Impatient they start, fearful they end [c]

Rainpaw and Birdstar have found a quiet, peaceful corner of the territory in which to practice sparring together. The clearing they’ve set up in is near the great ridge, and trees tower far overhead, causing patterns of sunlight to filter through the empty branches and dance across their white fur. The two of them practically blend into the snow they’ve been wrestling around in for the past few hours. There’s a distinct disturbance in what once was pure and still in the heavy flakes that had built up on the forest ground, a circle of crushed and disturbed snow surrounding the two cats.

Sparring has never been Rainpaw’s speciality. Fighting did not come naturally to the young tom. Though moons of training had seen improvement, his confidence was still low in his skills. The moons of constant work had been kind to him. Though he was only a little larger than when he was first made apprentice, what was once a weak and sickly body had become lean and strong, dedication giving way to a body that was agile and quick. He now had muscles built up under his fur. He almost felt like a real warrior.

Today, however, he was fighting as though it was his first day out of the camp. His mind was clouded with thoughts he could not divert his focus from, no matter how hard he tried. His heart was heavy with a sense of guilt and dissatisfaction. It had started with Juniperpaw’s arrival and had grown in intensity as the younger cat burrowed her way into Rainpaw’s heart, enough that he could call her sister.

His addled mind was not his younger sister’s fault, by any means. Instead, it was merely that she felt so achingly familiar. To call her sister, to act as a brother, to accept her as family, and in doing so with her, admit what had always been true about Birdstar and Wolfblossom… It was reminding him of the family he never knew. It was reminding him of things he had tried to forget in his kithood, and reminding him what a cruelty it was to forget.

After a heavy paw from his mentor sent him sprawling once more, Rainpaw let out an exhausted huff of frustration. These emotions were quite inconvenient indeed. How was he supposed to focus on his training like this? It was ridiculous. He could not carry on like this! What kind of a warrior-in-training was he, to allow himself to become so distracted and weak?

Frustration bubbled in his chest, and he just laid in the snow for a moment, before finally, “Birdstar, may we take a break?” He spoke softly, rolling onto his paws. “A walk, perhaps? I believe I need to clear my head. I am not performing at my best.”He shook the snow out of his pelt, a shiver rushing through him from the cold underpaw and in the wind that whistled through the empty trees.

Birdstar

Sparring was not going well. It had never been the easiest thing for Rainpaw, but that was the point of training– and he'd been a wonderful apprentice, performing for her and other warriors. Where he'd not been naturally talented, he was a remarkably quick learner. He had managed to topple her before, in earlier practices; today though, was clumsy. Birdstar was frustrated– not at him, but at the hard set of his expression, the unsurety in his movements. She knew him well enough to know something was on his mind; what, though, she didn't. That was what frustrated her– seeing a problem, but not knowing what it was. He had been dour since Crookedpaw's capture, though Juniperpaw's appearance had brightened him. Birdstar's ears lowered when a blow he could have moved away from sent him rolling through the scuffed snow.

Shaking snow from her pelt, Birdstar collected her breath and started to step forward to see if Rainpaw was alright– until he spoke and found his own paws under him. Lowered ears raised slightly, and she was quiet for a moment before a soft, "Of course. That's alright." Closing the short distance between them, she leaned gently against him. If she could not fix whatever was on his mind, she at least could keep him warm; maybe that would be enough. Though it hadn't been the exertion of a full battle, she could feel the weariness creeping into her muscles from hours of continued work, and her steps were slow when she ushered him along because of it. Idly, she mumbled, "No one does their best without taking breaks. Don't learn that the hard way." It came with a tight laugh, one meant to lighten the heaviness she could feel creeping in. It was advice that had been badgered into her more times than she could count; suppose it was her turn to do the pestering.

After that, Birdstar was silent as she led him away from the patch of ground they'd been sparring on, guiding him quietly through the thinning trees. She remained close to him as they walked, a shoulder always pressed against his. It did not take too long for the trees around them to thin into nothing; the land around them was clear, and as the ground rose up underpaw, the distant view of multi-colored twoleg nests came into sight far below them. Looking at them put pain and anger into her heart; so instead, Birdstar turned to look at Rainpaw. As much as she hoped it would, she did not think physical closeness would be enough to spare him his disturbances. And, though she was bound to be clumsy, she wanted to try. After a moment to let him further collect herself, and to collect her own words, Birdstar softly mewed, "What's on your mind today, Rainpaw? You seemed bothered, while we were sparring."

