a finch atop the cedar tree {flyaway}

[( kat ?! )]

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Finchpaw lay sleep in his den. The comforts of his goose down and soft moss, lined with the fresh picked grass tht he absolutely loved. He was comfortable. The moist, darkness of the den provided everything possible for sleeping conditions. For Finchpaw, he loves cool, dark, moist places. Others cat may not, but this is why he chose the dark corner of the den. No other cat came back here since it was lined with bugs and other critter crawlers. What they didn't know, is that sometimes, a frog would find a small hole to stry in at night, and would allow Finchpaw to make a succesful kill right from his nest. Around him the sleeping sounds of other apprentices snored, and a warrior lay in the other corner of the den, in their for punishment. Towards the middle of the den were the senior apprentice's, waiting for their ceremony in the coming days. Toward the outer ring were the newly made apprentices, who just moved out from the nursery, and had finally made the first step into becoming a warrior. The walls echoed with the howling wind outside, and in the distance, he could hear kits wailing from the storm, and patient mothers attempting to soothe them. All but a matter of minutes, and calm words, and the wailing was hushed, and the kits safely lulled back to sleep.

Later that night, Finchpaw was in his nest, eyes closed with tail curled over his nose, wanting sleep to come back to him, waiting for the effects of the sweet nothing that sleep was, and take him away, to a separate silence. But with all his atetmpts, it didn't wotk, and a light grey warrior by the name of Mousecloud was in to fetch him. Saying he was needed in the camp for something. Finchpaw sighed, and slowly, rose to his paws, and began to clean himself, and shake the moss that littered his pelt. His jaws parted and Finchpaw let out a yawn, and weaved his way through the remaning 2 or 3 apprentices that slept. The one who were either training for sentry duty, or the ones who came back from dawn patrol. Either wya, it was unfair that they got to sleep, and Finchpaw didn't. He huffed and made his way out the den, to see who had summoned him, and was lately informed that he had elders duties for the day. He groaned, He didn't want to do it. But it doesn't mean that he has a choice.

After that was all set and done. Finchpaw travled back to his den, and in his nest. Once he was all comfy in it, he soon discovered that someone had lined his nest with beetles. He was frustrated, to the point of tears, and picked through the nest, witht eh tears stabbing his lids, threating to spill over at any given second. Finchpaw sighed, and when the job was said and done, he crawled back into his nest, and resumed the same place he had this morning. Only to be re-awoken, but another cat, coming in very loudly to the den, he looked up to see who it was, but couldn't see with the darkness of the corner of the den, where his wonderfully placed nest was located. Who is it..?

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[flyaway]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] Cedarpaw lounged outside the apprentice's den, her paws tucked comfortably beneath her. The sun was warm on her back. Her chin rested on her paws, her ears perked subtly. She had positioned herself with the utmost care. She was close enough to the Warrior's den to give the guise of napping outside her own den, but had positioned herself as close to the Nursery as possible. She napped to the sound of quiet mews, tumbling bodies and laughter. She found it altogether quite soothing. There was nothing Cedarpaw enjoyed more than being near kittens. Laying in the sun, her eyes closed, she began to purr. With their squeaks and squeals in the background, she could almost imagine they were her own kittens, clambering over her back and pouncing on her tail. Not that she would ever admit to these dreams. She had a reputation to uphold. She was known for being strict, for being regal, for having a certain demand for perfection. Galloping kittens didn't exactly fit with that view. Her dreams would remain her own, perhaps never to be realized. She stretched, uncurling herself from her comfortable position near the Nursery. She stretched out her legs, pawing at the air for a brief moment. Her purrs faded away. They were a private thing, something for herself when she was alone. Like previously mentioned, she had a reputation to uphold. Cedarpaw rolled over onto her side, her eyes still closed. Things in camp had been quiet lately, at least as far as she knew. She had done her absolute best in the months since her apprenticeship to keep her distance from Oakpaw and Boragepaw. She had grown uncomfortable with the abuse, the little cuts and scars that were appearing on Boragepaw’s pelt. This was slightly difficult, considering they shared a den. Cedarpaw frowned slightly. She had never been able to forgive Boragepaw of course, but more than that she hated Tigerwsipe. Mostly because every time Boragepaw stumbled away from her, she heard her mother’s screams, anger, regrets. But she had learned to live apart from him, to separate herself. It was something she prided herself on. She saw it as a strength in a way. But again, it was not something to be discussed. Her thoughts were quickly turning unpleasant, marring her gorgeous afternoon. She had wished for time alone, time to ponder, to daydream, to listen to the squeals of happy youth. She had even considered visiting the Nursery later. Of course, only if she was not assigned to some patrol or another. She would go under the guise of aiding the Queens, since the majority of apprentices were busy training. As always she would retain a professional attitude. Not that she wouldn't absolutely love every single minute. But no one had to know that. She smiled at the thought. She was a favorite among the kits, they liked to tease her. She pretended to find them annoying, or bothersome, to remain aloof. But kittens were perceptive creatures. They were innocent to the concept of lies, and thus saw straight through them. It was always a pain to see them lose that innocence. She hauled herself to her paws. Despite her absolute love of the kittens, their squealing was preventing her from sleeping. She stood, stalking into the apprentice’s den, a frown heavy on her lips. [/style]

[( kat ?! )]

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A small she-cat padded into the den. He recognized her as Cedarpaw. Sister of Oakpaw, and foster sister to Mallowpaw. Finchpaw tilted his head a bit, and watched Cedarpaw. What was she doing? And why was she being so loud? Finchpaw sighed and layed his head down. He wanted sleep. That's all. He was just to curious about Cedarpaw.

Finchpaw lifted his head, bright green eyes shined in the darkness as he looked at the small cat. She looked stressed, almost in a dissary about something. Finchpaw didn't now much, but being Oakpaw's sister was enough for him. Thoughts tumbled over in his mind as he wondered about what could be stressing the poor shecat out. Cedarpaw. What's stressing you out? It's coming off of you in waves.

[/color] He didn't move from his spot, but as far as he knew. All Cedarpaw could see was his bright green eyes from where he lay in his nest. The darkness providing him with the comfort he needed.
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[flyaway]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] Cedarpaw wasn’t one for idle conversation. She stuck to her own devices. She saw many of the other apprentices as worthless in respect to her time. She had little spare minutes to waste in their pointless pursuits. None of them pursued the only thing worth pursuing – perfection. That pursuit was hers, and hers alone. And those that did seem worthy of her words, of her conversation, were her competition. They were those who could steal her perfection, steal an opportunity at completing and finding meaning in her life. Her sister, Oakpaw, was her biggest competition. She was smart, cunning, dangerous in every sense of the word. Her ears perked, and she froze. She hadn’t noticed Finchpaw, curled in his nest. Her movements were stiff and robotic, true to her mechanical over-rigid nature. Her ears flicked back, for a mere second, resting against her skull. She held her head high. Her eyes were cold, blank – not unkindly or with an angry hardness. More they were controlled, uncomfortably controlled. She settled in her nest, her tail curled tightly around her paws. Her back was ramrod straight. And when she spoke, her voice was clipped. “You must have misread, I have no cause for anxiety.” Anxiety was a weakness, a tick against her pursuit of perfection. [/style]