Infected (Closed)

It took a little convincing, and a little bit of stealth to get them both out of camp. Though it wasn't very hard for either of them, they looked so similar that they could be brothers, and with the dark shadows of the bushes, coupled with the blackness of the night, it was simple. Black in fur with small white patching, they might as well be siblings. It was quite a shocking resemblance, though not a surprising one as they were both pure in blood. Nightpaw's face had healed finally, though he danced a bit with a small infection since it was quite a while before he managed to even step foot in Basilbloom's den... thanks a lot Frostgaze. He had invited Ratpaw out for a sneaky hunt, though he never particularly interacted with him before, he figured he might as well try and make some friends with his clan-mates that he could trust. And if he trusted his non-pureblooded clan-mates a little less, who was there to notice? He didn't blame them for being less skilled than him and his clan-mates, with their coats dark as night, and keen eyes capable of seeing in the deepest, darkest nights.

"Ratpaw, what do you think is the biggest thing we could catch tonight is?" Nightpaw whispered as he looked about, sniffing the air for prey and anything else particularly tasty. "I bet, between the both of us, we could catch enough to feed the whole clan for a moon. We're pure Shadowclan, after all." Nightpaw softly stated, though there was no bragging or boasting in his tone. As if he fully believed that this was a factual statement.

Ratpaw walked quietly beside his younger clanmate, lost in thought.

If he was honest, his emotions were more... surprise, than anything. That he was requested as a hunting partner, and by one of Murkystar’s kits, nonetheless. He normally… without meaning to… kept to his own circle. Duskflight and his mentor; his family. It was odd, that was all.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know who Nightpaw was. Ratpaw had spoken to his sister, Swiftpaw — nearly snuck her out of camp as a kit — and had great respect for his parents. He’d also heard that Mistyfalcon had gotten his wish, and Burningwing a new apprentice. But they just hadn’t really, er... spoken?

Ratpaw was mostly content by himself.

But then — well — the younger black cat had suddenly appeared, in his face, with the idea that the two of them would go hunting. But he seemed… friendly?

The tom was definitely older now — no longer a tiny kit Ratpaw had seen, playing with his father — and had an unusual intensity. Ratpaw would reach his full height, soon (though not an altogether large one), and Nightpaw nearly matched him. Together, walking through the deep marsh, they were like twin shadows. And as Burningwing’s apprentice, he would certainly make a fierce warrior. Ratpaw even noted the newly-healed scars on his face — from talons? — and thought of his own, across one cheek. Mistypaw.

He wanted to wince, but — it felt like so long ago, now.

Shaking his head of distractions, the tabby apprentice scanned the dark, snowy ground, keeping close to Nightpaw’s side. Ratpaw had been on frequent hunts, this past moon — the vigilance felt almost reflexive. He was still curious, though, about what Murkystar’s son was like, and so when the tom spoke, Ratpaw’s eyes snapped to his.

”An owl or a fox, if you’d eat one,” he mewed immediately, voice also a whisper. Ratpaw gave Nightpaw a quietly appreciative look, and then added, ”But otherwise, probably a raven or a crow. It’s too cold for much large prey... so my mentor says. But you never know. I’m sure we’re both good hunters.”

The last part was in response to the confident claim, which... Ratpaw wasn’t sure about. Nightpaw sounded serious: as if the two of them really could bring back a mountain’s worth of prey. But he shrugged past it, thinking it would be nice to do that, too. And while the words about Shadowclan blood reminded him of his mother’s lectures, it wasn’t… a bad thing, to be proud. To Ratpaw, it simply was.

He was about to say more — ask, perhaps — when he sensed something, tail raising to halt his companion.

Keen yellow eyes scanned the dim, sharp — and Ratpaw was not yet a warrior, but in those moments of focus… you could see the spirit, lurking beneath the surface. And then he moved. In a flash, he returned to Nightpaw, rodent in his jaws.

The member 'ginger' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 5

"I've had owl before. It tasted just about how you'd expect it." Before he could really say much more, Ratpaw stalled him and leaped into the dark, disappearing briefly before returning with a mouse. The young tom purred his congratulations, "You're mighty good, that almost scares me! Guess I'll just have to be better." Nightpaw challenged the older apprentice lightly, he'd like to really see what he was made of. Though Nightpaw himself would probably have to prove himself to his clan-mates, he was one of the youngest ones other than his newly adopted sister, Spottedkit.

