Cracking Thunder [Training Thunderpaw]

[♥ White]

A giant oak tree sat quietly amidst the woodland, gnarled branches reaching for the sky. Birds twittered here and there, filling LightClan's forested territory with melodic warbling. Sunshine streamed through the canopy, warming the white-and-tabby pelt of a tomcat as he basked contentedly in the golden rays. The Twisted Oak was a popular place for training apprentices, as it was teeming with prey, and Whitewhisker had chosen this place for his own trainee, Thunderpaw's, first training session. He would teach him the most basic lesson to begin with: how to stalk and catch mice.

The snow-colored warrior ran the details through his mind; step lightly, keep your weight off your paws, mice feel you first, rabbits hear you first. Thunderpaw was quite the arrogant young tom, but Whitewhisker was calm as he awaited the dark tabby's arrival. His apprentice could mouth off if he wanted - that wouldn't get him any closer to being a warrior.

Whitewhisker rose to his paws, arching his pale gray tabby back in a luxurious stretch. His ears pricked, listening to the scuffling and forensic burrow-digging of various prey animals. Thunderpaw would expect to be a skilled hunter at his first try, but instead he would scare off all the prey. However, that would be a good lesson for the self-absorbed apprentice, to suffer a bit of humiliation; perhaps his nose wouldn't be so high in the air anymore, but Whitewhisker knew better than to think Thunderpaw would be "cured" in one day.

Sighing, not in distress, but in relaxation as the honey-colored sunbeams sunk into his pelt, the warrior laid himself back down on the soft, twig-littered forest floor. Now he just had to wait for Thunderpaw to make his appearance.

[Whitewhisker's appearance- On the top half of him (the top of his tail, his back, and the top of his head) is light gray tabby fur, pale but easily noticeable. His eyes are a stunning cerulean with flecks of lighter blue mixed in, and his whiskers are long, pure white, and seemingly flawless. Whitewhisker's Bio]

[[ = fate = ]]

High and mighty...just as if he ruled the world and everyone on it. Thunderpaw was one to be known as the high classed arrogant young apprentice of LightClan. His head was always high up in the air as if he was just made the new leader, but the tom had a long way before he could even dream about being the leader of LightClan. Inkstar was the leader of the Clan...though, Thunderpaw knew very little about his own leader besides the great stories. He only knew the leader from seeing him in meetings, gatherings, and around the camp talking to his warriors. Thunderpaw never gotten the chance to really talk to the leader, one day maybe, but not today...

He sighed as he stood up with a yawn after finishing his nap in the apprentice den. No one was really in the den, they were all out training with their mentors. Oh, mousedug! Training! I'll be late for my first day of training! Like a storm, the apprentice dashed out of camp and toward Twisted Oak where his mentor should he waiting. Thunderpaw sure was a good name from him... The forest sounded as if thunder was starting as the tom ran in a hurry toward the old oak tree. Mousedug! I'm even scaring off the prey! He flicked his ears each and every way he heard the prey running off in terror. Oh...this is fun! Run in terror from the mighty black tiger, Thunderpaw! Mwhahahaha! He halted outside of the land marked as Twisted Oak. At first he didn't know if he should enter from being late, and noisy. Thunderpaw held his breath and stepped in...

"Sorry I'm late! I was napping and I lost track of time... Oh, and on the rush here I scared off all the prey. Sorry, Whitewhisker..." He turned around and faced his back to his mentor, gagging that he just had to say the word 'sorry'. After a few minutes, the tom turned back around to face his light topped tabby mentor with a light smile. His head wasn't as high as it usually was, but it still wasn't down.

[♥ White]

Whitewhisker turned his head, blinking his sapphire eyes calmly at the sudden sound that he knew was Thunderpaw. Sure enough, within the next few heartbeats the black tabby came rushing toward him, skidding to a halt. His slate blue eyes were gleaming, as if he'd enjoyed the run over.

"Sorry I'm late! I was napping and I lost track of time... Oh, and on the rush here I scared off all the prey. Sorry, Whitewhisker..." He turned around, and Whitewhisker could tell that he was making a disgusted face.

The warrior got to his paws, lowering his haunches into a sitting position. "That's perfectly all right, Thunderpaw. There's plenty more prey here." But the clumsy apprentice would scare away the little creatures around the Twisted Oak as well, and hopefully the embarrassment would make him realize that he would need to work as hard as any other - he wasn't perfect, and every apprentice was a horrible hunter their first few times. But Thunderpaw seemed to think he was better than all of them.

"I'm going to teach you how to stalk mice properly," Whitewhisker began to explain, waving his tail at Thunderpaw. "Now, you may be thinking that catching mice is the easiest thing in the world, but if you don't use the right technique you will never return to camp with a mouse for the fresh-kill pile. At first, they're one of the hardest to catch, but the more you practice the easier it will become, until you can do this without much effort." He turned around, fixing his gaze on a small, plump mouse nibbling at a seed near the base of the Twisted Oak. He dropped into the hunter's crouch, using the technique he was going to teach Thunderpaw, the one he had learned moons ago and had mastered before he'd become a warrior. He kept his paws light on the ground, trying to keep his weight level and as slight as he could. Tail low and eyes unblinking, he crept toward his target, until finally he sprang in a smooth, practiced motion; his front paws landed on the stunned mouse, and he killed it with one bite.

Grabbing the mouse up in his jaws, Whitewhisker turned back to Thunderpaw and padded over to him. "Here. Eat," he meowed, dropping his catch at the younger tom's paws. "You'll need food to boost your strength, and then we'll begin." He sat down, whiskers twitching as a pesky fly buzzed around his head, and waited for Thunderpaw to eat the mouse. His greedy taste buds could easily eat the prey, but would he be able to catch it?