Not really hunting... (Whiskers only)

[Rolo]

Frostpaw managed to stop a smirk from crossing her face upon seeing her mentor's distress. She had found it distinctly amusing, however soon that moment of glee passed. Within seconds, she had wanted to growl at him... he had turned on Finchpaw. Such a fury was unusual to her, she was not one to be protective, but she saw in Rowanheart's actions the same injustice and judgement the clan regularly showed to her. When he forced Finchpaw away, claiming that he had been 'wasting his time', she wanted to snarl insults at him. It annoyed her... it made her want to scold him.

She knew in that one surge of anger that she would not let this drop. She would make him wish that he had never spoken so harshly. She would make him see how twisted he was.

Frostpaw sat stock still for a moment, her eyes on the ground as she conjured a plan. Then she looked back up at Rowanheart, her eyes cold but tinted with annoyance.

"You speak so harshly to your son, Rowanheart." She spoke calmly, her voice icy. "It's not going to help him. He takes his rank very seriously, you underestimate him."

She paused for a moment, blinking away the surge of anger that threatened to overcome her. She fixed her gaze on her mentor and spoke coldly once again.

"He never wasted his time with me. No, such a conversation... one which you know NOTHING about, was not a waste." She spoke slowly, a slight growl in her voice, "I never messed about with him. Do you think I spend all my days trying to hurt cats? You should know by now I do not, not conciously anyway."

She moved forward and jerked his head closer to his.

"Stop looking at me as some mouse-brained apprentice." She spat. "I know you think I'm a bad influence... but you don't want to punish me. Oh no, that way I would find out how little you think of me. No, you want to take your son away and scold him for talking to such an 'evil' cat. 'He should know better', you'll say. How bad can a cat be for talking to his clanmate. Punish me if that is a crime because... Did it ever occur to you that he was healing me?"

She paused, remaining silent for a moment. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment more before she turned away, looking at the ground.

"Don't you trust your own son enough to let him take care of himself and his beliefs?" She mumbled, her voice cooler "He's alot stronger than you think. He can handle himself. He can't avoid non-believers forever. Besides, he single-handedly built up some of my respect for medicine cats."

"I didn't rip him apart. I like him."

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart wondered why he was still shocked when Frostpaw spoke so disrespectfully to him. Time and time again, he knew it was coming, but it never softened the blow. His ears pressed into the head as she spat at him, scolded him like he was the apprentice and she was the mentor. Each word wounded his pride a little more and somehow, he managed to find some energy to fight back.

It was stupid to even try. But it was instinct.

He struggled to keep his voice controlled, but he ended up growling at her anyway, his tail swishing back and forth as he spoke. "One conversation and suddenly you think you know him more than I do? You know nothing about him. You might think you do, but I have raised him and taken care of him for moons while you have sat down and talked with him for a mere hour or so. You shouldn't lecture me on how I handle my son. I am his father and he will do as I say."

He paused to collect his thoughts and calm himself down. "On the other hand, I should not have assumed that you were doing him any harm. I apologize for that. I'm only looking out for him and trying to keep him safe."

But it was the Frostpaw's last few statements... it was those few statements that scared and pleased him simultaneously. It was wonderful that Finchpaw had done some good and showed her medicine cats were not terrible creatures. But Rowanheart couldn't decide how he felt about Frostpaw... liking his son. That couldn't be good. It could lead to her redemption, yes... but...

Despite what Frostpaw thought, Finchpaw simply wasn't strong enough to withstand her opinions and arguments. Rowanheart couldn't bear the thought of losing his son to a darker path. To be a good father, he needed to make sure his son's soul would remain pure and untouched. Was it too much of a risk to let Finchpaw talk to Frostpaw? If Finchpaw listened to Frostpaw and fell from grace, would he be doomed? Rowanheart would love to save Frostpaw... but if it came at the cost of his own son...

No. It would be better if they saw as little as each other as possible. Of course he couldn't just stop contact between them, and they could exchange pleasantries. A little "hello" every now and then wouldn't hurt anyone and maybe such a superficial friendship would soften Frostpaw up.

"I'm glad to hear that," Rowanheart said in reference to her last statement. "But he's a busy cat with many complicated duties. You shouldn't bother him if it's not necessary."

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw did not bat an eyelid at his harsh tone. She had expected some anger... Rowanheart wasn't one who liked to admit he was wrong. She turned to face him without flinching. Her anger was spent so her face was calm again. Now she was little more than curious.

She raised herself into a standing position and turned her body so she could sit with her face towards Rowanheart. She made a concious effort to tighten her seating position so she was sitting up, her tail around her paws.