Nightpaw turned his nose to the air and gave a good sniff of his surroundings, the cold was sharp, and what wasn't iced over had a strong musty smell to it. But amongst all the smells, Nightpaw caught the familiar scent of his rival... Hare... Nightpaw was not going to pass up the chance of trying it again, even if he did get the snot kicked out of him and had a gouge in his ear to show for it. If he had the chance, even the slimmest one to feed his clan well in leaf-bare? By Starclan he'd take it. Tucking into a crouch, he motioned Ratpaw to look towards the hare with his tail as he steadily approached it.

In all honesty, even with Ratpaw's help, Nightpaw wasn't really even expecting to catch it. But his chances looked better and better the closer he got. His heart thudded and slammed in his chest, his eyes dilating as his adrenaline soared. He was afraid that the thud of his chest would alert the hare, so when he felt like he was pushing it, Nightpaw launched from his position and put every ounce of strength and determination he could into his limbs. He was on the hare in an instant, no longer small and spindly as a fresh apprentice, he stood a way better chance. Fastening his jaws around the hare's throat, he stuck his paws under the hare's front paws, sending them both careening into ice and muck. But Nightpaw did not release his grip on the hare's throat, holding steadfast until it died within his jaws.

Once Nightpaw was sure it was good and dead, he released it and regarded Ratpaw with a smug look as if he wasn't sopping wet. "Our coats as dark as night, and skills as sharp as the sharpest set of claws, is what afforded us this kill tonight. You wouldn't see such success in any other cat other than those with Shadowclan blood, don't you agree? I've caught two in my time as an apprentice and I'm not even twelve moons. I've yet to see anyone else catch something this big." Nightpaw mewed, though his voice was clear of bragging, it was simply fact, a statement and something to be proud of to him.

The member 'Grey' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 1

Nightpaw looked impressed, and said as much — in his own words — and while it was just a catch, Ratpaw felt… a bit warm in the fur, at the admiration. He was unused to that. The younger apprentice seemed full of determination, and that was something Ratpaw admired, too.

Much like the fierceness of Burningwing, as well. Ratpaw winced, as he remembered the way the warrior had fought — viciously. But… it was also without hesitation, and with eagerness, and… isn’t that what Ratpaw was afraid he lacked?

There was a quiet sureness to Ratpaw, out here — among the ice and the marsh, alert for prey. But being alongside Burningwing’s apprentice reminded him of… other things.

Ratpaw was taken from his thoughts by Nightpaw, signaling to him that he’d found something. The junior apprentice seemed fixated, stalking forward, and immediately Ratpaw followed closely, but not so much there was any chance of stumbling. It was Nightpaw’s catch, and he kept his eyes keen.

Noticing what it was — a hare! — Ratpaw leapt to the side, to intercept it if it ran as Webshadow would… but the action wasn’t necessary. Nightpaw sprang at it with such intensity and focus, his aim true, and before long the hare went still.

”That is an impressive catch,” he said, genuinely. Sometimes luck played a part, but… it felt like a Webshadow thing to say, that luck was as good as anything to bring to a hunt. And that wasn’t to say Nightpaw didn’t go for it with vigor, or good training: the hare was theirs.

And then the other apprentice turned to Ratpaw, smiling. It was a bit… sharp, for a smile, but then sometimes hunting got to you. Like a vision, Ratpaw was suddenly reminded of Burningwing.

And then he spoke.

And… it sounded sharper, those words, but it wasn’t that different from what they just spoke of, was it? Part of Ratpaw felt like Nightpaw was trying to say something… something else. But...

Nightpaw wasn’t… wrong, that their qualities were ideal for night hunting. (If not in leaf-bare snow.) It was something Ratpaw had always appreciated; being able to almost… disappear. But were their claws sharper? His eyes glanced down.

With a sudden, sick drop in his gut, he remembered the feeling of teeth against bone, and… the taste of it. Maybe not claws.

Blood. And Mistypaw’s scream. Firmly, he pushed it away, remembering that Windclan would take care of the molly apprentice. But it crept between his ears, like a niggling thought.

He had wondered, hadn’t he? If… something in him was more brutal, than other cats. Maybe more than his clanmates. It had been sickening, what he’d done, and he hadn’t meant it, but that felt… worse.

