private why is such a man alive — dovepaw

[RAVENSONG]

The days passed in a blur. Perhaps that was what war felt like. However, the lack of a feeling of agency in his life was making Ravenpaw irrationally upset. He had always quelled it by stowing it away and keeping to himself. If he stayed too long next to too many cats, he could feel the tension in his brain bend and threaten to snap. There was no way he could go on like this.

Yet there was a sort of paradoxical catharsis in anger. Being angry was better than being sad or lonely, so Ravenpaw welcomed the new development. Stony and cold, he had talked only minimally to Dovepaw, his unlikely friend. They shadowed each other but after the fights, Ravenpaw had grown a little distant. That is, until today.

Every other apprentice was asleep, but Ravenpaw was wide awake. He opened one eye, looking for Dovepaw's lightly-colored pelt in the darkness. When he spotted it, not too far away from his own nest, Ravenpaw quietly uncurled himself and crept over to Dovepaw's side. A jet-black paw prodded his shoulder. "Be quiet. Want to do something fun?" He whispered.

@dovepaw.

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[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw had not suffered much. Not even mentally. Not yet, anyway. He couldn't even remember anything—not without thinking more closely about one specific detail than he cared to do. For once in his life, it was rather easy to go numb. Pretend as if none of it happened. In a way, it was an easier way to deal with the damage RiverClan had undergone in the past few days.

Though he did not show it, Dovepaw was one to think and aim above his station, as well. To hope for some greater independence and position in spite of it all. Unlike Ravenpaw, however, his angst manifested more inwardly. This inward angst multiplied when Ravenpaw suddenly went silent. Prickly, even. The one outlet his mind had outside of himself had suddenly closed off.

As always, he was not sleeping. He got a pitiful amount of sleep on a regular basis. The prod to his shoulder only surprised him on a basic level of instinct, rather than it having woken him up. Stirred by the recognition of a voice that had been gone for too long, he looked over.

Opening his mouth, he took time to digest the information fed to him before closing it. Wordlessly, he nodded—standing up as quietly and still as he could in the process.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Dovepaw did not say anything. Ravenpaw nodded approvingly. The tips of his sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight. He picked his way out of the nests of the other apprentices and slunk to the edges of their temporary camp, cowering in the brush and holding out his tail for Dovepaw to follow. The warrior guard for the night looked half asleep—it could be a fatal mistake if some other hostile Clan decided to invade. Ravenpaw watched for many heartbeats before trusting in his instincts and slipping silently away from the camp with Dovepaw in tow.

Once they had gotten quite far from the earshot of those still asleep in camp, Ravenpaw had suddenly rounded on Dovepaw. "Do you run fast?" He challenged, whiskers twitching from overstimulation. He could feel the tension building in his chest, begging to be released. Dovepaw, the enigma, who had tried to hard to fight back against Ravenpaw's ideas—Ravenpaw wanted nothing more than to best him in something he was sure the non-drypaw would not be as good at. "Wetpaw?"


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[dovethroat.]

Still feeling unsure, Dovepaw got out of his nest and trailed behind Ravenpaw with shallow breaths and trembling paws. Though he had no clue what it was he was being invited to, for whatever reason he found himself confident and comfortable enough in whatever judgment, whatever decision he had gone with. Their shared silence as they walked seemed to last an eternity. He was not at all sure when it would be okay to start talking. He had no sense, no instinct for such a thing. Perhaps Ravenpaw benefited from those bigger ears.

Just after taking another trepidatious step, Dovepaw found himself face to face with the apprentice he had been trailing behind. Flinching backwards, his fur raised as he stared at Ravenpaw. Merely an instinctual reaction, but it had frazzled him considerably. "...Wh-What?" He breathed, unsure how he was meant to respond. When he got a clue of just how restless Ravenpaw was, and found himself being taunted, Dovepaw found his footing to reply out of that flash of emotion Ravenpaw so often inspired in him.

"I... I d-don't not run f-fast." He mumbled, moody.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

If they were caught, the least that would happen would be a scolding. The worst would be an extra moon of apprenticeship. For Ravenpaw, this was a highly sensitive matter since he was so close to becoming a warrior—if he could ever pass the assessment as a drypaw. Yet, he desired the thrill of rebellion and catharsis. What better way to vent off anger than to break the rules? WindClan would not be at sunning rocks.

