The power of Starclan [Frost x Rowan] compels ye

[Whiskers]

Rowanheart shook his head. He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the fact that Frostpaw had once believed in Starclan that was so incredulous. It was that she hadn't been satisfied when she had believed! How was that possible? Rowanheart couldn't fathom the very suggestion. Unhappiness with Starclan was...was...it was an oxymoron, that's what it was. It didn't make sense, not to Rowanheart's ears.

There could be only one conclusion, Rowanheart knew. It was a sad conclusion, and it was another reason why he was shaking his head at Frostpaw, as if he was reprimanding the poor little she-cat. (He often repeated this action when he was disappointed in his sons, so it was strangely quite personal.) Rowanheart knew, right then, that there really...there couldn't possibly be any redemption for her. The battle he had been fighting and the battle he hoped that Mistpelt would win was a battle too big for the both of them.

It was rather presumptuous for Rowanheart to think that though. He felt bad for counting Mistpelt out of the game before she had really gotten started. But Frostpaw was too difficult. No one could touch her, and that was because she refused to let herself be touched. He had tried and failed. Starclan had even wrapped Their loving arms around the she-cat when she was but a mere kit, and they had failed. His insolent son was trying to save her, but he would not come close either. There was no room for anyone in Frostpaw's heart.

And that was because she didn't have one.

"Well, Frostpaw," Rowanheart began, in a sad, withered tone, with a heap of pity and disappointment packed into each word. "You must be a heartless cat then. To have had Starclan and yet to have felt none of Their warmth...I can only conclude that you never had a heart, never had a soul. I pity you, Frostpaw. I know that you are incapable of feeling any such emotion yourself...but I do pity you. I would sooner die than have no heart. I could have never experienced the fulfillment that Starclan brings... I would never have felt the happiness my mate brought me... and I would never have been able to love my sons."

Rowanheart still wished to help her. Even if nothing he could do would ever help, Rowanheart still had this nagging feeling that he needed-- needed-- Frostpaw to find Starclan. To realize it was impossible was disheartening, disappointing, and frustrating, but Rowanheart had to come to grips with it. He had to. Either that, or he would give over the reigns to Mistpelt and Starclan. They could try, but he was pretty much worn-out.

"But perhaps it is not the end for you. I am but a servant of Starclan and Their will, and they can work miracles. Maybe They can still help you, Frostpaw," Rowanheart felt his heart swell as he imagined that it might just be possible, that Starclan would find a way. They worked miracles after all. "So do not lose hope. Anything is possible for Starclan."

Rowanheart listened to his own words and found them to be absolutely true. Yes...he would try not to count Mistpelt and Starclan out just yet. He would believe in Starclan, as he always had, and They would find Frostpaw's heart tucked away in a forgotten, dusty corner. They would bring it to light, they would clean the cobwebs away, and Frostpaw would smile on him as a dutiful, purified, worthy apprentice.

Rowanheart nodded inwardly. Starclan could do it. After all, They hadn't failed him yet.

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[Rolo]

Despite her belief that Rowanheart could no longer touch her, his words stung.

His accusations were... monumental. She was taken aback by it all. Stunned that Rowanheart could claim such a thing and swear he was good. She was stuck between numbness towards the hurt and anger towards the red-furred cat.

How could a cat who insulted, judged and hurt be anything other than sinful? The very idea that he was 'pure' and 'good' made her want to snarl. But that would not help her... he was too deluded to see his own evils. He wouldn't understand the damage he was doing through his own pompous superiority and accusations until he drove someone to drown themselves.

But even though she knew he had the brain of a flea, his manner had still made her wince. His pity, his disappointed shake of the head... they hurt regardless of how much she didn't want them to.

She was not heartless. She couldn't be. It was... unponderable. She respected, she cared and she hurt. How could a cat without a heart do that?

Earth, why was Rowanheart so insensitive? She had admitted some of her worst memories to him while wallowing in a painful past, and he had simply stood there and told her she had no soul. He had no comprehension of pain or what she went through, and he'd not even tried to understand her. He was heartless himself, utterly heatless. She didn't want to talk to such a repulsive cat. She didn't want to be insulted anymore. She just wanted to... to...

She wanted to be understood. And appreciated. And to be safe.

She didn't want to talk anymore. She just wanted to... go curl up and think somewhere. To figure out why the idea of being heartless and soulless had effected her so much. To figure out her own mind and forget about this stupid debate and never take part in another for the rest of her life.

But, for now, she couldn't. Despite her unwillingness, she needed to talk... to try and drive home that she felt things and correct the mouse-brained tom eternally.


"Thanks, Rowanheart." She murmured, her voice seeming strangely detatched from the rest of her. "I appreciate being told that all the care I have for certain cats in this clan isn't real, and that I'm incapable of feeling happiness."

She slowly moved downwards into a crouch, moving her bushy tail and so it was wrapped around her. "Thanks for telling me that this agony I feel is impossible... because I have no heart and that none of me matters... because I don't have a soul. Y-you... I..."

Her voice shook as the emotion literally overcame her. Somehow, repeating these words had made them burn again. She felt like a kit again... like the cat that yearned so much to gain her mother's acceptance but never gained it.

It hurt. It hurt alot.

"You're hurting me, Rowanheart." She said simply. "Please... just go away and leave me alone. Go ruin someone else's life... you've given me enough already."

He needed to go away. Now.

[Whiskers]

Something unexplainable happened. It happened fast, faster than Rowanheart could blink. But without warning, a feeling of guilt engulfed him.

Why? Why? He shouldn't be guilty. He was spreading the word of Starclan, he was...was...helping, not hurting. Yet, the look on Frostpaw's face was stirring that unpleasant emotion. Was it possible that he was in the wrong this time, that he was being cruel, that he had hurt her badly? But he had hurt her before. He had insulted her and she had insulted him and it didn't matter! She had committed crimes much worse than this! She had broken down his pride, she had disobeyed his orders, she had mocked and laughed and made fun of him. She had refused to believe in Starclan. So she was the guilty one and he was not. That was just the plain truth!

But it didn't matter. The guilt was everywhere within him.

He was reminded of a time when Finchpaw was just a kit-- the smallest kit, barely bigger than a mouse-- and his brother had been relentlessly insulting him every time Finchkit lost at playfighting. His son had cried out for his daddy, so loud that one of the queens got up and came to get him. When he had arrived at the nursery, he had quickly chastised Firekit for being a bully.

And now Rowanheart was the bully. It was disturbing to think of himself in that light. It made him want to apologize. It made him want to comfort Frostpaw, care for her, like he would have if this was one of his sons. How disgusting was that? Rowanheart had never thought that the day would come that he would want to tell Frostpaw that he was sorry.

It's the father in you, Rowanheart concluded. That's the only reason why you feel this way. Just remember, you sometimes have to break somethings down before you can build them up again. This is the same. To tell her these things...to keep pushing her toward the light, no matter the cost...it's the right thing, even if it seems mean.

Even with these reassuring thoughts, it was clear that Rowanheart was uncomfortable as he spoke.

"You're right, it's best I leave. That way you can...can have some time alone to think over the words that I've said. Once you accept them as true, then I can help you, Frostpaw."

With that, Rowanheart dipped his head, turned, and fled, before he could go back and treat Frostpaw like the daughter she was not.

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