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Post by .:Lion:. on Feb 14, 2012 17:16:32 GMT -5
Sunshine filtered into the camp, tickling the tom's fur with its warmth. As he climbed out of his den, he fluffed up his coarse grey pelt and stretched his long limbs, trying not to wince as the movements pulled on his old scars. His shoulder fur had grown back around them, mostly, but the ugly tears still stretched across his shoulder like pale flames. Cats from other Clans usually stared at him during gatherings, especially the younger cats. But he was used to it, after so long. It had been almost half a cycle since he had been made a warrior, and Smokefeather had accepted his duties without complaint, even if it was challenging sometimes.
The tom padded farther into the clearing, letting his senses adjust to being awake. His sleep had been uninterrupted, thankfully, and he was happy to have been rid of bad dreams for once. The sunshine also felt nice compared to the damp that always sent aches through his injured shoulder. Smokefeather was in a relatively good mood, and was eager for his duties to begin. He hoped he would be assigned a patrol today, mostly because he wouldn't be as much of a hindrance as he could sometimes be. Even if he worked hard to hide the pain he occasionally had in his shoulder, there wasn't a lot he could do when he had to walk long distances in bad weather. Still, his Clanmates mostly thought that he was fine, and he always made the right excuses, so no one suspected the true damage that he had suffered to save one of the Clan's kits five moons earlier. He wouldn't have them know, either. He could do his duty well, even with his injuries. He wouldn't complain and he wouldn't expect special treatment. His pride and his loyalty wouldn't allow for it.
Smokefeather paused in the center of the clearing, looking around for Weaselclaw, the Clan's deputy, or at least someone who knew what was going on. The sooner he could be off the better. He didn't like sitting around, since lack of exercise made his shoulder ache later.
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Post by Magicheart on Feb 20, 2012 0:54:30 GMT -5
Storyteller ambled into the clearing. He was extremely large and long-furred for a Windclan cat, though he was an elder now. He tried to keep himself occupied, and seemed to find no shortage of troubled youth within his clan. When he spotted Smokefeather with a longing look in his face, he decided to pad over. "Dawn patrol left already." he meowed to the young tom. Storyteller stole a glance around camp. Try not to worry. She hates when you do that. She'll be back soon enough. It seemed like an eternity since Storyteller had seen Wildfire, his old apprentice. He sighed and thought about how she had been acting strange lately...or had he been imagining it like he usually did?
"I would be happy to go hunting with you." Storyteller offered, hoping he would see Wildfire while he was out. It would drive her nuts if he just went into the forest looking for her. "We could use some more moss in the dens here anyway, especially since the snow is mostly cleared. What do you say?" the old warrior meowed.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Feb 20, 2012 12:20:20 GMT -5
Smokefeather heard pawsteps close by and turned to see one of the elders of the Clan approaching him. He dipped his head respectfully and listened to Storyteller as he spoke. Smokefeather couldn't help but notice, though, that the tom seemed awfully distracted. I wonder why he really wants to leave the camp? The young cat thought, a bit amused by the elder's request. But he was glad for the task and decided it would be nice to spend some time with the elders. They were wise, respectable cats, but sometimes the young warriors just couldn't find the time to talk to them as much as they had when they were apprentices. Smokefeather was guilty of this as much as any cat.
"I would be happy to do either," he meowed in response to Storyteller's two suggestions. He would leave it up to the older cat, since Storyteller knew his own limitations and Smokefeather refused to let his injury limit his own performance in any of his duties.
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Post by Magicheart on Feb 26, 2012 2:27:26 GMT -5
"How about both" Storyteller meowed, gazing into the distance. "We'll hunt, and if we find any good moss, we'll take that back with us too." The young elder closed his eyes and sniffed the air for a moment. "It's going to rain later." he meowed. "I can feel it in my old battle wounds." He returned the inquiring look of the younger tom. "Injured my hip in a battle with Riverclan. Hasn't ever quite been the same, especially when it's humid." he meowed in a husky voice.
"We'll head to the hills. There may be some moss by the rocks up there, and it will give us a good view of the prey around." he concluded, trotting toward the camp entrance with surprising vitality.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Feb 26, 2012 19:41:06 GMT -5
The elder talked so fast, Smokefeather couldn't quite figure out what to say in response. But Storyteller just stood up and started walking away, and the younger warrior decided it was best to just follow him. Walking made his shoulder feel less stiff, so even with the jolts of pain that ran through his bones he thought that he felt better than he had just standing around. Smokefeather wondered if he could possibly tell the weather, like Storyteller had. Maybe with more serious injuries it was too difficult to because of the pain? But was Smokefeather's injury worse than Storyteller's? He couldn't tell, obviously, and he didn't want to be rude in thinking it was. Maybe the old tom knew something about hiding old pains. He certainly was energetic for an older cat, and even if he wasn't asked to he wanted to help the Clan by hunting and collecting moss. Smokefeather admired the older cat. And even if he probably wouldn't have admitted it outright, Smokefeather enjoyed the quiet comfort of Storyteller's company. He was glad the elder had approached him and asked him out to hunt. Sometimes Smokefeather's injury got the best of him, but today would be a good day. He could feel it.
