Not really hunting... (Whiskers only)

[Rolo]

Continued from Fallen Trees:
forest-of-fate.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=fallentress&action=display&thread=570&page=4

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Frostpaw kept her gaze away from his, unable to meet his eyes. She was too torn up by this to allow this linkage of minds through eye contact. She could control her emotions usually, but she had already quite obviously lost it. It made her want to snarl at herself for getting so uptight.

However, as she kept her ears open to his voice, one set of words made her ears prick...

Even friends...

Even friends...

Even friends?

Frostpaw blinked, trying to understand such an alien word. Friend... what did that mean? She knew it meant some kind of emotional bond... but... surely... not with her. No one offered her friendship, she was one who was hated for her beliefs. Why would Finchpaw want such a bond with her?

Frostpaw understood his respect... but she did not understand his emotions. They were like unsolvable maths equations to her.

Her thoughtful ponderings were halted upon Finchpaw's continued rambling about questions. What was it with him and questions? Why had he gotten so hung up on the idea that questions upset her? It was quite the opposite... she couldn't care less about the stupid things.

She sighed, "Oh, Finchpaw." Her voice was filled with sadness and playfulness, "Why do you misunderstand me? Questions being answered with questions never upset me... I just inquired why you felt the need to do so. You told me you only opened your mouth when you had something to say. Excuse me, but I don't think you're very opinionated if you cannot answer a simple question before rewording it and asking me."

Frostpaw pondered for a moment, looking back into his eyes. Her confidence had semi-returned, and she felt the need to direct this question at him rather than the ground...

"As you have gathered, Finchpaw, my manner is rough. My words are not filled with emotion like most cats, and my truth-telling upsets many. I do not try to insult, but I end up doing so... and that is the reason why cat's don't like me. They don't like my bluntness and my lack of lies. The fact that you are offering your friendship, an emotional thing, baffles me. Why would you want to do that if I hurt you so much?"

Finchpaw had calmed down almost completely now, and he felt so much more... relaxed now. He watched--no, studied-- Frostpaw, his head slightly tilted, waiting for her own words. She was calmer now too and her tone was very... soothing to him. Though it held a tinge of sadness, he could sense some sort of happiness in there too, and the contradictory emotions suited her expression well.

Obviously, she was very confused over his notion of friendship, which was confirmed with her question.

Unlike other questions, this one wasn't hard to answer. Though he felt the need to clarify his question thing (it was a deep nagging within him that just wouldn't shut up) Finchpaw recognized that they could go back and forth and back and forth on that all day and nothing would really get done. Besides, Frostpaw looked interested in his reply to her last statement; he wouldn't bore her with more chatter then needed.

"Because I want to, Frostpaw." Frostpaw meowed urgently. He couldn't help himself and suddenly, he had been unplugged, and the calm that had just existed a few seconds ago was gone. He wore excitement in his eyes and sported the emotion on his posture as well.

" Your words, though they do hurt, the injury doesn't last very long. They're surface wounds to me. Maybe I'm just not as offended as easily as some, or maybe I just realize that it is your way to tell the truth. I'm not going to lie and say I'm not offended by some of your statements-- but not every relationship is perfect, whether its a friendship or something else. I just don't see why I should throw away a chance to be friends over differing opinions or some harsh words."

Frostpaw kept his gaze as he spoke to her, astonished by the sound of excitement in the ginger cat's voice. She was still a little confused... why was he so excited about the idea of being friends with her? Though his words had given her reason to believe that he just wished to be friends with everyone, his stance seemed to whisper of a quiet joy he held for a friendship with her in particular. In some bizarre way, it seemed Finchpaw was not seeking out her friendship for peace between the idealist and the submissive but for an honest relationship. A meeting of mind on an emotional level rather than an interllectual one.

Frostpaw pondered for a moment after he finished speaking. For Finchpaw, the offer of such an emotional tie had seemed an easy one, but for Frostpaw the implications of such a relationship were frightening... if strangely thrilling. It all came down to whether she rejected him on the basis that she didn't do friendship or whether she acted on a whim... listening to what her instincts told her for once.

Frostpaw smirked to herself. Hmm...

Dare she? She chuckled. Well... she supposed she did. What was she to follow rules? It could prove quite interesting... perhaps even fun if she let herself exchange respect to like.

In that moment, Frostpaw looked at Finchpaw through different eyes.

