Natural's Not In It [C]

Webshadow only let his gaze linger on his apprentice for a moment before he turned his attention forward, focused intently on some vague and distant spot. Ratpaw began to talk, and Webshadow tapped his side encouragingly with his tail. He was happy Ratpaw chose to share with him, even when he realized partway through the confession he wasn't entirely sure how to respond. He never felt like comfort was his strong suit.

He listened attentively, and when it seemed like Ratpaw had finished, he let out a little hum. First: "Thank you. That is meaningful, Ratpaw." He started to say something about how it wasn't the apprentice's place to comfort their mentor, then quickly thought better about it. Webshadow didn't feel he needed comforting over it; it had simply been a statement. And maybe, then, Ratpaw hadn't been trying to comfort him at all. Perhaps that had just been a statement, too. The tabby's whiskers twitched thoughtfully.

As for the rest of his speech... that was more complicated. Webshadow paused his steady pace to gather his muscles in his haunches, then he sprang forward to clear what looked like a particularly deep patch of mud. "Careful, there. You won't drown in that, but it might be deeper than you want to push there." He hesitated, then looked like he'd been struck with a note of inspiration.

"Being a good warrior won't always be about fighting, no. You will spend plenty of your time hunting– we will learn that with time, too. Being a good warrior is about much more than just knowing where to stick your claws." Webshadow sighed, then straightened himself to full height. He angled his chin high, squared his shoulders. It was an imitation, of Flintstar, Murkystar– the poise, the surety in their posture.

"Being a warrior is as much about being confident in yourself as it is knowing how to fight. It– it's knowing when not to fight, too. It is knowing that you must protect your Clanmates above all. It is knowing–" Webshadow nodded to the patch of mud he'd cleared, "your own territory. It is intellectual, intuitive as it is physical.

You will fight as much as you have to– or as much as you choose to, I suppose. At some point, you will be forced to fight. It is not avoidable forever. You can see the scars on my pelt– I did not choose those. But you do not have to run off to every skirmish, either; you will make a fine cat for keeping your Clan fed."

Webshadow wondered if his words would get lost in translation, somehow. It felt like they had gotten mixed up going between his brain and being spoken aloud, anyway. But he fixed his focus on Ratpaw, and offered an almost-rare smile. "You will be a good warrior. I have faith in you. Oh– and I am sorry for scaring you. I did not mean to."

At Webshadow’s acknowledgement of his words, Ratpaw gave a nod. Perhaps much like him, the older tom took a few moments to consider what his apprentice had said.

The young tom kept pace, feeling it in the strain of his legs. It took focus to follow, though. When Webshadow brought him to a halt, he started; Ratpaw hadn’t noticed anything different about the mud in front of them. But Webshadow took it seriously, and cleared it with a leap, before warning him forward.

In the moonlight, Ratpaw tested it with a paw — it gave beneath weight, definitely too easily, and with a sharpness to his gaze, he leaped. The mud he’d aimed for sunk into his toes as he landed, but it seemed he’d judged correctly. He was still mostly dry!

Ratpaw glanced at his mentor, feeling a quiet burst of joy at the success. He’d done it! The tom seemed to be full of thought, however, and Ratpaw’s head tilted as he began to speak. The apprentice listened, and with increasing attention — especially as Webshadow straightened, a kind of striking surety to his posture.

The apprentice’s ears twitched forward, not entirely certain of all the things Webshadow was saying, but feeling they were important... somehow. He didn’t... have to fight?

It… was different, than the tone his mother used when referring to the Clan. His mother spoke of tradition, history, and of being a warrior. But it was not at all the same as hearing Webshadow speak of these things.

It was in that moment he saw Murkystrike, too, who had such kindness in her eyes. And he thought, though it was less obvious, it was there in Webshadow, too. Even as he spoke of fighting and the young tom remembered the sight of his bared fangs.

It was a bit… Ratpaw felt he didn’t totally follow, like these were things he didn’t understand yet. But he did notice Webshadow’s scars. And he thought of how… lots of cats in their Clan had them.

Only when you have to.

He thought of Pantherpaw, and then looked quickly at his mentor. But some cats wanted to fight, didn’t they? It…

Ratpaw felt filled with little questions, uncertainties. But then Webshadow was looking at him, and the warrior was... smiling, gently, and with it Ratpaw was filled with such unexpected warmth.

Because — it truly did feel like his mentor was looking at him. As he was.

I have faith in you.

It was a little, unexpected happiness that Webshadow thought this; made him straighten. He had heard words like this before, but from none other than his mother, who always seemed… haunted, as she said it. As if she wasn’t sure why.

”Thank you,” came a shy whisper. Because Webshadow said the same and Ratpaw sensed sincerity. And with thought to his last words, the young tom deliberately brushed pelts with his mentor — in appreciation, and in a kind of hesitant affection. He was not normally very tactile, but it felt… good to, as well.

”I’ve never been looked at like that, before,” Ratpaw explained, glancing down. Then up again. ”But I know you weren’t really going to hurt me. And... you let me ask all the questions I want. So you can’t be mean at all.”

With those words, communicating himself very clearly, Ratpaw gave his mentor another small smile. (Also, perhaps, a rare sight to see.)