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Post by aero ❥ on Jun 28, 2011 23:00:52 GMT -5
{ C } ROWPAW
Was there no release, no escape? Was he doomed for all eternity Stuck in a room of smoke Surrounded by mirrors
Spinning in circles Mind unable to be cleared?
A gentle prod to his side did nothing to awake him.
Did he have to live in fear of his own blood, his own tears
A harder one jabbed at his ribs, muscle undergoing a series of spasms. He was awake now but he dared not open his eyes. He knew what horror he would see.
was there no release, no damn escape?
A single claw traced down his side, digging deeper into his fur as it moved slowly down to his hip. Deeper, deeper until it met skin, and even then it didn't let up. He felt the skin break.
would he ever find a way
The claw still searched for more blood; ripping the wound longer until the pain was too much and his pale, stone green eyes opened. And he cringed, his face contorted into a twisted, tortured scream as nothing but silence filled the musk air. It was dark, but somehow he knew what was in front of him. A faceless, bloated she-cat matted with blood. Against her side a suckling kit, on either side of that kit two other premature fetuses that were long dead and smelled like rotten flesh.
The scene was so grotesque his throat filled with whatever had been in his stomach, and he turned his head away to vomit. Hot, sticky blood pooled around his leg and soaked his black fur. Something brushed his foot - a tail-tip maybe - and he forced himself to glance down his body. The she-cat was leaning over him, where her face was supposed to be only held blackness. No defined nose or eyes. They just didn't exist. Her head was cocked to the side, neck seeming to stretch unnaturally.
He opened his mouth to scream again, but like before nothing but silence could be heard. His heartbeat sped, like thunder he could hear it pounding inside his chest. His eyes watered with tears that couldn't be expressed. Her face, her face, where is her face?
A scratching noise grabbed his attention, so complete it broke the impenetrable silence. It whisked the she-cat from his focus, all he cared about was the scratching. Where is it, where is it? It was hard to see through the haze in this darkness, everything was but a blur. He thought - out of the corner of his pale eye - he had witnessed three kits at play. When he turned to them they had vanished like smoke.
His paws stumbled onward, towards the scratching. Was that...a light? Yes, a faint glow in the distance. He lurched forward, legs so heavy he could barely trot. His paws left scarlet prints, though his leg had stopped bleeding. Closer to the light. So close. He thought he could feel warmth from it, on his face and chest. It was so incredibly beautiful, so pure his eyes narrowed to slits. In it, oh there was something inside! He tried to look, but it was so bright. Too bright. A silhouette formed, from the looks of it a tom. A tom? Father...
Could it be him? Who was him? His muscles stiffened. Anger, confused hatred pulsed through his weary veins. "Who are you?" His voice had resurfaced, sounding desperate and small. "Why did you leave me?" He yowled, reaching a paw out to get closer. Why did you leave me....
The light flared, and seemed to die out in a matter of seconds. No more tom, no more warmth. He felt alone, alone and scared. Now the darkness was all he had and it was cold, oh it was a cold darkness. Nothing in it except hate and fear and distrust. And the she-cat. He could hear her steps, soft but audible. His legs began to shake, tremors gradually strengthening to where he could barely stand. His teeth chattered as his jaw took up the same rhythmic motion.
His spine felt tight, like a chilled hand was squeezing. Twisting. He didn't want to see that bloated, bloody figure. The faceless stranger that plagued him. But, she wasn't a total stranger. Hello mother. Her neck was turned in that awful manner; head low and cocked. She just stood and he stared. He stared until his eyes hurt and he wanted to close them, he wanted to close them so bad but if he did, he couldn't see her. And if he couldn't see her she might be there when he opened them. And that would be worse than staring at her now.
You stupid fur ball! The darkness was shattered, haze clearing. The stranger he knew was his mother backed away, dissolving into nothing more than a nightmare. His eyes blinked open, claws digging into his nest. Clutching to reality. The den was shadowy, but then again so was the entire camp. Two of his den-mates were bickering right outside, that must have been what woke him. His heart was racing, but his breathing was starting to return to normal. "Just a dream." He murmured to himself. Just a nightmare.
Crowpaw hesitated a few more moments before stretching and getting to his paws. The last remnants of his night-time terrors dispersed as he walked out into the center of camp. His breath tasted foul, so a good meal was in order. Maybe squirrel? As he looked over the pile of fresh-kill he even caught sight of a snake. Snake for sure. He grasped it with his abnormally big fangs, carrying it by the neck towards a quiet spot in the nettles. He avoided other clan members, not looking for any conversation yet. It was still morning and he rather spend his breakfast thinking silently of the day to come.
