private the night will turn to gray ] tigerkit

[HOWLPAW]

Howlpaw sits in the shadow of the camp's perimeter, its amber eyes narrowed and fixed on the bustling activity near the fresh-kill pile. It keeps to itself, tucked neatly beneath a thick patch of brambles, its tail curled tightly around its paws. The soft rustle of wind-blown leaves and distant murmur of voices reach its ears, but it filters them out, focusing on its own steady breathing. This little pocket of solitude feels safe, the brambles' thorny barriers guarding it from unwanted company. The apprentice's gaze sharpens as it watches a few kits tumbling over one another near the nursery. It almost looks fun, the way their squeals of laughter echo around the camp—but Howlpaw can't bring itself to join, even if it wanted to. It clenches its teeth and shifts slightly, the dry earth beneath it cool against its fur. It hates how loud they are, how unguarded. No one seems to care what dangers might be hiding beyond the camp walls, just out of sight. It turns its attention to a small beetle crawling across a patch of sunlit grass in front of it. The tiny creature scuttles along obliviously, and Howlpaw watches it intently, tracing its movements with an almost predatory stillness. A paw darts out suddenly, pinning the beetle down. The apprentice tilts its head, studying the way its legs scramble uselessly against the ground. For a moment, Howlpaw debates letting it go—then presses harder, ending its struggle. The finality of it leaves a faint sense of unease in its chest, but it shakes it off. It's just a bug.

The fresh scent of prey wafts by as a warrior passes, carrying a squirrel toward the elders' den. Howlpaw's ears twitch, but it doesn't move or acknowledge the cat. It hates the way some of them glance at it when they think it's not looking, pity mingling with irritation in their eyes. Troublemaker. That's what they whisper when they think it can't hear. Its claws flex instinctively, digging into the dirt. Let them talk. Howlpaw doesn't need their approval. Its gaze drifts toward the camp entrance, where the patrols filter in and out, their pelts brushing as they pass. For a brief moment, Howlpaw imagines itself out there, beyond the bramble barrier, running under the open sky where no one can judge or corner it. It's a fleeting thought, but one that lingers like a phantom, tugging at its restless paws. With a quiet sigh, it tucks itself deeper into the brambles, retreating further from the noise of camp. Nothing is holding its attention to day, not enough to distract it from the thoughts that race through its head.

@TIGERKIT​

 

[TIGERPAW]

Howlpaw seems to do this a lot... sitting around camp and looking upset. Even when he was a kit, he did that. Tigerkit understands not liking kitten games. No matter how hard she tried to like them, her siblings were always too noisy and too mean, so she stopped playing them... but even then, she'd stay with her siblings when they weren't playing. Or she'd try to find Racconstripe, or she'd find her friend Thrashpaw... Tigerkit hung out with Howlpaw's brother more than he did, she's pretty sure... The thought made her kind of happy.

Even if Howlpaw was scarier than Thrashpaw, it made sense if they were friends too, right? And... And Thrashkit said he might bite mean cats for her. Maybe Howlpaw would too? Or... Or at the very least, she hopes he won't be the mean cat she needs defending from. It just makes sense really... And wouldn't people be super impressed if she was friends with someone who seems too scary-looking for friends? Tigerkit's always been nice to him... She's just gotta keep doing that, she thinks...

It's really gross and cold, but she goes to it anyways. It shows that she cares, that way. Tigerkit offers it a small smile. Maybe it would be bigger if it didn't have bug blood on its paw... And maybe if he didn't say scary stuff too, or nip at her sisters... " Hi, Howlpaw, " she greets. That was the polite thing to say. She sits across from him, and really hopes he wouldn't shoo her away... " Are you lonely? "​

 

[HOWLPAW]

Howlpaw's amber eyes flick upward, narrowing as they land on Tigerkit. The tiny voice cuts through its thoughts, sharp and unwelcome, like a thorn snagging its fur. It doesn't speak immediately, its gaze dropping to the dirty paw resting against the dirt. It clenches its claws once more, smearing the beetle's remains into the ground. Maybe she'll take the hint and leave. But she doesn't. Tigerkit sits across from it, her gaze unwavering despite her small, fragile frame. Howlpaw's ear twitches. Persistent, it thinks with a flicker of irritation. It shifts its weight, adjusting slightly to sit straighter, though it keeps its tail firmly curled around itself. It doesn't want to appear approachable, but it knows better than to let itself seem weak either.

"Lonely?" it echoes, its voice low, carrying an edge of disbelief. It tilts its head just enough to meet her eyes again. There's no malice in the question, only a naive kind of sincerity. That somehow makes it worse. For a long moment, it studies her, as if trying to decide whether she's worth a response. The question lingers in the air, unanswered, before Howlpaw finally breaks the silence. "No," it says flatly, the word as sharp as the thorns surrounding it. It glances toward the camp, toward the noisy kits near the nursery. "You think I want to be like them?" Its voice dips, almost a growl, though its expression remains impassive.

The truth, of course, is messier. It does feel lonely, in a way that it can't quite explain. But admitting that would only make it worse. Weakness invites pity, and pity is something Howlpaw despises. It locks the thought away, burying it beneath layers of indifference. "Why are you here, Tigerkit?" it asks after a moment, its tone colder now, as if to drive her off. "Shouldn't you be with your siblings or Thrash?" The words are clipped, but they carry a hint of curiosity it can't quite suppress. She came here on purpose. That's strange. Most cats avoid it—some out of annoyance, others because they don't know what to make of its sharp edges.​