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Post by mariko on Apr 4, 2013 23:36:39 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:50px; width: 350px; height: 200px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:40px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-left:5px; padding-right:5px] Ruepaw tipped her muzzle up and watched as the sky was stained red. “That’s the blood of our ancestors who gave their lives so others could live. You must never forget that, Ruekit. That’s why whenever the sun disappears, there is a red residue—it represents the lives they left behind so you and your brothers are free to love, to laugh, to live.” Her mother’s voice was like milk and honey, a tender trill. Shadows padded freely as the day sunk into night. The beautiful apprentice turned her face away from her ancestors and glanced around camp.
Most of her clan mates were gathered around sharing tongues. The fresh kill pile was dwindling as another warrior dragged a rabbit away, to share with his mate. She watched the Shadowclan couple as they took turns eating. However, her eyes eventually drifted to the she-cat. Her pelt was unruly and red, like the sunset, while her eyes glowed golden like the sun itself. Heat pulsed against the inside of her thighs and she turned her attention onto the ground; embarrassment flaring.
Although she was hungry she avoided the fresh kill pile and the couple as she exited camp. It was not common for Ruepaw to live camp alone. Most of the time she was following Cedarpaw or Oakpaw, females whom she deemed strong and independent; females she aspired to be. However, they were nowhere in sight and she was left to her own meanderings.
She watched her shadow pad beside her, growing until it eventually detached from her paws. Ruepaw liked to think that it went off to play with the other shadows, but; she never felt so alone when it left her. The white and ginger apprentice padded further into the pines. The scent of nettles and damp soil filled in nostrils, the ground beneath her was soft due to last night’s rainfall. Birdsong was replaced with the gentle click of a cricket tuning its cry while bats beat their wings from above.
To most, the night was not a safe place. The pines loomed over Ruepaw , like teeth in a gaping mouth. Mud squished between her toes. Yet the apprentice walked on, relishing in the night’s crisp air. “Perhaps I’ll be spirited away,” she thought aloud. It was a fairy tale she had heard one of the elders proclaim. It had to do with felines whose souls had been lost, lost for so long they no longer remembered whom they were. They became creatures of the night, flaking skin stretched over bones. While their goal was to return to Starclan, they ended up stealing others souls’—trapping them for all eternity.
words - 443 tagged - cedarpaw , flyaway notes - here we go!
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flyaway
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Post by flyaway on Apr 5, 2013 16:57:55 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] Cedarpaw was alone. Her shoulders were held stiffly back, a near snarl on her lips. She prowled through the undergrowth, her tail lashing against her legs. She was alone, separated from any semblance of company. Cedarpaw had risen that morning to find her sister gone, the scent in the neighboring nest stale. Upon asking around, she’d learned that Oakpaw had volunteered for the dawn patrol – a patrol Cedarpaw missed. She growled, low, under her breath. Agitation clawed at her stomach, cold and slicing. So many things could happen, did happen every day. Perhaps a hostile patrol, an aggressive loner, poisoned carrion – in short, there were too many ways to die out here. She knew it, Oakpaw knew it, and yet Cedarpaw had stayed behind at camp, missed a possible opportunity to assert her courage. Her claws silently unsheathed, sinking deep into the soft dirt. By the time she’d awoken, straightened everything out, it had been far too late to catch up to the patrol. So she’d slunk out of camp, lurked in the surrounding bushes and trees. She would have liked to lurk in a tree – but she was no Thunderclanner.
She lowered herself to the ground, the stubbed grass raking at her belly. But she didn’t care. She wanted to lose herself in anything, even an enemy that didn’t exist. Her ears flicked, lost in thought. Memories rose unbidden, and certainly undesired. It was just her and Silverclaw. She’d just become an apprentice. She kneaded the ground, her claws sinking in and out, in and out. She’d waited outside the camp, only long enough to see her sister return, no sign of heroics missed. Then she’d set out. She’d determinedly set out into the marsh, away from Oakpaw, away from failed attempts at precious perfection. A part of her tugged, urged her to turn back. But she didn’t, she just kept walking.