The black cat grinned again at Dovepaw's moody remark, showing off crooked teeth. He leaned forward, paws braced against the ground, ready to sprint. He glanced back at the lighter colored tabby. "Race you to Sunningrocks then!" He challenged, propelling himself from the ground with his hindlegs. Soon, Ravenpaw was little more than a jet-black bullet darting through the territory. It would be quite the distance, as sunning rocks was on the other side of their territory.

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[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw was further away from becoming a warrior than his friend—three moons to his one. Maybe that made the threat seem more real—he was not even close—or less (what would one more moon be?). At this point, he could not tell. The natural fear of being scolded generally weighed on him heavily in all of his doings. "Wh-What?" He asked in a strained shout-whisper. Sunningrocks wasn't exactly the shortest trip, and it was still risky to go out so soon after an attack—

and Ravenpaw was gone before he could say anything more. Blinking for only a moment, Dovepaw started after him, running as fast as his legs would take him.

Though Dovepaw was a bit more naturally athletic than Ravenpaw, Dovepaw spent more of his time swimming as opposed to running—that was true. Ravenpaw also had the genetic and immutable benefit of longer legs; being taller.

His competitive spirit roared in his ears, his chest pounding from the anxiety of being caught and of losing. He started running faster, as fast as he could.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Ravenpaw whipped through RiverClan territory, feeling the earth and wind thrum between his paws. Dovepaw was right—Ravenpaw was built for running. As he raced over scattered twigs and leaves, Ravenpaw wondered how different his life would be if he had not been condemned to a life on the River. He would not have been ostracized then—there would be no need to worship the water. The word "drypaw" would not exist. What a wonderful life it could have been.

The danger in their decision was all the more present and he chanced a look back to see Dovepaw racing alongside him. "So slow," Ravenpaw shot another signature smirk in the other apprentice's direction, veering around a tree and picking up his pace once the river hit his senses. He could see it clearly—Sunningrocks was on the other side and Ravenpaw would not swim. Yet he decided to keep running.

He had to win.

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[dovethroat.]

It was not necessarily that Dovepaw was not built for running—it just was not something that he had an exceptional natural gift in. He was proficient, he could do it, but a growing bitterness accompanied his competitive spirit as he bounded toward Sunningrocks, eager to make it there at least as quick as Ravenpaw. A whine of no fair threatened to tear from his throat, but he was determined to focus on the competition more than anything else.

Making it to the bank of the river a few moments after Ravenpaw did, he let out a haggard breath as he struggled out a reply. "Sh-Shut up," he managed, shaking out his fur as he eyed the rushing water. Looking in Ravenpaw's direction for a split moment, he dove into the water and began to cross over to Sunningrocks. His gaze more focused on the water than anything else, he did not see where Ravenpaw exactly was in relation to him.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Every day was the same—the sight of the river made his stomach churn and his heart pound. Cats who were unfamiliar with a drypaw's life often believed Ravenpaw had never touched water in his life, which was simply untrue. A hydrophobic cat would die of thirst. He could handle his paws in the water for a bit, he could drink, and he could fish. But once his feet left the ground and was subjected to the whim of the current—that was what he could not stand.

"You... sound... tired." He panted with that same smirk, immediately jerking to the left and racing for the stepping stones a little further away from the place Dovepaw leapt into. He watched the tabby swim with unhidden envy before taking his first leap. His paws scrabbled over the stones, but he timed each jump perfectly, landing with a thump on Sunningrocks. He triumphantly turned his head toward his companion.

"I win!" He hissed with glee, hackles raising from the exhilaration he had just endured.

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[dovethroat.]

Of course Ravenpaw had touched water before. Dovepaw was not under the illusion that he was some sort of anaerobic creature that photosynthesized to produce food and energy and simply folded in on himself in the event of rain. It's just that he was not very good at dealing with it in large, concentrated quantities. Dovepaw could note that about his friend. It was important to take note of the weaknesses of your opponent in such a competition. He ignored whatever Ravenpaw said next, hardly even hearing it.

Regardless, it did not seem to help. Just as Dovepaw emerged from the water and began to run again, Ravenpaw made his triumphant leap on top of one of the stones. Dovepaw visibly seethed.