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Post by MiNTY♥ on Jul 10, 2011 14:19:10 GMT -5
Paws struck his back with a digging motion, jerking him from his peaceful sleep and into the real world. Instinctively he rolled away from the paws that battered him and landed flat on his belly, his particularly long claws gripping the nest beneath him. His amber eyes bore into Crowpaw as he flailed around in his nest and a growl rose in Wraithpaw’s throat. Finally letting out a snarl he paused to watch Crowpaw continue to make a fool of himself in his sleeping form, his long black limbs reaching out for something, before turning and slipping out of the apprentices den and into the camp where it was shockingly more peaceful than inside his den. Although, it wasn’t hard with his clan mate flopping around like a fish out of water in here. Stepping gracefully over the scramble of apprentices sharing tongues before him he moved away from the den; away from the noise and disruption.
Silently he watched his clan mates getting into patrols and going out to train. From the excitable apprentice to the grudging warrior, they were all there. Whenever another cat glanced in his direction, wondering why he was not helping out probably, he would stare hard back at them with his cinnamon coloured eyes. They were always being nosy and sticking their noses into business that did not concern them. Why could he not just be the silent white cat that got ignored and sat at the sidelines? Why did he have to be that white cat? The son of that beastly homicidal rogue Shard, and the son of that pretty, white female, who got away. He was peculiar and strange and he didn’t fit into Vertigoclan. Wherever he walked there would be whispers and suspicious glares that would quickly be masked by a friendly but curious smile. He was used to being the outsider.
The worst part was some of them thought he was going to turn out like Shard and murder them all when he became a warrior. Either that or they thought he would leave the clan for the life of a loner. They all questioned his loyalty. The truth was he hated Shard. There was nothing more he hated in the world than his father. He was a forced mistake. If he ever, if he ever met that sick black tom he would not hold back on ripping his face off for what he did to his mother, and him. He couldn’t wait for the day he could finally sink his claws into him and he wouldn’t stop until he had killed that idiot. Maybe then he could relax a little but until then he planned to work as hard as he possibly could until he felt he was good enough to defeat that monster.
Glancing upwards he realised he hadn’t noticed Crowpaw leaving the apprentices den and watched as the black tom hovered over the fresh kill pile, which admittedly wasn’t very fresh. He followed the unknowing apprentice with his eyes as he crossed the camp and hesitated for a moment before getting to his paws and padding over to join his clan mate. He waved his tail in greeting, although it looked a little more as though he was lashing his tail, before sitting down. ”How did you sleep?” He asked with a tiny hint of sarcasm in his tone.
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Post by aero ❥ on Jul 12, 2011 16:32:11 GMT -5
{ C } ROWPAW
Down down down I wake up screaming now Down down down So real these voices in my head
Crowpaw's pale stone eyes flicked up at his approaching den-mate, studying him with a remote vigilance. He raised his chin slightly, abnormal fang tips peeking out from under his top lip. Wraithpaw. He had been in the apprentices' den when I left, The muscular tom recalled, the white of his fur standing out in his drowsy mind. Blinking a few times he returned the greeting with a wave of his own tail, though the gesture quickly went limp as his tail fell back to the ground. He observed as the large apprentice took a seat close to him, immediately striking up conversation.
”How did you sleep?” Crowpaw's ears flicked casually, acknowledging the trace of sarcasm his words held. He took a bite of the snake, first peeling away the scales with his queer teeth. It was a fast chew chew swallow before he replied. "Like a kitten." He retorted, spitting out a tough piece of leathery skin he had missed before. His pale green eyes connected with Wraithpaw's cinnamon stare, undaunted and bemused. "I had a nightmare." He meowed lowly, serious this time. But you already knew that didn't you.
They want me to drown To fall down down down Through the ground ground ground
"It was...bad." He turned his head away, glazed expression crossing his face. The bloated, bloody she-cat entered his thoughts, twisted head and foul stench making him cringe. A beetle anchored itself onto his paw, using the dark fur to drag itself up. The squirming movement jolted him back from the abominable image, causing him to grunt in surprise and shoot to his feet. He shook his paw violently until the tingling faded, shiny black insect soaring into the undergrowth where it proceeded to scramble away. His head jerked back to Wraithpaw, narrowed orbs daring him to judge his abrupt squeamish actions.
