FURY TOO DAMN LATE [ ✦ ] featherpaw

[Bluepool]

She would be lying if she said she did not miss the presence of her apprentice on patrols. Featherpaw had always been a sterner child, more serious than many of his peers and sometimes it could really make him a stick in the mud but regardless, Bluepool found herself wishing that his injuries would just hurry up and heal so that she could bring him back out with her. Stuck in the medicine cats den. Featherpaw is Wofsong's child, but his is not a fate that she would wish on any warrior. The medicine cats den was a curse, a vile diseased place that she would rip apart with her own claws if she could. If it were up to her, the den would be moved somewhere far away from them. The abandoned badgers den, perhaps, where sickness could not touch the rest of the clan. What ails her apprentice though is not illness, it is injury that keeps him marooned on a nest and not racing across the open fields in their home by her side.

"Featherpaw" she calls out as she stands to the entrance of then den. She detests it here, the smell, the feeling of rock swallowing her whole, but she pushes her reservations aside and takes a step into the maw of darkness. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust, and for a moment she just stands there, blinking hard. When finally she can see more than just vague outlines, she sets her sights on a familiar red pelt. "How're you doing kiddo?" She says as she places a shrew in front of the younger cat "You fought well in the battle and you'll have one hell of a story to tell behind that scar" the wound that races across her back makes her feel a slight twinge of guilt. She should have been there to protect her, to ensure something like that hadn't happened to a cat that young. But Featherpaw had proven capable of holding her own.

Bluepool reaches out with one paw and pushes the prey closer, anything to keep her mind off her racing thoughts. "Here, eat."


// @FEATHERPAW

( ✦ ) test my worth in blood

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  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn’t above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

A ravine split his back- any apprentice's mentor would be proud. Featherpaw had prepared himself for the inevitable moment that Bluepool would stride in toward him, set bright eyes upon him, tell him how pleased she was. And in response, what would she say? Everything seemed like a lie. She was not regretful, but neither was she glad.

Here she was, then. Kiddo. The worse sent a bristle of annoyance across his back, but for once Featherpaw didn't say anything, tongue locked behind his fangs. Fangs that had now tasted true battle, that had drawn first blood. Snowy paws kneaded the earth, but she stopped the moment she realised she was doing it, a shrew placed at her feet.

"The story's more about the b-b-buh... b-battle, than the scar." What in hell's name would the story be about? Once, I got flipped on my belly by a slobbering beast of a cat, and I screamed like a kitten until someone called a retreat. It didn't matter that he'd bitten at Nightmareface, that he'd made purchase with his claws and latched onto her filthy form, that he'd batted her away with Pinkpaw's support. It only mattered that the wail that had burst from her was a child's cry. A screech that had no doubt amused her opponent, that had reminded everyone around him that it was his first wound, his first battle, and he was not as steeled as he had wanted to be.

Featherpaw sighed, taking a bite of the meal. He wasn't stupid. It would be good to eat. "Wolfsong says I'll b-b-be here a little while. He doesn't want me to reopen a wound this b-b-buh... this large." Her tone was flat, without bite and without gladness.​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[Bluepool]

Bluepool can see the look that crosses Featherpaw's face. Like a cat who had found something unpleasant in the prey-pile. Bluepool remembers her first fight, how much she had struggled and how bad it had been. She had cried, begged for her life and the cat she had been fighting spit in her face, delivered a sharp kick to her stomach and took the prey that they had been fighting over, leaving a sobbing mess of a child behind. It had been her first lesson on just how cruel this world could be, how stronger cats would take from her if she could not fight back. From then on she vowed to always be the stronger cat, to work tirelessly towards that goal so that no one could ever take something from her again. Not ever. She had hoped the battle had the same effect on her apprentice. "Very true" she begins "But when the younger generation sees the scar and asks about it you can tell them that it was given to you in a battle fought by a brave young apprentice who, despite everything, overcame and defeated her opponent with the help of a friend, helping secure freedom for her clan and driving evil from her home" a dramatized version of the story, sure, but it was not a lie. "There will be other battles, Featherpaw. Your first is not the one that defines who your worth as a warrior and you were very brave for fighting as you did. I'm proud of you." And she was. Featherpaw had put up a good fight, despite how young she was. They still had a long road ahead of them when it came to training but... it was a start.

"That's okay, you've earned the rest. Besides, I can think up a few things we can do training wise that's on the lighter side and doesn't require us to leave camp. Is that something you'd be interested in?" A choice. She would not push if she did not think she could handle it, would not force anything upon her when she had already gone through so much in such a short amount of time.

( ✦ ) test my worth in blood

• 
  
  
• 
  BLUEPOOL WINDCLAN LEAD WARRIOR ; SHE / HER ; SISTER TO SOOTSTAR & MINTSHADE
  

  A small framed moor runner with a blue toned pelt and black stripes. Her tail is cropped and her eyes are golden in color. On her chest, she sports a large 'X' shaped scar.

  ✦ Difficult in battle. A skilled fighter + isn't above using dirty tricks in order to win
  

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

The younger generation- yes, them. Of course. A bunch of faceless cats Featherpaw had never met- they were meant to make her proud. It was a future he would strive to see, at least- if he steeled himself more, if he kept working hard, if he carved himself into something perfect... he would be a strong warrior who would tell stories just like Wolfsong did. That future would not come to her without effort, though. It would not arrive if she was spun into the medicine cat's den for weeks and weeks after every fight.

This would not happen again. "I suppose..." Featherpaw murmured, clear from the frostiness in her tone that she didn't quite buy it. What finally brought a spark into the sallow glare of the young tom was Bluepool's assertion that she was proud of him. For a moment, Featherpaw was intensely still. Frozen. She scanned Bluepool's face for any sign of jest. Proud of him for what? Losing, wailing? For having to rely on someone else?

Maybe it was bravery, or something like that... but Featherpaw didn't feel brave at all. She felt miserable and slighted and restless. He felt only as if he'd done what was required. Brave was not the bare minimum. Her silence was maybe telling, though... for she didn't bat away Bluepool's words. He sat on them, and let them sink into his skin and seep into his blood.

He was glad for the subject to be moved along. Training, something to look forward to, something to keep his mind off everything. "Of c-course it interests me," Featherpaw murmured, voice almost scornful. What, didn't Bluepool know that it would for certain? She should have just told her to do it. He wouldn't have complained. "What can a moor runner p-p-puh... p-puh... even do in camp, though?" It seemed illogical, but- she had to remember Bluepool was many moons her senior, an experienced warrior and a genuinely fierce molly, despite the fact she acted like a butterfly-chasing kit sometimes. ​

✦ penned by pin​