hand extended waiting for a shake [C]

Rookpaw

Cinderpaw was Perchstar’s newest, youngest apprentice. She was incredibly timid, though Rookpaw did not think it was obnoxious. They had acknowledged her in passing, or on the rare few occasions where Perchstar had taken both of them (or all three of them, with Lavenderpaw distantly in mind) for training together. But they had never really talked before. Cinderpaw was not terribly outgoing, and, as with many things, Rookpaw was content to just observe.

Until it got back to him that Larkpaw had spoken with her-- and she had been kind to him. Rookpaw did not think their Clanmates were intentionally harsh with their brother, but they did not know how to talk to him and did not care to learn. They hated seeing how it frustrated him. Hearing she had been an exception intrigued them immediately, and they set themself to actually speaking with her.

It was later in the evening, fiery orange taking over the blue sky. The hottest hour of the day had just burned off, and the air was slowly starting to cool. The afternoon bitterness that became routine as they grew not-quite accustomed to green-leaf’s heat shed from their demeanor, Rookpaw gathered themself and approached where they saw her across camp. “Cinderpaw.” They dipped their head once, looking her over briefly before setting their gaze squarely on hers. “I have decided I will get to know you. I am- not good at that. But. I have made the decision.”

Rookpaw

The faintest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Rookpaw’s maw. They watched the slivered mossball roll away before, dragged their attention to the side to watch her tail tap the ground, then moved their unblinking gaze up to meet her bright blue eyes. They nodded once in acknowledgment of their allowed presence and drew themself to sit, neat and poised. “It is appreciated.”

He considered for a moment, tail waving slowly over the sand, then said, “Nothing in particular. We will see where we end. Although, I have heard you spoke to Larkpaw.” Rookpaw pulled himself even straighter, ears turned forward and whiskers twitching slightly. Something close to excitement lit his dull yellow eyes. “Many of our Clanmates are too stubborn or too sensitive to offer him proper guidance. You may be the first to have exercised patience with him.” Rookpaw sighed and shook his head. “I had wanted to express gratitude for that. You will be a good friend to him, should you continue allowing him the space to learn.

“That is what brought you to my attention. I would simply like to know the cat my twin speaks of in good favor.” Their attention had wandered as they spoke, but Rookpaw turned around to blink at Cinderpaw again. They looked her over for a moment before saying, “I loathe small talk. I do not particularly care to ask how your training is going or your opinion on the weather, though you are free to share either. I will not rebuff the information should you choose to provide it, though I will not seek it. Tell me something interesting, Cinderpaw. Of yourself, of the world-- I do not care. But tell me something interesting.”

Rookpaw

Rookpaw's surprise didn't show as readily on their face as Cinderpaw's, though it betrayed itself with the subtle widening of their eyes and the further straightening of their posture. Her apology had caught them slightly off-guard, but it was what followed that gave them pause. Rookpaw's ears flipped forward and back with consideration until they laid flat, perpendicular with their head. They hadn't expecting their expression of gratitude to be so simply rebuffed, nor for the dismissal to come with words of understanding. Something warm ballooned in their chest because of it, and, a bit embarrassingly, the feeling left them stunned for a moment.  

"Well... yes," he started slowly, tipping his head to the side. "That is all true, but..." His quiet voice trailed away and he shook his head as if to reset himself. This should not be so confounding a conversation. Brief frustration made Rookpaw's tail flutter, but he pushed it aside from a sigh. "Many do not see past initial offense and thus express frustration sooner than tolerance. Would you be more accepting of my gratitude if it were for your acknowledgment of such traits, rather than your patience itself?" He looked to Cinderpaw again and blinked slowly at her. "I suppose you do not... have to accept it. But it is meaningful to me. And so I wanted to make my appreciation known."

They watch her deliberation over their prompt, whiskers twitching at her sound of decision. Rookpaw sat quietly through her chatter, nodding easily along. They followed her gaze up when she paused to think, looking down again in parallel to blink back at her. "Yes. I have seen dry worms before. I sympathize-- I think --with them." They said. Rookpaw stared at Cinderpaw for a moment stretching toward uncomfortably long before deciding, "I do not believe the worm knew of its fate. They are mindless and seek only... I do not know what worms seek. But I do not believe worms are intelligent enough to understand such concepts as fate and mortality." Rookpaw hummed softly and looked down at their forepaws shuffling through the sand. "Or perhaps I am wrong. Worms thrive where the earth is wet. It would know that at least. Why, then, venture to the dry stones..." After looking puzzled for a beat, Rookpaw just shook their head and nodded to Cinderpaw. "That is a good question."