No clanmate of his had… talked too much of it, either. Is that because…?

”Do you really think that’s true?” he asked, and his mouth tasted dry, a little like ash. ”That there’s something in our blood that makes us different, and more… fierce, than other cats? Would that be in us, like our eyes and our pelts?”

Ratpaw shook his head, taking a steadying breath. He wasn’t... concerned about this, anymore. Because it was an accident, and measures were being taken against it. Amberdawn had seemed confident it wasn’t in his nature. But something in Nightpaw’s eyes, his conviction... was there something there?

His mother had always spoken of resilience and ferocity, as traits of their Clan. To survive in the night and in the marsh, where few other cats would willingly go. But that they, as Shadowclan, had made it their home. Ratpaw didn’t feel harsh, but in those dark moments, he’d wondered if he enjoyed it, severing Mistypaw’s tail. There had been a moment of relief, that she was fleeing.

If, maybe... he’d wanted to do it. Like he’d seen Burningwing, tearing into the flesh of Timbersun’s ear.

Nightpaw regarded Ratpaw with confusion at first, before his face smoothed out. When Nightpaw was nervous and unsure, Burningwing always gave him a compliment of sorts or words of encouragement and experience, surely it would not fail him now. "Of course it's true." stepping away from his catch, he approached Ratpaw gently, "But that is Starclan's gift. Starclan looks down on us all, regardless of our blood, but who's to say that they don't bless those like us? It would explain a lot don't you think? Mistyfalcon and I's penchant for catching hares despite not being of Windclan? Burningwings passion and ferocity? Murkystar's fairness and determination? Those of high social standing or rank, they're all pure-bloods, don't you think that'd be odd if Starclan did not show at least a preference for those of pure-blood?" Nightpaw asked, though it did not seem it, Nightpaw himself was just coming to this revelation.

Shrugging, Nightpaw turned away, taking the pressure off of Ratpaw for the moment. "You don't have to answer it, maybe just ponder it. It's no pressure, for our paws are guided to the best of paths by Starclans will. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Flicking his tail dismissively with a shrug and roll of his shoulders Nightpaw took the moment to sit back down next to the hare and lick the muck from his paws and remove the ting of blood from his maw.

Nightpaw approached him, as if… assuring him. Not that any streak of brutality wasn’t there, but rather… that it was a good thing? That it was a gift, like Murkystair’s fair nature?

Can something I mostly regret ever be a gift?

But he let Nightpaw speak, and tried to think of an answer; the younger apprentice was so impassioned, and spoke as if bringing Ratpaw into confidence.

Starclan. Ratpaw… hadn’t thought of it that way. But they were the beginning, weren’t they? Their ancestors.

He was thankful when Nightpaw turned, and said he didn’t have to answer.

Shadowclan... was made of Shadowclan roots, of every cat that came before. And so of course in Starclan, those warriors watched over them: their children and descendants. Maybe blood let them do that. He turned it over in his mind.

Were Murkystar, and Mistyfalcon, and Burningwing… more than themselves, because they had cats guiding them? That outsiders wouldn’t have? Was that a blessing?

He sat, mirroring Nightpaw. Ratpaw did know that family took care of family. But the thought of not being just himself — it was disquieting. Like he was made of things he couldn’t control.

It seemed to invigorate Nightpaw, but all Ratpaw could wonder is if it was another cat’s strength that severed Mistypaw’s tail. A scarred, scarier version of himself; ruthless. A father?

Ratpaw wanted to defend his clan, but something in his heart told him he didn’t want it to be like that. It was his choice, wasn’t it?

Besides… Ratpaw hadn’t known his father. Not like Nightpaw.

“I do think some cats are meant to be here,” he decided. Webshadow, who had no Shadowclan ancestors but who had all of their qualities, who had… a fondness and faith, a temperance. The young tom knew his mentor was born from Riverclan, and his grandmother was Ivystar. But he was born here, and it felt… wrong, for him to be anywhere else. ”Even if they’re not from here.”

Ratpaw wouldn’t... want Webshadow anywhere else. The thought of his dear, stoic mentor (teaching a different apprentice) in Riverclan felt wrong.

That had to be fate, didn’t it? Or Starclan.

But still Ratpaw felt he understood, and stepped to sit closer to his clanmate.

