whoopsie-daisy / return to activity

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.
  • "rule number five; a kit must be... at least six moons old... to become an... a-apprentice..." muttered littlepaw to no one in particular, each syllable spoken in between his jerky movements as he practiced a battle move rather poorly in a small area outside of the camp's walls. needs to be better. again. his weak muscles strained with the effort of continuous exercise. he'd allowed them to be weakened. surely he must have. even if others said it was because of the drought, or even because he'd never had muxh muscle mass to begin with. yet his mind told him that somehow, he'd caused this. he caused this, and he needed to fix it. or else. he wasn't sure what the else part entailed. but it wasn't good karma, that he knew.


    "rule number six..." his voice was barely a whisper. reciting the warrior code helped him concentrate on something other than his anxiety, his fear that he'd never be able to get this move right, or become a warrior alongside brindlepaw. "newly ap-appointed... wa-warriors... will keep a s-silent v-vigil... for one night... after r-receiving... their w-warrior name...." their warrior name... what would his be? what was a quality of his that stood out? maybe.. littleworrywort. no, too long and clanky. little... little.. ugh. he wasn't very creative, was he? he should just leave it up to briarstar. that is, if he even became a warrior. there was still the possibility that briarstar would just make him an elder early, because he'd be of more use there.


    his head was beginning to throb. he needed to regain focus, or else.. another headache. "rule number... seven.." his lungs were burning with the effort of training and speaking. honestly, he wasn't even sure if he was actually speaking out loud, or if he was just imagining this in his head. "a cat.. cannot.. b-" one front paw collided with another, the skinny apprentice tumbling headfirst and doing an undignified flip onto his back. and there he stayed for a moment, gulping in quick breaths. in between his desperate attempts to refill his lungs with oxygen, a worrying thought intruded his mind. oh stars, i hope no one saw that..

  • ShadowClan deputy | black & ginger torbie | missing left eye | tags


    Of course Tansyface had been listening in. She would have been directly watching, but hadn't for fear of making Littlepaw more nervous than he already was. So instead she had tucked herself behind a cypress, her tail curled close to her side to prevent it from being visible from beyond the trunk, a soft sort of smile on her mouth as she listened to Littlepaw going over the warrior code, to the soft scuffs of paws on the ground, which Tansyface had to assume was either erratic pacing or a battle training of some sort. From the effort it seemed to take Littlepaw to speak, she would guess it to be the latter option.


    It was in her nature to worry, to fret, something Tansyface feared she passed down to Littlepaw. Only, hers was an explosive, loud thing. When she was scared she was unmissable, moved in wide gestures and shouted as if angered, while Littlepaw seemed to want to fold himself up as small as he could and be tucked away somewhere he wouldn't be found. Tansyface knows she had scared him before, a truly horrible feeling once she recognized what she had done, and now she fumbled over her interactions with him, uncertain of how she was supposed to speak to him anymore. But he was hers and Tansyface couldn't give him space, would rather he tuck himself at her side than under a lonely tree.


    She hadn't a clue what she was doing, but somehow, somewhere, she made too many mistakes.


    There is a sound of- did he fall?- Tansyface peaks from around the tree, her yellow eye widened as she searches for him. She thinks to herself, Littlepaw needs to learn he can stand on his own, but it is a lesson Tansyface frankly doesn't wish for Littlepaw to learn, and she is up and moving around the tree before she had even decided to jump into action. "Are you okay?" Is her immediate question, followed closely by, "You were doing good."

  • Sometimes Larkpaw forgot that she wasn't the only apprentice who was no good at being a warrior. Not to say Littlepaw couldn't grow, but it was clear he struggled just as much as she did. There was just one difference between the two of them. Littlepaw actually tried to hone his skills whereas Larkpaw had batted her eyelashes at her mentor and got him to teach her herbs instead, in hopes of grooming her to be Oliveslip's next apprentice. With Bramblelight gone and Larkpaw in a deep state of grief over his death, she spent most of her days hiding in her nest and most knew she was too downtrodden to really bother her. On the occasions she did leave, it was for a brisk walk to burn off the energy she didn't really have because she found herself no longer able to stomach food. It was on this sort of outing that she found Littlepaw and his encouraging mother, the Clan deputy, right outside of camp. She caught the tail end of Littlepaw's display before he toppled into the dirt. A more rambunctious apprentice might have laughed, but Larkpaw understood what he was going through.


