rhythm of the night | shinepaw

[Flycatcher]

Flycatcher considered him quite well-versed in what it took to train an apprentice. In his time in ThunderClan, Flycatcher had been fortunate to train three apprentices, two of which had graduated to full warriors. All his apprentices had proven to be different in their ways, but Shinepaw was perhaps the most different of the three. Which was not a bad thing, but after growing used to the bold personalities of Roeflame and Burnstorm, Flycatcher was sometimes at a loss with how to handle his current young charge.

After waking Shinepaw up that morning, Flycatcher had encouraged him to get some prey to eat before meeting him at the entrance. Flycatcher waited patiently for his apprentice, and when he spotted the young tom, he flashed a warm smile before gesturing for him to follow. It was only a short trek out of camp and the weather was pleasant this morning; Flycatcher was feeling hopeful for a good training session. After walking for a while, Flycatcher brought them to a halt and turned to look at his apprentice. "Alright Shinepaw today I want to see how your stalking abilities are coming along," Flycatcher explained. They had done a few lessons together but Flycatcher's various injuries since gaining Shinepaw as an apprentice had put him a bit further behind than he would have liked. "I will hide somewhere nearby and it will be up to you to stealthily sneak up on me. If I become aware of your presence we will begin again, understood?" Flycatche watched his apprentice for a moment, waiting to see if he understood what was being asked of him before giving a curt nod. "Good luck, Shinepaw," He mewed, before slinking away to hide.

@Shinebug ​

 

[Shinebug]

When he was woken by Flycatcher, for a moment a still sleep-addled mind had made the silent wish that the warrior would announce that training was cancelled. It was hypocritical, but understandable. Shinepaw was behind, the boy could see it clear as the sun for which he was named. To fix it, the tender soul needed to train. However, any exercise with his mentor risked exposing just how hopeless he was, and incurring the disappointment of someone he desperately wanted to please.

As shackled paws stepped through the forest, Shinepaw couldn’t help but imagine a way to reset. It would be so nice to tell his mentor everything, and if the warrior’s reaction was anything less than ideal, turn back time to before the confession ever occurred. Unfortunately such abilities were relegated to the realm of fiction, and so the only option the idiot could see was to keep living the lie.

And when Flycatcher spoke about the terms of engagement, that’s exactly what Shinepaw did. A mind tuned to social cues could see that the warrior was waiting for some gesture of understanding to come from his apprentice. So, the truth was discarded in favor of pleasing his better as the boy nodded even while silently grimacing.

It was only when Flycatcher left him alone that the smile dropped, with a self-loathing scowl as its replacement. “Okay, calm down, you can do this.” He’d snuck up on prey before, how was this any different? He just had to imagine Flycatcher as a big piece of prey and do as before. “Nothing to worry about.” However, as Shinepaw crouched down and began to sniff the air, he realized the most important difference between Flycatcher and a mouse.

A mouse couldn’t pass judgement.

And like that, the pressure was on. If the scatterbrain slipped up with a mouse, it would just run away. If Shinepaw failed with Flycatcher, the warrior would remember. He could reprimand, report, gossip.

Shinepaw was actually doing alright up until that thought, stalking through the undergrowth somewhat stealthily before a mind occupied with anxiety made him miss a stick that loudly snapped underpaw. The boy didn’t even wait to see if Flycatcher heard it, so dejected that he instead flung himself into failure. “I’m sorry.” He spoke to the forest. “I’ll…I’ll do better next time.”

Another lie. ​

 

[Flycatcher]

From the moment he leaves his apprentice, Flycatcher is fully aware of where he is and what he is doing. Although he had told Shinepaw to catch him unawares, he was more interested in watching what the young tom did. If he should catch a slight whiff of Shinepaw's scent or catch a glimpse of him in the undergrowth he would let it slide, but for a more notable incident he would have pulled Shinepaw up on it.

When a stick breaks nearby, Flycatcher is aware of his presence. It wasn't that loud in truth and didn't intend to get Shinepaw to try again, but it seemed his apprentice had already deemed this attempt a failure. "No need to apologise, Shinepaw," Flycatcher spoke calmly to his apprentice as he stepped out near him. "This is what our training sessions are for. To practice and to make mistakes. My father once told me you've never really learned how to do something properly unless you make a few mistakes along the way."

Flycatcher looked at his apprentice for a long moment. "Let's take a break for a moment before trying again," He mewed. "Are you alright, Shinepaw? You seem a bit distracted today."​

 

[Shinebug]

Sky-blue eyes turned to slits as Flycatcher made his form known, a troubled mind turning over with fuming anger as Shinepaw realized he hadn’t sensed his mentor’s approach. Clearly, the cat was so far behind that any hopes for improvement were practically absurd. Or maybe improvement itself was impossible, and the shaft of sunlight was cursed to stay in the shadows of mediocrity for the rest of his moons.

The idea that these very thoughts were what masked his senses and made Flycatcher appear invisible never even passed through Shinepaw’s skull.

