Forget Me Not (finchxcrow)

[glowlynose]

For the first time in ages, Crowpaw felt thankful that his mentor didn't train him very much. It left him lots of free time to do important things, important things like what he was doing right now. The freedom was certainly nice. He could get out of camp and enjoy the fantastic day while he had time to do so. Of course, from where he was underneath his pine trees, it was a bit difficult to see the startlingly blue sky. The trees were thick in this part of the forest, the part of the forest just before they thinned out into the FogClan border.

Crowpaw's pulse started to speed up. He was most definitely breaking a rule right now, probably quite a few, in fact. He hadn't been taught all of the rules yet, but he was pretty sure that crossing a border was a no-no. Of course he wouldn't cross the border with his body, but still. His plan was almost like breaking the one rule that could get you killed. He needed to calm down. If he lost his nerve now, he'd never get to talk to Finchpaw.

Finchpaw probably isn't even going to come to the border today, you idiot. Just wait until the half-moon, his sister's voice hissed in his head.

No. By then the tom who saved you might be dead. I need to talk to him, stat.

The tom might be dead... Crowpaw steeled himself, flexed his shoulders, and prepared to carry out his plan. Over there lay his pile of blue flowers, the same blue flowers that he had given to his new friends at the last Gathering. He could only hope that Finchpaw would remember the flowers and infer their meaning. Taking the two-pronged stick in his jaws, Crowpaw carefully slid it underneath a single blue blossom and, taking the utmost care to not damage it, pushed it across the border until it rested well inside FogClan's bounds. He did this for the rest of the flowers, stick shaking as he did so. What if Finchpaw didn't remember? What it wasn't Finchpaw who found them at all? It would be obvious that these flowers hadn't grown naturally in the formation he was placing them in. No bunch of flowers grew in the shape of a bird's feather.

Oh, why hadn't he thought this through more carefully? He should have just waited until the next half-moon, despite the strange tom. What did he care about the big grey cat anyway? He wasn't a member of PineClan. It wouldn't impact anybody to watch the strange loner die. Nobody but yourself, Crowpaw told himself. Anyway, the damage had been done. Crowpaw's flowers were across the border in all their feather-shaped glory, and all that he could do now was hide in the shadows of his territory and wait. The black-pelted apprentice slunk carefully back into the pine shadows, grateful for their protection. He would be safe here, surrounded by the familiar sights and scents of home. Now he just had to wait for Finchpaw to show up. Hopefully it would be soon. Those poppy seeds, though there had been a lot of them, might not keep the grey stranger asleep until next morning.

[/center]

[Whiskers]

His walks no longer cleared his head like they used to. Finchpaw missed that, wished that the calming, fresh, sweet air would soothe him the way it had in the past, make him forget what was happening in his clan and in his own life right now. But now, when he escaped from the confines of that damn medicine cat den, he entered a new cage. Fogclan territory was no longer boundless, but constrained. He bounced from border to border, running around and around the territory, and he only felt it grow smaller. It was no escape from his troubles. He couldn't escape from them, never could-- he had only distanced himself from them.

His only option now was to solve them. This was something Finchpaw could not do either. His lies had him chained, his truth would only cause further pain to him and his family, and he felt robbed of the one thing that used to make everything else bearable: Frostpaw. He felt such overwhelming guilt every time he even thought of finding her and talking to her that it made him sick.

So enough thinking of her. Enough thinking of anyone. He had to at least do something useful since he could not solve his own problems. He had to concentrate on his gift-- medicine. Be it through the hands of Starclan or not, Finchpaw was a medicine cat and could actually make a difference using his talents-- his strong mind, his soft paws, his inquisitive nature. Really, when Finchpaw forced himself to look at himself in an honest light, he saw that he was the perfect candidate for the job. Why deny it? Why not embrace it? Try to enjoy it.

"Tansy. Wonderful for coughs." Finchpaw announced to the listening forest as he passed by a patch of tansy. "Dangerous though, when given to a queen. The leaves can be used to make a poultice that soothes sore joints."

He continued his journey. "Goldenrod can also be used as a substitute for tansy, regarding sore joints. The juice of goldenrod acts much like poppy seeds, and is a mild painkiller. Poppy seeds are more effective and abundant in the forest. Poppy seeds can be given to a cat to calm them too, just like chamomile...mm...I think those are all the herbs that can help with stress. Can I give poppy to a queen? I don't remember..."

