private HARD TO BE HUMAN | FERNPAW

[RAVENSONG]

Ravenpaw had come to the acceptance that neither Catfishpaw nor Fernpaw would look the same again. Catfishpaw certainly would have a greater ease in hiding it—if fate designed and his paws were good enough—for the makeshift splint to help her leg heal back in place. Fernpaw must wear his on his face.

By now, Ravenpaw had spent enough time with his old friend that his appearance was becoming just as normal to him as any other cat's. Acceptance. He mulled over the word in his mind. That was the key to placating the mental pain this injury was putting on Fernpaw. Celandine could only do so much. At this point, too, Ravenpaw understood that Fernpaw's injury had healed up to the best it could get. There was just one more thing he had do to before making sure Fernpaw was ready to leave.

"Fernpaw, would you look at me for a moment?" Ravenpaw mewed cooly, approaching the other apprentice's nest with a strained, but confident small smile in greeting. He sat down and raised his paw high into the air. "Follow my paw, with both eyes if you can, as best as you are able. If it hurts, tell me immediately." He moved his paw up and down, then side to side, in a long and slow motion. Ravenpaw would have practiced these exercises regularly with Fernpaw. In the process of it, he doubted the eye would have to be removed like Smokethroat's, but it was fair to assume it would not work as it used to before. Ravenpaw wanted to check in on the progress of Fernpaw's muscles and mobility in that area. If swollen, he hypothesized, he might have to stay longer for a solution to be determined.

"How are you feeling?" Compared to his earlier colder tone, this one was much warmer. In his own way, he cared deeply for Fernpaw.

@FERNPAW

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[FERNGILL]

It was odd, being in the medicine den with Ravenpaw. A friend of his, a moons-lasting one by now... caring for him as a superior would. Because he was, really, wasn't he? With Beesong gone- a loss that still felt jarring every time Fernpaw recalled it- Ravenpaw was their sole healer. And he was a great one, just as Fernpaw had told him before, just as the ginger tom had expected. He had known exactly what to do to mend the consequences of Fernpaw's stupidity, as best he could. By now the fiery tabby had seen the permanent mar upon his face- had noticed a couple of winces when they had seen his injury past the translucent cobweb veil. Ravenpaw did not regard him with that look, though.

He nodded at Ravenpaw's request, matching his friend's fleeting smile of greeting with one of his own. Dutifully the night-pelted tom's instructions were followed- he tracked the movements as best he could, perfectly with the still-healthy eye- and though the iris of the blinded eye moved in tandem, it wandered a little imprecisely, focus only present in its sighted counterpart. It did not hurt anymore, at least. Scab had turned to scar, and verdant brightness had faded a little, surface scratched. He smiled as he completed the test, tail swishing and settling.

His smile grew a little as Ravenpaw asked how he felt, though his attention fell to his paws. "Y'know, not... amazing," he admitted, shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. "But, like- not in pain. Doesn't hurt anymore- I guess I'm just... sad." It felt odd to say it out loud, even though Fernpaw had always been someone who had worn his heart as a bloody badge upon his blazing fur. He fought past the heaviness in his chest to take a breath.​

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[RAVENSONG]

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, Ravenpaw observed as he watched Fernpaw's mismatched eyes follow his waving paw. It was not unusual for his injured one to be slower and less coordinated. When it failed entirely, however, Ravenpaw had to wonder if that would mean to remove it entirely. The permanent bloodied look made him overcautious of Fernpaw's organ being susceptible to infection. Ravenpaw sighed deeply and his paw touched the ground once more.

"You did well." The corner of his lips perked up. "Tomorrow, if everything still looks fine, you can move back to the apprentice's den." It had been so long since Ravenpaw slept among the others. He had forgotten what it felt like. With Beesong gone, and now Fernpaw, he would be much lonelier than before. Catfishpaw would stick around for another moon, but it would still be quiet relatively. "You still ought to stop by at least every week for me to check on it, though." He added hastily.

Ravenpaw's ears relaxed, his facial features softening at Fernpaw's admission. It was unlike the tom he had known before. "That is normal." He sighed. "No plant can cure it. Would you like to talk about it?" He offered, tail curling over his paws.

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[FERNGILL]

The only assessment he had ever passed, and he had to be injured beyond complete repair to achieve it. Had Fernpaw been in higher spirits he might have seen the irony in it, but the approval- even for something like this- refused to settle well in his stomach. A passed test, but back to the apprentice's den he would go. It almost felt like humiliation to walk in there, but... he had plenty of friends still. There, and elsewhere. The optimist that still grinned brightly within him refused to let himself fear that he might be shunned. Though... pity did not sound much better.

Stop by at least every week for me to check on it, though. "I'll come by more often than that just to say hi," he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. It was very close to being that. Ravenpaw was his friend, perhaps one of his closest. Fernpaw could not pinpoint the exact moment his trust had deepened that much, but... he supposed it only mattered that it had.

