[ti]Open[/ti]I See Trees of Green, Red Roses Too

[Ava]

A lovely morning of an odd amount of sunshine, not a snowflake in the sky. On the ground, yes, but not floating through the air. It was clear, and surprisingly welcoming, though that was just a red herring for what truly lay in the tom's fate. Life is deceiving like that. A rainy day could lead to a new friend, and a day of sunshine could lead to sunbathing in the wrong spot. It was all too easy to make one mistake that could cost you gravely.

Soft pawsteps pattered against the ground, though they barely left a mark in the powdery snow. He held his head high, proudly, as he strutted across the thin woods, eyes sparkling with happiness. Perhaps his days were more limited than he thought, but nonetheless, he was going to live them out as long as he could. After all, he had an apprentice to train. He couldn't give up such a young tom. It would be too much of a loss for him. Too great of a burden on such small shoulders- it was just not a pleasant idea. Little did he know that the last time he had spoken to Martenpaw, which had been just before the mentor left camp, would likely be his last.

The sun warmed Thornflame's beautiful coat of golden brown fur, despite the sharp bites of cold that reminded him that yes, indeed, it was still leaf-bare. He made his way over to a large, smooth sunbathing rock that he had loved all his life, ever since he had been in this territory. Climbing gracefully onto it, he leaned down and stretched his aching joints, which told him "Yes, you are getting old.", even though he refused to believe so. He was young, right? Carry the one... drop the four... bring up the eight... no, he was not young. Seventy-four moons of existence, not one of them spent in love with another cat. A wasteful life, one might say, while Thornflame... he just claimed it as being forgetful. He had forgotten to love. That- that was a depressing thought.

Laying on his stomach and closing his heavy eyes, the sun gently rose in the sky until it was beating down on him, almost burning up his pelt. He loved the warmth, greenleaf, even if it was so very beautiful in the leaf-bare what with the icy branches and unique snowflakes. Come to think of it, all the seasons were wonderful. He lived in a gorgeous, amazing, wonderful, magnificent, glorious world. Even if he had to spend it by himself, it was worth living over seventy moons.

A sudden rattle startled him from his thoughts- ah, yes. He remembered now, rattlesnakes inhabited the rocks around here sometimes, when the weather was warmer. And today, it was warm. The chilly weather from earlier had disappeared, in its place was unnaturally warm weather. Perhaps newleaf would be here sooner than Thornflame expected? But that didn't matter right now... where was the rattlesnake? He whipped around, narrowing his eyes and unsheathing his claws to prepare to kill it, but he saw nothing. It was like the rattles were coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time until suddenly, it was right there.

Thornflame jumped a little when the snake appeared practically out of thin air, but didn't have time to think about that. He reared up on his hind legs, then brought his claws down on the rattlesnake, killing it easily. And yet, the rattles didn't stop. It was too late now, thought. Too late. A rattle, almost faint, shook behind him, and before the tom could turn around, it sunk its long teeth into his leg. And then another rattle silenced, and he felt another sharp twinge of pain. And yet, all the while, Thornflame wasn't even thinking of how he had just been bitten by two snakes. No, he was thinking of Martenpaw.

I have to get through this. He's my apprentice. I need to teach him. I can get through this. Martenpaw... Oh, StarClan, help me. I can't die. I haven't lived enough. he thought, tears burning his eyes and dripping down his cheeks. He was so tired, so worn out, and his leg was starting to go numb. He would just take a short nap, then he'd get back up and go see Lilydawn, who could help him. What would Martenpaw do without him? Martenpaw, his dear apprentice, the only thing he had left. 

Only then, spending his last moments on this earth, did he realize: he may not have ever taken a mate, but he had loved. He had loved so many times. He loved his parents, his brother, his mentor. And most of all, he loved- and would continue to love- Martenpaw. His sweet, sweet apprentice. A young tom that reminded the dying senior warrior of himself so greatly, so immensely that it was hard not to see a determined spitfire with messy golden fur in his place. But that wasn't the only reason he loved Martenpaw, no, it barely scratched the surface. His only remaining friend, if a mentor-apprentice relationship counted as that. Even though they had only been together for three or four moons, the moments they spent together were precious, and he had secretly- or not so secretly- enjoyed every second of it.

Thirty minutes passed, and Thornflame was still limp, asleep, his flanks heaving as he breathed raspily. An hour. Two hours. Still, he did not wake up- whether someone had found him or not did not matter, because they would know that he was too far gone now. It was too late. Three hours passed, which turned into four. An hour plus some change after that, when it was nearly five and a half hours, his breaths which were now small and difficult, finally ceased. The snake juice venom had reached his heart- and with one last gasp of precious air, Thornflame grew still, his body limp and never to move again.

[Broadwaykat]

No one would ever accuse Martenpaw of being patient; in fact, he was quite the opposite. If something he wanted didn't happen immediately, then something was definitely wrong. He wanted to prove himself the best, rather than waste time on training and honing the skills that would serve him well into adulthood. He wanted immediate results, and his response when this was not the case was either to lash out and become incredibly frustrated. 

But as he grew in moons, it was becoming steadily cleared that perhaps Thornflame was having some sort of effect on the young tom. For one thing, he had at least seemed ready to temper his need for immediate results somewhat. He had spent a few moons waiting beside his mentor for prey, been shown that the twitchy cat rarely caught the fattest mouse. The more experienced tom was beginning to show Martenpaw that maybe there was some merit in patience - not enough for him to adapt it into every aspect of his life, but he was still learning.

Already he was almost double the size he had been when he had first been made an apprentice. And the tom, who had never really had the chance to know his own father, looked up to Thornflame in a way that he did to no other cat. Maybe it was a health dose of fear and respect that kept him in check, but Martenpaw was well on his way to become a fine young warrior.

He had waited for long enough. Thornflame had promised him that day that they would get to try out battle moves that day. He had waited and waited, but Thornflame hadn't returned. He knew he was supposed to wait in camp, but of course, he just couldn't. He was big, and strong, and could defend himself; maybe this was all a big plan of Thornflame. Another lesson. His assessment!

"Thornflame...THORNFLAME!" He cried, running through the trees. It was not the stealthiest of approaches for sure, but he wanted his mentor to know he was coming. That he hadn't forgotten. Maybe it was because of his oldness - compared to him, Thornflame seemed positively ancient. He had forgotten, or he was testing him - or there was a myriad of reasons for his mentor to have forgotten their engagement.

To his delight, he found his mentor up ahead - lying still on the rock. Silly, he had fallen asleep in the sun, by the looks of it. With a playfully innocent smirk, Martenpaw dropped into a crouch that Thornflame had helped him to perfect not days ago, creeping along the ground until he was within easy pouncing distance. The golden red warrior didn't move until Martenpaw was practically on top of him. And the apprentice didn't realize that this was because Thornflame would never move again.

"GOTCHA!" He cried, leaping upon his mentor. He had finally gotten a drop on the old tom - his paws sinking into his chilly fur, pressed hard against the oddly stiff musculature of the tom's shoulder. Thornflame didn't wake, even wen Martenpaw gave him a playful bite - carried away with the fact that he'd finally gotten the upper paw in one of their brawls. "Take that, Thornflame! ...Thornflame?"

Yes, he had finally gotten him...if only he'd gotten him first.

It took a moment for Martenpaw to realize that there really was something wrong; that the stiffness, the way that there was no give to his body, the way his body felt oddly tense. And the way he wasn't...waking...up.

Martenpaw backed away confused and fearful, tail tucking under his legs. Something was very, very wrong.