"I never said I know him better than you, Rowanheart." She stated simply, musing "I merely said that you're very harsh to him and that telling him off won't help him. You acted pretty hostily... I could almost have sworn that you meant to say that all to me instead... I don't know why he got scolded for talking to a cat."

Frostpaw frowned slightly, as if the concept of her next statement baffled her slightly. "Anyway, how could I 'harm' him? I'm not dangerous, am I?"

She questioned him innocently. Of course, her convincing face and tone was put on. Frostpaw was rarely confused by words, after all. She understood exactly what he had said, Frostpaw had already known it, and that was that he saw her mere presence as a threat. His last statement furthered this. He was telling her 'Don't talk to Finchpaw, I don't like you and you'll harm him'. She found it sad how he had to mask such a simple statement with pleasantries. She would relish the day he admitted his hatred. But anyway, Frostpaw knew that telling him she knew this would not help her here... so she decided to call his bluff.

"Hmm, I do keep in mind that he is a busy cat." She said soberly, "However, he's a social cat. He enjoys conversations... medicine cats aren't like our ancestors, they're just like any other cat. I'm sure he'd enjoy another conversation some time, he even asked for another one earlier."

When she had finished that, letting herself trail off as if she were thinking, she looked Rowanheart in the eye.

"Unfortunately for you, I like Finchpaw. He is nearly a fully grown cat now, as am I, he can handle me. Unfortunately, I also believe your worries are misplaced and that your suggestions are just suggestions, and because of that I shall do as I like. You cannot control me or your son."

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart bristled as she talked, jeered, mocked... yes, she did it all with an air of grace, but that's one of the things he found most annoying about her. Only Frostpaw could irritate him to the point of actually considering physical violence. He often imagined himself wiping that smirk off her face with his own claws...but he never acted on such a terrible thought. As much as he wished she would just disappear, she was his clanmate. He had to deal with her civily to keep the peace.

"It's true, that I cannot control you Frostpaw. I hardly think anyone can," he sighed as he wondered if she listened to anybody. He was sure that she would ignore Owlstar's orders too, even though Owlstar was the leader of their clan. But Frostpaw had no respect for anyone. She only cared about herself. "You've always done exactly what you wanted, nothing more and nothing less. But Finchpaw is a different matter. I will do anything to protect him."

He looked straight at her as he continued, determined to drive his message across, "Which does mean I think you are dangerous. Of course I do. Finchpaw is a social cat, but also a gentle one, and you could easily hurt him if you are careless with his feelings. The friendships he forms are ones he takes seriously, ones that will last a lifetime. If you're simply being nice to him because of a whim of yours... I won't allow that."

And Rowanheart did think that she had a hidden agenda when it came to "liking" Finchpaw. He could see Frostpaw offering friendship merely to get under his own skin. Again, he saw that he was being paranoid, but it was too hard not to be. For moons, he and Frostpaw had struggled with each other, pushing and pulling and never gaining anything but headaches. (At least, that's what Rowanheart got.) This was just another attempt of Frostpaw's to scorn him. But Rowanheart would not let Frostpaw take advantage of his son, he wouldn't do it. Sure, trying to get Frostpaw to back off was impossible, but his own son was more rational anyway. When he got a chance to explain this situation to Finchpaw, Rowanheart knew his son would understand that Frostpaw was just playing with him.

And even if that didn't work, Finchpaw would keep busy in the medicine cat den and he wouldn't have an opportunity to talk to Frostpaw. This thought comforted the tom. And they didn't have anything in common anyway. Really, why was he stressing over this so much?

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw snarled at him as he spoke so carelessly and with so little regard for her real feelings. He had no idea what her intent was, he hadn't known what they had spoken about. How in could he be so deluded and... heartless?

Finchpaw... Finchpaw may not mean the world to her but... she liked him. She had allowed herself to have a friendship with him... to try again. To give in to her illogical emotions and try, for once, to have a relationship with someone. She was not an emotional cat but... to hear some mouse-brain claim that he could not speak to the first cat she had come to like...

It spoke books about how cats saw her.

He spoke with absolutely no lieniancy, no obvious thought into what her intentions were. He had assumed she was out to hurt... for whatever reason. He had come to believe she was bereft (or rather 'happily without') of emotion and that she always schemed. She had done alot to hurt him... he had always had no intention to like her or accept her views, after all, so it was understandable... but he was too deluded to see that. He believed she was full of evil... when all she wanted was to set cats free. She wanted to be herself and to help others to be themselves, whether they disagree with her or not.

