SAID THE THIEF, TO THE MOON ; snowpaw

[ThistleBack]

While Thistleback had charged after the apprentice, he had lost the boy’s trail and only just regained it- perhaps an hour or so had passed before he emerged. Drawn by the sounds to scratching, like some sort of giant mole surfacing the ground.

No, Snowpaw’s light grey splotched pelt is well blended by the winter laden land but not enough for the grey eyed predator to miss. The tom pulls through the icy ferns, foggy fumes puffing from his nostrils.

" Quite the runner you are. " Thistleback announces himself, shaking his shoulders and bits of nettle and frost dust from his black coat. " Digging yourself a little rabbit hole, are you? " The warrior pads forward to examine the lines driven into the dirt and upturned snow and soil. " Here. Let me help. " The man’s claws extend and curve, his paws flex as he drives his paws against the dirt. Hopefully the boy would see, he wasn’t trying to drag him back to camp. No, there was much to discuss.
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OOC INFO REF

• — @Snowpaw
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes. ･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[Snowpath]

When Thistleback began to follow him he lost all rationale and panicked, part of him new the steely-eyed tom meant no harm to him but he was running on adrenaline and paranoia buried beneath waves of guilt so the paws thundering behind him only made him run faster, swifter; wedging himself places he knew the larger tom could not so easily keep up with and when he'd finally lost him he collapsed onto the snow with a dry heave, too drained to even cry.
What would tears do him now? Did he even deserve to shed them at all? His life, though it feels otherwise, had not ended as Morningpaw's had and he felt he didn't deserve even the misery of wallowing in his own sorrow.

It had become apparent he couldn't even go back to camp, Deersong had encouraged it and he knew she'd protect him but why start a continuous battle when he could just stay out here. A burrow, some moss, he could get a small warm spot if he put the effort in and he would not have to force his presence on the rest of the clan. They could be at peace, they could mourn and move on...he didn't know what else to do. A cat who did horrible things, hurt those around them, and kept forcing themselves into the lives of others was no better than a monster; and like monsters he would cling to the shadows and hide away from sight as was appropriate. He'd selected this tree for its gnarled roots, easy to work around and made goot support for the hole he was going to dig beneath them-it meant the roof would not collapse on his head without warning.
Tired paws dug slowly, using his claws would make it quicker but he was so afraid to unsheath them again-terrified of their glint still shining red. He'd made a sizeable dent when he heard the voice, fur prickling up around him and teeth showing in a threat until the black and white tom came into view.
Thistleback had not stopped looking for him it seemed.

"...why? Why are you helping me?" He asked in a voice that made it clear he did not think he deserved it.

​

 

[ThistleBack]

" Well, for starters " he begins with a strain on his muzzle as though feigning contemplation. " I do what I want. " his strangled eyes shift back to the soil and dirt and he continues digging. Claws swallowing through the frozen soil. " and, I know what you’re doing. I’ve done it before. " he pauses, looking down to the pale apprentice now.

" what you did. Was an accident. it’s an unforgiveable one. " he layers his tone with a stony grimace, " Only it’s not them who have the forgiveness problem. It’s you. You will never forgive yourself, even after they have " he flicks his paw to the nothing, gesturing to the dark shadow veiled forest. " It will take time. But you need to forgive yourself. " Thistleback gets back to digging.

" I know what you are feeling. How that brain of yours is working right now. I do. " he points a dirty claw at Snowpaw. " Because I know what it’s like to kill. On purpose or not, weighs the same. Feels just as dirty. I was a bit older than you when I did it. So-" he pushes his words out, willing the boy to listen.

" You and I, will set up a small camp . Here. If anyone comes, I’ll send them away. but, you and I Snowpaw. Will have ourselves. A chat. " he pauses, allowing the boy to speak.

