take back the dawn (silverpaw/fawn)

Rowanfrost stood confidently in the heather, the wind carrying unto him the songbird’s praise of coming dawn. On the promise of a full day’s rest should they complete training early, he had lured Silverpaw out into the fields today for an early-morning session. The sky was still grey, yet bursting with ribbons of pink and orange, the sun fighting its way over the horizon to banish the last vestiges of fog that swirled across the moor. The lithe warrior of the plain savored it all, inhaling the early summer winds that were sweet as the blood of a freshly-caught hare. Sweeter so, for it was this wind that coursed through them all, and lent speed to their paws by StarClan’s grace. He had never been the most patriotic of the Clan, but standing here on the cusp of a new day, where the open sky was split between the stars and the rising sun, he couldn’t help the stirring that thrilled his blood and made him wish to run.

But he could not. He was a warrior, straight-backed and proud, and even now, with the wind at his back and the earth under his feet, his burden of responsibility was heavily draped across his shoulders, and he was unable to ignore it for long. His brother. His sister. Laurelfang, who was the ever-present enigma even in his absence. And now Silverpaw, his young apprentice, who knew nothing. But not to say that such a thing was her fault; she was simply new, and had never been exposed to life outside the shelter of the nursery. And it was his job to teach her…he heaved a deep sigh. His job to mold her into a warrior of the Clan, his responsibility to teach her all the things that would one day mean the difference between life and death. Hopefully, her life, and her enemy’s death.

The shrill screech of a hawk caused him to cast a wary eye to the skies, ever-watchful for the fall of a shadow that would signal the raptor’s steep dive. But there was none, and he allowed the spiked fur on his shoulders to lie flat. The hawk would hunt in the distance today, and it would be a good thing, too. The last thing he needed today was for a wayward apprentice to be snatched off and carried away. A soft chuckled rolled from his throat at the thought of what Rosepelt would have to say if she knew that he had allowed her daughter to be plucked from the heather like a panicked rabbit.

Although, he might just end up feeding her to the hawks himself, depending on how the day turned out. This Silverpaw had a reputation already, and a poor one at that. They say that kits will be kits, and to be patient and understanding, and yet it was uncommon for a lot to be so out of control that they were actually held back from beginning training. Perhaps that was why Redstar had assigned her to him. Perhaps he was expected to curl his lip and sneer in the cool way he sometimes had, to scare the apprentice into obedience. But he would not. Pranks, even the harmless, stupid ones employed by kits, were based in cunning and resourcefulness, two traits that would help her survive. To destroy them completely would be doing her a terrible disservice. To hone them and sharpen them over the course of time, to make her sly and clever, would make her a terrible force to be reckoned with.

But…will she be receptive? Rowanfrost swung his head around in the direction of the camp, where Silverpaw would likely come bursting through any moment. That is something that remains to be seen.


@fawntastic
notes: sorry for the bare-bones, I'm reworking my tables c: hope this is ok to start their training.