Settling back down, his fluffed fur slowly flattened, heart rate rebounding to its normal speed. A headache found it's way smack into the middle of his brain, relentlessly pounding and giving off sharp pains in between. Great. He pushed away his half-eaten meal, gesturing towards it as he spoke. "You want that? I'm not hungry." Where the gnawing hunger had been rested a dull ache, his stomach tight. He could tell what kind of day this was going to be. His breath was no longer grotesque, but his tongue still tasted funny. A drink of water would maybe help.
Down down down
"So," Crowpaw's whiskers twitched, obsidian nose wet. "What's on your list of To-Do's today." In reality he could go without knowing, but maybe it was tantamount with his schedule. (Which consisted of doing absolutely nothing as far as he knew.) Having a friend to sit back and observe with didn't sound half bad, they both were used to being more of the stranger, the one who sat in the shadows by his lonesome to think and watch as someone said the occasional 'hello' only to get a cold stare back.
Crowpaw's new mentor Reflectedrain hadn't taken him out an outstanding amount, but hey that was fine. Let a capable apprentice sit and rot while you go about your daily life. The young tom didn't object (or complain for that matter). He crept out whenever he felt the urge and didn't look back once. He was of age to be made a warrior but no, he wasn't ready. His jaw clenched in agony as his anger literally went straight to his head, headache swelling with more ferocity than his heart. What heart? He often felt cold and numb, he might as well not even remind himself of the organ he didn't know how to consciously use. What heart.
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Post by MiNTY♥ on Jul 12, 2011 17:35:01 GMT -5
I am the light that will stake your crooked heart.
Surprisingly what brought Crowpaw and Wraithpaw to be acquaintances was the fact that both of them were almost outsiders to the rest of the clan; they just weren’t quite the same as the rest of them. Certainly for Wraithpaw he found that when on patrol he was always the one at the back of the patrol, trailing along unnoticed. It even felt like if he slipped away nobody would notice him, so one day he did and he was right because nobody did notice his absence. The fact was nobody cared enough to notice that he was gone or to notice that he was depressed and to have the feeling that nobody cares about you is one of the worst feelings in the world. Ever since his mother left he could probably just leave and nobody would give a second thought to it. Thinking about his mother made him shiver but he would not cry over it. The fact was she probably hadn’t cared much for him either, I mean she cared enough to leave with a tom who left her for another she cat, that was true compassion for you there.
On occasion a part of him wished that he had someone who would tell him that he was doing well or that they valued him as a friend or just something nice to make him feel better. He just wanted to know that he was getting on ok. Just for one moment he wanted to feel loved by someone and important but he was kidding himself because deep down he knew that would never happen. So each day he would drag himself out of his nest and force himself to work harder than the day before just so that he could kill the tom that helped to make his existence. That would be the day that they all wished they had taken notice of quiet little Wraithpaw; the day he killed the most notorious cat that this forest currently knew of. By then it would be too late and none of them would have a chance at friendship with him.
His eyes widened at Crowpaw’s lie. However, it wasn’t long before he admitted the truth. Turning he started into the green eyes that belonged to the tom before him. They said more than the words that came from his mouth and he watched him with indifference. He was only too descriptive when describing his nightmare too. Clearly it had been more than just simply bad, but not being the type of cat you would go to with your problems Wraithpaw sat in silence, no surprises there. His expression remained emotionless as his acquaintance nearly jumped out of his fur. He saw the challenge in his eyes, it was there all right. He could have taken it and it could have resulted in them tearing fur from each other. It would have been good practice but it wasn’t worth the attention from the rest of the camp and he would rather not look deeper into Crowpaw’s issues.
Staring hard at the snake as if it was going to actually start moving again he waited a moment before speaking. ”Not really, but I shouldn’t let it go to waste.” He responded and finished it off with a couple of swift bites, watching those around him as he ate. Wraithpaw hated the feeling that others might be watching his actions and scrutinizing his every move, as he did with them. ”Well if Flamingarrow doesn’t find me then I will be training myself.” He replied to the tom’s question. ”And she usually doesn’t.” He added hesitantly. Admitting out loud that his mentor hadn’t taken much notice of him sounded so much worse when he said it than when he thought it. ”And yourself?” He added with there being little else to say. The art of being able to keep a conversation going was never one he planned to waste his time on mastering when he had hunting and fighting to teach himself.
