kill your heroes [mariko]

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It had been slow, creeping over him like tar. By the time he realized his fur was slicked against his skin, he could do nothing but struggle and screech in vain. He had been trapped, remained motionless, powerless. Cowardice, anger, envy, fear – they had come to consume him. They had settled quietly in the back of his mind, so quietly he had barely been able to notice their presence – at least not until they were far too powerful to combat. Not until they had their hold, had sunk their claws into him. And in a sense, perhaps, he was somewhat willing to submit to them. He was too weak, too tired to fight back. He welcomed the repose, the excuse. He figured it would consume him, a welcome sort of death. It would settle over him, lull him to sleep, and it would all end. This was a depressing sort of outlook. And a part of him knew he didn’t truly wish for his own death. Yet there it was, that thought, that realization that he could have fought. He could have pushed it away. He could have been something – someone – different. But a part of him, a cowardly weak part, had chosen not to.

He tried to push these thoughts away, tried to ward them off. But they were his companions, a depressingly constant friend. He shook his head, feeling foolish. So many others had more reason than he to frown, to bemoan their consequences. Hell, Bluesmoke could barely walk, so badly were his paws scarred. Bluesmoke’s father was dead, his paws scarred, his fellow apprentice burned beyond recognition. And yet it was Shalefall who found himself complaining, dragging his paws. He disgusted himself, he truly did. It seemed he was made individually of two very separate emotions – disgust and love. For he loved Bluesmoke more than he cared to admit. The other tom was his rock, his support, the thing that kept him moving. But in this moment, sitting beneath the Burnt Sycamore, Shalefall could not let his thoughts wander to his beloved mate. Any moment now, a young apprentice would appear through the foliage – a prospect Shalefall was not yet entirely pleased with. He had very little experience with youth, and generally found them troublesome. But he had been assigned a job – and woe be it from him to attempt to cross the mighty Froststar. He would sooner have bitten off his own tail.

He was not in any way pleased with his current situation. The most disappointing thing about his current predicament was that this day had begun with the prospect of being especially delightful. He’d slept late, far past a usual time, and as a consequence he had awoken refreshed and feeling more alert than he had in moons. He’d been relieved to see that his brother Slatefur had already risen and gone, the scent in his nest growing staler by the minute. And considering Slatefur’s propensity for generally wandering about, wasting the day away, it was likely he wouldn’t return until late. He tended to do his best to shirk any possible duties assigned to him. Now, this had left Shalefall with the very appealing prospect of a leisurely breakfast alone. He’d strolled over towards the fresh-kill pile, momentarily feeling disappointment weighing on him. He’d quite forgotten about the snow that covered the ground, and the seasonal scarcity of prey. He attempted to cheer himself at the prospect of a skinny mouse. Instead, nestled in with the foolish rodents still imbecilic enough to wander about in the open, was a fat sparrow. It was as if Starclan itself were shining down upon him in all its glory. After all, sparrows were his favorite meal.

And now he was here, awaiting an apprentice he hadn’t asked for. One whom, if the gossip was to be believed, would not be an entirely easy creature to get along with. Shalefall took a breath. Bluesmoke would have chastised him, urged him to be kinder. The other tom was far wiser, far more controlled than Shalefall ever hoped to be. His ears flicked back then perked as a twig snapped. A smile floated across his lips and he called out, somewhat amused, “I heard that!” His eyes were glued in the direction of the snap, about at the level he knew Ruepaw’s eyes would be.

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[mariko]

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A beam of golden light gently tapped at Ruepaw’s eyelids, urging the sleeping beauty to rise. Her tail unwrapped around her body, like a flower unfurling itself to drink in the morning rays. First one eye blinked open and then the other. The air was chilly, her limbs ached from the cold. She wondered if she had early onset arthritis. I hope not, she thought as she pulled herself up and settled onto her haunches. I wouldn’t want to be more useless than normal, she thought bitterly.

She fluffed out her ginger and white fur and stretched, her joints cracking in place. Pieces of moss fell onto her nest but some of the dirt crumbs still remained. Ruepaw sighed and swiveled her body so that she could clean herself properly. Rasp after rasp she cleaned herself until the dirt and grease from the night before had vanished and her fur became silk.

