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"Maplepaw! Maplepaw!"
"What, Redpaw? For goodness sake, I'm eating."
"But it's important!"
The calico looks up at her brother with half-lidded eyes. "So? Eating is for my survival, and talking is for your enjoyment."
"Yeah, but you enjoy it too!" The dark ginger tomcat is draped over the surrounding walls, staring down at his sister. "Come on, Maplepaw, it's super-super important!"
"Wow," Maplepaw deadpans. "Woow. Tell me when it becomes super-super-super important, will you?"
"Alright, it's super-super-super important! Will you listen to me now?!"
Maplepaw snorts in amusement. Her brother is so ridiculously easy to infuriate. "Alright," she drawls. "You've got my attention, Redpaw." She flicks out a paw, an indication for the tomcat to speak.
Even though she's not looking, she can tell that Redpaw is grinning widely. He leaps down in an instant and… begins a jumble of words that either seem to be sentences running on and on like a stream or a burble of something incoherent – maybe a battle cry of some kind. Maplepaw can't exactly tell what is what. She does catch the words rogue, Featherpaw, and Flamepool.
"Whoa, whoa," Maplepaw cautions. "When I told you to talk, I didn't say that you should sound like a bird trying to gargle." She flicks her paw again. "Try to sound like a feline, mouse-brain. What about Featherpaw and rogues and Flamepool?"
Redpaw inhales again before slowing down to a near snail's pace. "Flamepool – was – saying – that – we'll – be – having – more – rogues – in – MazeClan. You – know – the – kind – like – Featherpaw."
"Much better." Maplepaw nods. "So… more rogues? Like Featherpaw?" Maplepaw flicks her tail in distaste. "You mean the arrogant, I-know-all-there-is kind?"
Redpaw nods. "And who knows, maybe half of them will be Outsiders!" he mews urgently. "Think about it: our camp, being infiltrated by spies of those darned rogues! We'll be eaten inside-out, I tell you!"
"That's a theory," the calico apprentice muses. "It's plausible. I'll take it. Hm… I mean, we do need a lot more cats against the rogues. All forms of support are always welcome, don't you think? It gets lonely in the apprentices' den sometimes. Rosepaw doesn't talk too much, Featherpaw is arrogant, and you're too talkative all the time."
Redpaw blinks. Maplepaw can tell that her brother is trying to tell if that's an insult or a compliment. "I mean, that's not bad. At least I don't snap like Featherpaw. Or not reply like Rosepaw."
He's taken it as a compliment.
Maplepaw resists the urge to slap her brother on the muzzle to knock some sense into him. "I do hope they're better at realizing differences between hidden insults and compliments," she answers dryly.
Redpaw blinks. "Wait, that was… an insult?"
"Moving on," Maplepaw continues, flat-out ignoring the question, "I'm concerned about our one rogue who is in camp. Name starts with an 'F' and ends with a 'paw'."
Redpaw immediately seems to forget what he was going to ask. "Oh, definitely!" he hisses, lashing his tail. "She was going off at Birdleap today about how she didn't get enough prey or whatever. What does she think she is? The queen of MazeClan?"
Maplepaw snorts at Redpaw's clear annoyance at their fellow 'clanmate'. "I know, right? She's just so obnoxious! She thinks that she can just boss us around!" Maplepaw's annoyance for the silver tabby was bubbling over, like lava from a volcano. "She's so mouse-brained, and she's a fox-heart too!"
"And that's a bad combination," Redpaw adds.
"I know!" Maplepaw's claws are tearing at the mouse in front of her. "I just – just really, really wish that she would… Uh… I don't know –"
"What, should I fling myself down a hole? Just to make you happy?"
The pair turn to stare – one in shock, one in embarrassment – at a furious pair of green eyes. Featherpaw, her fur bushed up so that she looks twice her size, looks menacing – like a lion in the amber sunlight, ready to strike.
"So." Her voice is deadly calm. "You're so disappointed in my behavior. So instead of come to talk with me, you decide to talk behind my back?" Featherpaw takes a step forward. Redpaw lets out a squeak and darts behind his sister, who hastily collects her mouse scraps and backs up. "You're too cowardly to come talk properly to me, I see," the silver apprentice muses.
It's like she's enjoying this, Maplepaw thinks. Her eyes are still on Featherpaw. Maplepaw's haunches are raised and her tail is fluffed up. She positions herself in front of Redpaw just in case Featherpaw decides to strike instead of talk.
"You're going to talk us to submission?" Maplepaw's eyes widen when Redpaw pipes up. "What, you're going to insult us until we bow down into you?" Redpaw is clearly frightened, but he has the mouse-brained courage to take a step forward from behind his calico sister, chin held high. "That's never going to happen!"
Featherpaw looks at the russet tom as if he's a mossball – a plaything. "No," she replies, perfectly calm voice contrasting against her on-end fur. "Of course not, that would be distasteful."
Maplepaw breathes an internal sigh of relief.
"But," the silver tabby mews, "I am going to make myself a little group out of those rogues that are coming."
She was listening from the very beginning?! Since when?
"And when we do, you'll be sorry." With that, Featherpaw flounces off with a flick of her tail.
Redpaw deflates, oozing out from behind Maplepaw. "And when we do, you'll be sorry," he mocks. "Seriously, she learns nothing."
Maplepaw cuffs her brother over the ears. "I told you at the very beginning that talking was just for your enjoyment!" she hisses, annoyance rippling down in waves. "Now my mouse is ruined!"