You Won't Know

[Grim]

This is downright revolting, Mudpaw mentally spat, cynicism positively seeping from his thoughts. His great, round eyes narrowed to contemptuous slits of bright ocher. His long, thick tail lashed at the motionless air behind him, looking almost as if it were a livid serpent having a right fit. Within the forest resided random patches of mud, most likely where a starving deer had resorted to pawing at the ground in desperate hopes for something edible. Despite being titled after the murky substance, the young tom had little lenience for mud. Moments earlier, his light intolerance had exploded into flamboyant abhorrence when he had been forced to yank his right forepaw free of it’s filthy grasp. His bat-like ears flattened against the sides of his round head when the lewd suctioning sound broke the quiet. He drew his dark lips away from his fangs in a grimace of clear distaste and disgust rippled through his body. He loathed the way the earth sucked at his sensitive pads, and not simply because it sent shudders of repulsion down his back. It made him feel small: insignificant, even. It was almost as if the ground could rip open beneath his paws at any moment, or perhaps even pull him slowly into the ground by his feet. It wasn’t a particular fantasy that he felt comfortable entertaining, but it flashed before his eyes nonetheless.

Mudpaw didn’t display his fears or parade them about. Rather, he hid his faults from curious eyes behind a thick, dusty veil. However, being a mere seven moons old (hardly mature by anybody’s standards), he hadn’t quite grasped the expertise needed to fully mask his emotions. It was a difficult task, but he was gradually becoming better. Due to his vast, and quite immeasurable, pride, humiliation was almost a daily feeling for the young tom. It wasn’t as if Mudpaw predominantly enjoyed being eccentric, but he wasn’t about to curse and whine to StarClan about how he had been molded. Therefore, he had decided to pretend the taunts didn’t trouble him in the slightest. Steadily, he was improving his stony exterior, building it quite impenetrable indeed.

At the thought of the earth swallowing him whole like a piece of fresh-kill, a glimmer of panic shone in his warm amber eyes. If there was one thing he dreaded above all others, it was loss of control. In Mudpaw’s perspective, he had his future at his paws. He clutched it lightly, like a bird that he didn’t want to surrender, but neither did he want to kill. He would follow the customary timeline of a normal, respectable ThunderClan warrior. Someday, perhaps he would find a sufferable she-cat to share his free time with. Maybe she would gift him with offspring, even. The thought of kits made his skin warm beneath his thick brown pelt. He had always harbored an especially soft spot for kittens, not that anybody would know. He would age. He would join the ranks of StarClan. He had his future outlined. The fact that he could possibly lose control of it filled the young cat with a foreboding more icy than the leaf-bare atmosphere.

Once his paws brushed frozen turf, Mudpaw visibly relaxed. His sleek shoulders fell from their tense pose and his tail ceased its incessant thrashing to lie still at his rear. He paused in his tracks and blinked, sparing a few seconds to assess his setting. His aimless wandering had found him staring across a solid stream. Somehow, he had ventured to the rim of ThunderClan’s boundaries. He averted his wide eyes to the frozen border at his paws, marveling at the water’s hard surface. This leaf-bare was his first and he had only glimpsed icy puddles around the forest. The thought had never occurred to him that the larger bodies of water would freeze, as well. Mystified, the young tom lowered himself into an apprehensive crouch, his round eyes still fixed on the surface. He reached out, very diligently, and patted the stationary stream with a nervous paw. Once he was satisfied that the stream was indeed frozen stiff, he planted his forepaw on the ice and cautiously shifted the rest of his weight onto the water. He involuntarily flinched, as if bracing himself for some sort of calamity. However, nothing at all happened.

Satisfied, the young apprentice began practicing his balance on the newly discovered turf. He wandered along the stretch of unmoving water in silent awe, losing awareness of his surroundings.

[/size]

[Icy-son]

Great StarClan, just when would Newleaf come? The medicine cat
of WindClan gave a low, hoarse growl before stalking off into the
heart of the forest thicket, her long tail waving from side to side
as she trudged onward. Her white and grey patches seemed to
mesh with one another, and her icy blue gaze focused on what
she hoped was ahead. A few moments passed as she traveled,
then as she stopped, a scent was carried on the wind, and she
remembered that very scent so well...

ThunderClan! She gave a low hiss, unsheathing her claws
and digging them into the frozen soil. Her eyes flashed with rage,
for who even knew which one of the enemy Clan's cats it was?
Well, she didn't know it at all. Taking a few more pawsteps,
warily, she was directly in front of the frozen stream that was her
Clan's border. Yet, on that frozen water was a little brown apprentice...

Mudpaw! Of course! It was the new apprentice that was
mentioned at the Gathering, was that right? Her eyes were
averted to his movements across the ice, however, to where he
was crossing over. "Not on my watch," She growled, then
stepping out into full view, her fur seeming to match with the scenery.

"Wait there, ThunderClan apprentice! You are crossing into
WindClan territory. Get back to your side of the stream."
Her gaze landed on him, her teeth bared, attempting at looking as
frightening as possible. There was no way that the tom would
know she was a medicine cat, right? Icewhisker hoped this very much.

[/font][/size][/color]