#1623
Username: /nyx.
Cat Name: Scarletpaw [Scarletshrill]
Gender: female
Rank: sabrewing [high rank's apprentice]
Clan: CaladiumClan
Age: 8 moons [in first scene]
Username: /nyx.
Cat Name: Scarletpaw [Scarletshrill]
Gender: female
Rank: sabrewing [high rank's apprentice]
Clan: CaladiumClan
Age: 8 moons [in first scene]
- #1624
Username: /nyx.
Cat Name: Wolfpaw [Wolfpace]
Gender: male
Rank: flycatcher [apprentice]
Clan: CaladiumClan
Age: 7 moons [in first scene]
“I don't know what I did wrong,
what made you hate me so…”
— Audrey Freeman
what made you hate me so…”
— Audrey Freeman
The cream-furred feline descended onto the younger flycatcher like a harpy onto prey. “Fight me, Wolfpaw!” the molly cajoled. When the tom failed to respond, Scarletpaw stepped in front of him and teased, “Your name is Wolfpaw, right? Like a howling wolf?” She howled, then, a squeaky travesty of the actual, haunting noise.
Misinterpreting Wolfpaw’s glower as a playful one, Scarletpaw laughed. Her littermates taught her to be rough and crass; everyone in the clan knew that snarls and taunts weren’t meant to be hurtful.
“Go away,” Wolfpaw huffed, his grey puffed out akin to a rabbit kit, a ball of fluff.
“You’ll have to fight me,” Scarletpaw replied with a cheeky grin. She bared her fangs, an open, harmless act of aggression, right in the center of camp where the adults could easily interfere if anything went wrong. Moving sharply, unpredictably, she made to snap at Wolfpaw —at his ears, not his chest, definitely not his throat; by the fae, he was so small, more a wolf pup than any sort of wolf — only for a flash of silver to sweep across her muzzle.
Pain.
Nothing too bad; just a shallow cut, hastily executed, hesitant to hurt. Scarletpaw licked her muzzle and tasted the blood, more confused than injured. “What?” she murmured, eyeing her… friend? Wolfpaw seemed… terrified. Of what?
“I — I’m sorry,” the striped flycatcher yipped; he spun and raced away before he finished the sentence.
“Wait!” Scarletpaw yelled — a futile attempt. She stepped forward, one paw ahead, then paused. Maybe Wolfpaw needed some time to himself? Yeah, that was it. She’d leave him alone for now, then figure out what all that was about…
“I don't know what happened
or why you cannot see
The mistrust you have caused
by how you treated me.”
— Wendy Brown Mignosa
or why you cannot see
The mistrust you have caused
by how you treated me.”
— Wendy Brown Mignosa
Halfway across camp, Wolfpaw’s emotions came rushing at him. The feline skidded to an abrupt stop. Why had he apologized? Scarletpaw hurt him; she deserved to hurt. With words, with physical violence… right? But no, she never hurt him, not with sticks nor stones; it was Wolfpaw who attacked first. So it was he who hurt her?
Befundled, the striped flycanter forced himself to walk forwards — forced himself not to look back. He didn’t want to see Scarletpaw, not yet, not right now; he wouldn’t be able to deal with it. He didn’t want to deal with it.
But… there were only so many places he could run too within camp.
So should he leave?
No, Wolfpaw decided. No way. The woods were dangerous at any time; he couldn’t quite fight off a jaguar on his own.
Rebelliously, red (Scarletpaw) flashed through his mind. A whimper (of frustration, not fear; he wasn’t scared of his clanmate, right?) escaped his throat — weak. Scarletpaw was right; what type of wolf was he? He should go back and fight, prove himself to the older feline.
But he’d lose. Surely, in a fair fight. And losing wouldn’t prove anything.
He hated this feeling, stuck and useless. In this clan of assassins, Wolfpaw felt like a sheep hiding under wolf pelts. (And for all she provoked him, knowingly or not, Scarletpaw really didn’t help.)
“Another month has come,
But you're still so far away.
You're always in my heart
Each and every day.”
— Shannon
But you're still so far away.
You're always in my heart
Each and every day.”
— Shannon
“Wolfpaw! What did I do wrong?” Scarletpaw questioned, begged — too late; the other’s tail slipped around the corner. She nearly growled, only for her mentor’s fluffy paw to press down on her muzzle. The sabrewing snapped at it.
“Give him time,” Dancingrain suggested, also moving past the camp’s exit.
“How much time?” Scarletpaw spat impatiently. “It’s already been more than a moon!”
“Well, tomcats are strange like that. It took me my entire apprenticeship to seduce Butterflybreeze.”
The younger of the two made a pained expression (as the guilt, the worry pooled deep inside her), which then shifted into startled distaste. “Dancingrain! I’m not trying to seduce him — it’s different!”
“Not as different as you’d think,” the tortoiseshell replied with a shrug-like flick of the tail.
Scarletpaw furrowed her brows, unable to find a proper response to that. She’d obviously messed something up — what did that have to do with seduction? Ugh.
“It’s been over a moon,” the sabrewing murmured. Wolfpaw went to impressive lengths to avoid her — he didn’t even sleep in the same sector anymore.
And when Scarletpaw glanced at Dancingrain, inquisitive at her mentor’s lack of response, the court member only hissed at her. “We’re hunting; focus on your hunt. You’ve already missed two trails.”
Scarletpaw never brought up her Wolfpaw-related troubles again.
”Forgive and forget, as we play our role
Choose to heal in wounded souls…”
— Unseeking Seeker [c]
Choose to heal in wounded souls…”
— Unseeking Seeker [c]
Time passed. No words of forgiveness were ever spoken, no acts acceptance accepted. Once Scarletpaw stopped asking for Wolfpaw, the latter slowly reintegrated himself into her life — unintentionally, most likely. From assigned patrols to partnered tasks… again, there were only so many places to run within one camp.
(It seemed silly now, their squabble — kittish, especially with the war. There had been so many more important things they could’ve been thinking of.)
“Scarletshrill,” Wolfpace greeted the day after their warrior ceremonies. To her tomfriend, “Pepinopuff.” Their names fit unfortunately well. The latter soft and oddly sweet, yet terrifyingly swift in combat; and the former… loud. A formidable warrior, swift and efficient, but loud.
“Wolfpace,” Scarletshrill replied, the easy grin evident in her voice. “Why don’t you hunt with us?”
Before he could reply, Pepinopuff interjected, “You won’t be intruding. Geyserburst doesn’t trust Scarletshrill in the Ferals without two nighthawks.”
Wolfpace regarded the two (the three, really, they’d all come so far since...) his tail curling, his lips curling upward. Of course Geyserblast wouldn’t trust them after the last Capsicum Incident. “I have nothing else to do...” Wolfpace mused, “so… ah, why not? Let’s hunt.”
