private a young man bent on a career

The tension would not leave Ravenpaw's body, his back arched and coat fluffed out. With no signs of conflict resolution happening, or motion from either side to back down—the future was not looking very bright for either of them. His tail swished and he hissed, reciprocating Dovepaw's fluffed up stance. The two of them looked like angry flaring betta fish at the moment.

A pained laugh broke from his throat. "You did not insinuate that I willingly refuse to go into the water in RiverClan, where that is the whole manner of life. Oh! Oh! I wish I would have thought of that earlier. Such a genius, Dovepaw, do you want my path now? You have the brains for that. StarClan," He cackled. "Such a brilliant idea."

His will was weak at this point, placed in the same exact position he was in only a moon ago. He knew giving in would make Dovepaw pleased. He simply could not let him have that laugh. But rationality was lost as he gave into his next great vice. Anger coursed through his veins and aimed to pounce on Dovepaw and roll them both over precariously close to the edge where the river met the bounds of camp.


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Bristling up to the most ball-like shape that he could manage, Dovepaw was resisting the urge to his and spit and growl with every passing moment that existed between them. He was furious, if it were not already clear. "W-Well—well, it m-must be pretty hard, s-since you're a g-genius and you can't f-find it out."

"And s-see? All—All y-you c-care about is f-feeling better than other p—" his train of thought was cut short by Ravenpaw's next attack, sending him toppling off his feet and tumbling toward the gorge faster than he could have properly anticipated.

Letting out a growling cry, Dovepaw tried his best to fight back but found himself completely out of his element. "Stop!" He grumbled, immediately losing his footing and beginning to fall. Unfortunately, Ravenpaw was not completely untangled from him, and was likely to be dragged downward alongside him.

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"Not everyone gets the luxury of being born that way." Ravenpaw shot back. He was hurt, even though he knew he had little justification for it. Regardless of how awkwardly and disproportionately they had started off, Dovepaw had remained his closest friend. Ravenpaw even got a little better in his presence, calming his ego and opening up to a hidden side where he could express his uncertainty and fear, which included water, with someone who would not resort to drypaw.

Hearing it from Dovepaw's tongue made it hurt so much more than if any other cat said it.

His thoughts went blank as he tumbled with Dovepaw, a mess of black and tan fur struggling against each other as they rolled closer to the edge. Ravenpaw was unwilling to give up, his paws clumsily pressing against Dovepaw's ribcage and chest. His hind legs scrabbled for purchase and then suddenly they slipped out into open air and his blood ran cold.

Ravenpaw found half of his body dangling off the edge of the gorge. He kicked his legs out, feeling the ground crumble underneath them. He panted, letting go of Dovepaw as he strained to use his upper half to drag the rest of him up. Pupils slitted he looked up at the sky in a wild panic.

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Immediately, he knew that had been too low of a blow, too inconsiderate of a thing to say. But what was he meant to do with that knowledge? Pause the fight and apologize for what he just said, but nothing else of what had come out of his mouth? There was nothing else to do but spin further inward, to burn the bridge and let himself fall into the water with it.

Unfortunately, Dovepaw seemed to have taken his more metaphorical advice a bit too literally, and was consequentially sent tumbling toward a gorge and getting much too close to careening over the edge because of it. Having been the first to catch where they were bound to end up, Dovepaw had stopped actively fighting first to protest. A few swats to Ravenpaw's chest and maw had been made, but they stopped a few paces before the two of them were dangling precariously off the edge. Ravenpaw more so. His chest heaving, he winced as Ravenpaw let go of him.

He was hanging over the gorge, Dovepaw thought as he remained horrifically still. The thought of moving at all terrified him, and he did not for what felt like ages—but was likely much less than that. Maybe not even seconds. His life flashing before him, he was in a daze until the aching pain of reality hit his joints.

The sound of scrambling for a paw-hold and the rush of blood deafening him, Dovepaw grit his teeth and used his greater leverage to pull himself upward. In spite of his terrible panic, his shaky limbs—he made it with relative ease. He had been blessed by StarClan with a greater amount of upper body strength than Ravenpaw in addition to his advantageous position.

Sputtering, Dovepaw stood slack-jawed and stupid for a few moments as he took in what had just happened. And then his instincts kicked back in.

Yelping, he adjusted his footing to properly position himself in front of Ravenpaw. "S—...s-s-stay s-s-still," he managed through hissing, stuttering fragments of words. Trying his best to angle himself properly, Dovepaw craned his body forward, stretching every muscle in his body as he attempted to bite down on Ravenpaw's scruff, pulling him back up onto land.

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Having an entire half of his body dangling over nothing was a terrifying thought. Ravenpaw could not even be prompted to tell afterward what he was thinking in that exact moment. There was only a blank feeling of panic. Ravenpaw would not have thought it was possible to just think of white.

Ravenpaw strained, his shoulders bunching and his hind legs scrabbling at nothing but a few loose pebbles and shards of dirt that lined the edge of the gorge. He had hardly noticed that Dovepaw had fallen halfway with him until the tabby hauled himself up with the precious strands of strength he had. Ravenpaw yelped, the shattering of rocks following Dovepaw's ascent causing him to slip down the vertical slope.

"Do—" He rasped, the syllable barely leaving his throat. Ravenpaw's claws dug in and he tried to push himself up before slipping down even further.

Now it hit him. He was about to die. Ravenpaw whimpered and laid his ears back, using one final push upwards to escape the blood roaring in his ears. Suddenly he felt teeth dig in his scruff and Ravenpaw kicked again. Before he knew it, his entire lanky body was resting on solid ground.