Rage ripped at her heart, pain overwhelming her. She was doomed to live a life filled with hatred, both from others and herself. Rowanheart hated her for her beliefs and because of his belief in Starclan, and in return she hated Starclan believers as they hated her. She hated Rowanheart with a passion. She wanted to scream at him, to hurt him.

Irony. The one thread of emotion she had regained with Finchpaw had been smited, she had been driven to hate even more. Rowanheart hadn't helped her, he had wounded her and perhaps stopped the one instance of maturity and stability she had gained in these past few moons.

Frostpaw's growl continued to ripple through the air even after the tom had finished speaking. Her body was tensed, forced to stay exactly where it was as she ignored her instinct to hurt. She was beyond being rational now, she would hurt him now. He deserved it.

"Your hatred of me is blasphemous, Rowanheart." She spat, her voice dripping with poison as she gazed at him. "Starclan will damn you for... such... such idiocy... such blindness. You mask your hate for me with words, it is still hate. Starclan will hate you for it. You assume things about me... you MAKE me evil... you make me hate you even more."

She stood up, her voice turning to bitterness, "Can you not put aside your conceited and spiteful beliefs for one moment to see that I am just a cat? I am not a threat, I am just like you. I am a cat. AND if you ask me, you're doing more harm to Finchpaw than me!"

[Whiskers]

How dare she! How dare she use Starclan against him, how dare she even pretend to know anything about the ancestors? She yelled at him and damned him when she didn't even believe a word she was saying. He couldn't work with this cat. She was calling him blasphemous? How. Dare. She.

He had never felt so angry, so pissed off, in his life. His claws shot out and dug into the soil. His gut told him to hurt her, to pounce and rip off her fur. His blood was boiling under his dark red fur. But he didn't budge, he just used his claws to chain him to the soil and told himself not to do anything stupid.

But he couldn't stop the bile from rising in his chest and the venomous words that spilled out of his mouth. "Ha! Starclan? How could you of all cats speak of Starclan when you refuse to even open your mind to such an idea? How could you call me blind when you prance around, thinking everything you believe is correct? When you were made my apprentice, I was open to you. I knew you did not believe in Starclan, but I tried to save you anyway. But you resisted, you fought me every step of the way, and it is THAT attitude that makes me disrespect you and dislike you."

He wanted to step forward, but he only trembled and pressed his claws more firmly into the dirt. He wanted to make her take back her words. He wanted her to beg for forgiveness. But these images were only dreams, futile dreams, and they would never come true. So he pressed on, determined to defend himself and try to hurt her like she was hurting him.

"Starclan supports me because I seek the truth and I speak the truth. You are the one they look down upon and damn. And why shouldn't I hate you when you're always trying to undermine me? You give me no reason to like you. You give me no reason to trust you with my son. And how dare you tell me I am hurting my son!" He hissed. That was what hurt the most. Rowanheart tried to be the best father he could-- the best father in the world. He did nothing but protect Finchpaw. When Finchpaw was a confused little kit, questioning Starclan, what had he done? He had gotten him the closest to Starclan that he could-- Rowanheart had plopped him in the medicine cat position, and there, Finchpaw would never fall. That's what good fathers do!

"You are the only danger to Finchpaw. You will hurt him. Whether you mean to or not, you'll either hurt him emotionally or drag him to hell with you."

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw was seething, on the brink of hurting him. If he said the wrong words, she was liable to attack. However, Rowanheart was a lucky cat. He had managed to avoid, though somewhat haphazardly, saying just the wrong words in just the right way. His rambling on about religion and 'saving her' did not hurt her in the slightest... in fact it made her feel even more right. It was only the talk of her being a danger to Finchpaw that hurt her, but that was not enough to drive her over the edge.

"HA!" She imitated his tone, her stance visably less tense "How do you KNOW I never opened my mind to Starclan, ey?"

She began to walk around him, as if interrogating him, "Had you ever thought I had known what Starclan was, had it preached to me as a kit, just as you do your own sons? My mother loved Starclan... she forced her beliefs upon me JUST as you do. I tried, for her, to believe in them. I believed for her, Rowanheart. It brought me misery and she hated me anyway. She hated my questions, like you, she didn't care about my feelings, personality or skills. So it was that when I finally let myself think of how rubbish Starclan was... I opened my mind. I stopped making myself what she wanted."

Frostpaw stayed where she was, her confidence growing as he proven exactly what she had spat at him. She was right, he could never see her as just a cat. She was her beliefs... he was unable to seperate them from her being and feelings. He was unable to see that a mentor is supposed to nurture, not condemn, their apprentice's skills, personality and beliefs.

