Don't Break Character, You've Got a Lot of Heart [C]

A dark cloud had permanently settled on the fringes of Heatherpaw's brain. Since Crakeburn's ascension to warriorhood, white hot jealously had burned in her stomach. Dreams had become wild and restless, filled with fury and strife. The pale-furred apprentice's tail twitched persistently as her flank rose and fell in uneven breaths that betrayed a constant malaise. As frail wisps of light had begun to delicately highlight the horizon, the molly had pushed herself away from the light and way from the cold, finding just enough solace in shutting out the world around her. She dreamed of clashing with cats on the dawn patrol, showing her skills, and earning a name.

In this obscured version of reality that her mind contrived, she stood proudly in the center of camp, waiting for Tigerstar to call her forward. But instead, as a mirror to the events in her past, it was not her name called. Hey, get up.  The words sounded muted and far away. She blinked slowly, quickly leaving behind the world of dreams but not without the feelings of bitter disappointment as potent as ever. Eyes bright as the moonstone glanced up to fixate Oatpaw with a discontented glare. Her tail tip began its rhythmic twitching once again and her head tilted to the side as she ground out, "While some cats might be okay with being prodded awake, I'm not one of them."

As soon as the venomous words left her maw, it dawned on her why Oatpaw had roused her from sleep. Dawn Patrol. There was no outward indication of this revelation as she rose to stretch out, parting her maw in a brief yawn. Once the routine was finished and her pelt shook out, Heatherpaw began padding towards where the rest of the patrol waited, "Keep up, Oatpaw. We don't have all morning." Despite the subtle jab, her words were much lighter than before, lacking any measures of genuine displeasure. Were it not for the neutral look across her maw, it would have been easy to write off the remarks as mere teasing between apprentices.

Admittedly, there was an immediate flash of pity in the she-cat's chest. Her denmate had only come to wake her when she overslept. It was projected frustrations that caused Heatherpaw to nearly claw off his ears. As the apology came, she huffed and her tail continued to lash. Silently, she responded, it better not. Thankfully, Oatpaw couldn't hear her words but with her physical irritation on full display, it was likely easy to decipher what she was feeling.

Tigerstar's voice echoed in her head, the words grating like claws on stone. Her teeth clenched impossibly tight until her jaw began to ache. It should have been her sleeping in the warrior's den so she didn't have to deal with half-witted apprentices who lacked any tact. Larchpaw was decent. Oatpaw, kind and soft as he was, lacked the heart of a warrior that she respected. As the pair trailed behind the rest of the patrol, she had set her gaze to burn into the frosted moorlands. The intrusion of her denmate's words stoked the fire withing.

Biting back more venomous words, the pretty she-cat cast him a scathing glance and for a moment said nothing, before grinding out a simple response that ignored his question, "You must really like being an apprentice, Oatpaw."

It didn't bring her pleasure to see the tom shrink into himself but she was hoping the icy reception would at least scare him away. Unfortunately, he still seemed to miss the point and answered genuinely. Heatherpaw's tail continued to flicker rhythmically as she stayed at the heels of the patrol. Her half-lidded gaze focused ahead instead of on her denmate. How could Tigerstar think her time was better spent within the apprentice's den training alongside cats like Oatpaw? Her whiskers twitched at the thought.

"Some things don't need to be taught. Some cats are born with natural talent." Like me. The words were unsaid but buried underneath her impatient tone was an unyielding self-assurance. Each step she took was a stride that proudly displayed her Windclan heritage. Her silken coat was groomed to perfection and rippled as the wind touched each strand. Even the slight nick in her curled ear was hardly noticeable against the backdrop of such a pristine appearance.

There was no malice as she spoke up again, just a simple statement, "I'm heading to the front of the patrol. You'll learn a thing or two back here though."