On any given day the pretty apprentice would have been following around Oakpaw or her sister, Cedarpaw. Their mentors would be sharing their lessons and everyone was to benefit from it. There had been nothing wrong with the set up and yet, Froststar felt the need to bestow upon her a new mentor—a homosexual tom named Slatefur. She held no respect for the tom who went against Starclan’s wishes, who went against procreation and everything natural. Her tail lashed in defiance, sparks flaring in her usually dreamy eyes. It was bad enough she had to take orders from a tom but one who preferred the company of males over females, it was disgusting.

Her eyes glanced over at her peers’ nests. They were empty and judging from their stale scent, it had been awhile since they left. Disappointment bloomed in her chest. The pair of sister, Oakpaw and Cedarpaw, were admirable. They were the epitome of strength, something Ruepaw could only strive (and fail) to be. However, it did not stop her from trying to be like them. Every time she fumbled she dusted herself back off and tried again—but at what point would she give in? She hoped the day would never come but in the back of her mind, she already knew she was fated to fail. Success was not in her future, but she couldn’t accept the fact. At least not yet—she wasn’t at that point.

Ruepaw pulled herself up onto her paws and strolled out of the apprentice den. The sun had nearly reached its zenith. She stood up on her hind legs and stretched upward, her paws batting at the sun. A smile graced her lips, her eyes shining like twin flames. Bless you Starclan, for everything you have done and everything you have lost, she prayed before falling back down on all fours.

The fresh kill pile was meager. Only a few skinny mice were left and even though hunger prodded at her, she refused to indulge herself. Around her warriors were returning from patrols, others had apprentices at their heels as they exited camp—their excitement buzzing in the air. The smile stayed pressed to her muzzle as she watched her camp, her clan mates, unfold around her. It was as if their happiness were hers. Yet, happiness could only be held onto for so long.

Slatefur’s waiting for you, she heard her voice sing which only dampened her mood. The young apprentice could not fathom why Froststar, their wonderful and respectable leader, would pair her with such a heathen. If she had her choice between the two homos, she would have at least chosen the reserved one of the two—Bluesmoke—not the spazz who was always clawing at everyone’s throats.

Her paw steps were heavy, uncaring, as she tromped through the territory. Most likely scaring all the prey in the area but that was just fine with Ruepaw. She did not want anything to do with the training session. She would have been happy just to pair up with her friends rather than take orders from Slatefur.

“I heard that!”

The high pitched voice belonged to her grey furred mentor. A smile was ridiculously plastered to his face and while his remained, Ruepaw’s fell. There were many other places she aspired to be but sitting in front of him was certainly not one of them. ”Didn’t think I was being subtle,” she said flatly, taking a seat as far as she could from the tom. She brought her paw to her mouth and drew it over her ear, cleaning herself to distract her from being in Slatefur’s presence.

words – 765
tagged – slatefur & flyaway
notes – yikes, and her inner bitch comes out

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Ruepaw wasn’t a brand new apprentice. From what little Shalefall knew of the young she-cat, she was at least nine moons old, probably ten or eleven. Her warrior ceremony was sneaking up on her. With this in mind, Shalefall had built up expectations for the young female. He had expected someone reasonably well-trained, who knew what a mentor would want from her. What he had apparently been presented with was nothing of the sort. Even from her muttered voice, those first few strings of words, a single thing had become apparent – this wasn’t going to be an altogether pleasant ordeal, not in the least.

Shalefall frowned as the young apprentice made her presence known. Barely a minute into their session, and Ruepaw was full of attitude, an undercurrent of snarkiness. If there was anything Shalefall didn’t appreciate, it was childhood rebellion. Apprentices, even young warriors, seemed possessed of this idea of everything the world owed them. There was this horrid sense of entitlement. They seemed obsessed with the idea of their own greatness, of everything they deserved. Yet when they grew older, and life truly began forcing their attention – they realized they were owed nothing. Life wasn’t fair, it wasn’t just, it didn’t reward for good and punish for bad. Life was blind, unbiased, uncaring. But was this even truly important, at this moment? Shalefall had sunken into a philosophical headspace, one he generally preferred to stay away from. And today wasn’t meant for his meanderings, his wonderings and self-loathing. Whether he liked it or not, he had a duty to perform. And that duty was standing before him, a frown on her face and muttered words waiting on the tip of her young tongue. Shalefall took a breath. He would need every ounce of his inner strength for the task ahead.

