Monsters And Men

Lynxpaw trailed after his mentor, his head low. It was midafternoon, and he'd already spent more than half the day trudging through deep, slushy snow that tangled in his fur and created mats that were nearly impossible to sort through.
The young, brown tom glanced up at Beartooth, his green eyes narrowed as the brown tom strode through the deep snow without pause. He just got back from Twolegplace- would it kill his mentor to show the slightest bit of compassion? Lynxpaw felt hints of anger prickling in his chest as he stepped into yet another deep drift of snow, sinking into the gray sludge until he was buried up to his chin. He heaved himself out with a grunt, his tufted ears twitching as he jogged back to his mentor's side.
Why did Marshstorm make him his mentor, anyway? It wasn't like Beartooth was a normal cat. He never talked or smiled, and his paws were weird.

Lynxpaw's short tail twitched as he stalked ahead, struggling to keep up with Beartooth. This wasn't fair. He saw other mentors and apprentices talking together after a hunt, sharing mice and laughing about some random inside joke. After he and Beartooth patrolled, his mentor always went back into the woods to do whatever weird thing he did after training. He didn't talk to anyone except Harefoot.
He wished Harefoot was his mentor. At least he talked. At least he cared.
"Why are you so quiet all the time?!" Lynxpaw hissed, staring at the ground as he walked.

Beartooth trudged along with the usual stoic look across his maw. A certain deadness, defeat, was evident through the dimmed green depths that comprised his gaze. For once, he was out with just one of his apprentices. The fact that he had so many led to massive training sessions instead of the usual one on one time that most mentors and apprentices had. But today was a particularly special day. He and Lynxpaw were alone. Although the young tom radiated angst, it was lost on the massive tabby warrior. His gaze was focused on the path ahead. They were to hunt near the Thunderpath today. Some cat had suggested it because of its distance from camp. Beartooth didn't think too much into it but it was a place to go, some road in which to set his paws on instead of the aimless direction that threatened to overtake him.

When the apprentice beside him hissed, the tom's ear twitched. It struck a chord in his chest. Was there a hint of Beepaw in his apprentice's voice? He stopped. The thought surprised him and he found himself, ironically enough, unable to conjure up something to say. His teeth dug into the lower half of his maw unintentionally. Despite his massive appearance as his shoulders slumped forward the tom seemed like a much smaller cat. Like he had shrunken where he stood. After some time, his gaze flicked around to look at Lynxpaw. Their tabby coats, similar in nature, would have almost made them appear to be distant kin. Finally, he spoke in his usual low rasp, "Only some things need to be said. I don't see a reason in talking for the sake of it. Is there something you need to talk about?"

"Just..." Beartooth's nonchalant reply rankled, and Lynxpaw padded forward with a scowl. "I dunno, just... why can't you..." He struggled to find words, teetering on the edge of saying things that he won't be able to take back.
Should I? He got so far, and Beartooth's infuriating attitude only added to the fire. "Why can't you just be normal?" Lynxpaw snarled, his whiskers trembling angrily. "Other mentors spend time with their apprentices and actually care about whether or not their apprentices are lost in Twolegplace." The tabby tom shook his head, his hackles ruffling. "Normal mentors don't have monster paws." He muttered. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. By this time though, it was too late. He struggled to hold onto the anger that fueled him, but he could feel it beginning to drain.
Too far.

Unsurprisingly, much like his late adoptive brother, the matter-of-factness of his tone nothing to quell the mounting anger in the other cat's words. Each syllable seemed to strike him somewhere deep within his chest, the recesses of which had seemed too distant for far too long. The sensation of emotional sentiment was foreign to him at this point. Once, it had not been so, especially because of the tender and caring heart that he had been born with. Now comprehending the torrent of emotions that ripped through him worse than that of enemy claws, or even his own shredded the remnants of the deadened state and rendering him emotionally devastated. Normal mentors don't have monster paws. He stared down at his horrifically overgrown pads. These horrendous things had cursed him to be this way. To be awful enough for even his apprentice to despise him.

Externally, Beartooth showed little sign of the agony that pained him other than the flickering of his usually expressionless maw. Lynxpaw's words had broken something within him, fractured a state that had been created from his already mangled innards. He swallowed back a stone that built up in his throat and threatened to render him unable to breathe. His dull, green eyes made plain what things were not said as he looked down at the younger cat and finally let out a low answer, "Every patrol, I looked for you."

Lynxpaw blinked, his tail-stump twitching. "I just..." The small tom seemed to deflate, his expression quickly turning from enraged to completely desolate. "I wish you'd try. I wish... I wish you talk-"
A sudden, unmistakable scent hit the apprentice like a stone in the face. The Thunderpath. Every single sense the tom had suddenly sharpened; he could feel his heart thudding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears, his chest was tight. He couldn't breathe. Lynxpaw gasped, trying to draw a breath, as his entire body beginning to shake. He blinked, staring around, staring at everything except his mentor. He couldn't talk- his mouth was completely dry.
He was caught in the Twoleg's trap, being carried through the air. He was thrown into a cage. It was dark. The monster roared to life beneath his paws-
"N... n... no...!" He managed to choke. His face was wet with tears and sweat by the time he managed to get himself to the ground, hunched over, his heart beating so quickly he was certain it was going to burst.

The tom's chest ached and he was wracked with his own brand of frustration. Words simply weren't easy from his lips and he didn't grasp the desire to speak freely with others. To Beartooth, actions and presence were all that was needed to connect with another cat. He could lay for hours next to Harefoot, Hailpaw, or Ridgepaw and hardly utter a word. Could it be that the apprentice found his lack of speech offensive? Beartooth was rendered speechless, a rather usual state for him. After a moment, his maw parted as he blinked, still entirely unsure of how to respond to the much younger tom. But the earth between their paws shook as a monster roared by and Lynxpaw's reaction immediately cut off all thoughts of a reply.

The terror that was written across the tabby's face as he fell to the ground stirred something within the still heart of Beartooth. He could almost feel the fear and pain that wrought the other cat, even if he did not pause to think about it. Massive paws carried him to Lynxpaw and he stood over him protectively, claws unsheathed on either side of his frame, guarding them against an invisible evil. Beartooth looked down at him with concern shining in the depths of his green gaze. Although he had no idea what had invoked such a reaction from his apprentice, he could not help but mutter, "It's okay. Nothing is going to hurt you."