"How can I not be blind?" She asked sarcastically, "Well, let me explain something to you. I have known Starclan belief and non-belief. I have looked at both, considered them both and chosen what I believe. How is that blind? Beliefs are not beliefs when you don't think they are correct, are they? You believe you're right, which is why you hate me. You hate me because of my beliefs. You don't care what my personality or feelings are, because I don't believe what you believe."

She growled to herself, "And that's just it, isn't it? Just because you can't get me to believe in Starclan, you will never respect me. Well, how do you think that is for me?" She snarled, her anger flairing up again as she pushed her face into his, "I spend my 'apprentice days' being hated, belittled and disrespected by my own mentor. I respected your beliefs, you had chosen your path, I even admired your loyalty to following them... but you hated me and mine in return. You tell me I'm wrong, you NEVER respect me. Why WOULDN'T I disagree and annoy you? You're never going to like me anyway, so why should I try? If believing in Starclan means hating everyone not with your beliefs, no thankyou. What example do you set me, Rowanheart... what example does the clan set? "Hate anyone not with your belief"? I consider other beliefs... I like those who make their own path, even if they disagree with me, I do not hate them... is that not what your Starclan wants?"

She spoke this coldly, bitterly... her words tinged with sadness. Though there was anger, it dawned on her further how hated she was, not just by Rowanheart but by her entire clan. She slowly walked over to where she had sat before, her head low.

"And you make me want to believe less every time you speak to me. You hurt me and tell me I'm wrong so much, I don't want to be like you. I want to be me. I want people to understand me, to know that I don't deliberately hurt. I want them to see me, not my beliefs... but they don't see anything but my beliefs so I make my beliefs me. What more do I have, dear mentor, if people only see my beliefs. I am a cat, just like you, stop claiming I will hurt everyone deliberately. I want the best and to be happy just like you do."

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart was fidgeting, keeping himself back yet again, as she circled him like a vulture would a dead mouse. He felt himself grow colder, instead of hotter, as Frostpaw kept her livid gaze on him. She scorched him, froze him, hurt him, beat him, and tired him out. He wanted to keep fighting with her, he wanted to make her see, but this was so impossible. And he was beginning to lose energy. He wouldn't admit defeat to her-- she was so wrong, he was so right, after all-- but what was there to say? They could run circles around each other. If Rowanheart was kind and civil, she would mock him. If he was angry and hateful, she would spite him in return. It was a lose-lose.

But at least his fire was simmering and he was no longer in danger of attacking Frostpaw with brute force. Since they barely trained, Frostpaw would probably be unable to defend herself and he'd end up getting in trouble himself. But he had no idea what he was going to say when she stopped talking.

But what Frostpaw was saying was all quite predictable... except for the part about her kithood. His ears perked forward and he felt sorry for the poor mother... and even a small bit for the younger Frostpaw. It was an all too familiar situation-- odd how it almost paralleled Finchpaw and himself. Except, unlike Frostpaw's mother, Rowanheart had clearly kept a tighter reign on his kit and therefore kept the sin from creeping into his son's innocent heart. Frostpaw had not been so lucky, and for that, Rowanheart pitied her and felt an urge to pray for her, despite the fact that she was clearly a lost cause. She was all sin now. All darkness. There was no love in this she-cat and there would be no love. How could anyone love someone so hateful? He couldn't even blame her own mother for feeling such a thing.

Finally, she stopped rambling. And Rowanheart knew he had to say something, despite how...tired he felt. "Ah, you talk so much. But you say nothing new. I stand by my own belief that you are a danger and that's why everyone in this clan fears you. We don't want our children like you. We don't want them to hear your thoughts, for what if they are so impressionable that they will listen? You've dug yourself into a hole, Frostpaw, and it's hard to climb out of that hole if you don't change your direction. Of course you want happiness. But you won't get it if you continue this way. You'll just end up the same. Alone. Hated. You know all this."

His voice was very calm now. Frostpaw had steered clear of Finchpaw and so his mind wasn't as muddled as before with emotions. Though he still felt a strange tightness in his heart when he looked at her, he felt superior, older, wiser, and so that kept his voice calm... even slightly smug, if Frostpaw was perceptive enough.

After all... to him, Rowanheart knew (or thought he knew) what made a cat happy. He had discovered that, in Starclan. To watch Frostpaw refuse Starclan was to watch her refuse happiness and so when she claimed to want happiness, it didn't add up in Rowanheart's mind. If she could just see the light, he would welcome her and the rest of the clan would to and then happiness would follow. It was such an easy answer! Maybe, she was a lot like Finchpaw, and she just over analyzed things.

