See the white print of a paw in the haze?

Thunderclan

-- Why is everything so boring in this forest!? It was simply annoying. Wasn't being a warrior supposed to bring promise to protect, and patrol, and carry pride? This hardly seemed like the hardcore life of a warrior. Okay, okay, so the white she cat wasn't a warrior, yet, but being an apprentice promised excitement too, didn't it? How irritating.

-- Autumn had sprung upon the forest and the clan inhabiting it. The trees began to shed their colorful pelt, or rather leave, letting the heavens rain in wondrous splashes of red, golds, and yellows. The ground was easily muddied, especially after a rain, but most of the soil was meshed with dry and brittle leaves. Whitepaw wanted to grimace at the very thought. So the forest was slow, nothing interesting happened in Thunderclan anymore. So the white she cat found herself wanting to hunt more so than often. Even so, Whitepaw didn't particularly enjoy it. Such a brittle ground caused for thunderous noise at the slightest step, often getting under the ill-tempered she cat's pelt. And it didn't help to have a white pelt in such a colorful world. She shadows grayed her slightly, but not so much as a black cat, of course. And she couldn't really blend into lush green, or the brown of a trunk. Whitepaw longed for winter. She could handle the cold, she could handle the hunger. Oh how glorious it would be to slither through the white walls, unseen to the eye.

-- But winter was not upon them yet. That was the grudging reality of it. Boredom deteriorating her mind, the petite white she cat prowled the ravine. The forest had grown to be very familiar to the apprentice over the past moons, be it patrolling, training, or wondering when she could. She often pondered her own little private patrol of the borders, just to have a little fun, but she wanted to find company, a warrior just wouldn't due.

-- Whitepaw slithered the smooth rocks, stalking nothing in particular as she'd dash from one boulder to the other, and take a dive into the brambles, or swaying grass at the top of the ravine. The white she cat wriggled her hind quarters, ducking below the grasses as a scent passed over her. It was not the scent of a mouse. It was not the scent of intruders, though the white she cat recognized this scent to be the stench of her own clan. A tom, that was for certain. He wasn't a den mate, he must have been a warrior. Summitfrost. Whitepaw finally concluded. Emerald green eyes narrowed, peering out of the grass blades. The brown tabby wondered past, leaping gracefully from stone to stone among the ravine. Green eyes traced the tom-cat in his trek. Just like that, a look of shock crossed his muzzle, and he was gone.

-- Whitepaw's ears drew forward curiously, green eyes brimming round. She listened intently for a sound, nothing. Was he dead? Certainly not, his breathing was evident. He's probably stunned. Whitepaw grinned at this thought, it wasn't often an apprentice witnessed the screw-up of a warrior. They were supposed to be 'perfect' trained to battle and survive.

-- A broad smirk painting across her lips, Whitepaw shouldered out of her cover and strut to the edge of the ravine, leaning forward to peer down. The brown tabby was staggering to her paws, though the white she cat couldn't hold back her snicker. "You know life is boring when Thunderclan's own falls down the ravine they've walked their whole life." Whitepaw chimed mockingly, but playfully at the tom, amusement blunt in green orbs. "Don't tell me you were just strolling about, so bored as to not pay attention. There could have been intruders skulking about." Whitepaw jeered, straightening up as though she were the mentor scolding her apprentice.

"...It makes everyone wonder what you're up to."

See the white print of a paw in the haze?

Thunderclan

-- Whitepaw was pleased to see the warrior didn't go running his tongue as most warriors would have. In fact, he didn't really seem offended, replying with a mere blinks or small gestures. The warrior heaved himself to his paws, looking up with blue eyes to meet the gaze of the white she cat. Whitepaw herself couldn't help but let a slight grin slip across her maw.

-- The petite she cat tilted her head to the side as Summitfrost pressed a paw to his throat, remaining oddly silent. Whitepaw herself hadn't much exposure with the tom. He was just one of those cats Whitepaw knew to be a clan mate, but didn't really talk with, or even go on patrol often with. Blinking in slight confusion, Whitepaw shook her head, putting a face of confidence back on. Perhaps he was trying to confuse her? Was he playing a game?

-- Whitepaw narrowed green orbs menacingly, tempered to go lashing her tongue once again, rather this time snapping at him for trying to screw with her head. But she held her tongue. There was not a look of triumph upon his face, but an expression that longed for Whitepaw to understand the true ordeal of what was happening.

-- The white she cat paced slightly, paw after paw, though her gaze never left that of the warrior. "What, mouse got you tongue!?" Whitepaw finally snapped in inpatients, lashing her tail. Whitepaw was never a patient one, and often had a hot head and ill temper. "Spit it out already!" But Whitepaw found herself looking back to his action. Why had he put his paw on his throat. Did it mean something? Come to think of it, Whitepaw had to admit she had never heard his voice? He was not just a soft spoken tom, but silent all together.

-- Whitepaw froze, her pacing coming to a halt. Realization flashed upon her face. "You don't talk at all... do you?" The feline meowed curiously, again, a tilt coming to her head.

|| ooc; || Sorry about the writers block. D> Lol, dun worry about it. =D

"...It makes everyone wonder what you're up to."