”I don’t think any of us would be here if we weren’t meant to be. And… wouldn’t you think that Starclan guides the cats who join us, too? Maybe not often, but... They guided us here a long time ago, didn’t they?” He glanced up at the stars. Then his eyes flickered to Nightpaw, and then down. ”Back when we were panthers, I suppose. Have you heard those stories?”

It felt right to Ratpaw, but he hoped it made sense to Nightpaw as well.

"Of course, they're meant to be here? I never said they weren't. It's just that they won't be as good, they won't fight as fiercely, or hunt as swiftly." Nightpaw mewed, a bit confused by Ratpaws statement. "Starclan guided us back then, but everyone was pure back in those days, I'm pretty familiar with those fables." Nightpaw turned his gaze to the stars, wondering what they were thinking. "I don't not think that those with unpure blood shouldn't be with us, we still need them, even if they die a little more, get hurt a little more, or sick. Non-pureblooded cats have their worth, they just... aren't as good. Do you get me? I'm not sure if I'm being clear." The young tom asked, quirking a brow, as if genuinely wishing to hear Ratpaws personal opinion despite his understanding at not receiving an answer.

Ratpaw blinked at Nightpaw's answer, feeling like he'd -- answered, maybe. But then he realised that perhaps his words didn't fully translate; when deep in thought, what Ratpaw felt was a natural following of his words really wasn't. (His mother was often the one to chide him for this, if gently. Especially as a kit.) With Webshadow as a mentor, the long silences and brief, if seemingly distant answers... they'd been understood, if in a quiet way. It had been some time.

Ratpaw glanced at Nightpaw, who seemed certain -- if a tiny bit frustrated, like Ratpaw wasn't making sense. "You're clear, Nightpaw. I understand. And I meant--" he began, looking at the tom, "--that I don't think they can be worse than us. At least, not the ones Starclan guided here. If they weren't meant to be here, we'd know; I think then they'd be like you've said..."

But Webshadow; little Shypaw. The younger of who Ratpaw had only seen in their den, and not shared many words -- but whose pure white fur was the same color as the icy warrior that brought her to them. They shared no blood, but... Frostgaze and the young molly felt connected, in that. (Even his mother, who felt wary of it -- 'If not a mother, what if she has other kin, looking for her? She isn't ours' -- eventually softened.) If that was not meant to be, too, what was?

He stood, then, shaking off some snow and stiffness; the snow was definitely chilling him. (Probably them both!) It wasn't in his nature, to say things that he did not mean. But he said, "But that is what I think. You could be right," because Nightpaw could be; if that was a belief shared by many, even those in the stars. Ratpaw gave a meaningful glance at his hare, "You are a very good hunter, like you said."

Ratpaw turned to continue; they were where the marsh's water ran deeper, and the muck more murky. With the ice, it was perhaps easier to walk in without drowning, and there was certainly some prey to find. "Should we continue?"

Nightpaw decided to leave it at that. They were going in a boundless circle of debate, one Nightpaw didn't particularly have the interest in keeping going, nor the ambition too. The young tom shrugged, looking at the hare that must be cold and soggy by now. "Nah... it's cold out and I don't want to stay out too long regardless. If I stay out too long someone is going to notice and flip." Nightpaw huffed, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head before grabbing the hare by the neck. "Grab your mouse and give me a paw with this?" Nightpaw asked through a mouthful of fur.

Ratpaw nodded, after a moment. ”That makes sense,” he allowed, and gave a brief smile. ”And I’ll help you.”

He took the mouse easily, given it’s size, and then took the lower half of the large hare. It was heavy, but in this season, that was only a good thing, even if it took some effort. If he had been a larger cat, like Webshadow, perhaps he could’ve brought it on his own. But sharing the burden wasn’t so difficult.

Side by side, they likely stood out in the snow, but it would perhaps be difficult to tell they weren’t one cat. Their coats were surprisingly similar.

As he began to move — encouraging Nightpaw to walk with him — part of him felt a bit badly. In that he had not given Nightpaw the answer he seemed to want. (Not that Ratpaw knew exactly what that was, but... he was not so distracted as to not notice.) The younger apprentice had been very passionate, and deliberately sought him out. But perhaps he was overthinking it: they were only going hunting! At least in that sense, it had been fruitful.