#sandleap

After a long day of training and hunting, Micaclan's apprentices and mentors gather close to discuss what they learned. Whitepaw shuffles nervously; he'd been so caught up in chasing a mouse, earlier, that he'd nearly careened off the edge of a cliff in his mad dash. Robinsong shakes her head at her apprentice, quietly disappointed and concerned.

She says, "You should know better than to chase so intently after prey like that—you weren't even looking at where you were going! Too focused on your prize. Haven't you heard the story of Pecanpaw's Tree?"

Hawkpaw snickers at the reminder of Whitepaw's earlier stunt, only to be quickly silenced as Puddlepaw's shoulder jabs into her side.

Whitepaw avoids looking at his mentor, and keeps his gaze fixed on his paws as he shakes his head, "No, I don't think so."

"Well, it's very applicable here. And that goes for all of you," Robinsong turns to look at the other gathered apprentices, "Hawkpaw, Puddlepaw, Mudpaw—This is an important story, an important lesson. Listen closely." Her eyes turn skyward, in apparent thought.

"Let's see... how does it start?"

Wrentail, beside Robinsong, lifts his head and touches the tip of his tail to her flank. She glances at her brother, before smiling and nodding. He straightens his posture, and begins speaking in a storyteller's lilt:

"It happened one day that a young apprentice, Pecanpaw, was readying for their assessment. The newleaf air was crisp and fresh, morning dew still clinging to the tender shoots of grass reaching up through the earth, and the pine needles under their paws were springy and soft, perfectly suited to cover the sound of their pawsteps as they hunted. All was calm, and the cool breeze carried with it the promise of abundant prey.

"Following the scent, they found their way to the base of a towering hemlock tree, so tall that the branches scraped the undersides of the clouds. And at its base, rummaging amongst the roots, was a squirrel. Not just any squirrel, either; from nose to tail tip, it was large enough to reach from the tip of their paw all the way to their shoulder. If they caught a piece of prey of that size, they would surely pass their assessment with no issue.

"Pecanpaw dropped into a hunter's crouch, and locked their eyes onto their quarry. With soundless pawsteps, they drew closer and closer to the squirrel. The air went still. With only the sound of their own heartbeat roaring in their ears, Pecanpaw readied themselves to leap—and then the wind changed. A gust coming from behind them alerted the squirrel to their scent, and it darted up the tree.

"Frustration tore through Pecanpaw, and they leapt up after their prize. Claws digging into the rough bark of the old hemlock, they kept their eyes locked onto the squirrel ahead of them. Up to the first branch, the second, the third—up and up and up. Always remaining just out of reach, the squirrel practically taunted Pecanpaw and their mission.

"With paws aching from exertion, they clawed their way higher. Before they knew it, the branches beneath them were willowy and thin, bending beneath their weight. Yet the squirrel continued to climb, and thus, so did Pecanpaw. They clung to the trunk of the old hemlock, continuing higher, higher, ever higher. Soon, there would be nowhere left for the squirrel to climb, and then Pecanpaw would have their prize.

"Finally, the end was in sight; only the thinnest of branches were left, and there was no further the squirrel could climb to. Pecanpaw, only a tail length away, could see the bristles of the squirrel's fluffy tail, see the twitch of its nose, its wide, glistening dark eyes. They could see it bunch its muscles, see it tuck into a crouch, and leap with reckless abandon to the waiting branches of the surrounding trees, hundreds of tail lengths below."

Wrentail pauses, taking the time to look at each of the apprentices in turn, before continuing.

"And as soon as their prize left their line of sight, Pecanpaw looked around them, and saw nothing but the tops of trees, felt nothing but the howling wind, smelled nothing but the cold moisture of the clouds. Their prey had been the only thing worth focusing on, they'd thought. Their prey had been the only thing they had focused on. But now, with the squirrel long gone, escaped into the branches below, they saw what they should have seen from the beginning. That the old hemlock tree reached into the sky itself, and that its branches were easy to climb up, but nearly impossible to climb down."

The apprentices wait with bated breath, eager to hear the rest. But Wrentail is already unwinding from the more formal storyteller's pose, lifting a paw to wash his face.

The tip of Hawkpaw's tail flicks from side to side, "So? What happened after that? How did Pecanpaw get down?"

Gullytuft, silent up until now, meows, "How do you think?"

A beat of silence.

"...They fell," Puddlepaw concludes, "They couldn't climb down. They were too focused on their prey and didn't pay attention to their surroundings, didn't stop to think. That's why it's a lesson, right? You're supposed to think about Pecanpaw before you start being reckless and chasing after prey without thinking. Or you might get hurt, like Whitepaw almost did."

"Spot on, Puddlepaw," Sandleap meows.