private You are my sunshine ♫ Howlpaw

[Bugchaser !]

*+:｡.｡ "You were very brave" Bugpaw meows, breaking the sullen silence that weighed the air around the exhausted Thunderclan patrol. There was so much about the Wolf song children that Bugpaw didn't understand...this event didn't change that in the least, but the young woman knew courage when she saw it, even if it had come from whatever dark place the young tom had come from. Walking close to the young apprentice, she looks over his shadowy pelt with a concerned eye. Figfeather had been ruthless in her counter-attack...how a lead warrior could do that was beyond Bugpaw's understanding. "How're you feeling?" she frets, unable to properly tell through his thick pelt if he has any lacerations to worry about.

*+:｡.｡ ♫ Updated 12/28/24

• "Speech"
  
  
• 
  GENERAL:
  ♫ Bugpaw
  ♫ DFAB— She/Her
  ♫ 11 moons
  ♫ Daughter to Flamewhisker and Flycatcher
  ♫ Sibling to Falconheart, Stormfeather, Lilykit, Butterflykit, Ravenpaw, Squirrelpaw, Sunpaw
  ♫ Thunderclan — apprentice
  ♫ Apprenticed to Falconheart
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ♫ Physically medium | mentally hard
  ♫ Attack in bold pink
  injuries: None currently

 

[HOWLKIT]

Howlpaw stiffens at Bugpaw's words, a sharp flick of his ear betraying the surge of irritation they ignite. Brave. He hates the word, the way it wraps around him like a collar, suffocating and foreign. What does she know of bravery? Of the rage that burns so hot it scorches every rational thought, leaving only instinct and fire? He doesn't respond immediately, the tension in his body spreading to his paws as he pushes forward, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. But Bugpaw doesn't stop. Her concern lingers in the air, cloying and persistent, pressing against the rawness he's trying to hide. The softness in her voice grates against the storm churning inside him. How does she not see it? The anger, the failure. The way his claws had faltered just long enough for Figfeather to tear through him like he was nothing.

"I'm fine," Howlpaw snaps, the words harsh and biting. His tail lashes behind him, betraying the lie. He knows she's only trying to help, but her kindness feels like a thorn in his side, digging deeper with every worried glance she casts his way. He doesn't want her concern. He doesn't deserve it. Not when his paws still tremble from the fight, not when his pride lies shattered beneath the weight of his own inadequacy. The patrol trudges on, their silence punctuated by the distant rustle of the forest, but Howlpaw's mind is elsewhere—caught in the memory of Figfeather's strike, the way her claws had raked through him like a storm. Howlpaw finally turns his head to meet Bugpaw's gaze, his yellow eyes sharp and unyielding. "You don't have to do that," he says, his voice quieter but no less harsh. "Act like I need your pity."

The bitterness lingers, even as he looks away, his heart hammering in his chest. Part of him knows he's being cruel, that she doesn't deserve the brunt of his anger. But another part—the part that feels raw and exposed—can't help but push her away.​

 

[Bugchaser !]

*+:｡.｡ She blinks rapidly, watching the way her words seem to add more thorns to his already bristling fur. Had she...said something wrong? If it were any other cat, Bugpaw might've immediately apologized, but when it comes to Howlpaw...well, it was impossible to tell what could ever be considered the "right" thing to do. Still, you can call Bugpaw many things but quitter would not be one!

Still, she falls silent, even if her gaze remains unconvinced as they walk side by side. She likes to think it's a good sign that he neither speeds up nor slows down to avoid her - or perhaps he walks in step simply because he's trapped in the rhythm. Either way, she keeps up, determined to catch him if he stumbles. Whether he likes it or not, she's here to help! The thought has her puffing out her fur despite the creeping worm whispering it's the least you could do... threatening to steal her confidence.

Before she can question the little bugger's existence, Howlpaw speaks again.
Ironically, Bugpaw ends up being the one to stumble - startled as she is by his command. "Pity?" she can't help but repeat, an incredulous laugh raising the end of her question in tandem with her smile, " That's a funny way to describe worrying about someone"

Resuming her in-step march with her den-mate, Bugpaw would find more confidence behind her smile, "You took on a whole lead warrior back there, I don't think anyone's gonna pity you anytime soon!" She looks over him closely, before directing her gaze back towards the path ahead, watching their clanmates march along.

