IF I BREAK, COULD I GO ON BREAK \ scorchstreak

[FEATHERSPINE]

Pride and boredom battled in Featherpaw's gut. Most would expect him to rest, after the work he had done to succeed, a wound carved along his back to prove it- but Featherpaw was restless. It was difficult for her to resign herself to rest, knowing that Sootstar still lived, that Sunstride would soon replace her as WindClan's leader, that their home would soon need rebuilding. And thanks to the rogues breaking the dam and forcing them into ShadowClan, he had already fallen behind on his training schedule once... it was difficult to accept that he would not lose vital progress, just sitting here.

As much as Featherpaw let himself be ruled by fear, and the frosty emotions that came with it, he was also a creature of logic. And it would be soundly idiotic to try traipsing around the moors, let along running after a hare, with a spine so precariously held together...

For once, he was glad for his thoughts to be dredged away from himself- but when horned-owl eyes looked toward the door, ever-narrowed, he met a face he had not been expecting. "Scorchstreak," she greeted, voice icy but without overt aggression. "Wolfsong's not here." That was surely what she had come here for, wasn't it?

\ @SCORCHSTREAK !​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ Where Featherpaw’s emotions are frozen over, Scorchstreak’s own have burned wildfire-hot since their return to camp. Seeing her clanmates dead or injured in a battle that could have been avoided, if not for the moorland queen’s silvered tongue, had sparked a blaze that has not yet settled. Scorchstreak herself didn’t participate in the fight to retake camp, preoccupied with her own losing battle, but she’d heard how well Pinkpaw fought. She’s already praised her apprentice for it. And she may not be especially close with Featherpaw, but she is Pinkpaw’s best friend, so of course Scorchstreak has heard of the injuries that the younger cat sustained.

The cold voice that greets her as she enters Wolfsong’s den is expected, but still Scorchstreak’s muzzle twists into a grimace. A freshly-caught hare dangles from her maw, intended to be a delivery and an extended olive branch rolled into one. The hare is deposited nearby Featherpaw’s nest when the dirt-striped tabby speaks up, and the calico flicks an ear at him. "Featherpaw," she greets the apprentice tersely in return, head dipping in greeting. She isn’t certain how she should respond when the younger feline tells her that Wolfsong isn’t in; she doesn’t visit the medicine cat frequently, so the assumption strikes her as odd. Perhaps Featherlaw simply hasn’t caught on to the tunneler subtly checking in on him. "Ah, I didn’t come here for Wolfsong. I thought you might be hungry." She gestures to the hare, as clear an offer as she can give without words. Without waiting for the apprentice to agree, a black paw nudges the hare closer to the nest, and Scorchstreak settles onto her haunches. She’s been caught already, it seems, so she may as well get her questioning over with—because that is what she intends to perform, an interrogation. "Pinkpaw told me about your injury. How are you feeling?"​

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[FEATHERSPINE]

Oh. Not here for Wolfsong, but here for him- Featherpaw blinked silently for a few moments, wondering if Bluepool had put Scorchstreak up to this, or something like that. Or- maybe it was genuine worry, the sort of thing Featherpaw did not often expect to receive from anyone he wasn't related to. I thought you might be hungry.

Slit pupils watched the hare, waiting for a catch of some sort- and when it was clear there wasn't one coming, the chocolate molly split her maw to take a bite from it. "Thanks," she murmured, a little quieter than usual, his voice a wintry whisper. Yellow eyes sliped to glance to the doorway of the den, expecting to see someone else- Pinkpaw, Bluepool, Wolfsong, Sunstride... but there was no one at all. She was lucky, really... a warrior like Scorchstreak, high-status and powerful, showing her kindness in blistering-hot eyes.

Or maybe she was just trying to find out when Featherpaw would be out. Whatever the solution was, Featherpaw's voice lacked the bite it usually carried, simply even and poised. Pinkpaw told me about your injury. "Of course she did," he murmured. "I'll b-b-be here a little longer. Wolfsong says it will scar." The young molly's voice carried within it a strange thickness, like she was speaking past a pebble in her throat. However he sounded, Featherpaw made sure his voice was kept steady. He did not wish to look as if he regretted it.​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ It’s clear to Scorchstreak that the apprentice doesn’t trust the offer at first, or at least scrutinizes it. Scorchstreak is about to roll her eyes and shove it even closer, when Featherpaw takes a bite and murmurs her thanks. She watches the younger cat eat, and catches the instances where she glances toward the den’s entrance as though expecting someone to walk in. Wolfsong, maybe? It would make sense that the apprentice would eagerly await his parent’s return, but Featherpaw doesn’t quite seem the type to eagerly await anyone. She’s likely just surprised that Scorchstreak is here, then—as though the calico could just leave any of her clanmates without food.

