private ARE WE HAVING FUN YET? // cragpaw

[rivuletpaw]

"... I suppose feathers don't just... regrow, huh?"

Rivuletpaw had convinced the tom to follow her. The bulk of their patrol is not far, likely trying to find other nesting materials to soften the bedding of their injured. Embarrassed, Rivuletpaw takes a slow step backwards, fern green gaze tilting back to Cragpaw. "I'm sorry. Mom - Robinheart and I found so many here a few sunrises ago. I thought that..." She trails off. The truth that comes with her admission (and lackthereof) is that she hadn't thought at all. Her hopes started and ended with helping Cragpaw find use in his paws, especially after...

"We can keep looking?" She tries, pressing a reassuring smile onto her features. "You've been an apprentice for longer than I have. Any secret places I should know about?" Rivuletpaw moves to nudge the tom, emboldening his experience in hopes that it will light the fire in his eyes again.

[ @CRAGPAW , rolled a 4 LMAO ]
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[CRAGPAW]

Padding through the frost-brittle reeds, Cragpaw glances around with a hollow look for anything they can use. He claws at the cold, damp ground, hoping to uncover even a scrap of old moss or a stray feather, but finds nothing. The effort feels futile. His paws shake, and he can't even tell if it's from the chill or the maelstrom of emotions gnawing at him.

Half-clan. The word circles his mind like a hawk ready to strike. Every time he shuts his eyes, the revelation crashes down again. His other mother, ThunderClan. His own blood carrying the scent of those they battled at Sunningrocks. Shame, anger, confusion, it's all been tangling in his heart ever since the battle, and now stifling his breath.

It's Rivuletpaw's soft voice that pulls him from the spiral. He meets her green eyes, their concern evident. "It's not your fault, maybe the birds moved on," He murmurs hoarsely. He's surprised it comes out at all, considering the knot in his throat. He shifts, paws kneading the frigid mud as she suggests they keep looking.

"Secret places?" Cragpaw echoes, allowing a bit of a chuckle to leave him. It sounds…empty, not like his usual carefree laughter. But he's trying. The tom swallows and manages a half-hearted smile and shake of his head. "No, but there might be some moss near the willows that the frost hasn't gotten to yet," He suggests, eyes darting to the bank where the trees grow. He doesn't meet his friend's eyes as he turns, paws heavy but at least moving.

// also rolled a 4 LOL
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[rivuletpaw]

He isn't silent, but his demeanor is severely dampened with the atmosphere. Rivuletpaw tries to hold to her cheeriness even when his withered bicolored gaze sweeps over her. The she-cat listens as his voice scrapes out of his throat, his tone forced. He sounds as if he speaks to her, not because he wants to nor enjoys her company, but because he has to. That she is somehow a tether to normalcy in a world shredded by his new knowledge. It hurts, the hollow chuckle that rattles from his chest, but she accepts it and the role in stride.

She would willingly be his tether. She would tie her wrists in a knot of tangled weeds, deep in the rapids, if it meant he did not drift away.

He suggests elsewhere, half heartedly, and she follows with ease. "That's no fun, Cragpaw," she says, and her tone edges teasingly. Rivuletpaw doesn't seek out his gaze, especially since he forces his own to look away. Moss by the willows... she'd check there later. That spot is for cats who don't care for the hunt. Cragpaw and herself - they're more than that! They don't need easy catches. They're RiverClan cats... perhaps not for his ears to hear yet, but she wholeheartedly believes he more than her. Especially in the face of the news.

"I... want to play a game!" she chirps. A few quicker steps and she halts right before him, stalling his gait with her form. "Whoever finds the softest bedding before sundown... skips the next tick duty...!" petty chores that almost any apprentice hates - she hopes that Cragpaw in this moment is like 'almost any apprentice.' "We can go as far as the copse, but no further! And noooo cat tails, those are too easy." She clicks her teeth together in a wide grin, before easing out a quiet plea. "It'll be fun, Cragpaw. I won't tell Ferngill if you don't tell Carawaysong...?" The game suggests pulling from their patrol, after all, and darting into the frostbitten land. Perhaps its too much for him, the rebellion masquerade - but even if he chides her for the suggestion, his rulebound behavior is far better than this emptiness before her.
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[CRAGPAW]

Cragpaw halts when Rivuletpaw steps in front of him, her invitation strangely tempting. The moment she proposes the game, a flicker of his old self stirs within him. But then the weight of everything - his identity crisis, the secret his mother had kept from him, the looming responsibility he always feels - rushes back, suffocating the desire to participate.

