private In A Sweater Poorly Knit [Haze]

[Thrushpaw]

The wounds that had been inflicted upon her during the battle were nothing compared to the shame she felt at losing. It wasn't so much that she believed herself to be invincible, rather that she'd hoped to be more helpful. They'd lost, twice now in her opinion. She rolled onto her side, a marigold poultice on her muzzle where she'd struck rocks. They stung it was true but pain didn't really bother her, those stinging impulses were easy to ignore after the initial shock. That's what she'd discovered at the Sunningrocks.

Following that was an extremely frustrating growing sense of doubt in her leader. It wasn't something she wanted to feel and the girl adamantly refused to acknowledge it. Still it sat, like the poultice on her muzzle or the rocks settled in her gut. In all honesty, she didn't understand why Cicadastar had refused to concede the rocks to ThunderClan. It was true that they didn't really need them and now so many more already injured cats were hurt worse.
She had placed herself among that list of injured and it made her angry.

Thrushfern was slowly starting to release that guilt she'd burdened herself with. In all truthfulness, she should have remained in camp but that aside Cicadastar should never have let this battle happen. Likewise, ThunderClan should've stayed on their own territory.
The what ifs and the blame didn't really matter, she realized. Cats were hurt and the clan that she loved was suffering.
It wouldn't be stretching the truth to say that she was glad Clay had stolen one of Howlingstar's lives.
Finally at last she stood to her paws, stretching them.
She felt so restless couped up in camp. Something had to change.


@Hazepaw

 

[Hazewish]

WAKE UP TO THE SOUND OF YOUR FLEETING HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Following two back-to-back losses, the camp feels filled with ghosts. Cats go about their business with absent eyes, mind lingering on regrets and past failures, discussing the battles in hushed tones. Hazepaw doesn’t really understand it. If they had been meant to win these battles, to keep Sunningrock, surely they would have. No amount of woulda, coulda or shoulda can change the outcome that was set for them, and it’s a little tiring that warriors pretend otherwise.

This strange atmosphere does have one advantage, and it’s that everyone is so distracted that it’s become laughingly easy to sneak out of camp unaccompanied. She’s good at going unnoticed.

Sometimes, though, she does like some accompaniment — just not the kind that comes with a mentor watching over her shoulder. And, seeing Thrushpaw hanging out listlessly in camp, they think this is company they’d like to keep today.

Padding up closer to the brown she-cat, they nose her shoulder to get her attention. The pungent smell of the poultice on her face reaches their nostrils and they wrinkle their nose a bit, wondering if the fish will be put off by it. ”Hurt,” they comment, wondering how bad it is. Surely if she’s out and about it can’t be that bad.

In an undertone, they add, ”Fish?”. They jerk their head towards the camp’s exit, flicking an ear in invitation. They’re not very good at fishing yet, but surely the two of them can figure it out without adult supervision — even with the scent of that poultice.

[⋆]​

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[Thrushpaw]

Thrushpaw startled at the touch of another but quickly smoothed down her pelt. The words spoken by Hazepaw are almost lost on her but she manages to remember what they'd said.
"Yes, during the last battle." She'd confirm, her mew slightly terse, this wasn't exactly something she wanted to speak of. Even moreso as she awaited what would surely be a righteous scolding from their leader.

"I'm not very good at fishing." She'd concede, meeting their gaze at last. Although she supposed it would be irresponsible to allow the younger apprentice to go alone. Besides, she hadn't been told explicitly not to leave camp. Beesong nor Cicadastar had yet to dole out any punishment yet and so she supposed there was no harm in it.

"Yeah, okay." Thrushpaw would exhale at last, giving her muscles a good stretch. Her neck still ached and but the stinging on her face wound had lessened signficantly.

"Do you have a spot you prefer?" In all honesty, her mentor had been absent enough that she'd not gotten much if any training as of yet.
She'd begin moving for the camp exit, waving her tail for the other to lead her.

 

[Hazewish]

WAKE UP TO THE SOUND OF YOUR FLEETING HEART ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thrushpaw says she's not very good at fishing but Hazepaw only shrugs in response. Neither is she. It's not about being good at it, not really.

”Relax,” they say easily.

Wordlessly, they take the lead Thrushpaw offers them and leads the she-cats to their favorite fish-and-thoughts spot. The little clearing among thick cattails and river weeds is tucked away at the bottom of the slope leading up to the beech copse. The river bends in such a way there that it's easy for – say – a wayward apprentice to stay out of sight, and to see a warrior walking down before being seen by them, allowing for a discreet escape. Not that Hazepaw would know: as far as adults know, they've never been around there.

It's a nice, secluded spot, with fish darting in silver streaks under the surface. Hazepaw is in no hurry to make real use of it. She sits near the edge and gazes down thoughtfully, watching the older apprentice's reflection in the glittering water. It's a nice day. They won't trouble it with unwanted questions – yet – but Thrushpaw looks troubled, and they hope she'll share what's on her mind while the two of them paw at the river.

[⋆]​

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