He said nothing, only wheezed for breath as he laid down next to Dovepaw.

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The whimper that teared through Ravenpaw's throat dug a hole directly through Dovepaw's heart, and the idea that he had somehow been responsible for this inspired such terror, such panic, such sadness inside of him that he could not properly articulate how it felt. It inspired him to tug harder and harder, the most power and vigor he had ever put into his hind legs in his entire life. So much so that, when Ravenpaw had made his way back onto land, he was still yanking. Inadvertently letting go of Ravenpaw's scruff, he fell flat on his back, the wind being knocked out of him in an instant until he scrambled back to his feet.

"Are y-you okay," he panted, more of a shout than a question as he heaved and sputtered next to Ravenpaw, checking his scruff for a moment before backing up in order to get a better look at his entire body. In the heat of the moment, all the anger and spit and fury had faded from his face. All the remained in his golden gaze was genuine, distraught worry.

He remained silent until his knees buckled and he awkwardly collapsed onto the ground, letting out a groan.

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The phantom pinpricks of pain dotted his scruff, but Ravenpaw would prove to be unharmed. He breathed in deeply, eyes remaining wide as he gasped for air as a dying fish would. He stretched out his paws, revealing polydactyl toes as he did so, grasping for life. They might brush against Dovepaw's legs—depending on how close he was.

It took several heartbeats for Ravenpaw to return to any sort of semblance of normal. His pelt shuddered down his spine and he slowly raised himself up on his forelegs, ears pinned back. Like his companion, Ravenpaw's face was devoid of that same anger and hatred. Just now he was realizing the deadly consequences of his action.

His head bobbed up and down. Ravenpaw panted. "Are you...?"

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Dovepaw found that Ravenpaw was ultimately unharmed, and quickly gave into the screaming ache in his legs that made him fold inward into a limp mass upon the ground. The fact that Ravenpaw's paws brushed against his legs was probably part of the reason he collapsed so easily and so immediately, letting out a wheezing puff of air that sounded more like a branch in leaf-fall giving way.

His entire body bloomed with the sort of warm coldness that exhaustion and exertion offered, the very idea of standing up the most distant thought in his mind. "I'm..." he sputtered, his eyes wide and woozy. "I'm f-f-fine." A look over his body would confirm that the only real "damage" that had been done outwardly was a mass of mud and dirt plastered into his fur.

"...I hate th-this," Dovepaw whimpered, digging his face into the grown and seeming to choke back tears.

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The reality that both of them had experienced near death was weighing on Ravenpaw. He continued to lay down, not even registering that Dovepaw had collapsed beside him. He was fine though, Ravenpaw could sense. There was only the mental trauma that remained which would be far deeper than any nick or bruise.

Ravenpaw rolled over softly on his side, slowly since he could still feel the tingle of open air under half his body even though he knew he was fully on the ground. Dusk was settling over them, and some of the stars had begun to peek out. Again, his mind wandered, he thought of what could be up there.

Dovepaw's sniffle brought him back to the present. He craned his head to the side to see the tabby shove his nose into the dirt. "... You saved me." Ravenpaw said, heaving himself to his paws. Although the tension still ran strong in his veins, there was more important things to worry about.

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While Ravenpaw turned his contemplation upward, toward the sky, Dovepaw continued to dig his face into the ground. Not even considering what could reign up there; only interested in the present misery. Tears threatened to stain the fur around his eyes, and he was doing all he could to prevent himself from breaking into convulsive, incoherent sobbing. At this point, he did not care about winning or losing. He had already shown that. He was just—frustrated. Terribly frustrated, and at a loss for what to say, what to do.

As the apprentice beside him brought himself to his feet, Dovepaw remained a heap of sniffles on the ground—rendered immobile by the strength of his emotion, or the fragility of his heart.

He did not move his face when he spoke. "...Yeah." His voice, laden with mucus, was neither kind nor harsh. It was exhausted.

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Ravenpaw's weary body rested itself back on his haunches, eyes wide as he took in the mess huddled before him. In that split second he had doubted that Dovepaw would really come in to rescue him. Then he realized what sort of burden that must be on any cat's shoulders—to watch someone die. Ravenpaw drew in a tight breath. No matter what the other thought of each other, they would never hate as much to murder the other.

He was not sure if that was really meant to be comforting.

It was too much now. He was tired, he could tell Dovepaw was tired as well. Too exhausted to keep up bristling and spitting any longer. Ravenpaw let the moment hang between them in silence. The birds began to crow and Ravenpaw still felt entirely alone. Wordlessly, he got up and took a few paces away back to camp, pausing for a moment to look over his shoulder at Dovepaw. The last look he'd get without anger coursing through his blood for a while.

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It was not just the burden of responsibility that would weigh heavy on him had he not intervened—even if he thought that Ravenpaw was a slippery, conniving, swindling excuse for a medicine cat (which he did, he would quip cattily), he would never want him to die. How could he wish such a thing on anyone? Anyone, but especially Ravenpaw. The fact that he knew, deep down, that he still felt like that made his heart hurt. It made all the aches that had come from Ravenpaw's attacks hurt that much more.

Dovepaw did not feel comforted. He wanted to cry. He wanted to leave. In that instant, if his legs had not completely given out from exhaustion, he would have had half a mind to wander out of RiverClan territory and never return. Go back to being a loner, like he technically had been when he was born. Anything. Anything but this, he told his screaming brain.

When Ravenpaw turned to look at Dovepaw, he would not get a gaze in return. Instead, he would see Dovepaw's pathetic, curled up body on the dirt, being slowly racked with choked sobs.

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