She froze, quite suddenly. She’d reached the area of the marsh where the ground began to squelch, sucking at her paws. But on the rancid breeze of the swamp, was another scent. She breathed in deeply, a smile tugging at her lips as he recognized the scent. She still had time to turn away, to vanish into the undergrowth. But the scent, the clumsy paws of Ruepaw, were approaching quickly. Any moment she would burst through the bushes. Cedarpaw had missed her opportunity to flee. Any hope of an afternoon spent alone, mulling over her imperfections and the imperfections of others – had vanished. She sat down, giving her chest a few swift licks. A cold frown settled on her lips, a seriousness behind her hard eyes. Perhaps, if nothing else, she could scare Ruepaw off. Blunt honesty often had that desired effect.
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Post by mariko on Apr 5, 2013 22:28:48 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:50px; width: 350px; height: 200px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:40px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-left:5px; padding-right:5px] Ruepaw felt the shadows grow dense, almost tangible. The breeze whistled through the nettles and pulled on her fur; apprehension bloomed in her chest. Although the spirited away tale was spoken from the tongues of elders, she could not toss the notion out. It clung to her, yanking on her ears and whispering to her heart. Her paw steps quickened until she was propelling herself forward, her strides eating the distance between her and Cedarpaw. ”Cedarpaw!” The white and ginger apprentice skidded to a halt, her paws sliding against the wet soil. A mouse tail more and she would have crashed into her fellow apprentice. She blinked; her dark lashes shadows against her flaming eyes. They were standing close, almost nose to nose. Cedarpaw’s scent, a mixture of moss and soil, washed over Ruepaw. Her limbs felt frozen over, her muscles and joints refusing to move even as she willed them to do so. Her heart throbbed against her chest and longed to lean forward. What would you taste like? The thought snaked its way into her brain, leaving eggs in the dark folds of her subconscious. Ruepaw yanked herself backward, tripping over her own paws and falling in a heap. The mud made her pelt itch. Embarrassment nipped at her cheeks and warmed the tips of her ears. She pulled herself up onto her haunches and began to groom her dirty wet pelt. She’s going to think I’m suffering from mental retardation, Ruepaw thought as she bit into her fur, ripping out a chunk of dried clay. There was nothing more she wanted than to be Cedarpaw. The beautiful feline sitting a fox length from her was perfection—confident, cool, self-assured, and female. She doubted her companion was ever afraid of the dark or believed in such elder’s tales. Nor does she find other females attractive, a low voice in the back of her mind warned. The patched apprentice froze for a moment, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. I’m not attracted to females, she warned herself calmly and continued to groom herself. Once her pelt was free of dirt, she looked back over at Cedarpaw. She felt herself swoon, leaning into the apprentice before she jerked herself back, smiling apologetically. ”So… Cedarpaw…” her words weren’t steady nor buoyant—they were tentative, hushed. ”What are you doing out here so late at night?” Although the moon had not yet risen, the shadows had already begun to play. Crickets and frogs sang while the birds slept. The call of an owl heard in the distance, like a blimp on a screen.
words - 432 tagged - cedarpaw , flyaway notes - here we go!
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flyaway
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Post by flyaway on Apr 6, 2013 17:11:12 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] There was nothing Cedarpaw found more disdainful than immaturity. And while excitable behavior, scampering and wrestling and general amiable kindness was seen as natural for those her age – Cedarpaw abhorred it. She felt it was a waste of time. Each moment spent in aimless pursuits was a moment lost – an opportunity squandered. She liked to think she never wasted a single minute. Though of course this was false. What about time spent sleeping, eating, or walking alone as she was at that very moment? She could have been training, honing her skills. But she ignored this quiet fact. It was easier to be an angry hypocrite. She frowned as Ruepaw came into view, her own name on the other she-cat’s lips. It was laughable really. She barely controlled her body. Her every movement was clumsy, almost unintentional. Cedarpaw stepped neatly out of the way, though Ruepaw managed to skid to a halt. Cedarpaw had no intention of having her fur sullied by careless paws. And she had never been one for physical proximity or affection. She kept to herself – in every sense of the phrase. Her ears flicked back. She wasn’t precisely frowning, but neither did she smile. Instead she held her head high, a brow arching over her cool amber gaze.
