[The Cannibal]

Originally Posted by Nightpool

Nightpool noticed his oculus viewing her as he waited for a reply, and she felt rueful for keeping him dallying. Blushing with embarrassment, she had spoken, but was afraid of what Ibisprowl would think. She suspired for every cat to be upbeat, but this bobtailed to simply refused to be. It was peculiar how he was worrisome, believing the judgement of any feline to be a condemning statement.

As he spoke, Nightpool tilted her head. "Your father? H-How?" croaked the old cat, bewildered. When she was a little, scuffling she-kit, Nightkit, her parents always cooed. Darkkit, Splashkit, and Falconkit were her best friends. The memories were all too distant. Her kinfolk were meager. Her brother, Cactuspaw, succumbed in a woeful dispatch near a marsh. Wildkit died at birth, and Rabbitpaw expired when she grew terribly ill. A paddock around camp was where she held her vigil for each and every passing of her siblings. Nightpool regretted her words the moment she said them. "I'm sorry, Ibisprowl... I really am..." she sighed.

With a discerning mindset, she remembered how herself, Nightpaw, pushed on. How Falconpaw's possible future mate, Rainypaw, died. Lamentations came from the sorrowful tom every night. He grew cold. Darkpaw helped him. He disavowed the apprentice's assistance harshly and bluntly. When they received their names: Nightpool, Darkstorm, and Falcongaze respectively, the earthy tomcat bewailed his coldness, and asked for forgiveness. Duly granted by Darkstorm, he continued with his life. Later, Darkstorm died in a fox attack, and Falcongaze died of blood loss from being besieged by an opposing feline. Nightpool hotly refused any aid from her clanmates in the days following. Darkstorm was her mate.

She flitted back to reality, and felt a sensation of authenticity collide with her. She had to barricade her eyes from flying open. "I apologize," she said. "I tend to drift off sometimes." Nightpool look down, abashed. What would Ibisprowl think now? She's an old, senile crone, imagined Nightpool sadly. She looked back up at the black-and-white, maculate-hued warrior.


Could he understand?

Clenching his jaw tightly closed as he waited for her response, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his yellow gaze on her and nearly looked away at the last second but somehow managed to keep his hues focused on her until she replied, in which he would gratefully allow himself to look away with a nod of his head. I suppose it is uncommon for your dad to not really talk to you. Of course she would ask a question like that.

His bobtail twitched and he stared at his paws for a good long while, trying to search for a reason why his dad didn't talk to him much anymore. But he couldn't really find one. The only thing that he really knew was that he was just always busy. It could have been because he reminded him too much of whoever his mother was, maybe seeing him was too painful for Badgersong and so he elected to not even see his son too much. "No it's u-um.. It's fine.. Cats h-have natural, uh, c-curiosity. T-To be truthful ma'am, I.. I don't really know why he.. He doesn't talk to me much. The o-only, um, the only thing I can really think of is that he's too busy. He's always doing t-things around the camp, he's um.. Really hard-working. I never really get to see him." The lanky tom's shoulders shrugged slightly before sagging, his gaze wandering to somewhere in the clearing, no where in particular.

After this exchange, the two fell silent, his mind trying to find something to argue about in the silence but not really finding anything at all to bicker about. There was just the deep down sadness he felt, the loneliness and constant confusion that he hated so much. Breathing out a quiet breath, the tom shook his head before laying his chin in his paws, closing his eyes momentarily. You know.. Sometimes I really do wish I had someone to go to. Instead of being alone all of the time. For once, his mind did not argue with the thought and remained quiet, letting that single, lone thought drift inside of his head until Nightpool's voice roused him and he opened his eyes to look over at her.

"Hm? Oh.. I-It's er fine.." The tom said awkwardly, he too had apparently drifted from reality for a small length of time. Sighing out, he laid his head back in his paws and flicked an ear. "Do you... Have a-uh, a lot of friends?" It was a meager question and truly, he didn't want to hear the answer, it always made him feel bad about himself. That's what made a cat successful right? Knowing a bunch of friends? Always having a cat to talk to when they needed to? Friends and just knowing other cats meant that you were successful, if you didn't have friends. You were a nobody. And since he didn't even hardly have a father to talk to.. He was even lower than a nobody.