She liked him. Why? He had his own views, stood up for himself and was brave enough to offer affection. Those factors, individually, were rare in itself... but altogether was almost unheard of. Yet... there was a little more to it. Frostpaw admired his patience, adventure and ability to dream. She liked, for some reason unknown to her, his excitability and emotional slant on things. He was a refreshing cat... he was a cat she could like. Yes, she could...

Frostpaw smiled. A cool aura came over her, her mind finally made up. It wasn't fighting anymore, it was accepting... and with that acceptance came the calmness that comes from a clear mind. Yet, her gaze did not hold the cold, jokey or mocking edge they so often carried, they carried a muted excitement and quiet expectance.

Frostpaw blinked, focusing her gaze directly at Finchpaw. "I like you, Finchpaw. You might irritate me, but... I do like you."

She could think of nothing more to say. She wasn't in the practice of giving out emotional praise, let alone long soliloquey's on why she felt such affection. The word 'like' slipped out more easily than Frostpaw had imagined it would... she thought it strange how that could be the case. Having uttered these few words, the shock of what she was getting herself into hit her again and a slight fear marked itself in her stance.

Finchpaw tried not to get too carried away at her words. Her very simple, very honest words, words he had been hoping for... but wasn't expecting to get. Finchpaw almost pulled a Firepaw and puffed out his chest fur, but he managed to suppress this strange urge, instead choosing to smile, his whiskers twitching in quiet victory.

But oh, it was a victory that would be hard to keep. Just because Frostpaw "liked" him now didn't mean that in a few days she'd still have that opinion. Finchpaw still couldn't quite understand why he was so... eager to have her admiration. He really did love talking with her, he really did admire her, but to him, those two reasons didn't fully explain his determination to talk with the she-cat.

It did register in his mind (but for a moment and nothing more) that maybe it was because he wanted to prove his father wrong-- that Frostpaw was far from evil, far from being a horrible influence, far from being a lost soul. This could be his way to rebel, quietly, against Rowanheart. It was definitely a motivation that made sense, but Finchpaw didn't think that it was the one sole reason. It must be a whole bunch of them combined. Or maybe, he simply wouldn't know, and it was in his subconscious, hiding from even his sharp mind.

And then, Finchpaw thought again, how maybe his eagerness was fueled by the exhiliration and clarity she brought to his own mind. That alone would cause him to seek her out. And though he could tell, this could end very badly in so many ways, Finchpaw didn't care.

"Thank you, Frostpaw," Finchpaw said quietly, in an earnest, happy mew that he usually reserved just for Firepaw. "Let's hope you still feel that way tomorrow," and with that, his soft smile turned into a more playful, teasing smirk, as he joked about their... interesting dynamic.



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Frostpaw noticed his obvious pride, as well as his joy, but did not share in it. She knew that he felt victorious... but such a feeling seemed nonsensical to her. She didn't understand. To her, friendship was rather more a careless risk... one that brought more pain than happiness. She couldn't for the life of her understand why he was so pleased.

However, Frostpaw bit her tongue... an unusual occurance. Right now, she didn't really care about the arrogant feelings that were running through Finchpaw's mind. She needed to think about herself and what she was going to do...

Frostpaw grinned at Finchpaw's last remark, despite the obvious innaccuracies within it. She appreciated his tone more than his words in this case, something about it soothed her. however she couldn't quite let the tom's misunderstanding rest.

"I will feel the same way tomorrow." She spoke with a slight twinkle in her eyes, yet her voice was dead-pan and serious, "I'm not fickle. Just because I get annoyed by ignorance and cockiness, it doesn't mean I dislike the cat. It takes alot for me to hate a cat... and you'll know it when I do."

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw was not shocked by the tone of her voice. It was completely Frostpaw, and though he wished that one day he could hear an honest, happy laugh from this she-cat-- not a bitter laugh or a chuckle inspired by faint amusement-- he knew that she was not actually bothered by his silly little joke and her own inflections were caused by her need to be clear. She was a very exact cat sometimes, rigid, with straight edges and precise features, movements, and words. But other times there was more fluidity, more easiness, and even more mystery.

Finchpaw liked mysteries; in fact, he just liked to solve problems. He liked puzzles, and in this moment in time, that was the best way Finchpaw could describe Frostpaw. There were obvious pieces that fit together, but yet, the overall picture eluded him.

But his mind was running on tangents now so Finchpaw brought himself back to concentrate on her words, as much as he would like to dissect the stirring of emotion in her eyes.

