starting over, same old, same old --open

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Straight after her ceremony, Palepaw had decided to examine her new den. But, before, that, she had returned, almost of her paws' own accord, to the nursery. Just to check up on things. Admittedly, the small den held some sentimental value for her. After all, it was where she had grown up. The only place she could truly connect with kithood. Except... She sighed and shook her head, making her slightly too big ears flutter with the momentum. That place was surely reduced to nothing now... A mournful sigh escaped her and her expectant gaze trailed to where she estimated the warm air had disappeared. Nothing. No consisteny stream of pale, frigid air... Right. It wasn't leafbare anymore. 

With some reluctance, she withdrew her solemn, pale green gaze from the nursery, and made her way towards the apprentices' den. Her gait was nearly identical to that of when she was a young kitten, but different. Without the stubby legs, the impossibly disproportionate, bristly fur covering her like a enormous, stubborn, white-and-grey thistle, and the naive innocence. She had never really been naive, but she considered those foolish days behind her. Her gait was elegant and better balanced by her heavy, bristly-furred tail and her head. It had an air of easy grace  but there was still some obvious effort, just not so noticeable. 
Good memories were still sad, because they were memories. It was sad that you had to rely on memories when the ones you loved disappeared... She banished all thoughts of Iris, Stream and her big brother, Bramble... 

After what seemed like only a heartbeat, the newly-made apprentice let herself enter the apprentices' den. She blinked at the sight that met her. It wasn't that much different from the nursery, in perspective, but to her untrained eyes, it was. No more random scraps of moss flying in equally random directions, no more excited squeals splitting through her thoughts, no more scent of milk. No more random, younger kittens barreling past her in an attempt to play Warriors. She liked it. It was lonely and more quiet that she was used to, but pleasant. Less childish, she supposed with a indifferent twitch of a pale grey ear. She could get used to this. Palepaw's eyes scanned the den briskly, searching for potential nesting material, but instead it landed on a fellow apprentices' gaze, lingering longer than it should've. It was too late to look away. 

four hundred and nine words - @name

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