"Th-That w-wasn't fair," He countered. "I s-s-started, like, five s-seconds after you. I'd win if y-you were fair." Hurt feelings were hidden masterfully under the guise of light ribbing, of good-natured, competitive banter.

He was not actually that mad. He was upset, but not fatally so.

He would have won in a fair race. Though. Just to make that clear.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

"Of course it was not fair." Ravenpaw chuffed, a prance in his step as he moved closer to Dovepaw—still sopping wet from his river swim. He made a face at it before planting his haunches down on the ground. "Nothing in life is fair. Will you whine when a WindClan cat cuts your throat?" He showed off his teeth again, swiping a paw at Dovepaw's nose. He was not stupid. He could tell Dovepaw was hurt. He did not want to feel bad about it—he had won. He had showed that silly tabby what it meant when he threw dirt over his bones like that.

"Come on, do not be such a bad sport." Ravenpaw chastised, looking up at the night sky twinkling above them. There were no clouds tonight. It was just them. Them and the expanse of stars crawling over their heads.

"I am surprised you decided to follow me out here."

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[dovethroat.]

Dovepaw scoffed. "At l-least you're h-honest. Finally," he remarked drily, finding the way that Ravenpaw responded to his chronically poor sportsmanship rather soothing. In a way that, somehow unfrustratingly, he could not articulate well at all. It ought not to be surprising that he was a sore loser—Dovepaw certainly hoped that Ravenpaw had not been expecting him to be endlessly gracious in defeat.

In spite of how much they could argue (in fact, Ravenpaw was practically the only person he would argue with), it was hard to think that anyone understood him in such a way as Ravenpaw. Not even his parents. Not his mentor. Certainly not anyone else in camp.

That was mean, maybe, Dovepaw thought with the beginnings of a frown. It was not that he disliked people like Fernpaw, or Crappiepaw, or anything like that. It was just hard to connect to anybody. Dovepaw had never understood it. Ravenpaw was the first person he felt like he might be able to be considered equals with. Ravenpaw didn't hold punches, and though that should have infuriated him—it didn't. "Y-You should aim f-for fairness, th-though. I'd have made it fair. B-Because I would have w-won." He wasn't over it yet, though. Clearly. Even if he was "joking". "A-Also, I'm sorry—who m-made it through both r-raids without getting injured?" He asked pointedly, this time finally, actually laughing. Enough time had passed for it to be comedy.

When Ravenpaw spoke, a pregnant, intimate pause resided between them. Dovepaw looked up to the sky, and then to him.

"...Why wouldn't I?"

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Honesty. Loyalty. All virtues he knew he ought to espouse as a warrior. For too long Ravenpaw had silently rebelled against that way of life. What was he good for? He wondered. With no family, the only tangential relationships he had was with his mentor and only a handful of apprentices—this included Dovepaw. He envied the other RiverClan cats, even the shifty ones like Snakeblink. No cat was safe from his jealousy. He wanted to be like every single one of them, and yet he occasionally felt like he could not stand them at all. The social pressure building in his ears was getting too much to bear.

Dovepaw was a release for it, somehow. Ravenpaw had thought reflecting the own bullying he had received back onto someone would make him feel better. It did, for a moment, and then Dovepaw grew a spine and teeth. He started to fight back. Ravenpaw no longer saw a sniveling, meek, coward, but a cat that could somehow meet him stride for stride.

Funny how these things work out.

Ravenpaw blinked back into the present.

"Perhaps fairness is relative." He remarked, tasting the wounded ego of Dovepaw in the air. He relished in it for a moment, smiling at his opponent. "And you do not know that you would have won for sure." He scolded, wrapping his tail over his paws. He brushed a twig out of it. "A different cat may call that cowardice." He joked bluntly back. He watched the way Dovepaw laughed, watched his throat move and his eyes squint.

"You seem like the rule following type." Replied Ravenpaw.

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[dovethroat.]

If Dovepaw had heard some of what Ravenpaw was thinking, he would not lie. He would not be entirely happy. It was a wildly unfair thing to say to him that he had first viewed him as a snivelling coward—that he was only worthy of respect if he fought back and said something snippy and witty in return to his harassment. Perhaps it was better that some things were left unsaid in the grand scheme of things.