Shalefall blinked, his ears flicking as he replied. “I didn’t say you were, I was insinuating that you should have.” He stood, shaking out his fur as he did so. He padded towards Ruepaw, flicking the young she-cat with his tail as he spoke. “You’re what, nine, ten moons old? You’re approaching your majority, your adulthood.”He indicated signs of Ruepaw’s growth, the loss of her kitten fur, the subtle signs of aging and maturity. Shalefall moved away again, back towards the towering ashen sycamore. If he had been a Thunderclanner, he might have leapt into the branches, scaled higher and higher until he could touch the sky. But he was no such creature. Instead he turned around, canting his head.“What if I had attacked you? Tell me, honestly, would you have been prepared?” From Ruepaw’s carelessness, Shalefall guessed that she wouldn’t have. Actually, Shalefall knew it to be so. He wasn’t accusing the young she-cat, mocking her or chastising her. He was explaining himself, his point, in the best way he could. After all, he was still relatively young himself. In terms of speaking to apprentices, of working with them, he was rusty at best. How long had it been since Sparrowchirp earned her warrior name? He couldn’t even remember any longer. The days had run together in the back of his mind.

He shook his head slightly, lifting a paw to his lips. He swiped his tongue over his toes, cleaning away clinging bits of mud and debris. He’d spent most of the night out wandering the territory. Bluesmoke hadn’t slept well, and as happened many nights – he’d sleptwalk right out of camp. And true to his nature, Shalefall had followed. He always followed, and would until the day he died. He never regretted a single moment spent with Bluesmoke, spent giving his mate what little comfort was available. Yet in mornings, afternoons such as this – the exhaustion settled heavily on his paws. It made him irritable, snappish – more so than usual. He lowered his paw back to the ground, looking evenly at Ruepaw, waiting for some version of the retort he knew was coming.

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“I didn’t say you were, I was insinuating that you should have.”

Ruepaw did not look up from her grooming. The words bouncing off her disinterested posture. The patched apprentice could think of numerous other activities she could have been doing—activities that would help her growth in the long run. Everywhere female has to be stopped by a male, she reminded herself, her eyes landing on her mentor’s. They were like twin peaks of fire encased in eyes as she studied the homosexual tom cat. His jaw was ridged, clamped tight as if he did not know the meaning of control. For Cedarpaw it was effortless and Shalefall could not even begin to fathom such a feat. Although, she did not think he was capable of it anyway.

His eyes were focused on her and it looked like he was trying to draw some sort of intelligence within his green orbs. He was dismayed by her. It practically dripped from the tom, like sap from a tree. Ruepaw drew her tail over her body as if reassuring herself that she was strong, that she was capable, and that the tom in front of her was just another obstacle to overcome. However, when he stood and flicked his tail in her face, her eyes narrowed. Rage, like thick sludge, swelled in her chest. She bit down on her tongue until she could taste iron. Don’t touch me, she hissed but the words refused to be uttered aloud.

“You’re what, nine, ten moons old? You’re approaching your majority, your adulthood. What if I had attacked you? Tell me, honestly, would you have been prepared?”

”I guess I should have expected someone like your kind to attack me. I usually have faith in my fellow clan mates but… I suppose I can make an exception for your sort.” Her eyes were narrowed at the larger tom, even though he tried to exhume calm and control, he was failing. Ruepaw’s tail lashed to the side as she stood up, backing away from the tom, but she held her head high. An immense hatred had built up within the younger feline and even though she did not agree with homosexuality, she didn’t know why her body reacted so violently. However, she couldn’t stop to anger or the hurtful words that flowed out of her mouth. While it was true Shalefall was a feline, a creature that Starclan had created, there no remorse in her eyes for him.

”Is there a point to your speech or shall we continue with your botched lesson?” she asked, her ears pinned against her skull, her tone flat.