Oh yes, she did like to be perfectly honest and clear. "I'm sure I will. And though I think I know what you will say, you surprise me so much I must ask... what does make you hate a cat? The word "hate" was an especially strong word, and much like "love" was not used often. Finchpaw, himself, didn't hate any cat or creature. And the only love he knew was a family-like love and he was wary of the other kind... the romantic kind, the kind that he couldn't understand at his young age, although he tried and tried.

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw was glad that he had not decided to pursue with his discussion of her mentality and of a possible friendship between them. It almost felt as if a weight had been lifted off her back... the idea of friendship had felt so unnatural she had almost had to end the conversation there. It just so... draining. She would much rather discuss something other than her own feelings... there was more logic in it.

In but a few seconds, her emotional thoughts halted and the burden of friendship left her mind. Gratefully, she turned her mind to thinking of why she hated... another emotional subject... but one she could answer more easily.

"Hate..." She mumbled, getting up gracefully and stretching. It was as if she was coming back out of a cocoon she had made for herself, allowing her body to move as freely as her mind. Gone were the thoughts of the restricting topics, her emotions and their effect, and back were the ideals and persona she created for herself. She was back again, calm and cool.

"I do not hate often." She mumbled thoughtfully, "I mostly don't respect. I don't form friendships with many, there isn't much for them to evoke such anger emotionally. I do not hate for bad actions..."

She trailed off, wondering herself why she hated.

"I guess I hate those who understand me yet still disrespect me... or try to hurt me." She eventually said, her voice plain and casual. "Or those who want to change me."

Frostpaw didn't care if he knew. She didn't know why. However, she was curious as to why he hated.

"And you?"

((This probably sucks. I have such a headache -_-))

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw tilted his head to the side as he thought about the question that he had so recently asked her. Frostpaw's answer made sense and the answer gave him much insight into the way her mind worked. She would be one to rebel when cats pressured her to change or tried to force her into a mold that she did not fit in to. He could think of several cats who were like this in their own clan... and it was sad that they came so quickly to mind.

But as for him... it was hard for Finchpaw, very hard, to imagine himself hating a cat. He never felt such strong emotion before. He felt anger, irritation, and even then, his anger was not so hot that he couldn't keep his claws in. But, hypothetically...

"Hate... I can barely even imagine myself feeling something that strong..." the ginger tom murmured as he struggled with the question, striving to come up with a good, solid answer.

"I've never hated a cat. I don't know if I ever will. But I suppose I would...hate if someone purposefully hurt another cat just to be sadistic, or hurt another just to hurt me. Finchpaw finally said, though he was still exploring other motives while his tail twitched behind him. "But hate is so hard for me to comprehend... I can't give you a fair answer. It's an emotion that bewilders me, much like romantic love.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw listened to his answer curiously, realising upon hearing his answer that he wasn't sure what made him hate. Frostpaw almost sighed. Hate was a more natural thing for her to experience than love... it was so much easier for her to comprehend. She supposed that Finchpaw was lucky in that respect.

"Heh... hate isn't so hard for me to understand." She said easily, not one ounce of bitterness in her voice. It was as if she was settled in the idea... it no longer effected her, "I've experienced alot of it. It bewilders me how a cat can love... even if that love is with their own family member. After all, I hated my mother."

Frostpaw almost jolted at her own words. That last sentence... she hadn't been planning to say that. In fact, she was puzzled about why she might say it at all. She cringed inwardly... hoping Finchpaw wouldn't pick her up on it.

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw could understand why it was so very easy for her to feel hate toward cats-- cats didn't exactly make it hard for her in the first place. But what he didn't understand and what caught him completely off guard was the mention of her mother.

After all, I did hate my mother

His ears swiveled forward, a sure sign that his curiosity was peaked. Mothers were a subject that Finchpaw thought a lot about, but had no one to talk to. His mother... well, he knew nothing about her. She was gone. Dead. Rowanheart spoke of her sometimes, and always with such reverence it made Finchpaw wonder: What was Zoe really like? Was she as lovely and smart as Rowanheart said or was Rowanheart merely blinded by his love for her?

"Your mother?" He couldn't help but ask the question. The urge to ask was deep and powerful within him. It always had been. It only occurred to him after he spoke that Frostpaw might not want to speak of her mother, especially since she said she hated her. But the words were out and Finchpaw couldn't erase them... and since he couldn't take them back, he brushed away the anxiousness and let his natural curiosity thrive.

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw just about managed to cover up her unease as Finchpaw picked her up on the mother thing. She should have gathered he wouldn't miss it... he was too perceptive and overtly curious to let it pass under his radar.