A flash of frustration crossed the Finchpaw's face and he scowled at himself. The last thing he wanted was to give a poor queen something that would effect her milk supply-- Borage helps with the milk supply-- or damage her kits. And he knew that Brightnose had told him something as important as that too!

"Well she's your mentor for a reason," he mumbled. "Lavender. What does lavender do? Helps with headaches. Hey-- that might calm a cat down too. I'm pretty sure Brightnose told me that it ca--"

Finchpaw stopped speaking to himself and his eyebrows crinkled in mild confusion. Only a tail-length away from him were a bunch of blue flowers. They weren't planted in the ground though...they had been meticulously placed there. Finchpaw bounded up to the display and scrutinized the sight. It was in some type of elongated circular shape, like an oval that was much taller than it was wide. It was impossible that the wind would have blown flowers into such a shape. A cat must have done this.

He inspected the flower and in his mind's eye, he saw it and remembered it. He spoke automatically, "Forget-me-nots. No medical use is known though it's currently being studied by both Brightnose and I. We've concluded that it's related to comfrey and borage-- in the same family, I guess-- so its roots could clean wounds, or it's leaves could, when injested, help with a queen's milk. These things are just theories though and it's not like we can test the plant out, though we have a sample from Cro--"

Crowpaw!

"Crowpaw!" He exclaimed and whirled around. Ah, how had he not noticed before! The flowers where right next to the PIneclan border, that he must have arranged the flowers himself as a kind of signal or message. But what was he saying? Was he reminding Finchpaw of something, was he asking a question, was he saying 'hello?'

"Crowpaw, are you there?" Finchpaw called out. It was impossible that he would still be there surely, and maybe Finchpaw had to interpret this sign himself. Was Crowpaw challenging his intellect then? What could a circle of forget-me-nots mean?

[/size]

[glowlynose]

Crowpaw tried not to make too much noise in his hiding spot, though he wasn't managing very well. His nervous, rapid breaths were causing the branches of the small shrub to rustle. He needed to calm down, and fast. If his hiding spot kept moving and making noise he might be discovered. Some patrol, either from his own clan or FogClan would come along and start questioning him. Of course, he could always tell the members of his own clan that he was out here searching for herbs, and that he'd gotten himself stuck in the bush. However, it would be much more difficult to explain his presence to a FogClan cat. Any member of his rival clan would be much less inclined to believe his story for the simple fact that they were rivals, and had been programmed by their society into suspicion of one another.

Okay, Crowpaw, you need to calm down. Nobody's coming. Gingerstar hasn't ordered a border patrol yet, and if she did and we found you, I'd stick up for you. You know I would, Bluefur's voice intoned calmly.

Crowpaw steadied himself. The Bluefur inside his head was right, of course. With his warrior friend to protect him, nothing would ever touch the little medicine cat apprentice. He felt a surge of affection for his older friend, and made up his mind to seek Bluefur out and talk to him before he returned to the medicine den. Surely the poppy seeds would tide both his sister and Rain over for long enough. He hadn't thanked Bluefur for bringing Rain into the den yet, which needed to be done, of course.

Crowpaw's sharp intake of breath rattled a few leaves on the bush. There was Finchpaw, straight across the border. He appeared to be talking to himself. Then he stopped and stared for a long time at Crowpaw's feather of flowers. The PineClan apprentice began to worry that his friend would not figure it out. Sometimes he wished that he could read minds. That would make situations like this one so much more bearable. Then, oh blessed justice, the light of comprehension dawned on Finchpaw's face!

"Crowpaw, are you there?"

Crowpaw was there, in fact, and wanted to jump for joy. Finchpaw had figured it out, and now he could help him! Now they could talk! The sun beamed down upon the forest floor with a renewed intensity, as if Crowpaw's happiness had brought it back. Grinning from ear to ear, the little black apprentice stepped out from his hiding place and padded up to the FogClan border, finally taking the time to process its mysterious scent.