Her eyes gravitated to the sky and the cottontail fluffs of clouds that floated up above. They were content in the span of blue and Ruepaw longed to be up there with them, to nuzzle her face in the soft fabric of a cloud. She imagined it would like pressing herself against Cedarpaw’s silken fur. The surprise felt like a swift slap to the face and it sent Ruepaw reeling. Why am I thinking like this? She squeezed her eyes shut and pawed at her face, as if she could dislodge the desire—forgetting Shalefall for the time being.



words – 541
tagged – slatefur & flyaway
notes – yikes, and her inner bitch comes out

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Rage. It was white-hot, uncontrollable. It bubbled up inside of him, seethed, poured invisibly from every pore in his skin. His jaw clamped, visible tension in his muscles. His claws unsheathed of their own accord, though he forced them into the soft dirt around them. He’d been angry before. He had spent most of his life fighting off anger. But usually it boiled down to irritation, to snapping and muted snarls. But this, this was something different. It was chaotic, scary even. Perhaps Ruepaw was oblivious to the effect her words had, or perhaps she was getting exactly what she had wanted all along. Shalefall couldn’t tell any longer. But her words, those poisonous hate-filled words, beat a rhythm inside his head. He couldn’t wash them away, couldn’t un-hear the accusation and venom on her tongue.Your kind…your sort…botched lesson…someone like you… They were labels. He knew the undercurrent, knew to what she referred. And in referring to him in such a manner, she also referred to his mate – to Bluesmoke. The thought made an image of his mate, crumpled and broken yet giving everything he had to another – rise in his mind. And somewhere, between the words and images and burning anger, Shalefall finally snapped.

He rushed forward. Ruepaw was feeble lengths away, an easy mark. His body was lithe. He was smaller than the traditional broad stocky build of the Shadowclan cats. But he was muscular. He was easily twice Ruepaw’s size, and over twice her age. He’d had moons to learn, to master. He barreled into her. He didn’t bother to cushion the blow. He felt their bodies connect, heard the thud as Ruepaw hit the ground. He was on her before she could hope to squirm away. His heavy forepaws were solid on her shoulders, pinning her below him. His lips were peeled back into a vicious snarl, a deadly sort of light in his eye. Somewhere in the mix, one of his unsheathed claws had clipped her ear. It bled lightly, though the color was stark on her ivory fur. He couldn’t entirely call the little nick an accident. However, he sheathed his claws. He had no intention of returning to camp with his new apprentice shredded to bits – no matter how appealing the idea seemed. His chest heaved. A part of him wanted to destroy her, to drag her body somewhere it would never be found – somewhere where her words could never touch Bluesmoke.

But that wasn’t an option, not truly. Instead he increased the weight. His claws were sheathed, and he didn’t care how uncomfortable he made her. His voice was low – distinctly dangerous. His eyes were narrowed, a barely controlled fury clear in their depths. When his words came, they came in a sharp hate-fueled hiss. “I will not stoop to insult you the way you have insulted me,” He had to pause, draw breaths to retain his fragile self-control. “But try and understand this – you need me. Whether you like it or not, Froststar will not give you another mentor. Without me, you won’t become a warrior.” He paused, his eyes fluttering closed. His brows were knit together. He spoke again, forcing the words out – “And I need you. Your failure is my failure too.” His chest still heaved. And the distinct desire to tear her apart for what she had said still lingered in his eyes.

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Shalefall’s rage unfurled, contorting his handsome features. There was no time for Ruepaw to move out of the way or to run. In a matter of a moment the much larger tom was on top of her, crushing her against the ground. Her head snapped backward and hit the dirt hard. The tear on her ear was barely felt. Ruepaw hardly felt anything. Her head was throbbing, her ears felt dull, mute. Panic clamped down on her throat but she could not move. Her body was rigid, as if rigor mortis had set in. Shalefall’s teeth were inches from her face, his breathing hot and rancid. However, her body grew limp as if it melted onto the floor. Her face became expressionless as she detached herself from the situation—from the pain, from her own self-hatred.

“I will not stoop to insult you the way you have insulted me. But try and understand this – you need me. Whether you like it or not, Froststar will not give you another mentor. Without me, you won’t become a warrior.”

His words were like chipped ice, tearing her apart. He managed to gain some control although he was still pressing his weight against her. Her chest struggled to rise and fall and for a moment she thought her ribcage would splinter and collapse—ending her time on the Earth. Yet, she remained pinned to the ground, her blank eyes looking straight up at the beast who had no control over himself. His words meant nothing to her. They were fruitless.

