Stoatstream Stoatstream
In every rosewater rivulet that runs from you.
In every rosewater rivulet that runs from you.
ShadowClan
Thief
{$title} Backwritten to the end of July.
——————————————— Together, we'll make our way home ✦
CONTENT WARNING
Mentions of abandonment issues and self-destructive tendancies.
The gathering, only some days ago, had been dizzying. So much death and fighting, rage and fear. And she had missed all of it. Part of her glad she had, to avoid facing the tragedy of the other clans, save herself from the fear and dread. But, even so, she took to her paws that night and wandered out of the pocosin. It was one of her nights free, the nights when she wasn't tailed by Sablestar. While she was still "regaining his trust", he allowed her to hunt alone. He had high expectations of her to come back with a small bounty of prey or at least obvious evidence she had struggled trying. And, most nights like these, she obeyed. Listened diligently, hunting until near exhaustion, presenting what she caught and reporting if there was anything amiss.
But, tonight, when the moon was a sliver in the sky, like a stray claw-mark in the star-speckled sky where someone caught the night with a swipe of their paw, the light slipped through. This is when they agreed to meet. And, considering how the gathering went, they didn't have time to talk since. She longed to see her friend, the respite of a cat who did not hold the heavy expectations of Shadowclan. Even if it was the most unlikely of connections, she was grateful to have a friend who saw life outside of just the clans, the intricacies and such. Stoatpaw spent her every waking day tailing Sablestar; her every moment was clan politics and connections, for once, she wanted to just… Enjoy being young.
As she found her way to Fourtrees, she was the first there again. She often was, despite being grounded, she had her ways to slip out with her offer to hunt as proof of her improvement. It wasn't as if she wouldn't hunt tonight too, she would snatch some frogs and maybe a plump mouse on the way home. It wouldn't be so much as some nights past, but with a pitiful enough look, like there was a remorse for not being good enough, she would be forgiven. A trick she learned fast, if everyone saw her as so pathetic, she would use it against them. Snakepaw had deemed her weak, and she proved him otherwise. But, sometimes, playing into what everyone believed her to be could make her sneaking far, far easier.
It was a lie, a blatant one, to her leader and mentor. But that she didn't mind, it came to her frightfully easily, though. That was what she worried about. But, then again, with her friends, she found truth slipping from her maw much easier. Perhaps that is where trust mattered; she could find herself being personable with most cats, talkative with many others, but it seemed far fewer knew who she really was. So much of who and what she was had been kept tight-lipped, and she never quite intended it to be like that.
She wasn't one to swan about; she was hardworking, more so than some of her peers. Having to work double time for her lack of hearing made training harder, hunting harder, and even communicating. Some cats hadn't believed her when it came out; she spoke too well, understood too much. But it was just context clues, lip reading, no one seemed to question why she watched cats intently when they spoke, or she "ignored" others often. If anything, it was everyone else's fault for being too ignorant to notice… Or maybe that was mean.
Stoatpaw found herself lost in her thoughts for a while, waiting for the other, kneading into some loose moss as she sat with her back to one of the trees. It was only when her thoughts rounded back to Riverclan that her focus returned to the place all around her. Her face knit in confusion as she peered up to the sky again, humming to herself a little, seeing how far the moon had shifted in the sky. 'He's usually here by now…' She pondered to herself, unsettled.
For a moment, there was a fleeting nausea, the idea that he wasn't coming. She shook her head, as if she could dislodge the thought physically. It was foolish, of course he would be here soon. Maybe he had been caught up getting asked something by his mentor, or maybe he overslept! Stoatpaw reassured herself, even though she already found herself absently picking at her paws in nervousness.
She didn't do well with waiting. She never had. There had been times before where she was told to stay, to wait. At those times, she was small. That was before Shadowclan, even, when she was tiny and frightened of being alone. Of being left. That characteristic discomfort lodged itself in the back of her throat, the kind that made it harder to push away the nausea. Stoatpaw thought she had outgrown it, the fear. But, then again, she hadn't truly been alone like this, not for a very long time. She had been by herself, in the pocosin, hunting or finding herbs. That was different; she could go home, and there would be cats there. And, that was still true. But…
But had she been forgotten?
Her jaw clenched, tail thudding weakly against the ground as she pushed herself further into the bark; it poked into her pelt, but she ignored the quiet ache. The moon kept moving, further and future away, threatening to dip past where she could see it. She was thinking about everything, right?
He hadn't forgotten her.
Stoatpaw talked with a lot of cats, sure, but she didn't have so many friends. Fleapaw was her sister, but even then, she barely saw her anymore. She was too busy training with Jadethorn. Monsterkit hadn't started his apprenticeship yet; he would soon, but he was stuck in the nursery until then. Cloudberrypaw was a friend, but even then, she couldn't seem to talk to the other like she could with Torrentpaw.
The ivory apprentice sank into her seat position, before giving in and lying down for the moment. She knew time was growing shorter and shorter; she would have to leave to find her prey to present to Sablestar, but she didn't want to leave either. It felt like an admission, having to accept that…
Maybe he really wasn't coming.
She didn't know what she had done wrong. Clearly, she must have, Torrentpaw must have gotten upset at her during the gathering. Maybe she was too mean to Snakepaw, or because she wandered off and spent time with Downypaw. Maybe someone got into his head about her being a part of the raid, convinced him she was awful and evil. Someone to be scared of or avoid. Stoatpaw didn't know what she had done, but she felt the shame cling to her pelt. She felt so very small in that moment, the same frightened kitten curled beneath the base of shrubbery to avoid being attacked.
It was once she couldn't even stretch to see the moon that Stoatpaw gave in, finally. The tears that had dripped down her cheeks since lying down had already dried to something tacky and uncomfortable on her fur. She sat up, simply resigned. With one paw, she wiped her face, grimacing, realising how she had clawed absently at her own paws; the fur had started to finally thicken again since the raid, but now it was thin and almost patchy in places. It only took one night, one where she found herself clinging to something so desperately that she deluded herself that it would be okay. It wasn't.
Stoatpaw would blame it on brambles, digging to stop a vole fom escaping her grasp, or chalking it up to stress about her warrior assessment. No one would press her about it, no one ever did. One lie was enough, and if she needed to, she would pile more and more until the cat everyone saw her as was unrecognisable. Sometimes, it seemed easier that way-
She grimaced. Shaking her head. She didn't want to give up that easily; she would give him another chance. Maybe it was stupid, a last desperate hope in a cat so scared to lose herself in her lies she would give him one more chance. Stoatpaw swallowed hard, deciding to come back the next moon. It was enough time; if he wasn't there then, she wouldn't try again. She didn't have the heart to let herself wait again, not when she couldn't bear the idea of being abandoned, not again.
The ivory apprentice looked back, one last time, a vain attempt, but yet the opening was still empty. Her expression remained that same sombre exhaustion; she didn't want to give up so easily, but lately, everyone felt just out of reach. One last chance. She didn't want to get her hopes up, but she would return.
She wanted to go home, curl up in her nest, pretend this awful night never happened. But she had a clan to prove herself to; if she couldn't have connections, she could have worth. Make herself indispensable to the clan, make herself useful for hunting. She had to feel needed, or else, what else was there to be?
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Stoatpaw
✦—Shadowclan apprentice | 10 Moons
✦—She/Her
✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK, PAWSPEAK
✦—A slender white cat with faint lilac markings and blue eyes.
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⤷ Written by Phoenix