    She might feel like a piece of mousedung, might just be holding on to the slim hope that Oliveslip would receive a dream from StarClan about her while knowing deep down they'd choose someone else, but at least she could bide her time making others feel better about themselves. Her approach was timid, almost as if she was afraid of showing a little kindness. Not that she was unkind... Larkpaw just tended to think of herself without really intending it. She often had to be reminded of others' feelings, and then her compassionate nature would kick in. "I didn't see very much of it, Littlepaw, but I think you should keep practicing. You almost had it and if you keep working on it, you'll have that move down better than any of the other apprentices," she offered. One mistake like that and she would be hightailing it back to the apprentice's den in embarrassment. She wouldn't be able to keep going, to take her own advice, even if she knew it was right.

  • Stagheart, in truth, missed being an apprentice. Whilst being a warrior was fun, far better than what he had expected, he didn't feel ready enough to leave apprenticehood behind. Performing weekly tasks and embarking on patrols simply reminded him of apprentice duties, for there was little to no difference between them, and whilst he was more than excited to pursue the next stage of his life, he was also frightened (but the young boy would never admit that). He didn't mind having more responsibilities to uphold, he was just afraid of letting the clan down. What if he needed another moon of training? What if he just wasn't suited to being a warrior? He believed StarClan determined everyone's fate at birth, but what did their ancestors have in mind for him? What was he destined for? Having no control over his own fate made it all the more terrifying. Perhaps he was due to die tomorrow.


    Albeit, what was a ridiculous thought. Shrugging it off, the long legged male strolled over to join in on the conversation, an amicable smile drawn upon his tanned facial features. "You're doing better than I did" Stagheart would comment with genuine honesty, amusement brightening his volcanic visionaries. He hadn't exactly been the smartest, brightest apprentice - whilst he tried endlessly, it took him longer to connect the dots and conjure up an answer than it did with the others. Nevertheless, he was here now, with a warrior name, so what did that matter?

  • how long had tansyface been there? he'd been so focused on his training... on his recital of the code... he hadn't sensed his mother's presence. or, had the feeling of eyes watching him everywhere he went become so normal to him, that he no longer could tell when it was reality or a fiction of his imagination? his fur heated up with sheer embarrassment despite the bitter cold air. in an instant, he was scrambling to his paws, stumbling a little in the process. "um.. y-yes.." he murmured in response to her worried question, ducking his head and staring at his paws, which were fidgeting now.


    tansyface's encouragement helped lift the embarrassment, if only by a little. it always did. even if her anger was... scary, for a lack of better words, she had only ever spoken to him with kind words. except for... no, he'd blocked that memory out of his mind a long time ago. his mother.. she had only been worried for him. right? that seemed like the tansyface he'd known all of his life.


    two others appear, causing him to freeze up, instinctively sidling closer to tansyface in search of comfort. they both offered their own words of encouragement- better than the sneering he had initially expected, he supposed. still, their eyes on him made the embarrassed burning of his cheeks return. "uh, um.." his voice was practically a whisper, his tail now twitching alongside his front paws. "t-thanks..." now what did he say? was thank you enough? or, should he compliment them too? what would he even compliment them on? he knew their names, but that was about it. but, it would be rude to not compliment them too, right? he suddenly grew aware of the fact that a long silence had permeated the atmosphere, which was more uncomfortable than when they had been speaking to him. say something! "ah, um.. you.. y-you are... all.... nice." his voice faded out at the end of his so-called compliment, unsure of himself. here they were, trying to lift his spirits up with eloquent words, and all he had to say was that they were nice.