"Yep, it's me. Listen, I dunno if I should actually be telling you this, but I need some help. See, there's this tom, and he's got some really bad rat bites, and I don't know how to- " Crowpaw's voice choked off. Suddenly, everything from the past moon came spilling out, a torrent of stories and emotion. He told Finchpaw about how he was barely receiving any training at all, how he was sure that his mentor wanted him never to have come along because of it. He told Finchpaw about his fight with his sister, how it had made her run off into the woods, how she had then been attacked by rats. He told Finchpaw about the mysterious Rain, who had a funny accent, worse injuries than he had ever seen before, and how he'd saved his sister.

"And I don't know if the poultice I made is going to help or make it worse, because I don't know all the herbs I put into it. I just made the poultice I'd seen Lynxpelt make before, and I put some burdock into it. I know that herb." Crowpaw's flow of words came to an abrupt halt. Finchpaw looked troubled about something. Well, not so much anymore, but he had before, before he'd seen Crowpaw's flowers. In fact, he'd looked downright miserable. Why? Nothing had better have upset Finchpaw. If it had, he'd get Bluefur to teach it a lesson for him.

"But you don't look too good yourself. Is everything okay? Is there something wrong, anything I can help with? You look like you need some cheering up." Crowpaw scuffled his paws, then looked up at the sky. There was a pair of birds flying in the clear blue, reveling with their song in the warmth and the reappearance of the sun. It was... beautiful. Crowpaw's face lit up and he smiled serenely, all his problems temporarily forgotten in the light of the birdsong. He wondered if Finchpaw would see the beauty in that, or if he would just write it off as an everyday occurrence. Oh well, he could always try. After all, Bluefur had once told him that you miss every single shot that you don't try to make, though he'd been talking about fighting.

"They look happy up there. They sound happy, too. Do you ever wonder what it would feel like to fly, to be free and happy like that? It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Crowpaw now smiled at his friend, wearing the same look that he had given the birds. His troubles could wait for a moment. Finchpaw needed helping now. Absentmindedly, he wondered what color the birds were. Wouldn't it be great if one were black and one were brown?

[/center]

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw had been right. It was Crowpaw who had so carefully arranged the flowers, communicating Starclan knew what! Finchpaw was so shocked that his inference had been correct that he couldn't correctly absorb Crowpaw's presence here and he had to blink several times before asking Crowpaw to slow down, so his poor, exhausted mind could catch up.

Crowpaw listened, talking slower, but with such intensity and emotion that it felt like his words were pebbles carried by a rapid-moving stream. Finchpaw came closer to the border in order to catch the words and piece them together, and soon, he began to see the heart of Crowpaw's woes and he also recognized that he was not the best cat to help him with it. First of all, he was only just starting to dedicate himself to his medicinal studies. His knowledge was limited, though admittedly more extensive than Crowpaw's. Second, Crowpaw was having trouble with his sister and Finchpaw could not help with that-- he had just had his falling out with Firepaw.

He was useless to the young apprentice. Useless. Useless in his clan too, unless he got his act together. But Finchpaw couldn't give up, couldn't disappoint Crowpaw, and so he had to try to help Crowpaw out.

"Burdock-- burdock root is good, lots of that. Do you have enough? It will stop the infection from spreading and if you don't have enough, I have a whole stock of it that I can bring to you." Finchpaw said. What else did he know?

Just use your brain, some common sense. These are dangerous wounds inflicted by rats. Rat bites are bad because they're filled with disease. They're "poisonous" in the sense that they get infected easily, can spread quickly. So you need to keep the wound clean.

Finchpaw nodded to himself, sure of his direction now. "Yes... you need to clean the wound before you do anything else. Did you do that? Use water, water is best, clean and simple. And if his wounds are deep, then he probably bled a lot and I'm sure you used cobwebs to stop the bleeding... but ah...don't think you should do that. I don't know for sure, but it might be best for this Rain fellow to bleed out some of the rat poison. And if his wounds pus up, then you need to empty the wound of that pus. "

"Check to see if he has a fever too. Feverfew is good for that, along with...other herbs." Finchpaw trailed off, unable to recall any of the names. "Besides that, he needs to rest and just keep using burdock. I wouldn't use any other herbs besides that...burdock is very effective alone, and you don't know how the other herbs will work anyway."

There. That was all he knew. And now that he was done scraping for information, done sharing his ideas with Crowpaw, Finchpaw was struck with an odd desire-- he wanted to do all those things. He wanted to see this tom himself and form a plan of attack, the best way to keep infection from killing the loner.