They could always touch on it later. For once, Dovepaw could think that. There was no fear in this moment that Ravenpaw would never speak to him again—that he would leave him alone for the wolves of loneliness and not give it a second thought. Ravenpaw was his friend. His friend. And he was here to stay. Dovepaw smiled at the very thought.

"I d-didn't c-completely hide. I m-managed," he pouted, his tail swishing to and fro as he settled into a sitting position. "It i-is, but not here." He chided, remaining silent.

Hearing that, he took a long pause. A breath flowed into his lungs and then expelled out in a large sigh. "I am... wh-when I don't h-have anything else. If I h-have n-nothing... I just—I j-just... do what I'm asked. I g-guess." He mumbled. "...K-Kind of pathetic, I guess."

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

The world revolved around the black cat's head. It was his to control. He wanted to believe he was the victim of the world itself. He liked to believe that nothing he could do would change it. Whenever his actions came to bite him in the face—which was often because of his drypaw status and his blunt manner of speaking—he did not want to blame anyone but himself.

What a delicious can of worms the two had unknowingly prepared to be open. It would be rotten by the time old wounds would be torn up. There were a lot of things Ravenpaw could not predict. He did not know this would be his last night on Sunningrocks as a RiverClan territory.

"Next time, fight back to back." Ravenpaw's lips curled up, a strange smile. "Then I can see just how great you are." How could Dovepaw be better at fighting—he was shorter and smaller, lighter fur that would not let him blend in.

Ravenpaw wished dearly to poke fun at Dovepaw's go-with-the-flow mentality, but he stopped himself right before he spoke, sharp tongue tied. Ravenpaw was bound here because of circumstance, because he had been told to. He held a fake loyalty to RiverClan when all he wanted was survival—he got it, but at the cost of being branded an outsider for the rest of his life. Where else could he go? No other Clan would accept him.

"I probably was not meant to be brought here. Yet, I stay." He whispered so softly that Dovepaw might not hear it. They were more alike than he realized.

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[dovethroat.]

Maybe Dovepaw was less deterministic. Maybe he wanted to believe that no man was an island, or something like that. He didn't know. Dovepaw would probably retort back something about Ravenpaw being spectacularly bad at swimming in spite of his long legs that ought to help him with such a deed if he had any more tooth to himself, but for now he was remaining silent. He flicked an ear, watching the sky lay out beyond them with an expression in his eyes that was difficult to properly describe.

"...Th-That sounds like a t-terrible idea," deadpanned Dovepaw with a laugh, surprisingly blunt and earnest for his typical behavior. Maybe Ravenpaw was rubbing off on him more than he cared to admit. Expecting some sort of retort to his admittedly un-admirable way of thinking, the silence that followed was louder than he could have described.

Eyes scanning over to Ravenpaw at first, he waited with a pause after he spoke. Dovepaw did not react with much surprise, but he did not know why. "I f-feel the same, sometimes." He said in a low voice, not rushed at all. He was not chomping at the bit to get in his agreement—it came after a very natural-seeming pause. Dovepaw said his peace and did not elaborate further as he looked back up at the sky.

[⋆]​

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[RAVENSONG]

Something he hadn't noticed. Dovepaw's laugh seemed to relax Ravenpaw's nerves. It was a funny feeling. He ought to be annoyed at such rapid-fire huffs and puffs. Instead, it forced a smile onto Ravenpaw's maw. Even though Dovepaw was laughing at his words, he was not laughing at him. Despite Dovepaw's river-wet pelt, Ravenpaw edged closer so that their hind legs were close to touching.

Ravenpaw let the silence wash over their simple, shared agreement. The river lapped at its banks. Furious and wild once, it behaved like a tamed puppy. How deceiving it could be.

"What you heard, last moon or so, when you found my bones—that is not something I do often." He explained, remembering the ferocity he had shown toward the other apprentices. "You must pick and choose your battles. Some cats are scarier than others. Believe me, I hate having to bite my tongue while I'm called Drypaw and not even my own name. But I do it because where else could I go?" Three cats thus far had not tormented him for being a drypaw directly—his drypaw mentor, Fernpaw, and Dovepaw. Ravenpaw could trust him with this information.


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