“My business is my own.” Her tone was clipped, overly formal. She held herself rigid. It was unnatural, really, to look at her. Everything she did was controlled, carefully calculated. In normal conversation, she should have answered with some form of “oh just on a walk!”. Perhaps she should have even invited her fellow apprentice to join her. They would have chattered on about their nighttime activities. But Cedarpaw was largely oblivious to these social norms. Even though she spent every spare moment in analysis, the subtle cues and requirements of social interaction were lost on her. She came off as surly, aggressive, curt and overly professional. Then again, all these things were quite accurate to who she was. She glanced off, over her shoulder. Somewhere, far behind her, Oakpaw was likely curled in her nest. Her sister had the best place, in the middle where it was warmest. Mallowpaw would be to a side, likely shifting through thorns or brambles or whatever it was that had been slipped into his nest that night. Froststar, blessed perfect Froststar, would be sleeping. And Cedarpaw, she was stuck here – in the company of someone she neither liked nor had reason to seek out. There was nothing useful to be gained from Ruepaw, and that was the prime source of her irritation. This conversation, these lost moments, they served no purpose at all.
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Post by mariko on Apr 7, 2013 1:37:01 GMT -5
[style=text-align:justify; margin-top:50px; width: 350px; height: 200px; overflow:auto; float:left; margin-left:40px;][style=margin-top:-15px; padding-left:5px; padding-right:5px] Envy. It welled up inside her as she looked at Cedarpaw’s poised form. Everything about her screamed of power, of perfection. She was in control of her body, the way she idly moved to the side, the way she held her head higher than others. Ruepaw licked her chest fur, a poor attempt to hide her embarrassment. There was nothing more the she-cat wanted than to please Cedarpaw, to prove to her that she could be of use, of purpose. The patched apprentice was full of potential, but the potential had gone to waste. Her paws were clumsy, her intelligence off kilter. She was born in a shroud of naivety and yet she aspired to be more than she was.
“My business is my own.”
Cedarpaw’s voice was clipped and formal, almost robotic. Ruepaw’s face fell as she realized she had disappointed one of her heroes. Am I not good enough? The thought scurried through her mind, shuffling around like rats behind a wall. The disdain Cedarpaw had for her was evident and it only weighed on her heart. There must be a way I can prove to you… prove myself to you, she reasoned with herself, tipping her head up to look at her fellow apprentice. She was beautiful, beyond any words that could describe her. The moon beams targeted her, making her pelt shine as if it was made from the milky way. Ruepaw found herself leaning into her before she stopped her face a mere mouse length away from Cedarpaw’s. She coughed and rocked back on her heels.
”I can be like you, you know,” Ruepaw suddenly said, her voice cracking in the darkness. She pulled herself together and held herself rigidly, as Cedarpaw did. However, it looked unnatural for Ruepaw to be so controlled, so robotic. She circled her fellow apprentice, keeping her chin up and her paw steps carefully measured, before she cracked a grin, her eyes shining with amusement. ”I think you’re beautiful, by the way.” she said as she slipped onto her back right in front of Cedarpaw. The words, although spoken with confidence, shook up the patched apprentice—as if she regretted saying them. However, she didn’t withdraw the comment. Instead she pawed at Cedarpaw’s chest, barely touching her silken fur.
A smile broke out on her face as she playfully batted at her peer. ”If you were the reincarnation of any ideal, I think you would be perfection,” she said, her eyes still gazing up at Cedarpaw, the loving grin still plastered on her face. ”You’d think most would take the form of a sin—of envy, lust, or something of the kind, but you’re different. You’re much more…” Ruepaw stopped, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. She looked down, her paws dropping to her belly. ”I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and glanced away.