This was the first time that he felt that way toward a patient. Shame that the patient was not his.

You look like you need some cheering up

Finchpaw's head snapped up, his eyes meeting Crowpaw's again at this remark. His eyes continued to grow in surprise as Crowpaw talked on, in a reassuring tone and the funniest look on his face, a smile of serenity, a glow of happiness. All the previous worry had been expelled in a second. This was the strangest cat that Finchpaw had ever met, probably would ever meet. One moment, Crowpaw was distraught over his sister, over the loner, the next, he was smiling and trying to get Finchpaw to cheer up, as if Finchpaw was more important. And he wasn't, not even close.

But Crowpaw made him want to smile, especially when his remark rang true, revealed Finchpaw's secret desires. Of course he wanted to fly away. How had Crowpaw known to ask the perfect question?

"Yes," murmured Finchpaw simply. His eyes traveled upward to where the birds twirled. "Very beautiful. It's the most simple thing to them-- flying. But to us it's a mystery, to us...flying is not an option."

But maybe Finchpaw could make an attempt. Right now. Right here. He was not a real finch, he did not have wings. He only had metaphorical ones, that he had tied down himself. Maybe he could shake off some of the chains now. With Crowpaw. To just...tell him everything. A small step was better than staying still.

So Finchpaw opened his mouth, ready to tell Crowpaw about his meetings with Frostpaw, about how he did not want to be a medicine cat, how his father watched his every move, how his brother had attacked him, left a wound down his cheek and neck that would scar and haunt him forever.

Instead, what came out was a summary of all that, the biggest of his secrets, and the hardest one to tell. But it slipped very easily off his tongue.

"I don't believe in Starclan."

[/size]

[glowlynose]

Crowpaw gulped, eyes growing wider with each word that Finchpaw said. He hadn't even thought about most things that his friend mentioned. The simplest things, like cleaning the wound, had completely eluded him. Of course, he'd done his best, but maybe his best would cause poor Rain more harm than good in this case. He should have just waited for Lynxpelt to arrive. Then Rain's wounds wouldn't get infected, all pussy and disgusting, and he'd recover in a reasonable amount of time. Crowpaw's treatment might cause the poor loner to spend moons in the den getting over infections and fevers. Rain might even die. No, no he wouldn't. Lynxpelt was probably back in the den right now, fixing Crowpaw's many mistakes. Rain might even be asleep through the whole thing. That would be nice, at least.

"Thanks. I'll... I'll be sure to do that," he said with an uneasy smile. If Rain died, Willowpaw would never forgive him. After all, the tom had saved her life, and if he lost him because of bad treatment, the blame would fall solely on Crowpaw's shoulders.

Ah, but Finchpaw was talking again now, and he agreed with Crowpaw's statement about the birds. He believed it too. That was fantastic! He was finally making some headway with his friend. Finchpaw seemed so sad, so oppressed by... something. Maybe it was his family, maybe it was his clan, maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it was weighing down his soul and preventing it from fulfilling his namesake's easiest task: flight. Poor, poor Finchpaw.

"I don't believe in StarClan."

Oh. So that was it, part of it, anyway. To sum up Crowpaw's feelings in the simplest way, he was astonished. He couldn't believe it. A cat from FogClan that didn't believe in StarClan? How could this be? FogClan cats saw themselves as the holiest, most pure cats in the forest- a huge load of dung in Crowpaw's opinion- because of their "close connection" with StarClan. How could they allow a cat to live in their clan who not only did not hold their ancestors in the highest regard, but did not believe in them? It intrigued Crowpaw.

"Oh, that's okay. I don't believe in them either. Of course, that's normal for me." Crowpaw tried to smile reassuringly at his friend. He hoped that Finchpaw saw what he was trying to say. He wasn't going to judge the other tom for his lack of faith, even if everybody else around him did. If he did judge, it would be taking a step towards being like everybody else, and being like everybody else meant fighting over glorified walls of scent. Ridiculous.

[/center]

[Whiskers]

As soon as he heard Crowpaw's reply, Finchpaw was reminded of his first experience at the moonpool. He had been so worked up, so nervous, stressing about it for days upon days. When he got there, nothing had happened and he had been disappointed and bored. In a way, this was the same, only he was not disappointed or bored. But nothing big was happening. And that's because Starclan was not a big deal to Crowpaw. And who believes in Starclan and who doesn't shouldn't be a big deal anyway, not to anyone.

