Molepaw straightened, the mouse he'd been stalking held firmly in his jaws. His mouth watered around the little creature, but he made sure not to bite down too hard. Ruffledpaw, at his side, gave him a purr of encouragement.

"You're getting to be as good as Spottedheart," the tom purred, sweeping his tail over Molepaw's shoulders. He flushed slightly at the compliment, setting the rodent down to reply. "I'd better slow down then," he chuckled, earning a confused look from his fellow apprentice. "She'll fight me for her position," he added, and Ruffledpaw snorted, padding ahead.
"A good hunter's a good hunter, she can get over it," he huffed, and Molepaw purred in amusement. "I'm just catching for the Clan. There's no need for it to be a competition," he reminded, and Ruffledpaw rolled his eyes.
"Such a stick in the mud," he complained, and Molepaw scowled, batting at him playfully. "I can't have too much fun, Briarfang's got me working too hard to do anything but hunt," he exclaimed, and Ruffledpaw again snorted.

"At least you don't have moss duty, you ungrateful furball," he meowed, and Molepaw scoffed, batting at him again. The ginger tom stepped away from him, ears twitching in annoyance. "That's entirely your fault, though," the darker tom pointed out, receiving another roll of the eyes. Ruffledpaw turned to face him, amber eyes glinting. "Come on! How do you not get in trouble with Briarfang as your mentor?"

"Lots of compromises," Molepaw replied, and Ruffledpaw snorted in amusement. "Lame. So what, like you catch all this extra prey to get out of having to replace kit bedding?" He nodded, and the longer-furred tom's mouth set into an irritated line. He sat, curling his fluffy tail over his paws, and Molepaw sighed, breaking off into another purr. "What? It works." He moved to sit by Ruffledpaw, ignoring the slight warmth in his fur when the other tom pressed into him slightly. "Maybe you should talk to Snowtail about something like that instead of fighting with him about Starlingpaw all the time, hm?"

Ruffledpaw looked sheepish at that, his tail curling in embarrassment. "Maybe," he conceded, and Molepaw couldn't help the discomfort that prickled through his fur when he leaned into him further, fur soft against his. He moved away, and Ruffledpaw made to follow until he saw the uncomfortable expression on his friend's face. He immediately straightened and stood, licking at the fur on his chest awkwardly. "Well, er," he muttered, muscles tense. Molepaw's teeth clenched, worry squeezing his belly. He didn't like the tense atmosphere, and wished that Ruffledpaw wasn't so comfortable around him sometimes.

"I'm going to head up towards the GoldClan border, see if I can catch one of those rabbits around there," Ruffledpaw mewed gruffly, and Molepaw nodded wordlessly. "I'll head up to the mountain, I guess," he murmured, and the ginger tom gave a minute nod before taking off.
Molepaw lingered a moment, his eyes landing on the mouse he'd caught earlier. He sighed, absently scraping some earth over it before heading off himself. Ruffledpaw had been getting almost too close for comfort, and it usually ended in like situations… But then he'd show up and act like nothing had happened. It was too confusing for the brown apprentice; he just wanted to be friends.

Molepaw stretched out his limbs as he ran, absently remembering the kit he'd met some moons before in the same area. Despite her being a loner, she was very interesting… He hoped she hadn't starved, though she'd looked close to succumbing to Briarfang's attack…
When he felt the earth tilt under his paws he slowed to a stop, panting slightly. Cool air flowed down the mountains, burning his lungs a bit, and he took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling. The apprentice looked around, padded in a wide circle with his jaws parted, half-heartedly scenting for her. Fighting his disappointment that she hadn't returned, he sighed. Well, if he thought about it logically, after a thrashing from Briarfang, he wouldn't want to come back, either…

He stopped and sat after a long moment, sighing again. He didn't even know why he was so interested in the kit; she was just very strange. And he'd thought long and hard about it, and it didn't seem possible for anyone to even want to live on the mountain, much less actually attempt to do so… Looking up at the huge slope of gray stone, he could understand why. It was Greenleaf and he could already see that the cap of the mountain was white with snow. No cat in their right mind could live there.

His ear twitched slightly at a faint rustle in the bushes, and he ignored it. Or tried. When he finally whipped his head towards the sound, he gasped, drawing the attention of the she-cat creeping out of the bushes. Her eyes – just as piercingly blue as he remembered – widened, and her entire body arched upwards, thick fur bristling and lips curling over her teeth. She was nearly as big as him, and it surprised him. He automatically bristled to keep the advantage over her.
"Hey now," he cautioned, stepping forward and stopping when her ears flicked back. His eyes traced her pelt and noticed the ragged scars cutting through her fur. She couldn't have been more than starting-apprentice age and she already looked like a senior warrior. Pity stirred in his gut but he couldn't afford to indulge it right now, with a very experienced and very angry loner standing before him.

"Calm down?" he tried, and she hissed. "I'm not going to hurt you. Remember me? From a few moons ago?" She narrowed her eyes warily, and the memory flickered over her face as quick as a trout in a stream. She only hissed louder and bowed up higher. "You brought that big warrior with you!" she accused, and Molepaw shook his head frantically. "No! No, not this time!" And he glanced behind him to make sure it was true, turning around to come face-to-face with the she-cat.

