private JUST TO LEARN THAT MY DREAMS AREN'T RARE | sedgepounce

[ROWANPAW]

It is not often that Rowanpaw goes out of their way to interact with moor runners — there was little reason for it, really, as they had separate duties and hunted on different grounds. However, a result of rumination and thoughtful ponderings as of late had inspired Rowanpaw to muster the courage to approach the moor runner in question as he's simply enjoying a meal in camp. Things seem quieter than usual today, perhaps a mere coincidence but it provided an ample environment for a rather weighty conversation to take place.

"Sedgepounce," The tunneler apprentice greets in their usual tone of voided emotion aside from courtesy as they dip their head to the dark and white tom. Rowanpaw takes a seat on their haunches, a request perched upon the edge of their tongue though they momentarily hesitate as they try to gather the words. The chimera does not feel comfortable with making requests of their clanmates, of putting themselves in a position of vulnerability, but they were growing desperate. "I want to ask a favor of you." They state their intention, gauging the warrior's expression for a reaction.

Taking a deep breath, Rowanpaw's lungs inflate in preparation before they exhale steadily and inquire, "Will you tell me who Berrysnap really was?" They had always been told that she was dead, and perhaps that was true, but what Snakehiss had told them before he'd run off had always stuck with them — "Don't make the same mistake your mother did." What had he meant by such a statement? What "mistake" had she made?

Conviction fills their bi-colored gaze, determination hardening upon their features. "I deserve to know. My littermates and I deserve to know. No other cat has ever been truthful with us about her." Rowanpaw explains. Sunstar was occupied with other matters at the moment and, well, they would feel rather awkward approaching Cottonsprig about the subject considering what she'd told them before. The apprentice isn't exactly sure what drew them to Sedgepounce of all cats, but for some reason, they felt that they could trust him to be honest with them.

"Please." She adds.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐃 ✹ . + 　 　˚ 　　　　 · 　 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍

• @SEDGEPOUNCE

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  a tunneler apprentice of windclan, rowanpaw is ten moons and is mentored by swiftshade. they are the child of snakehiss and berrysnap. split directly down the middle, their right half is solid black and their left half is tortoiseshell patterned. they also have amber and blue heterochromia. ✦

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[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Sedgepounce is ignorant to the turmoil clouding Rowanpaw even as they approach. He's distracted by the meadowlark at his paws. Alone, for once—though typically eager to spend time with company most hours of the day, he still appreciates a rare, small meal to himself now and again too. Well, mostly alone. A shadow washes over him as he's nosing through the feathery flank of his lunch, Rowanpaw eclipsing the thin Leaf-fall sun behind her. When he looks up, the mismatched eyes set within her dual-toned face are as blank and impassive as ever.

I want to ask a favor of you. "Mmkay?" Sedgepounce hums curiously. He abandons the half-eaten bird in favor of stretching, preparing himself for some long race across the moor. He's not sure what trouble she could've gotten into, but Sedgepounce remembers going to his siblings for help every now and again when he was younger. Maybe he'd splashed the wrong cat at the sunwarmed pool, or got someone's fur tangled in gorse while out moss-hunting, or accidentally let a spider crawl into the nursery. Not all pranks were destined to succeed—but in the cases that he was really afraid to get in trouble, Beetlenose or Hawkswoop would usually help him out.

Rowanpaw doesn't have any elder siblings. He still isn't sure why she picked him of all cats, but he's confident that whatever nonsense straight-laced Rowanpaw got into will probably be easy to resolve. He's sure Swiftshade won't even notice.

The question that escapes them, though, is worse than any rushed admission of "I think I gave Cricketcry fleas," or even "ThunderClan saw me stealing a mouse over the border." It jolts Sedgepounce from whatever idle wandering his thoughts had taken, and Sedgepounce...stares, for a moment."Oh," he says numbly.

Berrysnap. He takes in a breath and holds it. Rowanpaw looks just like her; but, of course, that's part of their curse. He's never understood why they'd all decided to bury the truth of her. It's a tragedy that their mother is a traitor, but her kittens aren't stupid. Surely they understand that they've never had a mother, that their father was a pariah. Isn't the pretending more cruel?

But Sedgepounce has swallowed his tongue until now, and he's not sure that...he doesn't know if he has the right to break that silence.

Please, Rowanpaw says.

Sedgepounce nods.