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Post by aero ❥ on Jul 13, 2011 16:38:25 GMT -5
{ C } ROWPAW
Nothings wrong with determination Nothings wrong with exhilaration But whats so wrong with my frustration Towards the way you treat me
Crowpaw watched him devour the serpent, a kind of biblical image crossing his mind. Wraithpaw, the gallant white god or knight (saint even) in an epic battle against the slithering creature that represented all wrong and chaos. A troubled good against a perpetual evil. This was the end of the timeless fight, foul beast defeated and laying dead on the vile rotten earth. Barren surface blackened by the hate and sin that resided on in. But the wicked will of the fallen evil would not rest, and compelled the victor to taste the bile flesh. In consuming the serpent the hero also consumed it's corruption and vigor, the very essence of what he had slaughtered. And now he was doomed to turn into what he loathed and feared most.
Is there such a difference In my very existence That causes you to hate me
Imaginative story vanishing from his throbbing head, he shrugged his broad shoulders. "As far as I know pretty much the same." So Flamingarrow didn't take apprentices seriously either eh? "Reflectedrain is like that too. He probably just..." His words trailed off. Why mention something that bothered him so much? Oh the hell with it. "Just doesn't want me to be named a warrior or something." He needed a distraction from the moment, and found it easy to disguise any emotion in licking his shoulder. That also dried his moist nose, which had just started to run. His pale stone eyes flicked to the white tom, rumors echoing in his ears.
"He is a bad omen!" ... "Never meant to be born." ... "He wants us all dead you know!" ... "Shard is the father!" ... "You think he'll turn out normal?"
Crowpaw knew how it felt to have others doubt you. To not trust you. Discriminate against you because you were different. The black tom's father was nothing but a flimsy guess and inaudible whispers. The silhouette in his nightmares. It could be a kitty pet for all he knew, but somehow he thought he was clan. Vertigoclan. But who was it? Someone he saw day after day, spoke to even? The thought instantly caused his claws to unsheathe. So much resentment he had towards this cat. Personally he had suspicions it was Jetfang. The tom seemed to care for him enough to call him a friend, maybe he just didn't want to admit Crowpaw was his son?
He wouldn't do that. Or would he? The dark apprentice trusted no one completely. They simply couldn't be relied on. Even capable Wraithpaw may lead to downfall. Refocusing on the situation at hand, Crowpaw lashed his tail. "Maybe we could practice together sometime. You look like the battle type." If he was proved wrong and the other tom said he was more skilled at hunting, that would be a shocker. But the elder apprentice had confidence he was indeed the battle type. Either way, he looked forward to seeing who was more talented.
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Post by MiNTY♥ on Jul 28, 2011 14:52:16 GMT -5
Pointed white ears twitched in recognition to what his peer was saying; although he did disagree with the reason that he came up with for Reflectedrain neglecting him. Since Wraithpaw spent most of his life observing the daily lives of the rest of his clan mates he happened to know exactly what the black tom cats mentor was doing. ”He is too busy trying to get Spellpaw.” He responded coldly. Maybe he was still too young for it but Wraithpaw failed to see the fascination with chasing she-cats. The last thing on his mind right now was getting a mate and so far he hadn’t met any females that he got on particularly well with but that wasn’t surprising since he didn’t get on well with many cats. ”Which is a stupid priority to have.” He added sharply. So far he had nothing against the she-cat but he didn’t like her either.
The thought of having a relationship made him shudder. The first instance of males and females being together he had heard of had not been a good one. That was because it was regarding his mother, Serenewinter, and Shard. It was the story of his forced existence and that gave him very little hope for any sort of relationships in the future. Firstly a lot of the she-cats in Vertigoclan were still suspicious of him being around and secondly from what he knew it appeared painful and troublesome as well as time consuming and of course he had no time to waste, especially with what he had planned for his future. Vertigoclan thought they knew him, but in reality they had no idea.
Noticing the silence that had quickly settled over the two tom cats he turned to look at Crowpaw. It was almost funny how both toms were opposite colours yet in a way they were the same; they were both on the outside. It appeared to him that Crowpaw had become distracted and lost in his thoughts but he quickly came back to reality and spoke to Wraithpaw. Nodding his head he had to agree with his peer. ”Of course I am the battle type.” He boasted, flicking the very tip of his tail from side to side. ”Maybe you can, but that depends how good you are.” Wraithpaw challenged, his eyes flashing with mischief.