Thinking all this, Finchpaw smiled. It started off small, but it grew as he absorbed Crowpaw's reaction, his reassurance. Soon he was beaming and then he was laughing, his whole body shaking with happiness, his eyes surprisingly wide as he stared up at the sky again. It was possible that he was just crazy, but he felt bits of him float upward. He had done it. He had set part of him free and he already felt so much better.

All he needed was to talk to someone.

"I'm glad," Finchpaw said to Crowpaw and he couldn't express just how glad he was. "I'm... I worry about it all the time, Crowpaw, but you don't care and it shouldn't surprise me because you're Pineclan, and it shouldn't feel as good as this, but it does, because you don't care."

He wanted everyone not to care. In fact, Finchpaw wanted very badly to ride this high he was feeling all the way back to camp and tell Firepaw that he didn't believe. He would tell Rowanheart he didn't believe. He'd tell Brightnose too, he'd go up to Mistpelt and say it to her face. Heck, why not tell Frostpaw? She knew, but he wanted to say it over and over again and he wanted to say it to her, and say it with such confidence that maybe she would be proud of him.

Too bad that couldn't happen yet.

But he could still tell Crowpaw again. He could tell Crowpaw everything and Crowpaw wouldn't care-- oh well, he might care about some of the other stuff, but he didn't care about the most important thing and that was Starclan.

"I don't believe in Starclan. I don't. Not a bit. Never have, though I guess when I was a kit I sorta did, but I thought they were bullies. But now-- nope, I don't believe in Starclan. Think it's ridiculous-- think my whole clan sometimes is ridiculous, the way we judge non-believers, and the way we act so superior, just because we worship some stars. And y'know, my dad made me do this medicine cat job. He thinks I'm broken, Crowpaw, can you believe that? If he ever found out though...he'd go insane, which is why I can't tell him obviously. My brother knows though..." Finchpaw's voice--which had been insanely cheerful considering the topic-- lost some of its luster as Firepaw creeped up. Firepaw. Firepaw Firepaw Firepaw. How much Finchpaw honestly missed him, hated himself for what he did.

But it hadn't been fair. Firepaw had...had... practically told him to choose him or Frostpaw. It was an impossible choice to make for Finchpaw, but in a way...he had chosen Frostpaw, hadn't he? Would he do things differently now, in hindsight?

He couldn't answer that question. And honestly, was afraid of the answer anyway.

[/size]

[glowlynose]

Crowpaw couldn't help it. When Finchpaw started to laugh, he started laughing as well. Like sighing, laughter is contagious, and it was the one infection that Crowpaw didn't ever want to stop. Stopping laughter completely would make everybody sad, and if everybody was sad then he would be sad, and the bits of his emotions that were always playing in the sun would gradually move to the shadows and he'd turn out like the rest of his family. If that happened nobody would have anybody to go to to fix themselves anymore, because to be able to fix somebody you have to be whole and happy yourself.

Well. That was cheerful, Crowpaw. Way to keep the mood up there, bud. Crowpaw gave one last halfhearted chuckle before he lapsed into a thoughtful reverie. Thankfully Finchpaw started talking fairly quickly after that, so he could concentrate on his friend instead of thinking about his family and all the other sad cats in the forest. Ahh, there were so many cats that he could help if only the borders would dissolve like the snow had! But that was too much to wish for, because the only thing keeping these cats from sinking into complete and utter chaos was the presence of borders. If by some strange chance the borders did dissolve, and all the cats combined into one clan underneath one leader, things would just find themselves back where they started after a while.

Crowpaw hated the borders. He hated them with the same intensity that he hated death, loss, pain, and sadness, but he also knew that without the borders there the rest of the cats in the forest would only experience more of the hated things. The borders were a necessary evil. He would just have to endure them, but what if he couldn't endure forever? It was ridiculous how he couldn't cross the border to see Finchpaw because it would probably cause a war between the clans.

"You're not broken, Finchpaw! What does your dad think, that there's something wrong with you because you doubt the power of a bunch of dead cats?! That's just stupid!" The second those words left his mouth Crowpaw wondered if he'd live to regret them. Perhaps insulting Finchpaw's father wasn't exactly the best plan of action in the world. Finchpaw might get mad at him.

