show me where my armor ends [c]

The tom stopped in the center of the clearing. His heart hammered in his chest. It was early evening, and everyone was settled in the middle of the camp, tucked into their fresh-kill with a friend or sibling by their side, chatting idly. Some were even sharing tongues - couples and kin curled up by their dens, purring and taking turns grooming each other gently.

His amber gaze darkened. Some innate fear - a deep terror he'd been born with - tore at him, settling in the pit of his stomach and weighing heavy in his chest. Where did he sit? Nightpaw had been so excited to find a frog near the bottom of the pile - his favorite! - but that rush of happiness had quickly dissipated as he tried to find somewhere to settle down. He flexed his claws. He wouldn't let tears well up in his eyes. But he was so sick of sitting alone. The apprentices didn't even seem to like him very much, much less the older warriors. Whoever this 'Night' character was that his mousebrained parents had named him after deserved his pelt torn off. It's not my fault, he thought, but nobody ever seemed to bother listening.

Nightpaw gave in, settling at the far end of camp near the exit, and tucked into his frog quietly.

Nightpaw nearly jumped out of his skin when the older molly approached, her form so graceful he hadn't even heard her approach. His fern green eyes met her wise golden gaze with shock, widening as his pupils narrowed. Who is that? He didn't recognize her, but then he barely knew any of the warriors. He'd barely left the nursery before his apprentice ceremony, much less talked to any of the older cats. When even your fellow kit was scary...well, Nightpaw was hardly proud of himself for his cowardice.

She...seemed nice enough, though. Her gaze held little judgment and she blinked patiently, waiting for his answer. Company? Did he mind company? Certainly he minded sometimes, but he was so tired of being alone. He was so sick of always being the outcast. And if she had no one else - well, he couldn't deny her, could he?

"Um - sure, you can sit." He shifted a bit so she had room to settle in, glancing at her gratefully. Nightpaw took another small bite of his prey, chewing almost thoughtfully. What did he say now? A dull panic settled itself in his paws, burning beneath his fur. Did she expect conversation? Loneliness had gnawed at him for so long that he wasn't sure he knew how to talk to another cat. But he could feel the pity in her gaze as she looked at him, and he felt the need to prove himself. "I have tons of friends, by the way. They're just, um...they're all...out. On the - on the territory." The small tom mewed almost defensively, avoiding eye contact.

Nightpaw let himself relax a bit. This cat didn't pose a threat to him - or at least, he thought she would've scoffed or laughed at him by now if she was going to. Her friendly smile only proved that she meant no harm. He relaxed his shoulders, the fur along his spine settling down.

He felt guilty at her next words, though. If what Pineblossom said was true, she'd been a lonely apprentice just like he was. Nightpaw looked down at his paws, his ear twitching. Why had he lied? To make himself seem less pathetic? Wasn't that worse? "I - I don't, actually. Have 'plenty of friends', I mean. Or even more than one. Nobody seems to like me very much." He admitted, hating how vulnerable he was making himself. But it was true - he had no siblings, distant parents, and his only friend was Hedgepaw. Funnily enough, he recognized the molly as her and Fernpaw's mother, which did make him a bit nervous. What if she told them how pathetic he was? But he powered through. "Who are your kits, anyway? I mean - you're Pineblossom, right? I like Hedgepaw and Fernpaw, they're good cats."

He nodded, glad she didn't press the issue any further. He didn't want any pity, no matter how well-intentioned it might've been, so to be spared from that heavy gaze felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. "They're really cool. I can be skittish, too..." He trailed off, sure that was obvious. "I would love to be friends with them."

And then she mentioned that name. Silverhawk. She was Silverhawk's mom? A cat as kind and well-spoken as her? Nightpaw paused, letting himself think. He couldn't tell if he didn't like Silverhawk, or if the burly tom just made him nervous. But, truthfully, who didn't make him nervous? Perhaps his ill feelings toward his entire apprenticeship had just been misdirected toward his mentor. Pineblossom was so sweet... he couldn't tell her that he dreaded every training session. "It...is. Silverhawk really pushes me. He - he's a good warrior." Neutral statements, sure, but true. He was choosing his words carefully. But she'd proven she could be trusted. "Can I be honest?"

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. What he was about to say meant there was something fundamentally wrong with him. But maybe...maybe she'd been there, or she had some advice anyway. "I hate being an apprentice. I don't want to be a warrior. I feel like such a failure most days - I don't want to hunt, and I certainly don't want to fight." As soon as he started speaking, the words seemed to flood out of him. He frowned. "Is there something wrong with me? I feel - I feel like I just...want out." Nightpaw blinked at her anxiously.