He took a breath, his body shaking to control the rage that roiled beneath his grey pelt. If he were to kill her, she didn’t think she would protest. How could she? She was just like Shalefall, blind to her own whimsical desires—her homosexual urges. Her mind painted the picture of Cedarpaw—a dignified female who held herself with regality. Cedarpaw was perfection in physical form and Ruepaw yearned for her touch just as Shalefall quivered under Bluesmoke’s. She was a part of their culture. Her self-hatred flared but she ignored it and brought her attention back onto the warrior.

“And I need you. Your failure is my failure too.”

”Uncontrolled,” Ruepaw said, her voice a void of any emotions. She detached herself from the situation and almost welcomed Shalefall to rip her to pieces—send her to the dark depths of the Black Forest; the place she and everyone like her belonged. Her eyes flicked over his fangs, mere mice lengths away from her throat. ”You call yourself a warrior and yet you know nothing of control. What would Bluesmoke think of your actions?” The words weren’t spoken as a taunt, they were spoken in a dull tone—a tone lacking in all aspects.

She turned her face away from her mentor, her cheek pushed up against the dirt. Her ear was still bleeding, staining her ear red and dripping to the floor. The patched warrior felt like her heart was in her head, it pounded uncontrollably. However, she didn’t attempt to shift under his weight. Instead she laid there, stiff and unamused. ”If you’re done, I’d like you to get off of me. Unless, of course, you’d like to beat me some more. Just let me know when you’re done with me.” Again, her tone was flat, lifeless. Her train of thought drifted to Froststar, to Oakpaw, to Spiderpaw, and finally back to Cedarpaw. They were all females she respected, females that did not seek attention from others, who didn’t fawn over each other. They stood independence, for justice, for everything Ruepaw aspired to be but failed.




words – 610
tagged – slatefur & flyaway
notes – ---

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Shalefall was shaking, his rage barely controlled. He could see the flicker of emotions as Ruepaw processed his words. First there seemed to be a flare of panic. And with only the barest twinges of guilt, Shalefall allowed a sort of satisfaction to settle on his tongue. But then her gaze went blank, dead, dim. It was like she had fled her own body, fled to places he couldn’t reach. He hissed. But he could see, his words, his actions, they would do no good now. He breathed, controlled – the way Bluesmoke had taught him. The pressure holding Ruepaw down lessened, he backed almost entirely off of her. He kept one paw on her chest, a warning, a last resort. He could see, though, that nothing would get through to her. It perplexed him, utterly confused him. He couldn’t understand her reactions, her rationalizations. Then again, he’d always been a slave to his own temper. It was only in recent moons, in many long hours spent with Bluesmoke, that he’d begun to learn to calm himself, techniques to retain some semblance of control. But in a single instant, in a few short minutes, Ruepaw had destroyed every lesson – every step of progress he had struggled to make.

He shook his head, deliberately removing the last paw from her chest. He understood her, in a quiet way. He had found his respite in anger, hers somewhere in the depths of her own consciousness. Yet he knew, no matter where they retreated, no solace would be found. He’d learned such things the hard way, through moons of wasted fury. His voice was low, the anger slowly seeping out from him. “Retreating like that won’t help you. Trust me.” He turned. His fur had become ruffled, sticking up in all sorts of places. It was only as he turned, as he ducked his head to give his chest a few swift licks, that Ruepaw’s quiet words reached his ears. “Uncontrolled.” He paused at the first word. He could hear his heartbeat, the blood rushing in his ears. His eyes flickered closed, his back still facing her. He struggled to retain control, the fragile control he had one had. The anger that had seeped from him moments ago was streaming back through his blood. But he fought it, he fought it with every ounce of strength he had. But it wasn’t enough. With Ruepaw, nothing would ever be enough.

“You call yourself a warrior and yet you know nothing of control. What would Bluesmoke think of your actions? Just let me know when you’re done with me.”

He hissed, quiet and low. His ears flicked back, flat against his skull. His shoulders tightened, his head ducked. Everything about him was rigid as he fought to retain control. But what really was the point? As Ruepaw had already pointed out, he appeared to have none. Eventually his eyes flickered back open. A hardness had settled in his eyes, lit by a quiet light of triumph. He managed to keep his voice even, keep himself from rushing Ruepaw once more. His voice was low, his words spoken over his shoulder. Ruepaw didn’t deserve his attention, deserved nothing but his back and disdain. “Yes, I call myself a warrior. I don’t call myself perfect.” He paused, thinking of Bluesmoke. His mate would have been disappointed, he knew it in his heart. But he didn’t focus on this. “He loves me. I could commit crimes against nature, and he would love me. I know when I wake up, he will be curled around me, waiting for me. His scent lingers on me. That’s the way our kind works. Can you say the same?”

