private a young man bent on a career

[RAVENSONG]

"Why are you ignoring me?"

He wasted no time in doing so. A night had passed since Beesong announced Ravenpaw was to take Gloompaw's place as medicine cat apprentice. The first night that Ravenpaw's nest lay cold and torn up into scraps for the next newly-made apprentice to use. Already, apparently, it was not enough. Dovepaw was the first cat he would confront. Unlike Darterwing, he was his peer. Ravenpaw felt more comfortable lashing out at someone who held the same amount of authority as he did. Besides, Darterwing's injury of betrayal was much more reasonable for Ravenpaw to justify. But what slight had he committed against Dovepaw? Fernpaw was fine.

"I do not understand why you're so upset with me. Can't you be happy for me?" Ravenpaw stalked toward Dovepaw near the outskirts of the edge of the camp, wishing he would not continue to ignore him. "This never meant I was going to stop being your friend."

@dovepaw.


​

 

[dovethroat.]

Part of him wanted Ravenpaw to notice, but part of him was also keenly aware of how uncomfortable it would be if he ultimately did. And with how smart Ravenpaw was (tragically, tragically smarter than he by just about every metric), it was only a matter of time before he said something. In spite of that, Dovepaw did think that there would have been a bit longer of a wait between then and now.

Immediately, he froze. He did not answer the first question, because he knew there was nothing he could say that would be a correct response. Anything he could reply with would only make him look worse, and he was determined to not concede that.

Stewing in silence for a few moments too long, Dovepaw did not turn his head to face Ravenpaw. If anything, he looked even further away from him. "C-Certainly means, uh, y-you'll be s-spending less time with... the p-plebeians like me, y-yeah? I didn't get any s-sleep last night." Obviously, he could not reasonably blame that on Ravenpaw. But that wouldn't stop him.

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

Staring at the back of Dovepaw's rump was just as bad as if he wee continuing to ignore him. He knew from the moment Dovepaw let his questions die on the air in silence that this would be just as painful as ripping out teeth. So be it—he figured. Dovepaw was smart enough to know when to pick his battles. Silent and usually unconfident, he surely seemed to be growing an opinion he would defend now.

Dovepaw grabbed the bait, Ravenpaw could tell from his answer. Perhaps there was some truth in it. Ravenpaw's position was certainly situated differently from the path of a warrior, but he figured he was no less restricted as any other apprentice would be. If he had passed an assessment, he would be finished with training for good—but this would only tack another several moons to his apprenticeship.

"So that's it? Need someone to cuddle and keep you warm so you can fall asleep?" Ravenpaw snapped, hurt that Dovepaw would blame a superfluous thing on him. They had never slept so close together. "Clearly, this is not what you are upset about. You are lying."


​

 

[dovethroat.]

He flinched at Ravenpaw's continued insistence for a number of reasons. The most obvious was that a verbal interrogation was never something that was enjoyable to go through, especially for one so nervous and jittery as Dovepaw. He knew that he was not as strong of a speaker as Ravenpaw was, and he knew that a genuine attempt to stand up to him in a battle of minds was going to end terribly for him. It made him disgusted with himself.

The other reason was that it tugged unpleasantly at the founding, selfish belief of Dovepaw's stewing anger at Ravenpaw: that he did not actually care about him. Why would one press so much on a lack of interaction, on a hurt lie—if they did not care? Dovepaw wanted to tell himself it was a matter of ego, but he did not believe that, either.

"W-Well," he stilled his shuddering breath. "You... y-you don't seem t-to like t-telling me m-much, so wh-why should I?"

[⋆]​

​

 

[RAVENSONG]

"What?" He snapped incredulously, losing his temper for a split second as the fur along his spine ruffled and spiked. Ravenpaw's eyes glinted. Turn around. Look at me. He seethed.

"I have told you more about me than any other cat in this Clan!" He grumbled. Although Dovepaw was meek and unconfident in many things, he had somehow caught Ravenpaw's attention as some sort of kindred spirit. There was a loss sense of identity. They were both frustrated with what they had been dealt in life. Dovepaw could be annoying, but Ravenpaw had never seen him bare his teeth in situations unless Ravenpaw provoked them. He was not meek.

"More than Darterwing, more than Fernpaw. I do not ask for secrets in return. I just expected my friend to back me, when half the Clan was so uncertain about this change—What did I do to hurt you?"

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Though he flinched at Ravenpaw's volume rising initially, he found it in himself to keep still, to not move too much. There was no denying to Dovepaw that the instant he showed some genuine moment of weakness, it would be all over for him. The reassurance that Ravenpaw would sympathize with him on a fundamental level had been dashed. There was no way to believe anything he had once thought about Ravenpaw, Dovepaw lied to himself. He was hurting. He was hurting, and he was too immature to deal with it in any better way.

