Hello Feline Friends

“Good morning,” Hazelpaw said, blinking at him.

Yellowfoot greeted his apprentice when she returned with an actual “Hello,” The blackbird he was eating making him feel much more awake.

After a few more bites Hazelpaw had finished off her mouse and buried the bones and scraps.

Yellowfoot offered a slight smile and a tired purr in response, finding something appetizing and beginning to nibble on it, laying right beside his apprentice.

Hazelpaw greeted her mentor with a sleepy purr, swallowing another bite of her mouse.

The next cat out of the warrior’s den was Yellowfoot, who joined Hazelpaw at the fresh-kill pile with a similar half-alert look and demeanor about him, nosing through the pile to find something appetizing.

Hazelpaw pulled out a mouse and started munching on it, trying to wake herself up.

Treewhisker flicked his ears at the sudden cold, frowning. It seemed leafbare would be upon then soon, and he fretted about his mate and the incoming kits as he paced around.

Hazelpaw greeted her father with a tired mew before heading over to the fresh-kill pile, fluffing up her pelt against the chilly breeze going through the camp.

Graypaw remained in his nest, shielding his face with a forepaw when the light began to come in as Hazelpaw left.

Treewhisker was already in the clearing as well, pacing around outside as he waited for his deputy.

Hazelpaw groomed the scraps of moss off her pelt before leaving the den, yawning sleepily.

Graypaw was asleep at that particular moment, though the unkempt nature of his fur and the mossy surface of his nest suggested he’d been tossing and turning all night.

When the sun rose, Hazelpaw woke with it, stretching with a yawn.

Graypaw couldn’t really get comfortable, so sleep Came in short, fitful bursts throughout the night.

Hazelpaw closed her eyes, drifting back off to sleep.

The tom stared out the den entrance from his nest, sighing softly as he settled in. The tom thought enviously of his sister as she laid beside him.

Hazelpaw blinked blearily at her brother, having been jerked out of a doze by his entrance. The two siblings were almost the only cats in the den, with the only exception of Snowpaw, who would be a warrior soon anyway.

Some time later, Graypaw padded sullenly into the apprentice’s den, flopping wearily into his nest beside his sister’s.

“Goodnight,” Hazelpaw echoed after him before heading to the apprentices’ den.

Yellowfoot stared at the sunset with Hazelpaw for a while before standing up to retire to his nest. “Goodnight, Hazelpaw,” The tom mewled to his apprentice, ducking into the warrior’s den.

Hazelpaw shuffled her paws.

(You’ve probably seen him in something before. He’s an famous angry British chef who has a lot of cooking/reality tv shows.)

Foxfury stormed around the corner into their view, past Hazelpaw and Yellowfoot, snorting, making his way to his nest. Graypaw did not follow him.

Yellowfoot watched the deputy go before following Hazelpaw’s gaze to the sunset.

(I have no clue who that is, sorry)

Hazelpaw glanced up at the sky, where the sun was just starting to go down.

(I always picture Foxfury sounding a little like Gordon Ramsay, especially when he’s angry. )

Yellowfoot pinned his ears back at Hazelpaw’s reaction. He felt sorry for his apprentice, and especially sorry for Graypaw. He knew firsthand how scary Foxfury could be- he’d been yelled at by the warrior plenty of times during his apprenticeship.

Hazelpaw sighed at the now-familiar sound of an angry Foxfury, looking resigned. She didn’t even have to turn around to know he was shouting at Graypaw, again.