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[mariko]

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Dead. Detached. Apathetic. Ruepaw felt as if someone had pried open her jaws and ripped her soul out of her body. Her beautiful patched ginger and white fur was only skin held into place by bones, the inside carved out. The pressure on her chest lessened until there was nothing holding her down any longer. She felt light, as if the hollow places would fill up with air and float her up to the sky. She would have liked that—to feel the sun wrap its beams around her, to feel the silken clouds nudge against her. It would have been a peaceful retreat but instead she felt like she had washed up on the shore, her mind waterlogged.

“Retreating like that won’t help you. Trust me.”

Shalefall’s voice was muffled, quiet. Somewhere from deep within her subconscious she heard the words and knew them to be true. The detachment from the real world was not healthy. She had heard stories that it was times like this when dark spirits would have invaded her body. I don’t think I would mind, she heard her voice say as it echoed through the dark passages of her mind. Ruepaw would give anything not to be her, not to be trapped inside a heathen’s body. In a way, she was already condemned. A dark spirit would not need to occupy a body that was already inhabited by them.

When Shalefall’s low hiss echoed in her ears she thought he was going to attack her once more. It wouldn’t have bothered her, she would have welcomed the pressure, the claws to her delicate flesh. It was what she deserved after all. Ruepaw wouldn’t have complained and would have perhaps leaned into the pain, embraced it. How would Shalefall react then? she thought. The tom had absolutely no control and was everything she saw heathens, kinds like him kinds like her, to be. Bluesmoke was different, carried himself in a way that didn’t make Ruepaw want to hate him but she did because he was everything she didn’t want to be.

“Yes, I call myself a warrior. I don’t call myself perfect.”

She barely heard his words. Ruepaw didn’t consider Shalefall a warrior, he was nothing compared to his mate, compared to everyone else. He was out of control. Just like you are, a voice in the back of her mind whispered. And it was true. It was painfully true but she didn’t want to admit it. So, she shoved the thought to the far back corners of her mind, wrapping it with chains so she wouldn’t have to think about it again.

“He loves me. I could commit crimes against nature, and he would love me. I know when I wake up, he will be curled around me, waiting for me. His scent lingers on me. That’s the way our kind works. Can you say the same?”

Ruepaw rose from her spot but didn’t bother to brush off the dirt and grass that clung to her pelt. Her eyes, dead and muted gold, looked at him. She didn’t think his sentence held enough sentiment, enough logic for her to really respond to it. There was no point. Shalefall would never understand her, never understand how to deal with his emotions. She wondered if Bluesmoke took pity on him. That’s the same as wondering if Cedarpaw has taken pity on you, the voice whispered. The she-cat closed her eyes and shoved the thoughts aside. She needed to be alone, there was nothing else for her here. Being with around Shalefall was no good for either of them.

Without speaking, she turned and walked away—slipping through the undergrowth.





words – 616
tagged – slatefur & flyaway
notes – ---

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He watched her walk away. A part of him knew he should speak out, perhaps take back his angry words, say something soothing. But he had no soothing words to give. So he found himself staring at her dwindling form. It was sad really. As much of his fury as she had incited, she influenced feelings of pity deep in his stomach. Perhaps it was the dead look in her eyes, the way her entire body seemed to shrink away from the world. Or perhaps it was her absolute lack of care. Dirt, debris, bits of leaves and grass all still clung to her pretty ginger and white coat. Either she didn’t notice, or more likely, she couldn’t bring herself to care enough to groom them out. And though Shalefall had shoved such memories deep in the recesses of his mind, he remembered a time when he had acted similarly. Yet his actions had been in anger, a misplaced sense of defiance. Still he had walked away, he had slumped as she slumped. Though it lurked far in the back, behind his anger, he’d had that dead surrender too. There had been a point when he’d given up – on the world, on his clan.

