like father, like sons [closed]

Fish
T1 Rogue | Rogue | he/him

The twists and landmarks he noted as they passed were scrambled, indiscernible, when Fish idly tried to sort through them. He had no idea how Grub hoped to get them home, but Fish trusted his father, at least with this. The big cats left often anyway, to hunt or patrol or whatever else they said, and they came back just as routinely. Fish decided it was a skill he'd learn as he got older--though it annoyed him not to possess it now--and focused instead on everything around them. The world far, far beyond camp was so wide and engaging. There were so many things to stare at, discover, and talk about. It was distraction enough to keep Fish's thoughts from declining into worrisome territory. (Until he was scolded for running his mouth so much again, or he had to wait for Grub to quit lecturing Louse, or they were both punished wretchedly with a time out).

But the ground was getting squishy and wet underpaw, between patches of melting snow. It was nothing like the hard earth around camp, though it was close to the wet ground near the road. A strange sound accompanied the shift in terrain, too; a quiet, disruptive gurgle that made Fish's ears twitch rapidly. He'd gone quiet for the moment, bitter from a recent shushing, so he said nothing when he looked up and spotted a reflective curve breaking the grass and high stalks. The river...? Excitement began to thrum in his chest again. His lingering sourness was chased away as Fish hurried forward to jog at Grub's shoulder. As they got closer, he could tell it was indeed water; which meant it must, indeed, be the river. Its swift talk grated on Fish's ears somewhat, but he played to his fascination.

The instructions Grub gave sounded awful, but they were the same directions Fish often heard. He joined his father at the water's edge, rocking precariously against the lip of the bank. Cold mist sprayed into his face, making him snort and briefly recoil. Tiny flashes of silver flitted by. Fish! His head cocked to the side. There went his namesake--there went a dozen of them, darting by. Some were large and some were small; none looked like him, though it was hard to really make them out through the current. A feeling of profoundness hit Fish, swelling achingly in his chest; loss, almost. There was some magic in seeing things for the first time, on their walk and now at the water, but... well, now he'd seen them. There was no myth anymore. There were only fish, and the cat wasn't sure if he was meant to see himself in them.

Grub went striking out. Fish teetered forward expectantly only for something wet and croaking to shoot out of the water and kick off his head. He wheeled back with a yelp, screwing his eyes shut tight as a similar bout of affront rose from Louse. After shaking out his entire body, Fish narrowly opened his eyes again and looked at Grub. "What was that?!" He exclaimed pointedly, bristled tail jerking to and fro. He was breathing in to continue his lament, but something else had drawn Grub's attention. Long shadows appearing, likely drawn by their commotion; tall cats, a pair of them approaching quickly. Clan cats? The River Clan!

Any excitement was quelled by the gray-and-white cat speaking. Her voice was cold, but it wasn't the tone that stalled Fish; it was the mention of consequences. Before he could ask what, she supplied the answer: a cat found dead recently. Dead--a permanent, frightening thing. Fish was not unfamiliar with the concept. Hearing it and the warning that followed made his stomach swoop, his hackles bristle. Something was suddenly very wrong. He could not move to Louse fast enough or ask Grub what was going on before his father was suddenly spilled out across the ground. The shock made Fish's legs tremble, costing him his balance, and he tipped forward into the shallows. He was freezing and bone-wet immediately. Fish rose with a deep inhale, shuddering as he did. His nose burned from the water he incidentally took in, and so did his eyes and his throat, and the wind that stirred made him even colder, and- and---

Fish scrambled out of the water, slipping a few times on the mud as he did. The other cat was speaking--more like snarling--to say that Grub got some Clan cat killed. Fish's ears slicked entirely flat to his head. He wasn't sure if his eyes stung from the water or if there were tears beginning to rise. Everything was suddenly too much. He couldn't take all of this in at once; couldn't process the declarations, or the fact he didn't doubt them. Not the threats from the side-lined warrior, either, not his Grub grounded and hissing. His little claws flexed, pressing as deep into the soft ground as he could.

Inhaling deeply, Fish closed his eyes and darted past the mounting fight to go barreling into the pointed she-cat's ribs. He let out a little puff on impact, surprised at the weight of it, then staggered back and blinked up at her. "Don't hit me!" He said first, then hurried up with: "What are you two talking about?! You can't just--say he killed someone and not explain!" Because he needed it, terribly, not to be true. "And you can't blame you appr- apprentice on us with no proof! There's more rogues than just my father." Fish's objections came fast, as his words always did, but his breath hitched between them now. "Tell us what you're talking about. Tell us!"

