More than anything, the waiting is getting at Luckypaw, steadily weighing down on him until he feels restless, troubled. Since the time between the announcement, he's had plenty of chances to think over his decision, to play back every little detail, every little shuffle and flick of the tail, and it's all led back to one question - should he have even volunteered to go in the first place? In his better moments, he'll think of it as pragmatic, noble even, to head off into the unknown in search of a cure for his ailing, dying clanmates; at his worst, however, he can hardly stand the thought that he'd condemned himself to such a fate. And it's not an if either, no question of whether or not he'll make it back; no, in his mind there's no room for any uncertainty. If anyone makes it back at all, it surely won't be him - and he had chosen this, had stepped up even before Scorchpaw, stood there alongside Scorchstreak. At this point, there's certainly no taking it back, not after Sootstar herself had affirmed his decision, but part of him wants to crawl to her den, to throw himself at her paws and beg to stay behind. To his credit, he's been able to keep from doing anything drastic thus far by staying busy, out training with Cygnetstare, though now he's been left to his own devices, tucking away in a corner of camp - not quite asleep, but certainly not paying any mind to his surroundings, not after such restless nights fraught with uncertainty.
When a yowl rings out, somewhere outside of camp, he's slow to move, slow to react - slower than he should be, certainly, and slower than he needs to be to make it back in one piece. Clumsily, his limbs unfold from one another, even as he sees cats rushing past him, and finally he's stumbling after them, finding himself in the throngs of the gathering crowd that now stands before Sootstar. He's too close to the others, and his ears flatten in the face of the proximity of all the moving, milling bodies, but any discomfort he might have felt is gone without a trace the moment Sootstar begins to speak. She tells a tale of betrayal, of threats and attempts and dreams and -
None of it really processes, though, not initially - Luckypaw is too focused on her very first exclamation, the first name out of her mouth. "What?" The word leaves hoarsely and unbidden, as though he himself doesn't even realize he's spoken aloud. Badgermoon and Curlewnose had - Badgermoon had-? The more Sootstar speaks, the more incredulous he grows, jaws parted and eyes blown wide at the very prospect. Badgermoon had - how could he - it can't be true, can it? "What?" he repeats again, as though he can't summon up any other words, tongue filling stiff and unwieldy in his maw.
Somewhere along the way, the Badgermoon that had played with him as a kit, that had told him grand tales of the outside world and had visited him in the nursery with whatever scraps of time he could spare, had started to change into Badgermoon, deputy of WindClan busy not just with Clan affairs but with mentoring Scorchpaw, and that had been - well, it had just been. There wasn't anything to do about it, and as his time with his father had grown shorter and shorter, he would freely admit that he'd grown jealous of Scorchpaw, who got to spend so much time with Badgermoon, who got to learn directly from him every day, but now? Now, the very thought of being jealous of his littermate for that made him sick to his stomach, vision clouding over in horror. It can't be true, he thinks, even as his clanmates around him begin to rally, to offer to chase down the "traitors", to do who knows what out there with nobody to bear witness. Suddenly, Luckypaw is feeling unsteady, a tremble running through his frame, and there's no one there to quell it. He thinks of the raid on ShadowClan, the raid on SkyClan, of being pressed against solid and steady black-and-white, and the absence has never felt more apparent than it does in this moment.
Scorchpaw's cries ring out even over the din of the crowd, and his head snaps up, trying to seek her out amongst the throng of other pelts. More than ever, he feels overcrowded, like he has no room to breathe, and as Scorchpaw calls the vision from StarClan into question, he murmurs, "Badgermoon wouldn't - he wouldn't..." Whether it's an attempt to soothe himself or some feeble agreement with his sister, he'll never quite know, not as Bluepaw challenges Scorchpaw, as Scorchstreak admonishes her for her words, and Luckypaw shrinks back into himself, away from the nearest cat that he can't quite make out anymore. Sootstar continues on, directs cats to go after the wayward WindClanners - ex-WindClanners - but he finally just tunes it out, unable to understand anything more in this moment. Was - had everything been a lie, up until now? Had Badgermoon just been waiting, as Sootstar had said, for the perfect opportunity? That couldn't be true though - it just couldn't. All these moons, all the little moments they'd shared - Badgermoon was good. He was a good cat, and couldn't have done that, even as everything around him points to the contrary. Everything except Scorchpaw, of course, but even then it was as though her namesake had been doused, the admittance sounding wrong to his own ears.
Belatedly, as cats begin to disperse out onto the moors, to track down Badgermoon, he realizes that during all of this he hasn't truly conflated the two together - Badgermoon and traitor - yet, or at least, not in his own head. Badgermoon, and traitor. The words dance around in his skull, threaten to press right out of his head, and still it doesn't sound right. Still, Badgermoon wouldn't have done that - attacked Sootstar, tried to take her life and her position. It feels horribly wrong to admit even that, the possibility that he could have done any of that, for the first time, and yet...there doesn't seem to be any question anymore about the former deputy's guilt. Sootstar's words are absolute, surely; they leave no room for dissent, no room for any argument, and even as he finds himself wanting to take up the mantle Scorchpaw had abandoned, to come rushing in to Badgermoon's defense - he finds he can't. Maybe Sootstar had been mistaken, maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding and - and -
Luckypaw is grasping for some sort of alternative explanation now and he knows it; he just doesn't want to believe it, even as the grief begins to sink into his bones. Badgermoon was a good cat - but, was he anymore? It's the only thing he can hold onto, the idea that Badgermoon was real and true and good up until now, when something must have changed that; it's the only thing he can wrap his brain around.
Because, if Badgermoon had been bad this whole time, ever since he and his littermates were only just leaving the nursery, then - what does that say about him? About Scorchpaw, about Scorchstreak? The alternative is too much to bear, that Badgermoon had been scheming behind everyone's backs for moons and moons, had been pretending this whole time; the words 'traitor' and 'Badgermoon' and 'father' and 'mentor' haunt him, the memories of all the happy times they've shared haunt him, until there's nothing left to do but give way. He is Luckypaw, tunneler apprentice of WindClan, brother to Scorchpaw, son to Scorchstreak, and son to a traitor. Even unspoken, it leaves ashes in his mouth, the finality of the statement, the harsh acceptance, and finally, finally, he can't take it anymore. Catching sight of a disappearing flame, he shoulders his way out of the crowd, unperceiving of those around him, only sparing a mournful glance to his mother as he bites his lip to keep it from wobbling and makes for the gorse wall, seeking out Scorchpaw.
// In & out :')
[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]