With this idea in mind he took time to take in his potential opponent. Glancing over at Crowpaw’s stature, he noticed muscle hidden beneath his pelt which hinted at the fact he would become a formidable warrior one day. Admittedly Wraithpaw was taller than him which did cause a small stirring of satisfaction from within but he felt that maybe Crowpaw would be a good challenge for him. The two had a similar build which made him slightly concerned that he could get beaten but he would never let any cat beat him. He would always win no matter what it took out of him. He simply had to if he wanted to achieve his full potential.
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Post by aero ❥ on Jul 29, 2011 16:34:58 GMT -5
{ C } ROWPAW
Freight train running Through the middle of my head
His head still felt split right open, but his brain managed a slow (Painful.) thought process. ”He is too busy trying to get Spellpaw.” The fact had made itself known before, but somehow he had managed to forget it. Now knowing it again he felt slightly stupid, but more resentment than before. Spellpaw... He had such a short fuse with the black she-cat, she annoyed him and they seemed to argue over everything and anything. Was Reflectedrain's head screwed on backwards? Or was his skull just filled with fluff? How could anyone try to court such a monstrosity? ”Which is a stupid priority to have.” Crowpaw's stone green eyes darted to the white apprentice's face, his own expression disgusted and serious. "Words of wisdom." He agreed, shaking his head to rid the new questions that fluttered around his aching mind.
He didn't really have much experience with she-cats intimately speaking. None had ever tried anything on him, and he had never been a suitor. Not to say there were no she-cats that appealed to him - he just wasn't going to chase them down and was too pessimistic to believe a relationship with one would last. His own outlook on mates was no better than Wraithpaw's, his father had never claimed him and his mother had died giving birth. So encouraging. Deep inside, thinking of the future, maybe he wanted one of those happy endings with a family, but currently he had other concerns and goals that overshadowed that faint whisper of a wish.
Oh oh ohhhhh I'm on fire
”Of course I am the battle type.” The big tom seemed to cheer up, and this brought some of Crowpaw's focus from his drumming cranium to the topic. ”Maybe you can, but that depends how good you are.” The dark tom didn't miss the flash in his companion's eyes, nor how his body language changed slightly. It was all good fun, thinking of battle and practicing with another clan-mate who posed a challenge. Crowpaw wasn't as crazed to win, if he lost that would only make him better. It all depended how you used your wins and defeats that judged who really lost. The sable cat was a good fighter despite what his leader's opinion was. She hadn't seen him personally, but his old mentor had. They had focused on battle training more so than hunting, which hadn't been an issue for Crowpaw in the least. It had built up his strength and brushed up on his agility. He was a fair fighter - fighting otherwise was honorableness and therefore unacceptable. There was something about winning a fair fight that gave more credit to the victor.
Glancing over Wraitpaw again he respected his physic and his drive, and very badly wanted to know who indeed would win. This stupid headache would mess me up... "I'd like to think I'm not half bad." He smirked a bit, confidence in his voice warming the tone. "We should go out one day for sure." He wasn't trying to avoid going out today - well maybe a little - he just knew for a fact he wouldn't fight his best with a pounding head and a sick stomach. The white tom probably would want both of them to be on top of their game anyway. That would be the only way to prove who was truly better. And that is the main goal here, isn't it?
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Post by MiNTY♥ on Jul 31, 2011 11:41:21 GMT -5
one night of the hunter, one day i will get revenge, one night to remember, one day it'll all just end While Crowpaw was shaking his head, Wraithpaw was nodding his head to show approval of his friends comment. He felt cautious of what was beginning to turn into some sort of friendship but that was mostly because he had never had a friendship before. Even just one glance at Crowpaw told him that he was different from the rest of Vertigoclan which comforted him. The last thing he wanted was to be friends with one of those super-loyal and usually optimistic cats. More to the point he didn’t really want to befriend any cat because friendship would take up time that he didn’t have. However, he highly doubted that he and Crowpaw would end up running around after each other and giggling together like kits. Now wouldn’t that be something.
After telling the black tom what his mentor had really been up to he realised that he didn’t really know anything about his own mentor. Since he liked to observe rather than get involved in things he knew a lot of things about a lot of clan mates but never much about his own mentor. He knew she had some weird interactions going on with Jetfang but he didn’t care much for them and they didn’t appear to be too significant. Another thing he knew was that she had experienced interactions with Delirium too, but to what extent he didn’t know. If he had cared that much about his mentors business then he could have asked her but it was probably a load of garbage anyway and so he refrained. Yet something inside was tugging at him to get to know his mentor better, like that was going to happen.