Rainpaw glanced up at Birdstar. He wanted to engage in their normal back and forth, a comment lingering on his tongue on how he’d already learned not to work without breaks just from watching Birdstar drive herself into the ground so often. But the words did not come, and instead Rainpaw heaved a great sigh and leaned heavily on his mentor in return, finding comfort on the warm press of her fur against him.

He stared at his paws, putting one in front of the other as the trees faded away and they made their way up the incline. Rainpaw hardly noticed the change of scenery until Birdstar pulled to a stop. Blinking, Rainpaw lifted his head and looked down at the twolegged place below. He took in the colorful rooftops, frowning as he stared down at the different twoleg nests.

Birdstar’s words once again drew his attention, but Rainpaw’s eyes did not move. He flexed his claws in and out, mind swirling. He did not know where to begin. He wanted to talk to her, he wanted to speak the words that had been spiraling through his mind for so long, but try as he might, the words did not come.'

What came instead was, “Do you think Crookedpaw is in one of those nests?” He asked, pulling himself into a sitting position and resting his tail over his paws. He paused, then added, oh-so-softly, “Do you think my mom is?”

He rarely spoke of his birth mother, or any of his original family. There was no need to. What could he say? He barely remembered them. The most vivid memory he had of his siblings was their deaths. But now, with those scattered memories beginning to haunt him, Rainpaw knew he needed to say something. He just wished he knew how.

Birdstar

There was nothing but patient silence following Birdstar’s question. She watched her apprentice with a careful eye, taking in his deep frown, fixed attention, the repetitive flexing of his claws. Though the quiet hadn’t lasted long, she was starting to consider speaking again anyway– she wasn’t sure what she would offer, but she felt she had to say something. Rainpaw’s soft voice spoke first though, and the questions he asked stunned her into remaining silent for a few moments longer.

“I’m not sure,” she mewed eventually, quiet. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to give– more than anything, she wanted to be able to just say yes, they are, and they’re both alright, and they both miss you, to lift a paw and point out exactly which nests the cats were in. She wished it were that easy. But she wasn’t the type to lie, and Rainpaw would not have deserved it even if she was. One of them, she couldn’t even be certain was alive. Her heart twisted at the thought that Crookedpaw may not be either, but she refused to entertain that.

Birdstar pressed against Rainpaw with a bit more intention. Voice still low, she went on, “Crookedpaw may not be in one of those nests exactly… but I doubt he’s gone far. Some cats have already come back from their capture. I have faith that, wherever he was taken, you’ll see him again.” It felt like she was walking that thin line between being comforting and simply lying. It wasn’t not true– she did have faith in Blackbear to find her apprentice, or for Crookedpaw and the warrior to make their own, separate ways home.

How soon it would be, though, or if it would ever really come to pass…

Birdstar only shook her head. She had faith, and that would count for something. She stalled, considering, and when she spoke again her voice was barely above a whisper. “I know that it’s hard, hearing that someone you cared for is- gone. I’m sorry it was Crookedpaw. He will come home.”

As for Rainpaw’s birth mother… Birdstar found herself frowning. She pulled in a thoughtful breath and wrapped her tail against Rainpaw’s side. “I don’t know about your mother,” she whispered hesitantly. “I saw no trace of her when I found you.” Birdstar’s heart tightened from as much love as it did remorse. If she could have found his mother, or saved his siblings– both, if she was really lucky –she would have in a heartbeat, just to give him the chance to know them.

And yet, she was grateful he had been there. It was selfish, maybe, to think; grateful, that a litter of kits had been left alone in a storm. However selfish it was, she was bending to rest her chin gently atop his head. She was grateful that she had come when she had. Though she couldn’t give him the chance to know his family, she had given him a chance at life. For a few moments, she shifted to press her nose into his fur.

“I’m sure your mom stayed close, too. Perhaps she is in one of those nests.” Birdstar murmured after a moment. She was quiet for a long moment. Just as the silence made her fur prickle, she said in a small voice, “I think she would be proud, of the cat you’ve become.”