"My sister almost died during the last major squirmish. I didn't get the chance to worry about her, let alone protect her when it all went down..." she huffs, blinking back the tears that brighten her eyes - it's been practically a moon since then yet thinking about Squirrelpaw's wounds still leaves the blue tortie in shambles. "I'm no medicine cat, there's nothing I can ever hope to do if or when those I love get hurt again but at least I can worry about them. About you." she looks back at Howlpaw, smiling warmly, uncaring whether he's receptive to it, " You're family now, so, of course I'm going to hold space in my heart to fret for you, that's just what it means to be clanmates!"

*+:｡.｡ ♫ Updated 12/28/24

• "Speech"
  
  
• 
  GENERAL:
  ♫ Bugpaw
  ♫ DFAB— She/Her
  ♫ 11 moons
  ♫ Daughter to Flamewhisker and Flycatcher
  ♫ Sibling to Falconheart, Stormfeather, Lilykit, Butterflykit, Ravenpaw, Squirrelpaw, Sunpaw
  ♫ Thunderclan — apprentice
  ♫ Apprenticed to Falconheart
  
  
  
  
  COMBAT:
  ♫ Physically medium | mentally hard
  ♫ Attack in bold pink
  injuries: None currently

 

[HOWLKIT]

Howlpaw's ears flick back at Bugpaw's incredulous laugh, his fur bristling at the way she so easily brushes off his words. He doesn't see anything funny about it. If anything, it only fuels the irritation simmering beneath his skin. How could she not understand? Worry, pity—it's all the same. A reminder that someone else sees weakness where he refuses to acknowledge it. A reminder of his failures. His steps remain steady, though tension tightens his muscles as he walks. Bugpaw's persistence is grating, but there's a part of him that recognizes the steadiness in her stride, the way she refuses to fall behind or pull ahead. She's stubborn. In another life, maybe he would've found that admirable. Right now, it only makes him feel cornered.

Then she keeps talking.

At first, Howlpaw barely registers the words, his focus still locked onto his own irritation. But when she mentions her sister—"...almost died..."—something shifts. His ear twitches, his narrowed eyes flickering toward her as she speaks, her voice suddenly heavier than before. She blinks quickly, and Howlpaw recognizes the way her expression tightens, the way emotion tugs at the edges of her words despite her best efforts. It's not weakness, not in the way he expects. It's raw. Honest. His gaze darts away.

For a moment, Howlpaw doesn't know what to say. His own claws flex against the earth as if grounding himself, as if trying to bury the strange, uncomfortable feeling crawling up his spine. He knows loss. He knows what it's like to watch someone fall and to be powerless to stop it. He remembers Doepath's wounds, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the way his mother's body had seemed so much smaller when she lay unmoving. He remembers how helpless he'd felt. How much he had hated it. He wonders if Bugpaw had felt the same.

He doesn't like the way that thought settles in his chest.

Then she smiles at him. Warm. Unwavering. Uncaring if he rejects it. Something in Howlpaw's throat tightens. Family. His tail lashes once before curling close to his side. He clenches his jaw, forcing away the sudden swell of emotion before it has the chance to manifest. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want her warmth, doesn't want her kindness, doesn't want the weight of her concern pressing into the cracks he's tried so hard to seal shut. Family means vulnerability. Family means expectation. Family means loss.

He scoffs, forcing a derisive edge into his voice. "That's stupid," he mutters, though the bite in his tone lacks its usual sharpness. "Caring about someone just because they share a camp with you? That's just asking to get hurt." His steps slow slightly, his expression guarded as he glances at her from the corner of his eye. "You really think that's how it works? That just because we share the same sky, we owe each other a place in our hearts?" There's skepticism in his voice, but beneath it—something hesitant. A challenge. A question he doesn't know how to ask properly.

He exhales sharply, his gaze flickering back toward the path ahead. "You shouldn't waste your time worrying about me, Bugpaw." The words come quieter, as if trying to convince himself as much as her. "I'm not your sister. I don't need looking after."​