"H-How w-would I kn-know that? All you s-seem to do is, i-is, is—is l-like f-feeling better and s-smarter than m-me," Dovepaw snapped, regretting it instantly but not knowing what else to say. It was not as if he could take it back. A burst of emotion swelling from the dripping regret in his chest, he turned to face Ravenpaw, hunched up and close together. "What about—wh-what about f-feeling like you d-didn't belong here? W-Was that just a lie? To make me l-look traitorous, or s-stupid? Had they a-already told you?"

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Someone outside of himself had to tell Ravenpaw that he might not be the ideal model of the best friend. Of course, this was the cat who believed the reason for his loneliness was due to no fault of his own, but that he was a victim of his environment. He did trust Dovepaw though. Perhaps not at that moment when they looked over his star-bones, but up to now he had gained Ravenpaw's genuine respect.

"How much clearer can I make it?" He retorted. He liked being better and smarter but there was no way he would defend it. He couldn't. Suddenly they were face to face. Ravenpaw wasn't ready for the amount of frustration and anger in Dovepaw's eyes. He hadn't believed it was that bad.

"What are you talking about!" He exclaimed, feeling a hot rush of indignation thrill down his spine. "Of course Beesong spoke to me about it before. You do not have to know who speaks to me and who doesn't. My feelings have always remained the same."

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Somehow, Ravenpaw's answer was even worse than he had been bracing for. Knowing (or, at the very least, being led to believe) that on that night, Ravenpaw had already spoken to Beesong, already secured his spot on the societal ladder of RiverClan—it made his heart blaze in an uncontrollable, sweltering indignation. "A lot!" He seethed, trying to keep his voice steady. He was not aware how much he had already preemptively raised his voice, and grew more uncomfortable the instant after he spoke.

Scoffing, his eyes practically twitched in response. "S-So—so, what? W-Were you laughing at m-me? Thinking I s-sounded stupid, because I can swim, or wh-whatever, and I still hate it here? Is th-that it?" Even he was not exactly sure where he was going with this, what point he was trying to make.

"Then why sh-should I tell y-you anything!" He cried, not at all sounding like he was genuinely asking. "If you... you d-don't have to t-tell me anything, th-then—then why?" Dovepaw's voice had already grown hoarse and weak.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"What would you be hiding?" Ravenpaw retorted, feeling his brain whir and spin with the words Dovepaw was throwing at him. Ravenpaw's thick fur fluffed out instinctively, making himself larger. He suddenly realized that Dovepaw himself did not seem as small as he used to be. "What? Cicadastar take you aside and tell you that you'll be made deputy?" He snorted. "It's different. I would have told you if there was nothing at stake. But there is. And you saw how Darterwing reacted, how every other cat seemed to have some sort of doubt over it."

And then suddenly, he could not handle it and his breath quickened and the words slipped from his tongue, bottled up emotions he had been hiding under a sea of black fur. "Well, I am tired of being doubted. I shouldn't have to strike my non-hostile father in the face to prove myself. But I did. And I am all the better for it. I waited for so long, Dovepaw, to finally have a chance to feel like I belonged. That I had kin here. How is it fair that he was related to the wrong cat? If it were someone related to Smokethroat or Cicadastar, there would not have been such a display. And if my stupid father had joined only a couple moons before, this wouldn't have happened." He hissed. "The RiverClan cats that raised me, that I grew up alongside, they had no sympathy for a cat who was perhaps the least hostile cat at our border in moons. The next day they'll turn on me and call me a minnow-brain for my inability to swim. They've gone mad, well maybe not all of them, maybe just one. You know. You were there. I ran back to you."

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw snorted, obviously and progressively unhappy. "Oh, s-so—so I'm a l-liability, now, too?" He asked, again without any real interesting in being answered. He would have bit down on his tongue and allowed the blood to dribble out onto the pitiful ground beneath him if he were any more angry. "Am I only a-allowed to f-feel anything I pass your th-threshold of being important enough?" Dovepaw pressed, having to consciously restrain himself from taking even one more step forward.

"Well, I love it. At least, y-you know, you seem to think I do," Dovepaw grumbled, his voice lowering into a half-growl as he turned around again. The mention of Ravenpaw's father made Dovepaw's mouth feel as if it had been flooded with bile. "Do you think I know nothing? N-Nothing like th-that? D-Do you th-think I am just—just some—" he cut off that thought with a groan that seemed mixed with a yell.

He spoke again, angry as ever. "Y-You don't even b-believe in StarClan. It's d-disappointing that... th-that your principles are as deep as what is easy f-for you. That m-must be why you attacked your father, when he has done nothing."