She must think I’m a mouse brain… She could feel her eyes prickle and the same self-hatred she felt during her lesson with Shalefall announced its presence. What’s wrong with me?
words - 504 tagged - cedarpaw , flyaway notes - here we go!
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flyaway
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Post by flyaway on Apr 8, 2013 14:26:39 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] Ruepaw seemed to recognize her shameful display, and attempted to remedy her pathetic appearance. Cedarpaw’s previous irritation was soothed somewhat as Ruepaw dipped her head to give her chest a few swift licks. Her vengeful demeanor relaxed. Ruepaw had managed to smooth her fur, lessening her disrumpled disrespectful appearance. Cedarpaw watched her calmly. There were still clumps of mud in her fur, between her toes. Cedarpaw’s keen eyes landed on each patch of imperfection, her gaze analytical and calculating. She had reached a quiet conclusion. Ruepaw was below average. She was rumpled both in appearance and personality. She had no grasp of dignity, of what it truly took to pursue perfection. And, leading from this analysis, a conclusion was inevitable. Ruepaw was not, and would never be, a threat to Cedarpaw’s achievement of perfection. This meant that there was no need for Cedarpaw to destroy her. Her ears perked as her gaze travelled up and down the other she-cat. In fact, she could take Ruepaw on as a sort of project. Perhaps it would even earn her favor – to be seen befriending a lonely fellow apprentice.
“I can be like you, you know.”
Cedarpaw’s ears perked again. Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed slightly. She stood then, a fluid controlled movement. Each step was calculated, measured. Her ears flicked back. “You could be like me.” She clarified the other apprentice. One did not become a beacon of perfection, a symbol of triumph, in an instant. “Of course, only with proper guidance.” She continued in her clipped tone, scrutinizing every inch of Ruepaw. Such pursuits would require tiresome grooming, retraining one’s self – how they walked, how they spoke, control of every single movement. A part of her doubted whether Ruepaw would be able to accomplish such a thing. But Ruepaw’s next words, complimenting her beauty, soothed her concerns. A flicker of pleasure and satisfaction crossed her features. Cedarpaw’s biggest flaw, ironically one she was blind to, was her pride. And Ruepaw, whether she knew it or not, would only increase her own chances by appealing to Cedarpaw’s ego. Even as Ruepaw approached, batted at her – touched her – Cedarpaw did not react aggressively. Of course, under normal circumstances, such a thing would have been unacceptable. But this, this was different. Each touch came with a compliment – with a truth Cedarpaw had thought all but herself were blind to. She had a destiny, an obvious beautiful destiny.
Her lips curved into the slightest of smiles. She ducked her head, smoothing her chest fur. She didn’t bother to clear her voice. Such actions were repulsive, unappealing in sound and appearance. Her ears flicked back. “Ruepaw,” She let the name slide off of her tongue. “You are unkempt, rude, uncontrolled, careless and immature.” There was no hint of apology, only blunt truth – honesty and professionalism in her clipped tone. She canted her head slightly, her eyes meeting Ruepaw’s evenly. “But I could, in theory, fix your overwhelming flaws.” After all, she would only fix Ruepaw so far – make her acceptable, average at best. She would serve as a good loyalist, a support for when Cedarpaw truly attained her mantle of perfection.
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Post by mariko on Apr 9, 2013 13:46:18 GMT -5
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”You could be like me. Of course, only with proper guidance.”
Ruepaw’s paws stretched toward Cedarpaw but she stopped and let them hang against her stomach. Her ears perked forward, giving the beautiful she-cat her undivided attention as she spoke. Did this mean Cedarpaw was taking her on as an apprentice or sorts? Hope swelled in her chest and she struggled to remain calm. She tried to construct her facial features to appear compose and poised, like her friend always managed to do.
Maybe she can help me become… become someone like her. Just a shadow of her, she thought. There was no way she would ever become so controlled nor hold herself with the regality of a queen. Cedarpaw was the essence of both beauty and perfection, something Ruepaw could only strive (and most likely fail) to be. However, her lessons did not matter as much as the attention she would give her. It was the fact that she was going to pay attention to her, that she was going to accept her for who she was and help her become stronger.