"I mean, I think it's stupid how your dad's judging you like that. I don't see the point in judging anybody for believing or not believing in something. All that does is get everybody angry with each other, which leads to battles, which gives us our jobs I guess. But still, I don't see the point in judging. How could anybody judge you? You're too good of a cat to judge negatively." As much as he hated the idea of borders, he was starting to think that maybe they were a good thing. After all, if the borders disappeared the forest might be ruled by FogClan for goodness' sake, and he knew exactly how that would turn out. If he didn't go crazy first, he'd be kicked out of the clans for belonging to PineClan before that huge rabble of whatever the new clan would be called.

Of course, another clan's leader might take power, which wouldn't be half as bad. StreamClan and MeadowClan were nice enough. They weren't half as judgmental as FogClanners were. If Gingerstar ended up taking power though... if there was a higher power, it had better help them all, because there would be some serious change in the forest. With Gingerstar in control, there would be mutiny after mutiny and she would probably be driven out along with devoted followers. Would Crowpaw follow his leader if she was driven out? He didn't know.

"Why don't you believe, Finchpaw? And what will your brother do?" Crowpaw chose not to finish his thought. If Firepaw exposed Finchpaw for not believing, he'd probably be driven out of his clan. Hah, it was either that or be killed. But they wouldn't kill Finchpaw, would they? It would be an unforgivable sin, and against the Code, besides.

[/center]

[Whiskers]

Crowpaw was astonishing. He was the most wonderfully innocent cat, a cat with eyes so large that all the world's troubles could be swallowed within their color. Problem after problem could be stacked upon his little back and he would not collapse. Would after wound could be inflicted with the sharpest, most insidious claws and he would not bleed. It was not that he was immune to these problems. He still felt the weight, or the pain-- but he never let it get the best of him and that was miraculous, coming from such a small, young cat.

He was different, in this good way, in this bizarre, good way. He reminded Finchpaw of someone (who?) though he was unlike anyone that Finchpaw knew of. He was no Firepaw, but he made Finchpaw laugh. He was no Frostpaw, but he made Finchpaw smile and open up and be himself. He was a question that Finchpaw wanted to answer, the type of question that peaked Finchpaw's curiosity and kept him engaged.

His comments only continued to relieve Finchpaw, over and over again. He could see now that what he needed was to talk, and because he had felt plagued with guilt every time he wanted to approach Frostpaw, Crowpaw was a perfect solution. He really was inspiring Finchpaw to actually say his thoughts outloud-- maybe he would discover somethings about himself through the conversation.

"Why? Such a good question. I just can't. I've tried over and over and over again, but it doesn't make any sense to me. Starclan can't be real, it's...ridiculous. And my clan's version of Starclan is so cruel and judgmental that I'd feel immoral if I truly did believe. Like you said, there's no point in judging someone on their beliefs and... for the dead to judge the living is stupid, for Fogclan to judge Pineclan is wrong." Finchpaw spoke with complete conviction for once, gaining strength with each word he said.

This strength, however, was only deflated when he heard Crowpaw's second question.

"I don't know... he doesn't...doesn't actually know. He suspects and he..." And with that, Finchpaw finally told Crowpaw all about his violent fight with his brother, and how it had ended with Firepaw abandoning Finchpaw forever. And in the end, Finchpaw felt just as hopeless as before he had confessed his secret to Crowpaw. Because Firepaw hated him, and in the end, all these secrets made everything worse.

[/size]

[glowlynose]

Crowpaw was silent for many moments, completely at a loss for what to tell his friend to reassure him. If he told Finchpaw what he believed, he'd probably be waved off as "too young to understand" or just plain crazy. After all, Crowpaw's outlook on life was way too optimistic for most others to even begin to grasp. Finchpaw wouldn't believe him if he told him what he really thought of his situation with Firepaw. Then again... perhaps he would...

"Firepaw can't abandon you, Finchpaw. As much as he might dislike you for your beliefs, you share something that can never be broken, the bond of a family. Firepaw might not talk to you for a while, but he'll still be thinking about you.

"The only reason that I can think of for him to say he'll disown you is that you did something to hurt him. That hurt will stay with him until you two fix things, and it might hurt him even more than it'll hurt you. If he's any sort of smart, he'll realize that hating you isn't solving anything.