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Post by Magicheart on Mar 9, 2012 17:31:43 GMT -5
Storyteller paused outside of camp and turned to Smokefeather. "I know you haven't been a warrior long, but let's see what you can do. Show the new clan skills to a retired old tom!" Storyteller grinned, his eyes sparkling with encouragement.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Mar 23, 2012 9:04:55 GMT -5
Smokefeather didn't respond vocally. Instead, he gave a slight nod and turned his eyes to the landscape around them. Sight was as important as any other sense on the moors, where the wind could play tricks. Parting his jaws, Smokefeather tasted the air and watched steadily, looking for possible hiding places of prey in the directions that their scents came from. He finally narrowed down his search to a patch of gorse over the hill. It would be an ideal place for prey to be hiding, and the scent seemed to be coming from that general direction anyways.
"There," he meowed, pointing to the bushes with his tail, "That's the most likely place for prey." As far as moss goes, I'd probably go to the forest end of our territory. He added silently. He wasn't sure if he could multitask enough to bring both moss and prey back to the camp, but he supposed Storyteller wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't possible.
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Post by Magicheart on Apr 10, 2012 23:30:38 GMT -5
Storyteller blinked and nodded, then nodded his approval to Smokefeather to pursue any prey that may be laying in hiding. He seems confident enough in his hunting skills...but those aren't the skills that concern me. The old tom parted his jaws once Smokefeather's back was turned, but he scented little and sighed. That was one of his first senses to go. It saddened him, because everything tasted just a little less rich as time wore on and he found hunting and eating much less enjoyable.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Apr 11, 2012 23:21:00 GMT -5
Smokefeather moved down the hillside, taking care not to press too much weight onto his injured shoulder. The hardest thing about living in WindClan was that hills and uneven ground always tended to trip up even the most sure-pawed warrior, so it was even more difficult for Smokefeather to hide his stiffness. That was why he usually brought up the rear in patrols. Having Storyteller walking behind him made him nervous. What if he notices? Smokefeather tried not to worry and moved towards the gorse bush. Crouching, he began to sneak towards the growth, his jaws parted and his ears pricked to pick up the signs of his prey. The lightest shift in sound alerted him to a rabbit's presence, and he shot forward like a fish in a stream, his movements surprisingly agile--that is, until he made the killing pounce. He jumped all right, but landing with his forepaws on the rabbit wrenched his shoulder a little more than it needed to be. Smokefeather winced but tried to hide the pain as he bit down on the rabbit's neck and then straightened up to find where Storyteller had gotten to.
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Post by Magicheart on May 28, 2012 22:54:01 GMT -5
Storyteller could tell he startled the young tom when he came out from behind a small gorse bush near by. The tom's awkward landing had been obvious, but Smokefeather handled himself as a warrior, and Storyteller didn't want to treat him as less than one, so he decided to try another tactic.
"Good catch. That will feed two warriors at least. Your movements were sure, stealthy, and fast, just as a Windclan warrior's should be." he praised. Storyteller sat in front of the young tom. "However. What would you say to a young warrior that had such exceptional hearing that he or she never used their sense of smell?" the old tom asked in a curious tone.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Jun 3, 2012 14:04:51 GMT -5
Smokefeather tried not to look uncomfortable when the elder praised him. He knew Storyteller had seen his clumsy pounce, and he knew the tom was probably just trying to cheer him up. But the effect was quite different; Smokefeather felt almost ashamed to be praised after such a terrible performance. He felt like he was being treated like an apprentice, when he had struggled to prove himself a warrior ever since he got his name. His injury was what had gotten him his warrior name, but it had only given him trouble since then. Smokefeather watched Storyteller as he sat down and then began speaking again. His question was interesting, to say the least. Smokefeather considered it for a moment. A cat who could hear well enough to not even have to smell...
"I'm not sure what I would say," he meowed finally. "Scent is important, but those with sharper hearing often find it easier to hunt the faster prey, since they don't tend to have to position themselves to smell the prey before they approach it." That was all Smokefeather had to say on the subject, really. He wasn't even sure what Storyteller expected to hear.
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Post by Magicheart on Jun 13, 2012 0:17:25 GMT -5
Storyteller nodded. "Good. Then you'll get that shoulder of yours looked at and stop pretending it's not a problem by overcompensating with your other abilities." he meowed bluntly, getting to his feet. "You're too young to let an injury like that cripple you for life. All you need is a little time and there are plenty of ways to make yourself useful around camp in ways that don't strain it." Storyteller shook his pelt to loosen a few leaves.