“Ruepaw,”
She liked the way Cedarpaw said her name, like thick honey. Ruepaw pulled herself up off of the ground and stood in front of her new mentor, licking her chest to smooth down her ruffled fur. I can be like you, she thought and rolled her shoulders back, giving Cedarpaw her full attention.
“You are unkempt, rude, uncontrolled, careless and immature. But I could, in theory, fix your overwhelming flaws.”
A smile unfurled on her face. Even though the she-cat was practically insulting her, she felt no such thing. Cedarpaw was right, she was always right. But the best thing was, she was going to attempt to help her—to fix her. She needed that, she needed someone who would be able to straighten her out, show her the true meaning of being a warrioress. ”Thank you, Cedarpaw,” she said and bowed her head, her eyes glimmering with excitement.
Energy pulsed through her veins and she shifted, unable to sit still for long. You’re going to be a much better mentor than Shalefall would ever be, she thought, her face falling slightly. She remembered the way the tom had touched her, had pressed her down to the ground. Ruepaw didn’t want to feel like that, vulnerable and exposed—detached and lifeless. She never wanted to feel that way ever again. Her eyes narrowed as she pictured her mentor and her tail lashed to the side, ruining her precious moments with Cedarpaw.
words - 429 tagged - cedarpaw , flyaway notes - here we go!
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flyaway
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Post by flyaway on Apr 9, 2013 23:05:29 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] There was a certain thrill, an adrenaline rush that coursed through her. For the first time, she was the sole attention. But it was different. She had had Froststar’s undivided attention, but as a mentor to apprentice. There was inequality between them – specifically Cedarpaw wasn’t worthy of Froststar’s respect or adoration. But the roles had been reversed. She could see it, spreading before her. There was plain adoration in Ruepaw’s gaze. The other she-cat hung on her every word, drank up her wisdom. And the realization made her giddy. An excited bubbling began in her stomach. It made her crazy. She thirsted for more. She wanted to assert herself, see others look up at her as Ruepaw now did. She loved the way her words had power, an authority she had never before possessed. Each step of her life had been about impressing someone above her – her mother Silverclaw, Froststar, her fellow warriors, even Oakpaw. Her life had been about her own successes, analyzing those around her for even an inkling of respect or approval. And yet here was Ruepaw, searching her for those very same things. And she had the power. She could refuse Ruepaw those precious feelings, that approval.
Or she could give it. She could make Ruepaw happier than she had ever been in her youthful moons. She could give Ruepaw an easy escape, an escape that had not been provided to her. She could spare Ruepaw the anger and endless disappointment. But this was something Cedarpaw didn’t intend to do. Even in her twisted perception of the world, of her reasons for taking Ruepaw on as a sort of protégé, she understood that praise would do nothing to actually improve Ruepaw’s quality. She was snapped from these thoughts by a bow of Ruepaw’s head, her quiet words of thanks. For the first time, perhaps the first time Ruepaw had ever seen, Cedarpaw’s lips twitched into a full and pleased smile. Her ears flicked, though she did not dip her head back. Those in power did not dip to others. Instead she spoke smoothly, “Don’t doubt my ability to walk away from you.” It was a hollow threat, unneeded really. Ruepaw was perfectly aware of Cedarpaw’s nature. Her gaze flicked to Ruepaw’s lashing tail, the unpleasantness that had spread across her features. Her own pleased smile melted away, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Something I have said has caused you displeasure? Already?” There was a warning in her voice, a distinct sense of some slight or disrespect she was interpreting from Ruepaw’s words.
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Post by mariko on Apr 9, 2013 23:27:48 GMT -5
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“Don’t doubt my ability to walk away from you.”
Ruepaw hadn’t even heard the words, the empty threat that leaked from Cedarpaw’s mouth. She had missed the bright and brilliant smile, the smile that would have melted the she-cat’s heart. All because her mind was too wrapped up in Shalefall, the heathen that claimed to be her mentor, when all he did was cause her pain. And in return, you cause him pain. It is an endless cycle, is it not? she heard the voice in the back of her mind say. She ducked her head, ashamed of her own actions, of her own self-hatred.
