Counting Our Losses [Nightstalker]

The dying light that managed to pierce through heavy cloudclover bathed Shadowclan's camp in a gloomy pitched as Mistyfalcon stepped from the elder's den. He'd woken earlier than usual and hadn't been able to fall back asleep despite the nagging exhaustion, and it hadn't taken him long to give up on the notion. The camp was mostly empty, clanmates either still in their nests or not yet back from whatever unfortunate daytime patrols that had been assigned to them. Either way, the camp was quiet and that suited Mistyfalcon just fine. He found he had even less drive than usual to interact with his clanmates, and was content to stay in the deepening shadows at the edge of camp. At least it wasn't the elders' den.

Nightstalker wasn't really sure how to interact with his father. It was a large part of Nightstalkers life to be bitter towards Mistyfalcon, bred by the constant concern for his wellbeing with a mentor that he had known nothing but being the best, not to mention the continuous dismissiveness in attitude he carried himself with. He never felt like Mistyfalcon had ever truly cared for his son, no matter what he had done, he never felt appreciated. Mistyfalcon had Swiftheart to tend to, and Murkystar, and Batglow, he didn't need his son on his plate. He didn't feel that he had even been truly concerned since they had gotten caught out by a pair of foxes as new warriors and an apprentice...

He shook his head and grabbed a frog from the pile. He didn't want to really bother with communicating, but he didn't want to let his father pass on without at least trying to sort out their differences! What if he disappeared from Starclan as Murkystar had? Would he want to live with the regrets that he didn't even try? Huffing heavily, Nightstalker padded over to his father and placed the amphibian by his paws before taking his place silently next to his father. How would he even start? Could he?

Eyes half-lidded, Mistyfalcon sat. Occasionally the sound of pawsteps across the muddy earth or the singing of the cicadas in the evening air would make one of his scarred ears twitch, but the elder was otherwise silent and unmoving. That was, until pawsteps headed in his direction. "Nightstalker," He greeted quietly, the surprise that might've been evident in his voice mostly masked by tiredness. His son usually avoided him, and Mistyfalcon hadn't pushed for a relationship and let him be. It was easier... Perhaps some would call it the coward's way out. Mistyfalcon simply had very little energy to devote to arguing, and Nightstalker had made himself clear. He'd expected the status quo wouldn't change, as much as it bothered him. At least not talking couldn't have made things worse. Still, he was... Glad for the company, however strained the relationship between them was. Nightstalker was still family. For all that their relationship was strained, Mistyfalcon wasn't ignorant of what happened around him. He was proud of Nightstalker's accomplishments. Skilled hunter, hardworking warrior. Deputy.

He glanced down at the frog that had been set at his paws - a peace offering if ever there was one, he supposed. Or maybe, like his siblings, Nightstalker simply thought Mistyfalcon needed to eat more. Not that they were wrong, he just... didn't have much of an appetite these days. He'd gained weight since the dark forest had been banished, though his ribs still showed beneath a thinning, stress-ragged pelt that had more streaks of white in it than it had in seasons past. Losses and stress had a way of doing that.

Silence stretched between them, and Mistyfalcon knew that neither of them were Swiftheart or Rosepaw to whom chatter came easily. Echomist too, was like his older brother and father. Knowing that similarity however, didn't mean Mistyfalcon had any clue of how to start a conversation, either. It wasn't for a lack of things to talk about - stars knew there was plenty that could've, should've been discussed and hashed out. The question was where to even begin.

Dark forest if he knew.

"I told Duskflight a few sunsets ago that I may need to get honey from the medicine cats every day for how much I talk now." Nightstalker started awkwardly.

"There is a lot of delegation required of me now with my new rank. And it's with these new skills that I wanted to speak with you, as well as the recent events that transpired." He took a moment to think, his chest tight and every muscle trying to coil itself. But he forced himself to be calm.

"I wanted to apologize for how I had treated you, moons ago. It's obviously left a rift between us, despite my frustrations at the time. I do not wish to excuse my previous shortcomings or bring any blame on this, but perhaps bring to your attention the situation I was in. I just want some understanding is all. And some peace, between us." Nightstalker mewed, this moment of emotional vulnerability, it had him uneasy and uncertain. He was sure he was just making excuses for himself despite his claims, but, he also knew that he was just a boy then. He was only a few moons past six moons. After his moonstone though, he had been more willing to listen, learn and put the pieces together himself but- the moment or time never came.

"It was just, really hard for me to understand why I had every adult in the camp asking me about Burningwing, with claims and statements I believed unfounded. I suppose it had been the final straw for me when I just wanted to talk to my dad about the hare I caught, but had gotten what I felt like disdain and interrogation about him instead. And thereafter as well, every interaction I had with you just seemed like... I don't know- it just seemed like you didn't want to have anything to do with me after that." Nightstalker's ears were pressed against his head, and looked away, refusing to even risk making eye contact with his father. He had said it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what reaction would come from it.

"Again, I'm not blaming you, or your actions. It is not my intention to do so but to perhaps make my behavior from apprentice to now a bit more clear and easier to understand the reason behind actions. That doesn't excuse how I've treated you either and I hope you can forgive me for it." He mewed.

Mistyfalcon's whiskers twitched at Nightstalker's opening words. Neither of them were the talkative sort. "You were an apprentice, and the cat most of the clan disapproved of was your mentor. Had someone criticized Flintshard in the same manner, I might have acted similarly, even though he wasn't my mentor officially." The old Shadowclan leader had been more of a mentor to him than his actual mentor had been. He listened as Nightstalker continued, tattered ears flicking back ever so briefly.

"I figured you were still angry." He admitted, "It was easier to avoid it rather than risk another pointless argument." The argument had been pointless, in hindsight. Burningwing was long gone and Nightstalker had matured. Froststar had chosen him for deputy, and Mistyfalcon wasn't sure there was a cat that could have more conflicting views to Nightstalker's mentor. "Neither of us are the cat we were at that time." An apology wasn't on the list of things Mistyfalcon had expected. Though if Nightstalker could apologize, Mistyfalcon could swallow his pride, too. "I could've handled things better. You have little to apologize for."