reassurance vs rejection

Ever since the apprentice ceremony, where Cedarpaw had been given to her as an apprentice, there had been a churning in Rainstrike's gut. She'd padded away from the gathering, and her new (hopefully temporary) apprentice with a nervous, jittery anxiety plaguing her very soul. How could she train an apprentice? She hardly left camp these days, too concerned with mourning, too suffocated by grief. She couldn't do this. She couldn't.

She needed to make them reconsider.

So she paced, and she paced, and she wore a rut into the mud waiting for the right opportunity, and when Ferretnose finally seemed free, Rainstrike dashed forward. It was clear from her frantic expression that the young warrior was bothered, and she approached her ex-mentor with a respectful mew. "Ferretnose... can... can I talk to you?"

Ferretnose jolted at the sudden clambering of paws towards her. Well, it seemed that nap wasn't happening. The queen didn't mind the presence of her former apprentice in any case, so she purred and sat up, kneading the ground with her paws. "What's wrong, Rainstrike?" she asked, yawning, "The sky's not coming down, is it? You sound like you've seen a spirit!"

Ferretnose blinked, surveying the younger she-cat's appearance. What a mess! "Get over here," she teasingly hissed, "You've got tufts of fur sticking up! You look like one of my daughters!" Ferretnose licked her paw and ran it over Rainstrike's head roughly, smoothing down the fur. "There! Now what's wrong?"

Rainstrike ducked her head tolerantly as Ferretnose smoothed the stubborn cowlick, but didn't lift it when her mentor was through, not after she spoke. She let it hang there, shoulders slumped, and for all intents and purposes looking utterly defeated. "I..." she faltered, eyes tracing zigzags across the dirt between her paws. "Can... can you ask Houndheart... I..." Her ears slanted to either side of her broad head. Rainstrike took a shuddering breath, then steeled herself, lifting her gaze to meet the Quebec's.

"I can't mentor Cedarpaw. I can't mentor anyone. I shouldn't. I... I don't think I'll be good enough, I can't protect her."

Ferretnose pursed her lips sympathetically as Rainstrike spilled her thoughts on her new apprentice. She was having the same fears as every other new mentor who had ever been assigned an apprentice. Of course, the queen had the good sense to not tell her that. Rainstrike needed affirmation, not to be shot down like a mossball above a kitten's head. Ferretnose mulled over her thoughts for a few moments, leaving her former student in a space of comfortable silence.

"Hazelpaw was my first apprentice," the queen, who was suddenly aware of her age, sighed. "She was so curious and happy and free. Duskrain was, too! I thought that my fears were unwarranted and ridiculous. I have that problem a lot. I dramatized my own emotions, and that's where we empathetic cats go wrong. I was convinced that I needed to go the opposite extreme. No collar, no leash. I let her out into the wild and trusted she would be alright."

Ferretnose blinked back seasons of uncried tears from her mismatched eyes. It had been so long since she thought of that day. "I was wrong, of course. But I think she's happy to be in StarClan now. Every time I think of her I am reminded of the lesson she and I learned together. Balance keeps our seasons shifting, and balance dictates the rise and fall of the river. For every cat that dies, a litter is born. And mentoring is the balance between a firm paw and a flapping one."

Ferretnose tipped Rainstrike's chin up with a white paw. "You cannot possibly expect to protect her, but that's exactly the point. As much as you can try to instruct her, she has to learn by experience, using what you have instilled in her to guide the path of her pawsteps. Every day, I see Harefoot in that beautiful soul. Sometimes, I even see pieces of myself. I finally understand the ferociousness a mother can have for her young... but I trust you with her. I trust you, not to protect her, but to teach her. Do you understand?"

Her head remained low until Ferretnose lifted it, and only then did she force herself to meet the queen's gaze, her own eyes burning with uncertainty and shame. She'd had no idea that Ferretnose had lost her first apprentice, but it made sense now why her mentor had been so adamant about Rainstrike knowing how to take care of herself. The she-cat lowered her eyes again, taking a steady breath. The conversation had instilled a bit more confidence into the young warrior, but she still wasn't certain that she wanted to be a mentor. Cedarpaw, especially as Ferretnose's daughter, was far too precious for Rainstrike to risk losing.

Letting out a short sigh, Rainstrike rubbed her cheek against Ferretnose's shoulder, a rare gesture she typically reserved only for her father. "Thank you," she told the queen, drawing back to look her in the eye again. "I understand. I will do my best,"