- Jan 23, 2024
- 80
- 15
- 8
// @Pinepaw ⭒ @CRABPAW
The muffled sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter filter through the walls of the medicine den. Cragpaw's ears twitch at the noise, but he doesn't look up from his sister. Pinepaw lies curled in her nest, the moss beneath her stained with old blood. Her remaining eye is closed, her breathing steady. Strong. She’ll be okay. The sharp scent of herbs clings to his nose, making it hard to think about anything else - not that he'd know how to process everything, even without the cloying smell. His sister, half-blinded. His mother, disgraced. Himself, a stranger in his own fur.
Half-ThunderClan. Again, always, the words churn in his head, louder than the feast outside. He'd thought the revelation would feel less surprising by now, but the truth has only grown heavier. He risks a glance at Crabpaw, sitting beside him, and wonders if his brother feels the same weight crushing him. The tricolor tom flexes his claws against the dirt floor, his voice low when he finally breaks the silence. "I don't get it," He mutters, his gaze fixed on Pinepaw's bandaged face. "How can they act like nothing's wrong out there? Like..." He swallows hard, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into his words. "Like anything is worth celebrating right now." His tail flicks sharply behind him, the frustration bubbling up despite his efforts to push it down. "Do they even care what happened? About her? About-“ He stops himself, biting back the rest.
He doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to give voice to the doubt curling in his chest - that maybe the clan doesn't care because Pinepaw isn't all RiverClan. Because he isn't, either. His throat tightens, and he glances at his brother again. "What are we supposed to do now?" He looks back down at his sister as she stirs, clearly awake now.
The muffled sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter filter through the walls of the medicine den. Cragpaw's ears twitch at the noise, but he doesn't look up from his sister. Pinepaw lies curled in her nest, the moss beneath her stained with old blood. Her remaining eye is closed, her breathing steady. Strong. She’ll be okay. The sharp scent of herbs clings to his nose, making it hard to think about anything else - not that he'd know how to process everything, even without the cloying smell. His sister, half-blinded. His mother, disgraced. Himself, a stranger in his own fur.
Half-ThunderClan. Again, always, the words churn in his head, louder than the feast outside. He'd thought the revelation would feel less surprising by now, but the truth has only grown heavier. He risks a glance at Crabpaw, sitting beside him, and wonders if his brother feels the same weight crushing him. The tricolor tom flexes his claws against the dirt floor, his voice low when he finally breaks the silence. "I don't get it," He mutters, his gaze fixed on Pinepaw's bandaged face. "How can they act like nothing's wrong out there? Like..." He swallows hard, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into his words. "Like anything is worth celebrating right now." His tail flicks sharply behind him, the frustration bubbling up despite his efforts to push it down. "Do they even care what happened? About her? About-“ He stops himself, biting back the rest.
He doesn't want to say it. Doesn't want to give voice to the doubt curling in his chest - that maybe the clan doesn't care because Pinepaw isn't all RiverClan. Because he isn't, either. His throat tightens, and he glances at his brother again. "What are we supposed to do now?" He looks back down at his sister as she stirs, clearly awake now.