He feels the familiar tug to follow the rules, to stay within the lines, to do what's expected of him. It's how he's always been: steadfast, reliable, disciplined. But the emptiness inside him isn't satisfied by the rigid order anymore. Not when everything feels like it's been thrown off balance.

His mismatched eyes narrow slightly as he looks at her, the corner of his mouth twitching in the faintest hint of a smile. "You know," He mews slowly, his voice low, "I don't think Ferngill or Carawaysong would like it if we just…skipped out on our duties like that. And no cat tails? You're really making this harder than it should be."

For a long moment, he stands still, wrestling with himself. He wants to laugh, to take her offer and run with it, to forget the shame that's been sitting on his chest since the battle. But there's still a small, stubborn part of him that clings to the path of duty and rules. Yet, despite the voice in his head warning him to stay on track, he takes a breath, eyes flicking to the ground. "Why not?" He mutters reluctantly, but a hint of warmth softens his tone. "But if we get caught, you're explaining it, not me." He steps past her, not with the same carefree energy he once would have had, but with a new sense of quiet rebellion. As much as he tries to hide it, there's a flicker of excitement behind his stoic expression, the first real spark in days, and his mouth dares to quirk up into a tiny smile. If his perfect mother could break rules, why couldn't he?
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[rivuletpaw]

She sees a remnant of want in his dimming dual-colored eyes. It's there and in a flash, it's gone, caged by obedience and control. Rivuletpaw almost concedes, all too eager to maintain their friendship even despite her childish desires. She supposes not everyone can be wooed by the sense of adventure and freedom... It diminishes him in her eyes, unfortunately, but she notches that against the nearest trunk for another day's exploration.

Before she has the chance to redact her statement, humor reintroduces itself to his tone, his lip quivering with a smile he's trying to tame. He's given her something of a mouselength, and by StarClan, she will stretch it territory wide.

"I didn't think the great Cragpaw would be so afraid of a single rule or condition!" She rebuts, her brows knitting together playfully. She wonders if it's his duty to their mentors that tether him (and briefly wonders, selfishly, if she could remind him of Ferngill's transgression, too; how his uncle had hid the same secret his mother did.) Soon, after a moment of hemming and hawing in his own mind, he agrees. Reluctance is clear in his utterance of 'Why not?' but she takes it in stride nonetheless.

"Easy," she chirps, spinning on her paws and taking the first steps into rebellion, guiding him away from watchful eyes and sharp tongues. "I'm smarter than you'd give me credit for," Rivuletpaw shares with a smirk, finding a path in the wetlands and trotting along as if she knows the lands like the back of her speckled paws.

After a while of walking, she tilts her gaze towards him again (while being mindful to keep her eyes out for any feathers or particularly soft ferns,) "Do you have a favorite place to be, Cragpaw?"
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[CRAGPAW]

He chuffs in amusement and follows after her. The frost nips at his pads, but the motion of walking somewhere a bit faster than they had been keeps the chill at bay. He keeps his mismatched eyes on the ground, scanning for anything that could pass as decent bedding material. Padding alongside Rivuletpaw, Cragpaw lets her chatter fill the quiet. Her energy is contagious, even if his own steps still feel heavier than they should. But the small spark of rebellion lights a fire under him, causing adrenaline to course through his veins.

Her question takes him off guard, and his gaze flickers toward her before quickly looking away. "A favorite place?" He echoes, a bit of a laugh in his voice. For a heartbeat, he doesn't answer, racking his brain for an idea. He never consciously really had a favorite spot to visit, he realizes. Does that make him boring? Unadventurous?

"The riverbank, I guess" He finally says with a shrug. "Ferngill and I go almost every day to swim. And let's face it, I'm pretty great at it, so I guess that's why I like it so much." There is clear humor in his expression as he flashes his friend a cocky grin. "Now I know you must have a favorite place - seems like you know everything about this territory." He watches her, trying to gauge her reaction, unsure if he wants her to press further.
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