The addition of a qualifier was important to him. He was speaking irrationally, out of being hurt—but he needed to be somewhat consistent. He could not deny some reality where he might. But not like how Ravenpaw had.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"Stop twisting this into something it isn't." Ravenpaw growled back, keeping his feet firm in the dirt as Dovepaw slowly approached him. His wide, large ears lay flat against his head and his muscles tensed and stiffened, preparing for some physical altercation. His eyes sought Dovepaw's furious golden ones.

Mention of his wavering disbelief in StarClan caused Ravenpaw to stretch himself up taller in defense. It would be a death sentence to a medicine cat. Nobody else but Dovepaw knew exactly how conflicted he was on the issue. "I want to believe." He growled. "I wish I could stop my brain and become a follower, but it doesn't make sense to me. And maybe it will, when I become a medicine cat. That's what I want, Dovepaw. I want to know that the world makes sense, that our lives make sense. Everything is pointing toward chaos."

He took his own step closer, throat warbling. "My principles are deep. I am giving up my life to heal the Clan. I do not make such a decision lightly. I would serve better in this position. You're just jealous, crying about nothing now."

​

 

[dovethroat.]

His lip practically curled up in response to Ravenpaw. "What is it, th-then? You haven't a-answered a s-single question I've a-asked. None of th-them." Even if that was not entirely true, Dovepaw could not shake the feeling that Ravenpaw was dancing around most of the answers that he was looking for.

Enraged, practically shaking—unable to even see straight, Dovepaw spun back around with fury in his gaze. "N-Nothing makes sense! Do you th-think you're the only one? And—and you're o-one who w-was given a road for it to m-make sense, and you're s-still whining?" He accused immediately, turning the accusation of jealousy and crying about nothing back onto Ravenpaw—the sure sign of a deeply wounded ego. "And—And so what? Wh-What then? When it m-makes sense, what will y-you do? Huh?"

Staring down at the step closer to him, Dovepaw found himself not even in the space to think. No coherent thought raced through his brain without being cut off by the sound of screaming. "S-So deep, I'm s-sure." He snorted, voice cold and throat tight. "It w-will serve you better. Instead of having to attack f—... fathers, I guess you can just let them die instead." His eye twitched.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"It doesn't matter. You will tear them apart anyway." Ravenpaw seethed back. He did not want to give the ticked tabby the pleasure of bowing down to his pointed questions. That would only mean that he had won. Ravenpaw could back away and turn at any point. If Dovepaw were any other cat, he would. But, unfortunately, it was Dovepaw. There was only one option: do not let him get the last laugh.

The tension was addicting. Although he knew arguing and getting angry was bad for the mind, he could not help but feel compelled to kittishly refute Dovepaw on any grounds he could find. His ears had laid so flat against his head that they were practically nonexistent. A warning rumble thundered in his chest as Dovepaw closed the gap. "I'm not whining. You are the ungrateful one."

But it was too late. Dovepaw's words had cut deep, and the final remarks were the last strike that he could no longer handle. The black cat suddenly reared up on his hind legs and lashed out with his front paws sheathed, aiming to pummel them against Dovepaw's face and shoulders.

​

 

[dovethroat.]

The admission of it prompted a growl in Dovepaw's throat. "Because y-you know I'm r-right, you idiot." He spat, his face etched into what looked like it might become a permanent scowl. "Y-You never tell me a-anything, and j-just want me to tell you it all, like—like I'm h-here to entert-tain you, or s-something." His tone grew more and more animated as he took steps closer toward Ravenpaw. At Ravenpaw's slight growl, he found himself incensed. "Then leave!" He cried.

In an instant, though, Ravenpaw was seizing upon him with unsheathed paws, aiming to hit him with all the technique and pettiness of a newborn kit but the strength of a young adult. "S-Stop it!" He hissed, being thoroughly whapped in the face a few times and growing progressively angry with every move Ravenpaw made.

Eventually fed up, Dovepaw let out a loud growl and squared his shoulders, jutting forward in a harsh attempt to push Ravenpaw off of him and onto the ground, on his back.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

How could he not be forced to swat at Dovepaw? The other apprentice was so clearly encroaching on his space, taunting him, cornering him. Anybody else would do the same. That was what Ravenpaw told himself as he continued to bat and pummel against Dovepaw's face, feeling his toes connect with his nose. He moved as if on instinct, unable to stop.

"You stop!" He cried, only hearing Dovepaw's hiss through the roaring of the blood in his ears. "You!"

Before he knew it, his slaps were descending on nothing, swatting through open air. Ravenpaw clumsily attempted to readjust his stance—Dovepaw must have slipped underneath his paws—but suddenly a body collided with his own and Ravenpaw panted out his surprise as he was knocked to the ground with a spitting hiss. The black cat was all spiked up and bristled now, flashing his paws out as a warning in case Dovepaw tried to use his advantage. His plumed tail thrashed against the ground, chest heaving.

"Nothing... you say will make me think I should have told you earlier." ​

 

[dovethroat.]