"You don't want to be like that blundering fool from Thunderclan, do you?" the old tom shook his head. "Grizzlyclaw is such a proud tom that he wouldn't rest after getting his tail maimed in battle. He did such a poor job keeping his tail clean--mind you, his coat is messier than a badger's den to begin with--that they had to remove his tail. He's an extremely poor jumper now due to the lack of balance and always will be." The old tom hoped that this story may soften the blunt delivery of his earlier statement.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Jun 26, 2012 20:14:41 GMT -5
Smokefeather did not know what he had been expecting to hear, but the second the elder mentioned his injured shoulder the young warrior's entire body went stiff and his heart seemed to fall into his paws. He dug his claws into the turf, wishing he could just turn and run away from this. He had hoped none of his Clanmates would ever notice. When Storyteller mentioned things to do around camp, the tom bristled. Storyteller kept talking, though, and Smokefeather respected him enough to let him finish. He looked away, imagining the big ThunderClan tom that the elder was speaking of.
"It's different." he meowed tartly. "Grizzlyclaw's injury would have healed. Mine won't. And I won't be confined to camp when I'm young and strong and able to help my Clan. They're all that matters. Not me. What happens to me is irrelevant." Smokefeather kept his gaze on the distant trees of ThunderClan's territory. He had never spoken of his injury before, and the words seemed to choke him, making it hard to speak. It had been harder than anything, he had thought, to admit to himself that the medicine cat was right--that his shoulder could not be fully healed. But he had been wrong. It was even harder to admit it to another cat. For his sake the medicine cat had not told his Clanmates that the damage the owl had inflicted to his shoulder was permanent. He had convinced himself more than any cat that he could get on even with that handicap. And every cat had been so proud of him. He knew he could not let them down. Most cats couldn't even see the scars anymore. Not if they didn't look past the thin grey fur that had grown over it. He'd been lucky... Lucky to have such long, resilient fur.
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Post by Magicheart on Jun 28, 2012 23:23:45 GMT -5
Storyteller gazed at the young tom in a way that always made Wildfire uncomfortable--he had known enough cats and emotions to be able to see through someone. He sighed softly. "I see. And did our medicine cat give you this diagnosis?" he shook his head. Did it really matter? If Smokefeather was confident he would not recover, he must have had the injury for some time...and if he didn't believe he would recover, than the battle was already lost even if the damage wasn't permanent.
Storyteller gazed at the young tom a bit longer in silence. He would normally not give such advice, but...
"Don't keep your fur so tidy. Your spirit is stronger than your injury. I hid my bad hip for countless moons under this pelt. It's easier to claim you've stepped on a thorn or something else if need be if your clanmates cannot detect the stiffness of your movement...many are not astute enough to notice it anyway....I may not have noticed it if I didn't have a similar injury." the tom meowed in a comforting tone.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Jul 1, 2012 22:07:45 GMT -5
Smokefeather bowed his head when the elder asked him about the medicine cat. If she hadn't told him, he would have tried anything to get his shoulder to heal. But without hope, it hadn't been much use to try. And it wasn't as if his shoulder had gotten in the way much. It just made his work harder. He turned to Storyteller as the tom spoke and frowned in surprise when he spoke of his hip. Then a small smile tweaked his mouth.
"Thanks for that," he meowed softly. "It's nice to know someone understands." It was true, in a way. Storyteller was a strong, admirable cat, and had always been so. Maybe one day Smokefeather could follow in his pawsteps. If the elder had known the struggles the young tom was facing, perhaps Smokefeather did have a chance to make something of himself after all. He'd always assumed that his handicap would limit him. But maybe he'd be able to excel, if he put his mind to it.
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Post by Magicheart on Jul 10, 2012 0:30:57 GMT -5
"Good." Storyteller meowed with a proud smile. "It's nice talking to cats who listen for a change..." he sighed, thinking of Wildfire once again. His thoughts came back to the present. "And don't get so discouraged...injuries have a curious way of feeding off of negativity. Know your limitations, but always believe in yourself. Is there anything that tends to make it worse or is particularly difficult to do?" the old tom inquired.
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Post by .:Lion:. on Aug 11, 2012 11:00:45 GMT -5
Smokefeather smiled slightly, in the shy way that quiet cats usually did. His ears pricked when the elder mentioned cats that didn't listen. He must mean someone in particular, the tom thought when he noted Storyteller's expression. But he remained quiet and listened to the elder's advice. When he questioned Smokefeather about his injury, the tom felt a little uncomfortable still. He didn't like talking about it, but he figured Storyteller might be able to help him.
"It hurts sometimes on cold or humid or stormy days," he meowed at last. "And besides making pounces and a lot of running and sharp movements more difficult, it doesn't particularly impede my skills."
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Post by Magicheart on Mar 15, 2014 22:17:35 GMT -5
Storyteller nodded. "Good. Though, as you get older, you'll find most things bother you on cold, humid, and stormy days." he huffed, stretching. A couple of the old tom's joints cracked, and he winked at the young cat. "Young cats are competitive. They may try to tell you that you cannot do things that you can. Do not listen to them." he meowed.
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