Post by Fireflake on Sept 1, 2019 9:28:24 GMT
As dusk fell into IvyClan's camp, Twigpaw was in the throes of the arduous and somewhat upsetting task of removing the entire day's scenery from her fur. Though it was only obvious in hindsight, Twigpaw had always been annoyed by the overly fluffy pelt she was cursed with. She could remember it as far back as when her siblings were in the nursery with her, when Rookstar was still alive, and she would have to sit still for Cicadawish to groom her pelt while the rest of them played. She had mewled in protest then, but missed their background noise in the moons following.
She'd joined her siblings again in the apprentice den now, days ago, but had been in and out constantly ever since. There wasn't much room for overlap in their training when they were all several moons ahead of her. As things turned out, her mentor was an early riser, and Twigpaw had been trying to wake up early every day now to match her enthusiasm in the first few days of her training, which meant she was already gone by the time most of the cats she wanted to talk to woke up. It also meant that she was exhausted by the time she got back to the den. She would spend an unfair amount of time grooming, then she was out like a squashed firefly, and she slept through the night until the next early morning.
The brown she-cat had just reached stage four of her grooming, the pull-everything-out-whether-it's-fur-or-not stage (which she was currently brainstorming a more succinct name for), when she heard a familiar pattern of pawsteps. She quickly shifted to stage four-and-a-half, the desperate cursory stage, and gave her pelt a brief once-over in the hopes of looking presentable before she stood up to talk to the tom entering the den. "Hop-paw. It's tremendous to reunify with you."
She greeted him with eyes that begged for help, while consciously she was sure her big brother had more important things to do than pick leaves out of her pelt, and was far too proud of her own maturity to ask for that anyway.
