Forum - Lights, Camera, Action! (1FG09/OPEN)

Falcondash smiled as the she-cat complimented her.

[b]"Sure, I'll show you."[/b] She mewed before throwing herself at the tree once more. Her legs pushed her half way up the trunk before she launched herself back to the ground, her paws and claws unsheathed and wide to catch unsuspecting opponents.

It would be more practically if there were more trees around, but it wasn't like Thunderclan did this. Did they?

Yellowfrost's dark, yellowish fangs shone as he opened his maw to reply to Sparrowflight---

---but then Falcondash beat him to it.

"Looks like Whitesquirrel has the demonstration covered," he muttered grumpily, and scuttled back when he saw the van she-cat's muscles tense.

From a safe distance, he watched Falcondash. And watched Sparrowflight watch her. He was antsy to get to camp, but a part of him was intrigued by Falcondash's "technique". If it could give WindClan an advantage over enemy clans, then the warrior would take it! Even if it meant flying cats who thought they were squirrels.

Sparrowflight giggled quietly when she heard Yellowfrost call Falcondash Whitesquirrel. "That'd be a good name for her too," she told him, then resumed watching the energetic she-cat.

"Impressive!" Sparrowflight meowed after Falcondash finished. "So it's like this?"

The tabby ran at the tree and leapt up. Her claws dug into the bark, but she didn't time her push the way Falcondash did and Sparrowflight lingered on the trunk as if surveying the scenery for a heartbeat before she launched herself off of it with open claws.

"I think I've been on the ground for too long," she commented after landing and looked up at the tree. "I forgot how it felt to jump out of a tree, even though I only jumped off the trunk. That or I'm getting old, but since I don't feel old yet, I'll blame our lack of trees."

Yellowfrost watched with avid interest as Sparrowflight tried out Falcondash's tree-climbing "war pounce" technique. He'd thought she'd make it all the way up, but then let out a breath of disappointment: she seemed to lose momentum midway and dropped back down from the tree trunk.

He shrugged one bony shoulder, squinting up at the leafy branches as Sparrowflight spoke. His brow scrunched in concentration, as if he were contemplating the likelihood of injury if he were to dare try the move himself and climb up before the "Whitesquirrel" WindClanner came down --- not that he would. If he decided to scrabble his way up and risk looking undignified for a chance at acquiring a new skill, he'd do it after the crazy van cat had descended. No need to get landed on twice.

He was about to grump at Falcondash to get her to hurry back down when something Sparrowflight said finally registered.

"What? You're not OLD!?" He yelped, sounding genuinely appalled. After all, if she was old, then . . . then so was he! And he was not old. Great StarClan, anything but that! Yellowfrost dreaded the thought of retirement; he'd make a singularly terrible elder, malcontent and not afraid to complain about it. He preferred to think of himself as ... distinguished. Experienced. And he was always careful to stretch every morning, every night, and always before patrolling. Had to keep those muscles limber as much as he could, after all.

Not old? "Well," Sparrowflight meowed and drew out the word for time to gather her thoughts. "You're right. I'm not old. I'm, uh, knowledgeable. My body just forgot." Yeah, that sounded right. "I should retrain it before I do a good paws on tree-hunting lesson with Willowpaw."

Yellowfrost visibly relaxed. "Yes," he mewed, nodding his (relieved) assent. "That's only sensible. I limber up every dawn and evening, myself. Actually..." Feverishly bright yellow eyes glazed over as he mentally re-calculated on one of his favorite subjects: himself. "It'd be more accurate to say I stretch at every opportunity. Before patrols and after..."

As the tabby spoke, he rotated his head and arched his back up and to the side, flexing one hind leg behind him as he did so. Joints popped and cracked, soft but audible like a sole stuttering cricket, just starting to warm up fpr his symphony, a distant litany heard in the night.

"Oh!" Tall, angular ears perked up as he finally heeded what Sparrowflight had said last. "Willowpaw's progressed to your satisfaction, then? ---I mean, obviously. If you've decided she's due for a lesson on hunting...trees." He frowned faintly. His mind drifted off---disconcertingly so---as his gaze had trailed off, following the path of a shadow on the moor that'd been shed by a cloud, only to be drawn back by sunlight glinting off the edges of the she-cat pelt, the whiskery long hairs limned golden against a backdrop of space.

As his attention had wandered, his maw had kept speaking, but now the tom couldn't remember if what he'd said made any sense. Which was perturbing. If he didn't have his practical, analytical mind, sharp as finely honed claws, then what would be left?