Her breath stank of fresh blood, and Molepaw vaguely registered the dead pigeon at the bush she'd been in moments before. How had he not smelled her? Was she downwind of him or was he really that out of it?
"So you're not going to spout that nonsense about Clan land or whatever again?" she asked warily, and the question caught him so off-guard that he laughed, especially after realizing that he really should have been angry. Maybe he was the stupid one.

"Not this time," he finally wheezed, coughing to choke off his laughter. Her eyes held amusement. "I just want to talk to you," he added, and she blinked in surprise.
"Oh?"
Molepaw nodded, straightening to fix her with a curious look. "Mmmhm. You're really weird," he said, only flushing after she gave him a strange look. He hadn't meant to say that out-loud. "My name's Molepaw, by the way."

The she-cat nodded, her lips curling up in amusement after his introduction. "My name is Frost," she said, and Molepaw couldn't help but wait to hear what the second half of her name was. When it never came he huffed, having to remind himself that she hadn't been born in a Clan. But somehow the singular word fit her. Cold and singular, though he only knew her from two meetings.

"And why are you calling me weird when your Clans are the only cats in the area with your mindset?" she asked with a soft purr, her muscles relaxing slightly. He shrugged, again feeling his fur flush. "Well, you didn't attack me earlier. And you said something about living on the mountain, and not being able to hunt? How is that even possible?" he asked, the questions pouring out. Frost's whiskers twitched in amusement, and he mimicked her as he sat down, tail wrapping over his paws tightly. The cat beside him seemed to hold some sort of ethereal power, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Was it just because of her enigmatic appearance?

"I didn't attack you because you didn't attack me," she started with confidence, stretching one forepaw out in front of her to lightly graze her claws along the ground. Molepaw felt like she was showing off the thorn-sharp talons now because she hadn't been able to earlier, and was suddenly glad he hadn't decided to engage her. She would have been a nasty opponent, especially now that she was older.
"And yes, I do live on the mountain. Or rather, I plan to. It's a lot harder to catch prey where it starts turning rocky, so I mostly hunt down around here," She motioned with her tail to the area around them, and he nodded absently, surprised at himself for not feeling angrier that she admitted to stealing FeatherClan prey.
"And I can hunt now, of course. I caught that pigeon by myself, and I've been able to do that for almost a moon now. Before Aspen caught my prey for me, because I was too small." Frost quickly went on to explain, once Molepaw gave her a confused look, "Aspen lives in a twoleg nest way up the mountain, and he's probably the smartest cat I know. I'll have to introduce you, I guess."

At that she lapsed into silence, and Molepaw blinked, slowly processing the information. His ears burned. Did she plan to talk with him again? Did she know that she was technically supposed to be dead right now, if he was doing his duty as a Clan cat?
The silence was surprisingly comfortable, and Molepaw started to grow unnerved. This was what he had missed with Ruffledpaw. The ability to just sit, without it getting awkward if the quiet lapsed for too long. He almost felt like he was betraying his friend for the comfort he felt around this loner she-cat, and shook the thoughts away.
In the next instant, he was blurting, "Why don't you join a Clan or something?"

Frost's eyes widened, and she tilted her head in a look of hilarious incredulity, so he rushed to explain, "Well, you look like an experienced warrior already, and you know how to hunt and fight! A Clan would serve you a lot better than some kittypet living on a mountain that no one could possibly fare on their own on! I mean, for instance, FeatherClan would love to have you!" He finished in a huff, and was about to continue when Frost held her tail up for silence.
An awful feeling of dejection crashed through him before she even spoke, fear of scaring her off suddenly very present in his mind. He started to open his mouth to take the words back, but she silenced him with a playful look and a purr.

"Well," she began, and hope unfurled bright green leaves in his heart. "I would, but that's not really my thing. I'd be an outsider too," she added, and Molepaw felt his heart sink without knowing why. "Oh…"

She got to her paws, fluffy tail tip swiping over his nose. He looked up, surprised, and she laughed. "Not to mention," she hummed, and he tilted his head. "I wouldn't dare let them take away my name and give me something as silly as 'Molepaw' to call myself by!"
That made him bristle, recent rejection in his mind, and he stood as well, tail lashing once. Frost gazed at him expectantly, and he refused to bite his tongue or curb the bitterness in his voice when he growled, "Yeah, well if you're not planning on joining then you should leave." She snorted, not looking surprised and it infuriated him a bit.
She turned and gave him a wry look before grabbing her now-cool pigeon off the ground and darting off, her well-developed muscles allowing her to scale the side of the mountain with ease. Just when the apprentice had turned to pad off, tail-tip switching angrily, he heard her call after him, and glared over his shoulder at her. Frost had stopped running, looking a bit distant from the many foxlengths she had run. She was panting a little bit.
"My name wouldn't be as dumb as 'Molepaw', it would totally be cooler!"