The childish shouting only continued, Dovepaw letting out a sort of half-choked cry as he somehow managed to connect the side of his upper body with Ravenpaw's chest. Not sure how he had done that, Dovepaw sputtered and slipped as he continued with the momentum of his counterattack, just barely regaining his balance in time to not take a spill of his own. The lighter nature of Dovepaw's pelt made his bristling less immediately obvious, but he was very much sticking up at all ends, just as Ravenpaw was.

"I know," Dovepaw seethed, body shuddering with breaths that were too big for his growing body. "B-Because you're m-mean and terrible and I w-wish I'd n-never met y-you." He spat the words out, his tongue curling in on itself in disgust directed at something or someone. He hated that he did not know what.

Not moving from his new position, Dovepaw brought his shoulders closer together. "I h-hope St—StarC-Clan rejects you."

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"No," Ravenpaw's lip curled. The adrenaline pumping through his veins gave him no time to think over or regret his choice and action. The spark was dying from his eyes, and although he seemed to be ready to pick another fight, reason had won over in his mind, making sure to not call attention to those who might be nearby. He carefully pushed his paws underneath himself, slowly getting into a crouch with one eye trained on Dovepaw warily. His tail lashed against the earth.

"It is because there was no need for you to know. And you can tell yourself anything you want, but I was not lying to you on the rocks. Dig out past your own self-pity to see that." Salvia gathered in his throat and a growl hummed within its depths.

Those last words hurt, and if he was not feeling the ache of his shoulder against the ground, he would have cuffed Dovepaw again for it. Instead he hissed and spat, spiking up his fur and tail. The command was clear without words—get away from me.

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw stood firm, remaining in place. As firm as he could remain, anyway. His entire body convulsed with a mix of exhaustion and panic and fury, culminating in a combination of physical cues that was beginning to look rather worrying. "I—I kn-know, because I'm n-not your f-friend, I w-wasn't ever, and I don't know—I d-don't know why I ever even th-thought I'd get to h-have one, or—" he cut himself off, practically biting down on his tongue as he swallowed down the words, the lump in his throat. "Y-You were. Nothing.... n-n-nothing you say makes s-sense now." He seethed pointlessly.

More of a slave to his heart than Ravenpaw was, Dovepaw seemed unaware or at the very least uncaring of the fact that people could be watching. It isn't like I have some reputation to upkeep, he was trying to defiantly tell himself. "What? Y-You did it t-to them. How c-can you be mad if they do the s-same?" He asked dauntingly, his voice trembling with every syllable.

The growl and the command did not fall on deaf ears, but Dovepaw was not compelled to obey. He grew petulant and angry again. "Hit me a-again, if y-you really want." He spat, not taking a step closer but craning his neck in further toward his former companion.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"Congratulations, then," Ravenpaw seethed. "You lost one. And for what? Pride? Insecurity? You just want a chance to feel bad for yourself. That's all you ever want to do." He jabbed, fur ruffling down his spine as he braced himself for whatever action Dovepaw might take. He was standing too close. He was not moving. Move. Ravenpaw's eyes flashed. Idiot, do you want to be attacked?

It was, of course, a rhetorical thought. The longer Dovepaw insisted on staying in his presence, the more irritable Ravenpaw became. They were still of the same rank, but on different paths. Therefore, he really had no authority to wield over him had he became a warrior.

"I'll see for myself at the Moonstone." He growled, wavering faith, uncertain of what he would find there. It could all be a hoax, a well-guarded secret. Tales from the Great Battle were still fresh in living memory, but Ravenpaw had not experienced it. Howlingstar rose from the dead on Sunningrocks. But Ravenpaw had never seen a spirit.

"So you do want to feel bad for yourself." Ravenpaw taunted, green eyes flickering from Dovepaw's toes to the top of his head.

​

 

[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw growled, narrowing his eyes as he tried his best (and failed) to handle the anger that refused to die within him. "A-And all y-you ever w-want to do is a-avoid responsibility. N-Nothing's ever your f-fault, R-Ravenpaw." He grew even more frustrated than before, the direct attack prompting him to return with as low of a blow as he could think of. "H-How hard is it t-to swim, h-huh? But—but n-no, you can't—you c-can't admit that you m-might be wrong, or—whatever." He hissed, shaking out his head as his fur continued to plume outward.

"I h-hope you don't," he repeated himself, parroting his thoughts from before, going in circles. At this point, he was so filled with rage that any energy that might have been better spent in rational thinking was already used up.

A flash of memory coming back to him from the border, with Ravenpaw's father, came to him in an instant. "I w-want everyone t-to see how terrible y-you are. Hit me. You w-want to." He took a step closer. In that moment, he was just the approximate distance that Selby had been from his son. You've already done it once, he wanted to provoke. How hard could it be to do it again?

[⋆]​

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