Rainpaw’s gaze remained fixed on the rooftops beyond, expression largely unreadable as he fought with the emotions broiling in his chest. Crookedpaw. Even just speaking his name, hearing Birdstar speak of him as well, made something inside of him twist painfully. He thought of Crookedpaw’s bright smile and felt a sense of longing so intense he nearly fell over with it. He wondered if Blackbear had found him, or if both she and Crookedpaw are lost forever to him, held within twoleg grasps that they could never escape.

But Birdstar’s logic brought him back. Cats had been returning, slowly, but surely. Blackbear was far too stubborn and fierce to let any twoleg keep a hold of her, and Crookedpaw was so bright. He was smart enough, and just optimistic enough, not to give up hope. He would come home, whether at Blackbear’s side or by his own means, but he would come home. Rainpaw had to keep believing that.

But his family?

If his mother was even still alive, she likely did not think he was. And his siblings were long gone. He thought of Juniperpaw’s little face when they first found her, so young and scared, and felt a pang. When he focused too hard on that memory, her face got confused and muddled with half-remembered faces, the faces of his brother and first sister.

Birdstar’s tail wrapped around him. Her rumbling voice reverberated through him as she drew him close, and he found his tense body once more sinking into her familiar fur. It was so comforting in her fur. She smelled like the tall oaks that surrounded their home, like fresh snow, like all things familiar and safe and comforting. He was still small enough that he could easily tuck against her. For a moment he feels so, so much smaller, like the little scrap of fur she had first found. He turned his head, and pressed his face into her mane, scrunching his eyes tight and remaining hidden there for a long moment as his ears went flat.

“...Would she?” He croaked. He was muffled by her fur. “Why? What is there to be proud of?” He pulled back from her. A dam had broken. He couldn’t identify what had shattered it, just that there was now a waterfall, a torrent of emotion crashing over him, like the rain had crashed over his head that fateful day.

“I have abandoned her. I have abandoned her other children. I have settled into this life and stolen my way into another family and I barely even think of her. I try so hard not to think of her, of any of them. Why did I live?” Rainpaw hates the way his voice starts to tremble, it makes his ears lay down harder with frustration. “Why am I alive, and they are dead? I am not worthy of that. I am not a good cat. I will not even get to see them again, will I? They are not with Starclan, because I am not of clan blood.”

“I am their brother. I should’ve moved faster, I should’ve done--something, gone back for them. Something. Maybe there was still hope.” He shook his head. “But I give up on hope so easily. I gave up on them so easily. How long before I give up on Crookedpaw? He would never give up on me, surely, but I can already feel that I am starting to wane. How can I be the brother Juniperpaw wants me to be? I have already failed.”

Rainpaw lifted his gaze from his own paws to look into the eyes of his mentor, his mother, and hated the way he felt tears welling up in his eyes. “Why is it that I get to have people I can consider f-family again? That I get to have you? I want to be worthy of this life, but I feel anything but. How can I say that I will be loyal to the clan when I abandoned my first life so easily? How could I call myself a warrior when I have already failed as a cat?”

Rainpaw swallowed hard, eyes casting down again, his voice becoming thick and wet with emotion he wanted so badly to cast aside, but could not for the life of him. “I know that these thoughts are illogical. I was a kit. I know that. But I cannot stop feeling them. How do I stop feeling like this?” Oh, he hated that most of all. He hated how desperate he sounded. He hated himself for that. He hated himself for a lot of things.

He shut his eyes tight as he whispered a soft, "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

Birdstar

Rainpaw pressed into her fur, and she was happy to let him as she finished speaking. Birdstar stooped to rest her chin against his head. She knew he was safe, when they sat like this.

Now, though… Rainpaw spoke, words choked by her fur and his own shaking voice. When he pulled away, she made no attempt to fight it– only leaned away, blinking down at him with mild surprise. Now, though, she felt coldness seep into her chest. Rainpaw spoke of something she could not protect him from.

It was difficult to keep her expression neutral as he spoke. Birdstar’s jaw set tight enough to ache in her efforts not to shown her own hurt. Hearing Rainpaw speak so hatefully of himself, seeing him in such pain… her fur started to bristle. She wondered if this was entertaining, to StarClan. Seeing a cat so young experience such great amounts of grief.

When he shut his eyes, Birdstar touched her nose to his head. For a long while, she held them both there. There was so, so much to consider in response to him. The silence following his speech stretched on, filled only with their breathing. Eventually:

“Never apologize to me again.”

