forgive these bones i'm hiding || warrior cats

─ iv. where the world was empty

A/N: Title taken from "A House in Nebraska" by Ethel Cain.

The sun was barely sparking up the skyline when Foxpaw awoke, stretching his petite body out within his nest. He glanced around for the soft murmur that had woken him, blue eyes narrowed in the shadowy den.

"Morning, brat."

Foxpaw yawned, snapping his jaw shut hard so his fangs clicked. "Morning."

He could see the outline of his mentor through the heather, her shape lit aflame by the warm light of the sunrise. Burnstride hummed, and Foxpaw could see her tail flick. "Wake up Palepaw and then come out here. I want to get a move on." With that, her form vanished.

Foxpaw groaned inwardly and maybe a little outwardly. Flexing his claws into the moss of his nest, he looked around to the other apprentices. Spottedpaw's bulky form was snoring softly, the long shape of Firepaw curled into his belly fur, her body shifting with every breath he inhaled. Birdpaw and Valleypaw were curled up together in another nest, her head resting atop his broad shoulders. Palepaw, on the other hand, was splayed out in a nest by himself, almost upside down, his mouth open as he breathed loudly in sleep.

Foxpaw rolled his eyes.

Despite feeling the weight of the previous night weighing on his body, from both the physical and mental toll the experience had taken on him, he dragged his body out of his little nest in the farthest corner of the apprentice den, padding silently over to stand over Palepaw.

Foxpaw stared judgementally for a moment, before swiftly dipping a paw in the other's mouth, removing it before he got it bitten off.

Making a half-snarling, half-choking sound, the other apprentice rolled his body away from his supposed attacker, glaring blearily up at where Foxpaw stood amusedly grinning.

Palepaw opened his mouth to hiss, yell, whatever, but Foxpaw interrupted his tirade. "Shut the fuck up before you wake the others." The orange tabby chuffed. "Let's go, our mentors are waiting."

Palepaw stared at him for a moment, dazed, before realization crested in his blue eyes. Shutting them, he made a dramatic, almost sobbing noise. "It's so early." He lamented. Foxpaw was half convinced he was actually crying.

Abandoning his fellow apprentice to his despair, Foxpaw turned away and slid out of the den, finding the forms of Burnstride and Amberfrost waiting patiently in the clearing. Or, as patient as Burnstride could get, anyway.

"There you are!" Her amber eyes were sharp in the morning sun. "Finally. Where's your other half?"

"Dead," replied Foxpaw shortly.

Amberfrost let out an amused snort.

Before the tomcat could say anything, either in defense of his apprentice or not, said apprentice came stumbling out of the apprentice den, ears pinned flat against his head.

"I hate all of you." He hissed.

Burnstride merely looked serenely at him. "When we said first light yesterday, we did, in fact, mean it."

Foxpaw snorted derisively. "Should have gotten more sleep." He ducked to avoid the paw Palepaw swatted at him, batting a paw back at him good-naturedly. Palepaw grumbled under his breath.

"If you're done?" Amberfrost rose from where he sat on his haunches. "I don't want to lose the light."

"Yes," Burnstride agreed, flicking Foxpaw on the shoulder with her tail. "Let's head out. Hopefully, the walking will wake Palepaw up a little bit."

-

Oh, did it wake him up alright.

The tiredness seemed to have taken a sharp turn from a bleary-eyed daze into what Foxpaw privately called hysteria. Palepaw's gait had slowly grown steadier the closer they grew to the Horseplace, and his half-awake grumblings about his lack of precious sleep had turned into an obnoxious bout of hyperactivity. Currently, the silver tabby was skipping gleefully ahead of the two elder cats, blissfully ignoring Amberfrost's snapped warnings to stay close and alert. Burnstride looked like she was contemplating scooting away unnoticed into the underbrush. Foxpaw debated on joining her if she did.