As Featherpaw continues speaking, Scorchstreak listens intently. The chocolate-striped molly’s wound certainly looks gnarly, so hearing that it will scar is unsurprising. The tunneler may not bear as many scars as other cats—one of the perks of being light on her paws rather than broad and well-muscled—but she still has a bit of wisdom for the younger WindClanner. "Scars are proof that you were brave, that you lived through a battle that could have killed you." She states it simply, as though it is a fact and not just her own opinion. She would hate for a cat so young as Featherpaw to regret fighting for his clan just because he got a nasty scar the first time he did so. "They’re reminders, sometimes. It’s your choice what they remind you of, though." The scar upon her chest twinges, as it often does, and instead of thinking about Sootstar, she thinks of a different blue-furred molly. She, too, can associate her scars with better things. Better cats.

Anyway. She schools her expression back into something less serious, brows drawing back up from where they’ve been furrowed. "Are you eager to get out of here and back to your training?" Perhaps she and Bluepool could arrange another spar between their apprentices, once both are back in fighting shape.​

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[FEATHERSPINE]

Bravery- Bluepool had said something like that, but it hadn't felt very much like bravery when she'd been so easily toppled, when such a childish wail had wept out of her mouth. Still, Featherpaw slowly nodded- she had better sense to argue with a lead warrior, especially one like Scorchstreak, who was decidedly not her mentor. "It's a reminder that I did what I had to do." he spoke slowly, definitively. If Scorchstreak was right- if she could choose what this scar would remind her of, then it would remind her of her duty. What she had to give to protect what she cared about. She would give it all, if she had to- when she had to. That was what this scar would mean.

Scorchstreak's frown hadn't been bothering Featherpaw much, but she did notice when the older she-cat's face began to soften. Featherpaw made no such effort, wearing the same furrowed face she always bore. He did not need to ponder Scorchstreak's question for very long- it was a simple matter, and every apprentice should have the same one, as far as he was concerned. "Yes, very." Her tail flicked with bubbling anticipation, as if the restlessness she was speaking of was trying to crawl out of her skin. "I can't afford to fall b-b-behind. I've b-been set b-buh... b-back enough." ​

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[SCORCHSTREAK]

༄༄ The apprentice’s response is decisive, as though her mind is made up entirely. It's a reminder that I did what I had to do. It is a concept that the tunneler is familiar with—doing what must be done no matter the risk to herself. Of course, such a code can easily lead to meaningless self-sacrifice, but it is an admirable trait nonetheless. Featherpaw seems to already have the makings of a loyal warrior of his clan, despite still being a relatively young apprentice.

Featherpaw next mentions that he may fall behind, and Scorchstreak’s muzzle tilts into a jagged frown to match his. Her tone is only lightly scolding, however. "You battled against a warrior with much more experience than you. I’m sure that more than makes up for any training time lost while recovering." The tabby-striped molly is already healing from a wound that looks as though it could have split her in two, but she is concerned about potentially being behind in her apprenticeship. Does Featherpaw realize that she isn’t already a warrior? He seems serious as one, unwilling to let himself take a moment to relax without guilt. Or is it the restlessness of a young cat full of energy, but with no way to displace it? "When you and Bluepool are back on track, maybe we can have you spar against Pinkpaw again. I think Bluepool enjoyed watching the two of you last time." She did promise Pinkpaw more time dedicated to battle training, after all.​

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[FEATHERSPINE]

Scorchstreak's reassurance- though thornily voiced- that her missed training was made up for was reluctantly inclined toward. Featherpaw nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but tided over enough, for now. He would rather the conversation moved on from the battle, anyhow. She was rather sick of being congratulated for something that everyone thought she should be proud of, and something shattered within her prevented her from seeing it the way everyone else did. But he could buy it, for a little while.

At the mention of another joint sparring session, Featherpaw's horned ear flickered. There was a winter-sun flash if interest in the depths of her glare. There was a short few heartbeats of silence. "... Yeah. I'd like that." Pinkpaw wouldn't hurt him. Pinkpaw couldn't hurt him- but she didn't want to, either. If he was to spar against someone, it'd be good for it to be someone he trusted not to reopen his spine at a moment's notice. "If you think it'll help her." Pinkpaw needed that training, he was sure enough- she fought well at the battle, but Featherpaw still wasn't sure how she'd wriggle out of something more dangerous, more imposing. Would she even get that she could come to harm?​

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