Maw twitching in amusement he looked at Crowpaw over his shoulder. ”Sure you don’t mean not half good?” He teased. Being quite pessimistic he could easily turn any phrase around to make it sound bad but in this case he turned it around to increase his confidence and to belittle the other tom even though Wraithpaw knew a good opponent when he saw one. Crowpaw would be a good sparring buddy for him, just as long as he didn’t take Wraithpaw too seriously most of the time. Even though the white tom was usually seen with a guarded expression he could be fun every now and then but he could get a little bit carried away. Although his new friend didn’t know any of his future plans which he could only guess would change things – not that he was sure if he would tell anyone.
Twitching his ears he became slightly suspicious about what the black tom said next. ”Too scared to fight me today?” He challenged, although something in his tone was also curious and he scolded himself for that. Getting into the personal lives of others was something not recommended if you wanted to stay focused and the more distant he was from his clan the more focused that allowed him to be. He almost said something to take back his first comment but he decided against it. He had never been good with words and if he kept talking he would end up rambling like an idiot and making a worse mess of things. Keeping his jaw clamped tight shut he waited to see how Crowpaw would respond to him.
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Post by aero ❥ on Aug 1, 2011 19:32:30 GMT -5
{ C } ROWPAW
I dreamed I was missing You were so scared But no once else listened Because no one else cared
In the short silence that followed, the dark tom too noticed that their relationship was slowly but surely seeming to change from acquaintances to 'friends'. The word had an empty meaning, since he had so few felines he could relate it to. In fact, (Crowpaw silently counted in his head.) he had one, maybe two. Jetfang was the definite one; he had been there for him since he was first apprenticed. The second candidate, well, never mind. So the mysterious tom was curious as to where life would take them - him and Wraithpaw. Pale stone eyes flicking back to the white tom, he scoffed at his teasing words. ”Sure you don’t mean not half good?” Positive. He almost voiced this, but it would have sounded too snappy. Like he was insecure, and that was not the case at all.
When my time comes Forget the wrong that I've done Help me leave behind some Reasons to be missed
Crowpaw was not insecure, no, but rather undecided. He wasn't sure what he wanted out of life and certainly didn't know how to get it once he did - in fact he wasn't sure if he even knew who he was. He thought he did, but sometimes he felt like the outsider from the inside, too. He knew some things, like that he was addicted to danger, and that he was loyal. Reliable. (Though very modest about this trait.) And he was very trustworthy. He hated seeing chaos caused by some loose-lipped cat slipping something s/he shouldn't have and the entire situation catching fire, the result usually ashes. It was just a shame, scenarios like that. Though, going against this strong belief, he couldn't help but think someone knew who his father was. Why don't they just tell me. If indeed one day he did one day discover someone did - had known who his father was and his whereabouts....I'll kill them.
I can't be who you are I can't be who you are
Possibly it seemed like a too harsh reaction, but if you thought about all the pain, all the restless nights, the seclusion, the suffering he had endured simply because they were keeping a promise, didn't that deserve severe punishment? Didn't he, Crowpaw, deserve fair reconciliation? He typically didn't judge, no, it wasn't his place. Less so was it to play god - but he couldn't help wanting to bury the one that caused him such grief. His expression had become somber, fresh anger and strength flowing through his veins. His stomach ache had vanished, (To return at a later time.) and his headache was no better but no worse.
Searching for the white apprentice's intense pair of eyes, seeking some connection. ”Too scared to fight me today?” The older tom stood, back straight and chest slightly pushed out. His tail lashed. "Of course not," A rare smile revealed his abnormally large incisors, eyes glittering mischievously. "Are you?" It was an obvious dare, an open challenge, an invitation to a friendly confrontation. If Wraithpaw declined the provocation, Crowpaw would not think any less of him. The only reason he himself was so ready to spar was because his deep thoughts had given him some release from his sudden wave of sickness with new energy and anger. He would be perfectly content sitting back down to enjoy more small talk. Though, he had given a fairly strong proposal. Did Wraithpaw even have the ability to decline? He hadn't asked outright, true, but the situation could quickly take that turn.
So, the elder apprentice stood, waiting to see if things would escalate.
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