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[Snowpath]

He examined his cold, dirtied paws, the way the cracks in his pads had slowly begun to seep red but not enough to be more than just faintly noticed. He'd dug for a while already with his much smaller form, less muscled and defined than Thistleback's and less learned in the process of digging burrows for ones self away from the world. The urge to cry filled his chest again, but he didn't think he deserved to, didn't think a single shed tear should be allowed when the blood he'd spilled could not so easily be wiped up. Snowpaw watched the monochrome tom dig and swallows his protests down, there was no point arguing with the warrior when he'd made himself known, when he voiced himself so plainly and honestly and perhaps-maybe a little: he wanted that reassurance of someone else nearby for now. So Snowpaw nodded slowly, turning to also help in digging until the furrow he'd started had the makings of an almost proper den beneath the gnarled roots that could easily fit just himself without much trouble. Briefly his golden eyes glance up into the dark woods, towards the border he and Roepaw often spoke at in passing, lined alongside ThunderClan's trees. His stomach lurched now everytime he caught the scent.
He really didn't think he deserved to be forgiven, or that he would be, or that he could give it to himself, but Thistleback was wiser than he, smarter...surely he had some better understanding of it? Even if he knew that logically the lump in his throat did not want to yield and he choked out a noise akin to an affirmation to the older tom's bold demands.
"Okay..." A chat. What kind of chat, he didn't know, but it's not like he had much else to do. Time existed as a faint memory now, he had no duties, no responsbilities, he only wanted to be out of the way and ignored for now.

​

 

[ThistleBack]

" Very good "

" not that I mind being an unwelcome presence ", he jokes it’s tinged with a necessary breaker of any sort of ice. Deeply he breathes, giving a few more deep scars to the roots and icy rabbit-like den.

" you’re definitely going to wake up sore but for once, it will be quiet " he evaluates with a tut, snatching his teeth around some snow dusted ferns. Giving them a quick shake after ripping them from the ground. He plants them in the den as one would plant moss but- moss wasn’t as easy to come by in the winter. Most of it was packed into Skyclan camp already.

" The best way, Snowpaw. To begin to deal with this. Is to answer this question, a question. You and I both already know the answer but- you need to say it. You need to hear yourself say it. And you need to hear it asked of you. " he pronounces each word with a deep tone laced with absolute sincerity .

" Did you mean to kill Morningpaw? " he watches the boy’s face, unmoving now and waiting for the kid to process it. No, he didn’t of course, but it was imperative that it was spoken and digested raw.

​

OOC INFO REF

• —
  
  
• 
  
  
  ✧ T H I S T L E B A C K
  thirty-three moons
  — Lead warrior of Skyclan
  — taken by
  Deersong 9.29.22
  — mentoring quillpaw
  — very muscular piebald black and white tom with spiky fur and cold silver-grey eyes.
  — biography･ﾟ✧​
• 
  
  

​

 

[Snowpath]

He watched the tom dig and adjust the little hovel with an alarming expertise, it occurred to Snowpaw then he wasn't as familiar with Thistleback as he thought he was-he once liked to think himself a bit of a know-it-all but the black and white tom had the weathered experience of a cat who had lived outside a clan most his life and knew how to survive. The ferns laid inside the den were brittle but they would keep him off the cold ground that would reach up to desperately leech the warmth right out of his body and he wondered if he would have thought of such a thing himself without the help. No, he didn't think he would-he would've felt the dirt fine on its own, left it at that. Froze to death in his sleep, the thought makes him involunarily shudder even if he worries he would deserve it. His ears flicked in silent thoughtfulness, listening to the lead warrior speak with a cold assertion that did not feel entirely out of place in this frigid weather, but was not as judgemental as he thought it ought to be.
It was the question that sent the blood spinning in his body in an electric dance, that set his ears back flat against his skull.
"No!" The exclaimation came out immediate, perhaps too forceful but the question itself struck him too hard; the wound was still to fresh to pick at so easily.
"I...I didn't...I didn't want to kill anyone..." Had he intended to hurt...? Yes, fully. He would not hide that, he had wanted to put Lightpaw on the ground with a ripped open shoulder for touching his sister, he had wanted the other apprentice to feel pain...but even in his rage he had not wanted this. He had not wanted to send a cat to StarClan so soon, at all, he talked a lot of sharpness and bristled like a rogue but Snowpaw didn't think himself capable to kill so easily. To be like the rogue who dragged Centipedepaw away, to be like Sootstar cutting down Haze...
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