Rookpaw

Cinderpaw met them with a nod, and Rookpaw mirrored the gesture. A tension they hadn't been aware of, light and coiled through their spine, released with her agreement. "Thank you," they said softly, bobbing their head a second time for emphasis. Surprise flickered through their eyes again at the suggestion she was their friend, despite the brevity of their interaction. Rookpaw's thoughts drifted to a conversation seasons away. I think being friends is a choice... If they accept it then you decide to keep spending time with them, and being there for them, and if they feel the same way they’ll be there for you too.

There was a momentary pang in their chest that made their gaze wander, searching for Sunpaw out of habit, before returning to the apprentice beside them. "I will keep that in mind. ...Should you feel it necessary, I will say you do not have to pretend, either." Rookpaw's passing smile returned, this time settling with persistence on their features. The faintest upturn of the corners of their maw, but present; warm; genuine. To smile felt strange when the expression lingered, unfamiliar and odd. But... it felt like a good thing.

Rookpaw tipped their head closer as well, joining Cinderpaw in consideration. "I do not believe they would seek shelter there though. While not intelligent, they must have instinct to drive them. There is no sustainable shelter for them on stone. It would be more reasonable to assume it had only been exploring, if that is an impulse worms possess. Or to think it had gotten lost..." His voice drifted. Their chest squeezed again, over something as silly as worms. Rookpaw was quiet for a moment before agreeing, "It is sad. Perhaps they have family to miss them. I suppose we cannot know."

It had been... it had been moons since they'd worried over the appearance of their father, but the thought came to him now. His ears flattened against the memory, but he shook himself out with a soft huff. He'd grown to fear the return of those thoughts, afraid they would leave him to rot in his nest for weeks again. It was not a risk he wanted to afford. But quietly, with no fanfare to signal the shift in their perspective, he'd moved on. He had been doing... well. It was not without difficulty, but apprenticeship had been easier than they'd expected. Apparently, he was making friends, something he'd never thought himself capable of beyond the one he'd already had.

Such strange things, growth and change were.

"But it does not have to be sad," he said, words slow and pensive. "Or at least, it does not have to be sad forever. Perhaps another stone, another sunrise, but the worm would have found its time eventually... it is unavoidable. It may be the worm had lived a good life before that moment, whatever that may mean to it. Perhaps its hypothetical family does not even grieve it, for lack of understanding or for acceptance." The wrapped thoughts of Sunpaw and their father expanded to gather Perchstar into the fold. Rookpaw sat a little straight, voice even again to add, "Maybe its loss only creates space for something new to take form."

Rookpaw

That wistfulness came to them again the longer Cinderpaw spoke. Their chest felt painfully full, but the aching... it wasn't welcome. It did not feel bad, however much it hurt. It was a relief they hadn't known they were searching for. Rookpaw let her talk herself out, offering silence even through the brief quiet that passed when both their demeanors faltered, before they gathered themself to walk through everything she'd said. They sat and stared for several moments, tail restlessly flicking against their forelegs, before nodding once. "Yes. That makes sense. I think that is a good way of thinking." They began slowly. "As love with nowhere to go. I have never considered that before. I... do not know what love feels like. Maybe that is why it never came to me." Rookpaw ducked their head, watching their twitching tail-tip for a beat. "But it is an easier sound than grief. Perhaps I will adopt your perspective."

Shaking his head, he looked back up and continued, "It amuses me you use the nest comparison. I held Larkpaw in the nursery terribly because I was so afraid of... I do not know. Moving forward. Change. They are foolish fears... though they still frighten me." Rookpaw sighed quietly and closed his eyes. He had been so determined not to give up on his father, so desperate to believe he would miraculously return to their lives. He'd fallen ill over it, confined frequently to his nest with no energy to move; and he'd come close to that state again, with the rift sewn between himself and Sunpaw, but the consistent work of apprenticeship kept him too busy to wallow.

The bridge of his muzzle furrowed, just barely, and Rookpaw squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter. Had they given up on everything they failed to think about, failed to worry about? The concern reared with barely enough time to process it. They could not address that fear with Cinderpaw's words still hanging in the air. Had it been giving up, or was it just following earth's lead? Only the natural course to their grief, more natural than chaining themself to the despairs of leaf-bare. Moving on to the next step.

With another step, similar to the last, waiting on their current horizon.

Rookpaw gave themself a full body shake and refocused on Cinderpaw. "Do not apologize." They said firmly. "I am enjoying your insights. You have given me much to consider of myself." Ear flicking, they tilted their head and looked her over once. "You have not spoken much, the few times we have gone patrolling together. You seem rather skittish. But you are quite wise. You would have valuable contributions to the conversations you chose to join."