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Fish
T1 Rogue | Rogue | he/him

Naivety led Fish to hope that the appearance of Louse at his side, echoing his points, would sway the bristling she-cat. It did not. The glare that spun on him released the tension in Fish's shaking legs, and he slowly sank down until his belly brushed the ground. His eyes turned on the fight, watching the River Clan's apparent leader drag her claws through Grub's shoulder, and the metallic stench that rose into the air made Fish recoil with a poorly-stifled gag. The leader-cat was going to kill him. Would she kill all of them? Louse might've been fast enough to outrun them, but neither of them could fight back and hope to live. Fish's heart thudded heavier in his chest as he turned back, watching the warrior's claws itch at the ground. His stupid fishing trip was going to get them all killed. Maybe this was the kinship he was meant to feel with the bodies darting through the water.

The Clan cats spoke so surely, but-- so did he, and so did Louse, and so did Grub. Fish's head spun. "But-" he tried, and his voice cracked terribly. Fish shook his head hard and wobbily pushed himself back upright, looking to the warrior in front of them again. "I don't even know what a barn is!" He shouted, like it meant anything, and went sputtering on, "He doesn't even recognize you! How could it be his fault?!" Fish felt his tongue grow weighted despite his protests. While he'd only seen a pawful, he'd never forgotten a face he'd seen; if he watched one of his siblings die... if someone else had been at fault...

Fish squeezed his eyes shut tight and pressed against Louse's side. He didn't care about getting his brother wet; he was too cold to care. "You can't kill him!" Was the leader even listening, or was she focused solely on beating their father? "Then what are you going to do with us?! We'll be- we'll be--" what was the word? What was the word? "We'll be orphans! We can't get home without him. We'll starve! You're no better if you leave kits to die." When his eyes popped up again, Fish looked right for his father, trying to find his eyes between shifting limbs of battle. "Tell them it wasn't you, Pop!" Would it matter? Would they listen? Would it be the truth? "Tell them you've never been to their barn. Tell them you didn't kill anybody." How many cats that looked like Grub were out there, wandering the forest? How many did the River Clan's leader appear to have a personal history with--and one of her warriors? "Tell them it was someone else!"

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Fish
T1 Rogue | Rogue | he/him

Fish almost scurried back when Louse shoved in front of him, both out of surprise and the want to make room for his brother, but the tail curling around him kept him in place. Underneath these new feelings-- fear and all its relatives --a kinder tightness gripped his chest. Louse was ready to jump into claws for him, but-- but the claws shouldn't have been there to begin with. There were even tears forming in his brother's eyes, rolling down his pale cheeks. Fish couldn't remember seeing his brother cry. He couldn't remember seeing anyone in the Crew cry except for himself. The warmth left his chest, leaving everything cold to clamp around his heart again. He wasn't sure which was worse: the usual routine of having his hysterics dismissed, or Louse joining in with fitful earnesty.

Something flitted through his vision. A small stone ricocheted off the River Clan leader, scuttling over the ground until it came to a stop nearby. Fish looked between it, the imposing gray-and-white figure, and Grub. Another blow issued from his father's claws. If Grub wanted to, this was the perfect opportunity to run... but he held his ground. Relief exploded out and took over everything else threatening to overwhelm Fish, but it was short-lived. He was still listening. Wondering, now, why Grub had brought them here. Well...

It was his fault, of course. Fish had done all the begging and pleading that led them here. His stomach felt like a vacuous pit. He pressed even closer to Louse in search of comfort. If he'd never grown curious, never asked in his most frustrating way, this wouldn't have happened... but then, it wasn't his fault that cats had died. He wasn't the one to incur the River Clan's wrath. But- but--

Icy eyes fell over him and Louse. Fish met them, his own wide and unblinking. The leader spoke bluntly, leaving no room for confusion in her words. Despite attacking their father, she showed kindness in not killing them; in staying her warrior's paws from committing the act. Fish understood that now. She was done; they were dismissed. They could leave with their lives and keep them, so long as they never returned. Fish had the sinking feeling Grub and Louse wouldn't obey those orders. He turned to finally blink again, looking at Grub. Was it love and a desire to satisfy his son's desires that spurred this venture? Was it carelessness? A sense of invincibility? He knew not what the answer was. Fish hoped it was the first among those options. It had to be.

He doubted.

The warrior blocking them was not so gracious as her leader. There was bloodlust in her that frightened Fish. He wondered whether or not he would feel the same if he lost any of his siblings. Either way, he didn't want to remain too close, especially not when their lives were being precariously held in swiping distance. He scrambled back, nudging Louse with him, and started to hurry over toward Grub--before his paws ground into the earth and he swiveled suddenly to face the leader. She was tall and frightening, with spots of blood around her. Her eyes were cold, her face stern and unmoving. Fish swallowed.

"It- it's my fault." He managed out. "It's my fault we're here. Not his. He didn't want to endanger us." He looked back at Grub, blinking hopefully, before turning toward the leader-cat again. "My name is Fish! And I didn't know what fish were, so I asked and asked until he promised to show me." Fish couldn't force out the words I'm sorry, but they bit at his tongue. He swallowed them down when they stuck for too long and finally retreated to press at Grub's shoulder. "We gotta go," he said insistently. Looking back at Louse, "C'mon! C'mon, hurry. We really gotta go now."

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