverClan had always been like this though: air headed and rash, so it hardly surprised him. They were weak; pathetic considering how rich and fatty their diet was. Plump and slow, his father always said. Hailpaw slowly moved towards them, tail lashing and cold green eyes sharp and angry.

NOTES: @jeopardy just atlanta. he's here and reaDY TO FITE

“But daddy, mommy said I could sleep five more minutes.”

Daddy? Whitewater felt his face flush, warmth spreading down his neck at the warriors’ embarrassing sentiments. He wouldn’t pretend to know the inner workings of Silverstripe’s mind, but it surprised him that the other warrior would address him thusly, and he found he didn’t like being caught so off-guard, especially here in enemy territory. And what was all this mommy nonsense? But as puzzling as the tom’s behavior was, there was little time to sit and ponder over his words. The pair of them had to make themselves scarce before their luck ran out; there was still no sign of a dawn patrol, and the river was near. If they left quickly, they could be back in RiverClan territory before anyone would ever even know they had left it in the first place.

As Silverstripe laid his head back down on his paws, Whitewater scowled. ”None of that, now,” he admonished sternly. On any other day and in any other place, he would have been reluctantly amused at Silverstripe’s antics, but now was not the time – the only emotion he felt was a bright flare of annoyance that the other warrior had disobeyed his order to flippantly. ”Up you get, and I don’t want to hear any complaints. If we leave now, we can-”

”This is ThunderClan territory, and I strongly advise that you leave immediately.”

Whitewater closed his eyes and prayed for patience, counting silently to three before he opened them again. Swaggering aggressively up to them was a ThunderClan cat who could hardly be older than a pawful of seasons. His tail lashed and he held himself with barely-concealed hostility, something which Whitewater both found annoying and admirable – the other tom had to be an apprentice, but he didn’t seem to have any qualms about strutting up to issue commands in the face of two fully-grown warriors. The RiverClan deputy didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted at the young cat’s obvious overconfidence. Had it been one of his Clan’s own apprentice, he would have no doubt admonished such arrogance, but he knew any comments now would only get him a clawed muzzle for his efforts…not to mention, he and Silverstripe were in the wrong, a fact that Whitewater was all too painfully aware of.

”Certainly,” he replied solemnly, holding the ThunderClan apprentice’s gaze calmly with his own. ”We did not intend to steal or spy, I was merely here to collect a wayward warrior. He was…” Sleeping, his mind supplied unhelpfully, but Whitewater swallowed the word, reluctant to call out a fellow warrior in front of an enemy, and ashamed that Silverstripe had been caught sleeping on ThunderClan territory to begin with. Before he could struggle to come up with a good explanation, however, Silverstripe raised his head to look down on the apprentice with a mocking air.

”Hey there, little guy! Why don’t you just calm down and relax a bit!”

Feeling as though he might melt through the cracks in the stone from embarrassment, the RiverClan deputy inhaled once through his nose, forcing himself to breathe out slowly before he could do something rash, like skin Silverstripe alive. The warrior was stretching luxuriously, flaunting his presence right under the apprentice’s nose, and a growl of admonishment rumbled to life in Whitewater’s chest. ”Silverstripe, enough,” he snapped out, his tone unusually sharp. Turning back to the apprentice, his dipped his head slightly in apology, a rare gesture between a warrior and apprentice. The fact that he was bending his neck to some wet-behind-the-ears furball made him grit his teeth, but Whitewater wasn’t so arrogant as to believe that he was in the right here – in fact, they were digging themselves in a hole so deep, it’d be a miracle if they could claw their way out at this point. And yet, even so, he loathed the idea of speaking poorly of a Clanmate in front of an opposing warrior, even though Silverstripe was being unbelievably difficult. ”You won’t have to tolerate us for much longer,” he promised keenly, giving his Clanmate a hard stare. ”Isn’t that right, Silverstripe?”


@jeopardy ` r i v e r white is 100% done