Incisors dug into his lip. A blink, long and thoughtful, overtook his vision for a moment. He didn't want to burden Ravenpaw with his issues, but... at the same time, it would help to talk a little. Maybe. "Uh... yeah. Thanks," he said, offering the other tom a flickering smile before casting his vision to his fiery paws. "It's just that... y'know. It's no secret I'm not a fast learner." He wouldn't pretend it wasn't obvious. He had been training since he was three moons old, and had still not earned his name. "I'm... worried about if I'll ever... really get there." Where he meant by there was vague, merely implied. ​

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[RAVENSONG]

It was easier now to have no friends, Ravenpaw realized with a start. His eyes widened at Fernpaw's declaration to come more often, surprised. Perhaps that was natural, he thought, his fur laying down flat. When he was constantly surrounded by his peers and Clanmates out in camp, Ravenpaw could feel the effect of loneliness even more. Isolated here, he felt more at ease, and the need for friends was lessening.

"Well, that is kind of you. I should miss your face around here." Ravenpaw mimicked a smile, curling his paw over the dusty earth of the clearing in which the medicine den was tucked into. With Dovepaw estranged, Fernpaw was conversely one of Ravenpaw's closest friends. "Perhaps I will even come out so you can show me how to swim. Hidden up in here and busy," His paw waved. "It is easy to forget we live so close to the river."

It was an uncanny stroke of irony that the apprentices Ravenpaw was closest with happened to be both who failed their assessments and were held back. He cannot imagine how difficult it was for Fernpaw, who watched his sister become a warrior even earlier. "Holding ourselves to these arbitrary standards is unfair." Ravenpaw remarked, concluding that Fernpaw had meant there by his ceremony. "Who knows... Howlingstar or any other of those leaders at the next gathering might say warriors ought to be made at fourteen moons and apprentices at five. They take the life of an average cat and decide on some age to mark adulthood." Ravenpaw blinked slowly. "But you, you are not an average cat, Fernpaw."

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[FERNGILL]

The idea that he would be any good at teaching someone cast his gaze to his paws again, a small sigh stuttering through him with a close-lipped smile. It was a kind thought, but one the ginger tom found almost impossible to believe. He was hardly even a learner- there was little hope in him being a teacher. Guilt crawled beneath his pelt for seeming so unappreciative, but... this peculiar level of complexity about sentiments that should be kind was not going away any time soon, it seemed.

Fiery paws kneaded the plush floor of the medicine den, an idle fidget; though he did all he could to keep his eye upon Ravenpaw, wishing not to come of as cold towards his friend- especially when he was offering this companionship, this comfort. He swallowed away the dryness of his throat. Perhaps the midnight-hued tom was right; the age of twelve moons was simply that, an age- one that could be lessened in importance at any given time. But Fernpaw could not deny that it still meant something to him. Still felt momentous, and still felt as if he had missed a chance. "What am I, then...?" Maybe a strange thing to say, but it fell from Fernpaw's mow before he could think about it very hard. "I just... wouldn't it be nice, to be average? Then at least I'd just be... unremarkable." Instead of a failure, he thought, but did not say.​

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[RAVENSONG]

To ask whom one was is a question Ravenpaw is sure any cat had asked themselves at one point in their life. For Fernpaw, though, it feels different. The truth was, or so Ravenpaw believed, that he could never answer that question for Fernpaw. "You'll know the best." He assured his friend, nodding in his aloof, regal manner. "You are the only one who walks in those paws."

He fell quiet at the next remark, thinking it over. In Clan life especially, there was a sense of how to live one's life. There was a standard, and certain cats were able to live up to it well. Ravenpaw had not reached the pinnacle of pessimism where he would believe that Clan life had quashed any sort of individuality, but he could sense that there was a certain unity. "I don't know." Ravenpaw murmured. "I would not like to be average." He glanced at Fernpaw, again lapsing into silence. He looked into his eyes, one bloodied and disused. He remembered how blue and bulging they had been. You're not unfamiliar to late blooming.

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[FERNGILL]

Fernpaw wished he could give a good answer to something that Ravenpaw assured him he should know- in truth, he had almost wanted the medicine cat to tell him. To let him know exactly what he was, exactly what he should be. Everyone his age had already figured it out by now- or, it seemed like it. He nodded nonetheless, though- because he couldn't say Ravenpaw was wrong. Fernpaw was the only one who really knew exactly what he was- or, had the capability of knowing, eventually. One day, he liked to think that he would know. That he wouldn't have to ask that question.

I would not like to be average. Fernpaw laid his chin on his fiery paws, pupil still angled up at his friend's face. A small sigh left him, though a smile laced his lips in a gentle curve. "You're better than average, though," he remarked, speaking as if it was an undeniable fact. In Fernpaw's mind, it very much was. "Being average would be a downgrade for you." There was no ounce of malice in his voice, no bite of bitterness. To Fernpaw it was just the truth that Ravenpaw surpassed an average cat- there was nothing personal about it, other than perhaps a friendly bias. ​

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