The idea that an apology was pointless was something that struck the anxious tom as odd, and in an instant loose lips were speaking of a stilted worldview. “But I messed up. You told me to do something and I couldn’t do it, why shouldn’t I apologize?” There were other thoughts that almost came out, carefully censored for fear of consequences. Wasn’t Shinepaw just wasting Flycatcher’s time? The apprentice couldn’t imagine his mentor was enjoying this, so the sooner the selfish shaft of sunlight did it right, the sooner they could all move on. “It would be better if I just got it on the first try…” Would be the watered-down version that eventually left his maw in a mumble.

for a few fleeting moments, Shinepaw relished the idea of a break (if only because it meant putting off another inevitable failure), but Flycatcher’s question made the boy wish they would’ve kept working till sundown.

No.

That was the first thought which sprung to mind, a gut instinct that took all of Shinepaw’s strength to suppress and not speak into the world. Like before, the boy would carve them into something more palatable, malformed echoes of the truth.

“I’m fine!”

I’m scared.

“It’s just…some of this is a bit confusing.”

I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I’m a liar.

“I really want to learn, but I’m not doing a good job,”

I’m stupid. I’m useless. I don’t want to be, but I am. I hate who I am.

“but you’re a great teacher, so I hope I can do right by you!”

Please don’t hate me.

Thought and speech kept coming into conflict, spurred by Shinepaw’s fears. The boy wanted to speak the truth, but fear stilted it. Still, after a long moment, Shinepaw was able to bring a single piece of it to his lips. “Um…could I ask a question?” The shaft of sunlight squirmed, seemingly uncomfortable in his own pelt.

“When…What age were you when you figured it all out? When did you stop worrying about the future?” From that question alone as well as how he’d been acting, any cat could glean that Shinepaw’s worry was missing the boat, but the fact that it extended far beyond simple adolescent anxiety would remain a mystery.​

 

[Flycatcher]

He frowns when Shinepaw asks why he shouldn't apologise. As he points out, he had failed to do what Flycatcher asked. He supposes he has made a valid point but Flycatcher does not think it warrants such an apology from Shinepaw.

"What do you find confusing?" Flycatcher asks, inclining his head as she questions his apprentice. Fearing his tone sounded a bit harsh, he chooses to elaborate a bit further. "Tell me what you're struggling with and I'll be happy to help you. You're my apprentice, Shinepaw. I want you to feel comfortable to tell me if I'm doing something wrong or if you need more help with something."

When Shinepaw asks if he could ask a question, Flycatcher nods and then waits for his apprentice to speak. Flycatcher let out a little hum as he considered his question. "I don't think I ever truly stopped," Flycatcher admitted with a nervous chuckle. "It got easier after a while once I accepted some things are out of my control but I don't think I ever stopped worrying. I'm the deputy, a mentor, a mate, and a father. There are many who look to me for guidance and support and many who I, in turn, keep watch over to ensure they or the clan do not come to harm." The blue tom glanced at his apprentice and raised a brow. "What worries you, Shinepaw?" He asks perceptively.​

 

[Shinebug]

When Shinepaw saw Flycatcher frown, for an imperceptible instant the apprentice’s eyes went wide with fear, like sunlight covered by a cloud before returning seconds later. He’d said too much. The deputy’s expression was likely born out of confusion or disagreement with his pupil’s proclamation, but all immature eyes could see was disappointment.

The question and it’s following affirmation were taken as nothing more than honeyed words, not to be trusted. It was courtesy, Shinepaw believed, like asking after the weather. No one really liked doing it, but it was part of the rules of engagement. What would make Flycatcher truly happy was if his apprentice didn’t need any help, and so a squeaky voice parroted this false perception of reality.

Still, Shinepaw couldn’t say he was completely competent when the apprentice had admitted to being confused seconds before. Once again, a small piece of the truth would come out, watered-down to suit the deputy’s perceived desires. “Oh, you haven’t done anything wrong at all! Please, don’t think that.” a statement which should have been reassuring instead had a small portion of panic sprinkled in. “But I am a bit…lost…when it comes to some…hunting stuff? The faster prey is hard to catch…”

It was like pulling his own teeth. Shinepaw felt much more confused than he let on, yet even this small request for his mentor to mentor him felt like the most selfish act in the world. “…And some battle techniques too. Please.” A bow of the head quickly followed, obscuring annoyance aimed inward. had he said the last bit? There was no need. Another admission of incompetence that had forced its way out,. Perhaps the dam had a few cracks.

When Flycatcher responds to his query, Shinepaw hopes for a firm number. Nine moons? Ten? When would it all snap into place? The true answer filled him with both fear and comfort. The idea of living with these anxieties forever terrified the tomcat, but if someone like Flycatcher who seemed so put together still worried, maybe they would become easier to manage with time.

Perhaps that feeling of comfort is why the cat didn’t close up completely at Flycatcher’s question, at ease enough to let a few more words loose (though he had to force them out). “…Stuff.” Even Shinepaw wasn’t satisfied with that answer. A sigh left the shaft of sunlight as he finally sat down. “I…I want to be the best I can be. For my friends, for Thunderclan, for myself. I guess…I guess I worry I’m not living up to that.” There was more he could say. More he wanted to say, but the boy’s filter stopped it from passing through. He already felt like he’d said too much, unduly burdening someone with so much responsibility with his fears. “I’m sorry.” ​