Quote:
Originally Posted by Lonestar23
There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm as a grey tom with black stripes entered the clearing. His head hung a little, and his paws were heavy, but his eyes remained alert. They were hiding the pain behind them as he remained alone, sitting in another part of the clearing where he would be by himself. It had been a long time since Aspenpaw had made a new friend. Ever since Moonpaw had died, and Tawnypaw had disappeared, he had had a hard time with going on with basic life. And he'd really thought Moonpaw was going to be okay... he'd thought Surgestorm had saved her. The pretty black and white she cat was now gone forever, at least as far as he knew. Spotting a white feline in another part of the clearing, Aspenpaw got to his paws and padded over in her direction, in an attempt to be friendly. "Hello," He greeted her, slightly lowering his head as he did so, and cautiously settling down nearby. He remembered this she cat - she had become an apprentice around a moon or so after him, he thought. He remembered she hadn't really made friends with many other apprentices, if any at all. "It's... Featherpaw, right?" He also knew that she had hung out with Surgestorm a lot, which was partly the reason why he remembered her name. She had been talked about some around the camp, which had led to Aspenpaw knowing more about her. Not that he would talk as though he did, he didn't want to come off as a stalker. Right now, all Aspenpaw wanted was a comfortable, nice conversation. Maybe it would be like his last one with Moonpaw, and maybe it wouldn't - either way would be fine. |
The small white feline had an odd way with dealing with things, being that unlike others who showed their pain on the outside; a dropped head, sad eyes, crying, slouched shoulders, dragging tail, etc., Featherpaw kept hers bottled up. She pushed away her feelings and thought about how others had it much worse. But this time was different; Moonpaw’s death was harder than any she’d experienced. The thing was, though, that Featherpaw had hardly known Moonpaw before her untimely death. The reason this death had struck her more than others was that she was there with Surgestorm, Moonpaw, and Leopardpaw after the accident that ended up taking the young cat’s life. She helped calm down Surgestorm when he became to panic; she helped with Leopardpaw with her wounds. But at that moment, the thought that Moonpaw wouldn’t make it hadn’t crossed her mind. It simply couldn’t happen. She hadn’t known a single cat that Surgestorm couldn’t fix. He helped her when she swallowed a death berry. Featherpaw had seen him save lives; never had she once seen the talented medicine cat fail. It was that day that death was introduced to Featherpaw’s life; it was that day that she realized the true horrors of death. That Moonpaw was gone and never coming back. And deep down, Featherpaw blames herself slightly. Perhaps Surgestorm had been right to panic; perhaps her calming him down had made him work slower, or perhaps made him forget something. Medicine had been the one thing that Featherpaw thought she was good at; but now she had doubts. She couldn’t fight, couldn’t hunt. What use was she to the clan now?
The pale cat’s eyes were glazed over with a distant look upon her face, and she almost didn’t hear the tomcat’s voice calling her name. Featherpaw shook away her thoughts, gaze falling upon Aspenpaw. “Oh-hello,” She meowed, then nodded. When he asked if her name was Featherpaw, a shiver ran down the white cat’s spine. Were cats taking about her? If so, what about? The She-cat wasn’t known for anything, really. Hopefully all good things were said, though she couldn’t be sure. “Yes, I am.” Featherpaw replied. “You’re Aspenpaw, correct?” She meowed, though she only knew of his name because she’d heard other cats address him as so. Perhaps that was how he knew her name.