He lifted a paw. A part of him screamed, yearned to go after her. The sun now hung high in the sky. Was it possible so much time had passed? It seemed like instants. And while other mentor/apprentice pairs would be returning, apprentices eager to discuss newly learned skills, he was leaving Ruepaw with nothing but the weight of the world. He lifted a paw, a hesitant paw. He could still hear her faintly as she moved through the bushes. Her scent trail was strong. It would be nothing to thread his way after her. Yet he had no words to give. It had been Bluesmoke, always Bluesmoke, who was the elegant one. Bluesmoke knew what to say, how to say it. He spoke with an ease, an ease Shalefall had always both admired and envied. Perhaps, a younger version of Shalefall would have turned away. He would have made his way deeper into the pines, lost himself in anger and failure. But this, this older somewhat matured version of himself knew that this wasn’t truly an option. He stood, shaking out his fur. Half of his mind still screamed, asked what in the name of Starclan he thought he was doing.

He bounded. It was an easy thing to catch Ruepaw. She moved slowly, deliberately, a numb robotic sort of movement which he recognized as one he had once embodied himself. It made an ache form in his chest. When he caught her, he didn’t block her. He didn’t call out. These things felt wrong. And a part of him knew that he needed to operate on instinct, not on careful planning. He was careful not to stand too close, to allow their pelts to brush. His ears flicked. He kept his eyes dead ahead. For a while, he simply walked, matching her pace. He wondered if there was a need to say anything at all. But the tension, the disappointment and hostility, that hung in the air insisted that he must. It would persist, grow thicker until neither of them could find their way through. He knew it to be true. Yet there was something comforting about this, this quiet companionship – this instant where neither spoke angry harsh words. He almost snorted – perhaps the only way they would be able to cooperate was through utter silence. It was a sad thought, but a possible reality. Eventually, though, the silence was broken. He spoke quietly, no introduction, no apology. “We’ll meet at sunhigh tomorrow for training.” A quiet assumption, perhaps a promise to do better.

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[mariko]

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Ruepaw stepped over stones and twigs in a robotic motion, not quite looking where she was going. She didn’t want to be around others and yet she did. What she wanted was comfort, clarity, all the things that she didn’t have. So, she continued to tread, her pace slow, her paws heavy. As she passed through the bushes more leaves clung to her fur. Cedarpaw would be ashamed of me, so would Oakpaw and Spiderpaw… she thought. The three she-cats were poised, independent, and knew what they wanted. They weren’t afraid, not like Ruepaw was. They had no troubles and an endless amount of potential—she was limited.

She was vacantly aware of Shalefall’s footfalls behind her. They sounded like stones being tossed into a pond. Even though it was her mentor’s scent, she longed for it to belong to another. Someone who would take care of her, allow her to cry, but no such feline existed. Cedarpaw and Oakpaw were strong individuals, they would look at her and laugh. They would cast her aside, call her weak, and move on. Maybe Spiderpaw… she thought of the long legged apprentice with intense amber eyes. Although confident there was something about her, something that drew Ruepaw to her.

Then Shalefall stepped in line beside her, matching her pace with his. She wanted to run away, sprint into the undergrowth and disappear where no one could find her. Ruepaw didn’t want Shalefall’s pity or his voice. She wanted him to leave her alone. I just want to be alone! her mind screamed but she continued to walk, unhurried through the forest. Her heart beat faster than usual as fear slowly crept its way into her and settled on her chest. There was that pressure again, an inescapable feeling. Why won’t you leave me alone? she wanted to hiss, cry, slash his face to pieces. What was it about the grey tom that caused her to act as so?

“We’ll meet at sun high tomorrow for training.”

The words spoken felt slow, jumbled. Ruepaw tried to wrap her brain around the content. Training. Sun high. Tomorrow. She blinked and nodded, it was a stiff motion. When the camp entrance was in sight her paw steps picked up. The she-cat wanted nothing more than to leave Shalefall and her terrible experience behind. I want nothing more to do with you, she wanted to say but couldn’t open her mouth. She thought about speaking to Froststar but then what sort of feline would she be? Weak. A coward. Needy. the voice in the back of her mind said.

Ruepaw shook her head and trotted into camp, avoiding everyone’s gazes, until she flopped down on her nest. Finally rid of her mentor but his scent still clung to her pelt.






words – 466
tagged – slatefur & flyaway
notes – ---

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