"Don't you worry, Finchpaw. He'll come around eventually. In the meantime, all you can do is keep on loving him. He's your brother," he concluded, eyes shadowed. He would have to take his own advice for Willowpaw. That was... he wasn't sure if he had that sort of patience. Firepaw hated Finchpaw for a legitimate reason, while Willowpaw hated Crowpaw for a reason that only she knew. He wasn't sure how to deal with that at all. Why was it that he could help everybody but himself?

"Huh... but what if your clan's version of StarClan isn't the right one?" It was a whisper, meant only for Crowpaw's ears, but the black apprentice's gut cringes when the words slipped out. Finchpaw might have heard. He didn't want his friend to hear that. Finchpaw might think the wrong things. He might think that Crowpaw was actually trying to believe in StarClan, which he wasn't. It was simply in his nature to question the rightness and wrongness of things was all. But still... what if FogClan had gotten StarClan completely wrong? What if they were more like Crowpaw imagined them, playing in the sky with the universe as their territory, but powerless in regards to the happenings on the planet? What if StarClan was just a nice place to go after you died, instead of being dead? That would make much more sense. Of course, all of it was ridiculous. The point of being dead was that you were dead.

But what about souls?

[/center]

[Whiskers]

Crowpaw's comforting words failed to do their job-- comfort. Finchpaw heard their sincerity, knew that Crowpaw only sought to help. He probably believed in his words very strongly too. But Finchpaw could not feel them. Crowpaw was a smart cat, but young and ignorant of Firepaw's behavior, while Finchpaw was Firepaw's brother, and was aware of his brother's character. His brother may forgive him one day, true, but Finchpaw would have to earn his forgiveness bit by bit, and he would probably have to fully admit to his atheism. And as much as he yearned to do that, he could not do it...not with Mistpelt as Fogclan's new leader. And who knows if that would even make things better? It would probably only make them worse.

But Finchpaw would never stop loving his brother. As cheesy and embarrasing to admit, Finchpaw would hate himself if he ever lost his brother for real. There was some way to get back into Firepaw's good graces, Finchpaw just did not know it yet.

But what Crowpaw said next was more intriguing and a welcomed distraction from thoughts revolving around Firepaw. Finchpaw let the words wash over him, and he felt an instinctive strangeness. All his life he had had Fogclan's way of life beaten into him. Every day, without fail, Finchpaw was reminded of Starclan and Their ultimate power, Their love for Fogclan. It was unavoidable. To even consider another way of belief felt essentially like blasphemy, just as bad as his atheism. But he did acknowledge that other clans believed in Starclan, just not as intensely. Would one of their belief systems appeal to him more?

Streamclan, Meadowclan-- they believed in Starclan, and their signs and dreams, but they did not believe in a "chosen clan" or "hell for non-believers." It was automatically more comfortable for Finchpaw, but it still felt distant, a dream instead of a reality. There was always a possibility, which Finchpaw acknowledged, that Starclan existed. He could neither prove or disprove the theory, and so it was open-ended and boiled down to the strength of the faith of the individual cat. When Finchpaw now put himself in a place where Starclan was not an "evil" (as he saw them in Fogclan), he discovered something about himself: He still could not believe.

Did he want to believe? The answer was an instant yes. It was like his kithood all over again, in that moment. A sense of absolute failure, a crippling blow to his self-esteem and a painful, bitter truth that he felt like a lump in his throat. Finchpaw wanted nothing more to be normal and he was so used to hearing words like "broken," "wrong," and "weird" that when he discovered that he could not believe in Starclan even in a lighter, easier setting, he was ready to accept those things about himself all over again.

He swallowed and blinked slowly and heavily, sinking into the feeling, letting himself feel the failure before it would recede-- though the aftertaste would probably remain long after this conversation was over.

"...I hope it isn't the right one," Finchpaw said, a sigh clinging to every word that he uttered. "If Starclan is real, I would want them to be forgiving and loving... but I don't think they are real. I can't. I just can't believe."

He was absent of faith. Faith...it was a concept that felt important. Shouldn't every cat have a little bit of faith, be able to stretch their beliefs past the realm of impossibilities? He must have faith in other things, Finchpaw thought desperately. He did not want to be completely without it, because if he was without it, he would be cold and boring.

[/size]