my tears i must conceal [open]

[splashtana ★]

<sup>Living in BloodClan was like living in the underworld, in his opinion. But that could be because Hemlockpaw was honestly the only cat in that clan that was afraid of everything that BloodClan stood for. Snakes, for example. The cats in the clan had venom in their fangs like snakes, for crying out loud. Then there was his fear of the darkness. What was he, a baby? Precisely, he was a baby if you thought about it. Worst of all, Hemlockpaw is afraid of blood. The word blood is in the name of his birth clan, honestly. But he can’t help it. The russet-brown tabby tom is honestly just a coward. It’s a wonder why his name isn’t Cowardpaw or Cowardlypaw. If parents named for personality, he was quite sure that his name would be something ridiculous like the ones stated above. With a sigh, he rested his muzzle on his alabaster paws. Hemlockpaw’s very feminine eyes had a very guarded emotion in their depths, but ultimately he was quite bored. A single thought crossing his mind, his eyes widened in surprise. It was very unlike him to suggest a hunting party to his clanmates, but he had thought about doing it. So, why not give it a shot? Rising to shaky paws, the lithe, feminine figured tom padded to the center of BloodClan’s camp, his eyes worried and frightened as he made his way over.

Parting his jaws to speak, he let his shaky voice emit. “W-w-would anyone li-like to hun-hun-hunt with m-me?” Hemlockpaw asked in his usual, stuttering voice. Shoot. He knew it was just another sign of weakness, everything about Hemlockpaw was weakness though, and that he could quite possibly get into severe trouble for stuttering. But it wasn’t exactly his fault, to be honest. As a kitten, he had been quite sickly. So, spending most of his days in the medicine den, it was no wonder why he hadn’t really learned to talk until he had reached the age of five moons. It was no wonder why he stuttered, and he had been yelled at quite a lot for it, but he didn’t really feel like trying to change it because that would to hard, and he’d cry because he easily got frustrated. Crying. Hemlockpaw cried a lot. To much, actually. Another one of his weak points, and he was determined to eventually get rid of his crying issue. Being six moons old, he shouldn’t be at that crying little whiny age anymore, but he still was, seeing as he wasn’t properly socialized in life until he was, what, five moons old? Exactly, so when people yell at him, he just runs off and cries on his own. Concealing his tears.

“A-a-any-anyone?” The russet-brown tabby tom stuttered again. Feeling the familiar prickle of tears behind his eyes, his heart sank. Did no one want to hunt with him? Oh, why did no one like him? It wasn’t fair. With a sniffle, trying to hold his tears back, the apprentice bit his lip. It continued to tremble, but he ignored it because there was nothing he could do about it. He was just a stupid, stuttering, weirdo that no one wanted to hunt with! But he wanted to hunt so badly, and have at least one friend in the world, so he sat down and waited, hoping that at least one cat would accompany him, if not talk to him. The poor little thing hardly ever talked to anyone, and he hadn’t been assigned a mentor yet, so it was pretty much a solitary lifestyle for the six moon old orphan tom. With a gentle blink of his robin’s egg blue doe eyes, Hemlockpaw wrapped his tail around his alabaster paws, eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of a cat approaching him to take him up on his offer to hunt.</sup>

[Petrichor]

Apprentice Stormpaw of BloodClan



Stormpaw had been alone for what felt like years. His brother was dead, who knows how long it would be until he saw Littlepaw again, and his Clanmates never seemed to be around anymore. For the most part, Stormpaw had either been out hunting for whatever prey he could find or trying to sleep in the apprentices' den. The key word there is "trying."

Stormpaw was just about to head out the door, alone again, when Hemlock paw suddenly spoke out, suggesting a hunting party. The BloodClan apprentice stopped in his tracks; if not for the weakness in his stuttering voice, he would have sworn that Hemlockpaw had been replaced with another cat. To be honest, he had never even considered the thought of becoming close to any of the BloodClan apprentices, much less Hemlockpaw. The cat was a tarnish on the name of BloodClan -- his personality was more like Littlepaw than anything else. He'd be perfect in ShadowClan.

But still, a nagging voice in the back of Stormpaw's mind reminded him that it would be good for him to repair bonds between himself and the Clan in general, that it wasn't healthy to be alone all the time. He couldn't mope over Stonepaw forever--his brother wouldn't want that.

The small black cat spun around with surprising swiftness and stepped forward towards the other apprentice. "I'll go with you, if you'll have me," Stormpaw declared decisively. There was confidence in his voice--a remnant of his kittypet origins. Whether he liked it or not, he always had a dominant, charismatic presence about him, and for once he hoped that quality wouldn't drive the other apprentice to run away in tears... again.

[Deleted]

Jagged was still scarred from her little hunting incident with SkyClan. The leader had been harassed by them. And guess where that had led her to? She had gotten sick. But sickness didn't matter to the ginger and white tabby right now. Jagged needed to serve her clan more. The leader didn't like sitting around on her butt near or in the medicine den. She liked getting out and doing her duties. If it got worse than it was... Well then she would stick to the medicine den rather than her duties. Or else the feline wouldn't be able to serve her duties anymore at all. Rather, she would fall into a deep and endless sleep. Also known as falling into the paws of death.

Slightly off balance, the leader slowly approached the two apprentices. Jagged always loved it when the young took charge and began gathering their own little hunting patrols. Heck! The tabby would even love to see them carrying out patrols for her. Considering it was Hemlockpaw, Jagged was very surprised. Also proud of the apprentice at the same time. The apprentice had a fear of blood, even though he resides in BloodClan. To see Hemlockpaw taking responsibility and hosting a patrol was a big milestone. The leader would take a mental note of that for the future. In case anything happened that is. The ginger and white feline always liked to keep a mental journal of people. It helped Jagged keep track of big things that happened with them in case of problems, promotions, deaths, and things of those sorts.


"So, have you two ever gone on a patrol yet?" She inquired, her voice coarse. Just from first sights you could see Jagged was sick. First it started out with the awkward walking. The tabby's body always seemed to slouch to one side with each step she took. It wasn't a pretty scene at all. Her crooked tail wasn't healing her to balance at all either. It just made it easier to trip over her own paws. Then there was her throat. It was dried out and normally caused her to stir up a whole bunch of coughs in a row. To add to that, each time she coughed it felt like her throat and mouth was on fire. Both tired of putting all of their energy into coughing and Jagged's meals. The only thing about the leader's sickness that wasn't visible was her fever. Quite a bad one too. She claims that she caught it from her little hunting incident. That's probably true though. Heck. Jagged may even have hyperthermia too. The leader was first out in the rain then had to bury herself under snow and some mud.