Tainted Prey [Open]

[tenacious]

Stagpaw stared at his paws, eyes widening for a moment. He probably should wash them, now that he thought about it; no cat would be happy if he brought sickness into the camp, unintentionally or not. The apprentice perked his ears, trying to listen to both his mentor and for the sound of some water.

The ShadowClan cat chuckled at Wolfclaw’s reply to his question about the other cat’s nose. “I’ve lost to some things, but, no, I have yet to add rock to my list,” he mewed, whiskers twitching slightly, though he wasn’t really laughing at Wolfclaw.

He suddenly flicked his tail towards a small puddle, which should’ve been ice, but wasn’t. The tom figured some foolish twoleg had trekked through the woods not too long before, though, and, sure enough, when Stagpaw scented the air, he could pick up the scent of a twoleg. They were puzzling creatures- why would they want to go out in the woods now? Stagpaw didn’t even want to be outside too long for fear of losing a limb to the cold. He chuckled to himself before padding over to the water and dipping his paws in it; it was cold and a shiver rolled down Stagpaw’s spine. Rather quickly, he withdrew his paws and flicked them. Water droplets flew into the air and splattered on the frozen ground, “There! No cat will get sick ‘cause of me.”

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[atrb=border,0,true][bg=black] “I’ve lost to some things, but, no, I have yet to add rock to my list.” "Lucky." Wolfclaw paused as his apprentice left his side to go and dab his paws in a puddle full of broken ice. Do doubt he'd noticed the twoleg scent around. The warrior had caught a wiff of it on his hunt, but it was so stale that he payed it no mind. It was, however, cause for light concern. It would need to be reported. “There! No cat will get sick ‘cause of me.” "Well done. Now walk a little in the snow. It might not seem practical, but you'll get rid of more of the water that way and you won't have to lick your paws as much." His own mentor had taught him that well into his warrior seasons. Wolfclaw had fallen into a stream and had to be dragged back to camp. His mentor, having just retired the moon before, ordered him to roll in some newly fallen snow. The powder acted like moss, soaking up the water from his fur. He didn't question it. The fact that it worked was enough. "You can report that twoleg scent to Willowstar. She won't be happy about it, but at least she'll know you're learning." With that, the tom set off again. He swerved to avoid the camp, making sure that Stagpaw was following him. They were going to dig up the rest of his fresh-kill. Besides, the longer his apprentice kept walking in the snow, the less likely any sickness would still be clinging to his paws by the time they got back. word count: 264 audience: Stagpaw comments: None

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Whelp... I guess this thread is basically over. Not much else to do in it. :/