[i]There is just no getting through to that cat,[/i] thought Screefoot as she watched Harepaw start toward the entrance. She'd just woken up, and she already felt drained from her interaction with him; trying to reason with the apprentice was just about useless on top of exhausting. [i]So why am I trying?[/i] she caught herself thinking and immediately reprimanded herself for it–– Harepaw was a valuable member of the Clan, valuable as a potential warrior and a Clanmate. He was worth her efforts, she reminded herself, watching the still-lashing tail. He'd make a fantastic warrior, she was certain, [i]if only he'd listen.[/i] Unfortunately, the more she thought about it, the more she started to fear that she wasn't being an adequate mentor. What was she doing wrong? What was she to fix if Harepaw was going to adapt to Clan life?

Just as she was turning away with an exasperated sigh, Screefoot heard Boulderstar herself calling the young cat. She pricked her ears and looked in their direction. If the leader had something important––and hopefully life-changing––to say to Harepaw, then she didn't want to get in the way. She did, however, want to listen. After all, it was her business if it was her apprentice, right? If her own words weren't to be respected then perhaps Boulderstar's were. 

––

Burrpelt, although hungry and tired, did not really want to rest and eat. He was itching to be out of the camp again and to be useful, but alas, he could not ignore his own leader. So, just as the medicine cat joined them, he politely checked out by saying, "Good morning, Frostwhisker," nodding at Oakstar, and then turning to trot to the fresh-kill pile. Not without a small purr in Berrydream's direction––but he was too shy to talk to her. Ridiculous, really, as he was the deputy. 

Alright, maybe he did want to eat after all. Burrpelt had instantly begun to salivate as he neared the pile of delectable fresh meat, most of it caught this morning and simply begging with its aroma to be eaten. ...It couldn't hurt to fill his belly before a patrol. He picked a modest-looking mouse from the pile, retreated a few paces and lay down. It felt good as he'd been on his paws for a long time. Glancing around to make sure no one noticed how glad he was to relax, Burrpelt finally started on his breakfast.