With a deep, weary breath, Birdstar pulled away, eyes misty when she looked down at him. Her tail tapped Rainpaw’s flank lightly, hoping to prompt him to look up. In as gentle a tone as she could manage, she went on, “I know you know those things. You’re very smart. Sometimes, I think you’re too smart for your own good.” She laughed, nervous and short. “Of course all those things are illogical. You were a kit. You weren’t there when the twoleg was. I know.”

Birdstar paused to sigh again. Her voice was rough with emotion; she was stopping frequently to gather herself. “And– but… maybe you don’t stop feeling them.” She shrugged against him. “Maybe you tell yourself for the rest of your life you could have saved them. Maybe you’re angry for the rest of your life, mostly at yourself.” Her next breath was heavier as a sharp pang went through her chest. “It was all seasons ago, but I still wonder how things might be different if I was there when any of my brothers were– lost. If I was there for my father.” The addition was soft, and Birdstar didn’t linger over it.

“But maybe– maybe feeling it just gets easier.” The chill breeze stirred through her fur. Birdstar’s thoughts drifted to her ceremony in StarClan; she had learned something valuable, then. “You let your Clanmates make you happy. You love your family and your friends. A wise cat once told me it’s important to find the joy in things.” It felt like she was saying nonsense. Birdstar couldn’t keep her muzzle from wrinkling, now.

“Rainpaw, I am sitting with you because I love you. Juniperpaw follows you everywhere because she loves you. Creamsky, Crookedpaw, Lightningpaw– Wolfblossom, too. So many cats.” Her voice was quieter now, though still rough. “You aren’t some evil, selfish thing. You have seen things not meant for a cat so young. You are…” Birdstar swept him close again, nuzzling against his head. “Rainpaw, you are the best cat you can be. You have made me proud, every day that I have had you.

“You are so smart and dedicated and kind, Rainpaw. I know it’s not fair, and I can’t tell you that there’s a reason I was only able to bring you home.” Birdstar paused for a breath. Her cheeks had become wet as she spoke. “But, you survived. It could be you had no purpose that day, but you have a purpose now. To watch over Juniperpaw, to be the first to welcome Crookedpaw and Blackbear home, to let me give you your warrior name.

“You’ve failed at and abandoned nothing. You did what you could– again, you were only a kit. You were so small that day, you would’ve fit against my paw twice, and I’m sure you’d only just started walking. And sickly, and soaking wet… and yet you tried to look for help, and you cried and cried until I found you like that. If I hadn’t been out that day, I’m sure you would have died like that.” Birdstar’s low voice grew heavy.

“You did not lie there and decide to quit on them. You fought for them, until there was nothing else you could do. You did not maliciously work your way into SkyClan’s ranks, into my and many others’ hearts. You were invited– when your only other option was to stay in the storm, mind you –into this life. You were invited, and accepted, and you have worked so hard every day to be good to SkyClan. You have another family in us because you deserve it. SkyClan cats are stubborn and honest, to a fault sometimes. If you were unworthy, of this or anything else, they would let you know. They wouldn’t be saving space for your nest nearby when you join the warrior’s den.”

Birdstar pressed her face to him again, this time burying her muzzle in the back of his neck. Oh, her son. She wished she could somehow take this away from him. “You are not, and never have been, a failure. You’ve spent your whole life fighting to care for others. Sometimes… sometimes trying is all you can do, Rainpaw. You have been an amazing apprentice, and I know you’ll continue to be wonderful as a warrior. I couldn’t be happier that it was you, who was my first son.” Her voice was muffled by his fur. Birdstar remained close, even if it muted her words. “You are a fine cat. Juniperpaw’s favorite, you know. You’re a good brother to her. And a good friend to Crookedpaw– even if you don’t spend every day worrying for him anymore.” There had been a time once, when Birdstar thought if she waited long enough, or hoped enough, Beechfang would return to SkyClan. And later, that Dovefrost would rise from his grave, alive and well.

“You’ll cheer when he comes home, even if life moves on. I’m sure he’ll be just as happy to see you, too.” With a sniffle, she finally leaned back, looking down at Rainpaw with a soft smile. “I’ve never seen you give up on anything, Rainpaw, and I know you won’t start now. Not on him, or Juniperpaw, or SkyClan. None of us will give up on you, either. There’s nothing you could do to disappoint us.”