She wouldn't let it go unanswered though, of course. That would not be right and her refusal to answer would make it seem like a touchy subject. The last thing she needed was him assuming it was some secret that needed to be pryed out of her in order to reach her emotional core.

She thought for a moment, making a deliberate effort not to move, growl or show any emotion over the subject. She knew it was a subject she could really leave herself open for... analysis on.

Eventually, she fixed her gaze back on Finchpaw, sighing as if the question made her feel impatient.

"My mother was alot like your father..." She mewed, spitting the words out in distaste but not hatred. It was as if the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. "She wanted me to be... her daughter. Not Frostpaw but some idea she had in her head of what I was meant to be. Yet, unlike Rowanheart and you, she wasn't proud of me. She didn't..."

She trailed off, trying to find the right words. Her ears twitches slightly as she thought.

"Your father expects great things from you, Finchpaw." She mewed eventually, "Not in his pressuring way, but you're his son and he loves you. Whatever you are, he'll always be proud just because you're his son. My mother... she didn't expect anything of me. She wasn't proud of me for being her kit. Even if I was what she wanted, she didn't care. I was just acceptable then. Even before her Starclan belief came along... I was just thing thing she had to look after."

Frostpaw had to try very hard not to raise her tone in anger or exasperation. Her ears slowly went back as she murmured the next few lines.

"When we joined the clan... she said she wanted the best for me and her. I believe she did... but in the end my hatred of the belief in Starclan she adopted so easily made her dislike me... even more than she already had. My questioning and lack of respect for rules made her eventually hate me. She was a cold cat to me. So in the end... joining the clan gave her higher standards for me to reach... and when I didn't reach them she hated me more. If she hadn't joined the clans... maybe..."

She mused for a second before shaking her head.

"When it comes down to it, she tried to do the best thing for me by joining the clan... but really it made my life worse."

Frostpaw growled at herself. She knew, looking back on her words, she had lost her composure. She had revealed herself too much, it made her want to curse.

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw stayed quiet as she spoke, his expression focused, his head tilted. But he was not concentrating on her words, but moreso her tone and the way the words came out, as if forced. She was clearly trying to stay calm and the pauses that she took frustrated him. She was trying to hide her true feelings, perhaps, and he could understand and relate to that. But that didn't mean he had to like it. It just made her harder to figure out.

There were a few choice phrases that caught his attention, however, and when she spoke them, his whiskers twitched, his eyes brightened and the words stayed in the front of his mind.

Whatever you are, he'll always be proud just because you're his son.

This shocked him to even think about that, mostly because he didn't agree. Rowanheart's pride came from the fact he was "pursuing" a career that would bring him closer to Starclan. If he threw that away, Finchpaw could easily see that pride vanish. But Frostpaw obviously didn't think so, and so he wondered: Did she see something that he had missed?

But that was him, and this was about her, and so it was the other phrase that he turned to and decided to act on. Her "hatred of belief in Starclan" was an interesting choice of words. It hadn't really occured to him that she hated the Starclan belief, but merely disagreed with it--disagreed with it strongly, of course. He didn't see a reason to downright condemn it in such a way. He wondered if she truly hated the idea (which didn't seem likely), or if it was the fact that Starclan turned cats against her.

"This might seem as if it came out of the blue, but you mentioned--"

A rustle.

Finchpaw stopped speaking and his eyes flicked away from Frostpaw and toward the trees behind her. His instinct caused him to tense. Another rustle and then, a large, dark ginger tom emerged with his nose low. Rowanheart. Just the sight of him sent Finchpaw back a step, as if he wanted to escape into the trees.

Rowanheart looked up, irritation plain as day in his eyes and on his face. "So this is where my apprentice has run off--" his gruff voice faded as Rowanheart's eyes drifted up and zeroed in on Finchpaw's face, "... Finchpaw?"

Finchpaw watched his father looked between the two. He could only guess what Rowanheart was thinking... something terrible no doubt, like Frostpaw had dragged him in here to tear his poor psyche to pieces.

"What is going on here?" Rowanheart growled, once again glaring at Finchpaw and then turning his fiery gaze on Frostpaw. Clearly he expected an answer from one of them.

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[Rolo]

As soon as the rustling sound reached Frostpaw's ears, her ears pricked and she turned her head towards the noise instantaneously. Although she wouldn't have admitted it, the sound had made her jump slightly. She had been so focused on Finchpaw, her other senses had been dulled.