"Your mom—Berrysnap was..." he starts. The words are difficult to pick out in the growing storm of his thoughts, memories and regrets all morphing into some writhing beast of long-simmering contempt. "She—" He grimaces, the breath cycling his lungs feeling thin and whittling, fogging the chaotic jumble in his brain. Snakehiss, pushing him to the ground, lauded by his supporters. Snakehiss, becoming deputy, scorning Cottonsprig, confronting him at the river. Berrysnap, cold candleflame eyes and agonizing sneers and abandonment, leaving her children at the border in some final act of fang-cut mercy.

Something in him freezes over. "Berrysnap was a Sootstar loyalist," he says automatically, tone clipped. "She was—she is—a DuskClanner, now. She dropped you and your siblings off at the border when you were too young to remember." It's a truth worth speaking, Sedgepounce thinks. Her parents don't deserve the honor of discretion.
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[ROWANPAW]

"What?" The gasp that squeezes from their lungs is choked in disbelief, bi-colored eyes brightening suddenly as this revelation is thrown onto them. The truth is just as ugly as Rowanpaw could have feared — a Sootstar loyalist, a DuskClanner, a she-cat who had abandoned her children. Sedgepounce does not find any enjoyment in telling Rowanpaw this, they can tell. Now they know why nobody had bothered to tell them earlier. What cat would want to discover that their bloodline is so inconceivably tainted?

"That's-" Impossible! No, it isn't. This isn't true. You're lying. But what reason would he have to lie? Father lied to us. Of course he lied. He was as slippery and slick as his namesake.

Logic and emotion wage a war in their head, a flurry of shock and hurt producing trembling lips and shining eyes, though ultimately reason is declared the winner. Rowanpaw's breaths stabilize, their composure balancing out, though they still cannot bring themselves to meet the warrior's gaze — a subconscious fear that they would discover judgment within it. "So my littermates and I... we're half-clan..." Half DuskClan. Rowanpaw is repulsed. They would rather be born in the muddy swamps, stinking of frog guts and marsh sludge, as opposed to sharing a heritage with utter scum of the earth. "That explains everything." Why Snakehiss had always been so reserved about the topic of their birth mother. Why Gorsepetal wanted nothing to do with them ( on top of the fact that their father had a bad reputation ).

As painful as it was to bear, the truth is now Rowanpaw's to know. They would have to break the news to their littermates now and shatter their realities, too. "I... appreciate you being truthful, Sedgepounce." The chimera murmurs, gaze awkwardly flicking up to meet eyes of amber before dipping their head and turning to slink away.

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐃 ✹ . + 　 　˚ 　　　　 · 　 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍

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  — rowanpaw / ten moons / they/she pronouns
  — windclan tunneler apprentice / mentored by swiftshade
  — snakehiss x berrysnap / littermate to rosepaw, viperpaw, and privetfrost
  — sh black/tortie chimera w/ blue and amber heterochromia, scratches across right eye
  — click for tags

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[SEDGEPOUNCE]

Shock ripples through her. Rowanpaw is usually composed as a marble statue—stony-faced, impassable. Watching the world from behind elegantly carved eyes and a perfectly preserved expression. Smoothed, lime-washed stone flakes away now, and he catches a glimpse of the teary, fearful thing hidden away in there. The childish part of Rowanpaw calcified by her father's betrayal threatens to overtake her, now, at the revelation of her mother's abandonment.

But it's not seeing Rowanpaw break apart which thaws at the icy numbness in his heart—it's watching her try to cobble themself back together.

"We're half-clan." "...Yes," Sedgepounce starts cautiously, a feeling of dread clawing up his throat. Rowanpaw doesn't meet his eye. The marble mask misses some pieces, shifts uneasily out of place. Thriftfeather's voice rings something barely unrecognizable through his ears. "But that's not—"

They cut him off. Distracted, shell-shocked. "I appreciate you being truthful, Sedgepounce."

He doesn't know what to say. Should he shake them by the shoulders, declare that being half-clan doesn't matter! and demand she believe him? It's what he believes. But the Sedgepounce which thought the world capable of reflecting his rose-tinted view is a Sedgepounce long since abandoned.

How could he really say that, anyway? His family's known the moors forever. He's clan-born and meadow-blooded and his ignorance does nothing to change the truth.

With a final glance, Rowanpaw slips away. Sedgepounce watches her go with a feeling akin to regret. "Yeah...no problem," he murmurs to no one.
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