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw, previously sombre and feeling dejected, jolted at his words. She was almost astonished by his... his obvious bluntness and pure cruelty. The words had gone straight to her heart, ripping open wounds she had so carefully stapled shut. A rush of pain flowed through her, completely numbing every other thought. She was dumbfounded...

Yet, slowly this pain changed to anger, and this anger to fury. It rose in her so quickly and furiously, she had to focus very hard not to slash Rowanheart's face off. She wanted to hurt him again and she knew that, if hurting him wouldn't prove his point, she could easily have done so.

A snarl rumbled throughout her entire body, low and menacing. Her eyes were alight with anger as she looked up to gaze at Rowanheart. She was ready to spring at him, to insult him and yowl at him... but she did not.

She did not speak, she did not yowl, she merely growled and stared at her mentor. Her body was tensed, fur raised, she could not summon a voice from her throat and would not allow herself to move. She merely stared at him. She let her indecision pass through her eyes, her phases of emotion be shown clearly on her face. Her pain, her anger, her sorrow, her hate, her hopelessness, all were displayed for Rowanheart to see. But this show of emotion was breaking from the norm. She made no concious decision to do this, she did not have some purpose for it, it happened naturally. She had been pushed over the edge.

Eventually, after a few minutes of continuous snarling and gazing, she lapsed into silence and visably relaxed. Her body slumped, her gaze dropping to the ground.

"Congratulations, Rowanheart." She mumbled slowly. The words felt unnatural in her mouth... she felt as if her tone and words were out of her control. The tone was... strange. She knew it was. It was like... she was trying to be sarcastic and humorous yet hadn't succeeded. No... her voice lacked too much zest to come across as sarcastic. She sounded flat, lifeless... dull. She was cold, bitter, sad. And the most pityful thing was that this was the a completely unmodified tone... it was her emotions embodied.

"You've won." She continued in the same tone, her voice drawn out, "You've defeated me. You can sleep soundly in your nest tonight knowing you have... you've hurt me beyond repair. You've won. You're superior and you've got the upper-hand. You've shut me up. You've broken me first, so you win."

She found herself gazing up at him, a blank look upon her face, "Forgive me, Rowanheart. Just be satisfied you have... that you've beaten me to the floor."

A strange smile crossed her face, and she chuckled. "I'm just glad you cannot hurt me further. This is as much pain as I can bare, so I will learn to overcome it, as I did before." Her tone was a little lighter, "Perhaps this will teach me never to share my emotions with anyone. You'll see, Rowanheart... I'll not be so easily hurt next time."

[Whiskers]

Those words...

Congratulations? You've won?

Forgive me, Rowanheart?

He won? Rowanheart... was shocked. And it showed. He had worked for moons to get her to say these words and now that they were out there, he couldn't believe it, thought that maybe he imagined it, that maybe she was kidding with him. Because he knew Frostpaw as a cat who couldn't break, who refused to break. She seemed to be so frustratingly, stubbornly invincible.

This was so unexpected that yes, Rowanheart did think that she was toying with him again for a few moments. She is... she's playing with my emotions, trying to get me vulnerable. So I don't suspect what is coming next. He thought this but still, parts of him didn't believe it. Because when he looked down at her, he saw something he had never seen before. He saw emotion, emotion that didn't look put on. He saw an apprentice, not an adversary.

It took a moment before he got past his shock and found himself met with many differing emotions that started with guilt and pity and ended with satisfaction. He was victorious. Like Frostpaw had said, he had won.

The look on her face, however, left the victory tainted. Though she seemed to have given up, that look told him that she was bitter and resentful... she hadn't realized the truth yet. She wasn't just going to start to believe in Starclan, and that was Rowanheart's ultimate goal when all was said and done. Beyond the fact that he was supposed to teach her how to hunt, how to fight, he had set out to teach her of Starclan's love. He wanted to cleanse her, but it looks like he merely shoved her head into a pool so she couldn't speak anymore. That's what it felt like. Yes, she was going to shut up, for a while. That was good. He'd have a break from all those annoying headaches.

Maybe... redemption was just a step away. Could he hope for that? Of course he could. Starclan gave him that hope and let him believe that now that she was shattered to pieces, Rowanheart had a chance to try... try... to fix her. After every rain fall, flowers grew-- good came of pain. And so, with that thought, all his guilt fell away easily, as if he was shedding his winter coat and he stood straighter for he truly felt as though he deserved this victory.

His voice was gentle, though Frostpaw would probably interpret it as mocking. "Ah, Frostpaw. You will be the one to see. Starclan will come and soothe your pain if you just let them. Try to understand that everything happens for a reason."

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