However, Frostpaw's brief look of surprise quickly contorted into one of smugness. A devious smile crossed her face, her tail raised in greeting. However, her movements did not hold sincerity, they only held her usual subtle mockery.

"Ah, Rowanheart!" Her eyes twinkled mischeviously. Although the words sounded warm, no cat could deny that there was no real gladness in her voice. "So you finally found me then? It took you long enough."

She grinned mischieviously. Her tone had been one of innocent mockery, one which could have been mistaken for that of the witty banter that takes place between cats who know eachother well. However, there was a subtle mocking edge. It was so slight, it often confused cat's about what her motives really were. Was she trying to hurt or failing to endear? This tone was picked purposely... if she was to achieve what she wanted, she would need to inspire some uncertainty.

Frostpaw chuckled, wandering over to Finchpaw. Seating herself, but an mouse-length away, to his right, she gazed up at Rowanheart.

"Sorry I wasn't in camp." She mewed casually, she turned her gaze to Finchpaw and smiled innocently, "I came out to get away from those mouse-brains in camp. Finchpaw was looking for herbs and we bumped into eachother."

If her plan was to work, it was required that Finchpaw was not dropped into the mess she created. She hated lying, even though she was pretty good at it, but right now she didn't care.

"I was having a lovely conversation with Finchpaw. Intriguing, I must say. Is that such a crime?"

Her voice was sincere and she spoke with not a hint of sarcasm. Her voice was as honest as ever, and Finchpaw, she guessed, he would take this as a compliment. However... she had not calculated such a move just to boost the red cat's ego, it had been a tactical move to scorn Rowanheart. Rowanheart was worried about her influence... she knew it, seeing her acting so friendly would ring alarm bells immediately. But, as Rowanheart would see, she had caused no ill effects within his son. Perhaps, this way, he would come to respect her a little more.

[Whiskers]

Well, that was unexpected. Finchpaw had expected... well, something different from Frostpaw. True, she was still mocking his father, but she hadn't attacked him. For some reason, he had been expecting her to claw out his ears. He was a little disappointed that she didn't. He certainly would have if he was as brave as her, and right now, he couldn't help but look at her with admiration. She moved with such confidence and she spoke smoothly. The challenge in her voice was subtle. Why couldn't he just do that?

But he did wish that she had just kept it at "we just bumped into each other." He wasn't ashamed of being near her... but his father would bombard him with questions later about what they talked about, how long it had lasted, and if he was okay. Finchpaw would have to lie through his teeth, or at least tiptoe across the truth. If he was vague enough, Rowanheart would soon lose interest.

Rowanheart stepped forward. His expression had not changed. "It could be. I never know with you," he replied to Frostpaw's question before looking at Finchpaw."Herb collecting, eh? Where are your herbs, Finchpaw?"

"I just started... was just about to pick up some...uh..." his eyes flicked around, searching for herbs in the area. "...juniper." He motioned to the plant just a fox-length away.

Rowanheart just sighed and Finchpaw could tell that he really didn't believe him. He ordered him away harshly. "Just go back to camp, Finchpaw. Smallfoot hurt her shoulder and you might as well do your job for once instead of wasting your time with her. And we'll talk about... about this later."

Finchpaw decided to try one more time, just to stay out of camp a little longer..." I still need to--"

Rowanheart shook his head. "Don't even. Just go."

The ginger-and-white tom gave up, and while he hid the disappointment from his face, his movements were tense and rigid as he turned abruptly. "I'll see you in camp, Frostpaw," Finchpaw said as he passed her, and gave one last glance behind him before disappearing into the undergrowth.
***

Rowanheart couldn't help his paranoia. It consumed him. As he turned to Frostpaw, all he could think about was how she was planting ideas in Finchpaw's head. He was already fragile. Frostpaw could break him down and then build him up into someone as misguided as herself. Thank Starclan Finchpaw had a good, strong brother to hold him steady and a talented mentor to steer him straight. No matter what Frostpaw had said, no matter how much damage she had caused, Rowanheart was confident that Finchpaw would recover with the help of his peers.

"Well, you've clearly had enough fun today, messing around with my son. Let's try to get some training done," Rowanheart said. His voice was already tired. He knew what to expect from Frostpaw, he was just hoping that maybe she'd cooperate for once. Lately though, he found himself thinking "Just a couple more moons and you'll be done. She'll be out of your paws." Of couse, that all depended if she was fit to be a warrior. So far, Rowanheart wasn't seeing it. He just saw a stubborn, hard-headed she-cat who was determined to wreck havoc on his life.