.“Something I have said has caused you displeasure? Already?”
The patched ginger and white she-cat blinked and reigned in her focus so that it was on Cedarpaw. The dismay in her features caused Ruepaw’s ears to flatten. She licked her chest and averted her gaze. She hated displeasing her, she hated the way her mentor got into head and stayed there, all she wanted was peace. Was that too much to ask for?
”No,” Ruepaw asked, staring down at her friend’s perfectly cleaned, white paws. ”It’s just… Shalefall…” Embarrassment flared on her cheeks and heated the tips of her ears. The story rushed out from her lips, unable to control herself. She told Cedarpaw about how he pinned her down, how angry he was, how she couldn’t breathe, and how she just shut herself down. The words came out in a breath, fast, uncontrolled—everything that Cedarpaw detested about her—and when she finished, she looked disheveled. ”I’m sorry, Cedarpaw.” Ruepaw said and dipped her head.
The she-cat had no right to spill that sort of information. It was none of her friend’s business and why would she care in the first place? She had a multitude of other things—more important things—to deal with. Ruepaw was a speck, if that, on her radar. She would never be a threat, just a source of an irritation or a goal that would be reached, achieved, and then tossed to the side. It made sense to the she-cat, why else would Cedarpaw take her under her wing? There was no other answer but she hoped, deep down inside, that Cedarpaw was fond of her. Or, even if a piece of her wanted her company, that would be enough for Ruepaw. That would always be enough.
words - 402 tagged - cedarpaw , flyaway notes - sort of all over the place
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flyaway
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Post by flyaway on Apr 10, 2013 15:42:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/gvmt7UI.png); width: 500px; height: 594px;border:1px solid #000000] [style=margin-top: -20px] Cedarpaw hissed, low in her throat, at the mention of Shalefall. Usually, she kept her opinions of others to herself, or at least restricted to fleeting facial expressions. It was rare that she made verbal sounds in relation to her opinions of others. But in the case of Shalefall, well she made an exception. Her eyes narrowed visibly, her jaw tightening. She’d long held nothing but disdain towards the older tom. She’d even felt a twinge of pity, during the ceremony when Ruepaw had had the misfortune of being assigned as his apprentice. She flicked her tail, cutting Ruepaw off sharply. “Do not apologize.” Under normal circumstances she would have lingered much longer on the perceived disrespect. But the mention of Shalefall had entirely wiped the issue from her thoughts. She shook her head, her tail flicking against her legs. She stood, frowning. She knew there was no hope for Ruepaw – where mentors were concerned. It was a rare thing for an apprentice to receive a new mentor – she’d only heard of it in cases of injury, death or pregnancy – or the occasional exile. In other words, if the mentor was capable, he or she was permanent. Her lips twitched into a frown.
Her ears twitched, flicking back against her skull. “You have every right to be angry,” She paused. She drew in a breath. She had to retain control, her blessed veil of perfection. Her eyes flicked closed, then open a moment later. “Shalefall is a uniquely useless, disdainful, pathetic excuse for a Shadowclan warrior.” She unsheathed her claws. They needed the soft earth beneath her, Her lips twitched into a more pensive frown. Eventually she spoke again, shaking her head lightly as she did so. “You have no choice but to be cooperative.” She shrugged. In her mind, the course of training, one’s apprenticeship, was crucial. An apprentice whose training was delayed, who induced conflict, was throwing away every chance at perfection. They didn’t respect the pursuit. Many sacrifices had to be made – friends, family, well-deserved sleep. Cedarpaw couldn’t count the number of potential friendships she had tossed away in favor of her perfection pursuit. Yet she no longer regretted them. She couldn’t afford to. And if Ruepaw had any hope, if she was to be of any use at all, she couldn’t afford to be weak. She couldn’t allow herself to be manipulated, crushed by the smallest of circumstances.
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