Post by Shad on Oct 4, 2015 22:55:51 GMT
Blow after blow reigned down on the grey tom from the calico's bared teeth and gleaming claws. Sometimes she missed by a huge margin, sometimes the nip of claws would just graze the grey tom, chiding him to be faster, and sometimes he was simply too slow or unprepared and grimaced as the calico's attack met its mark. The grey tom had lost more than one clawful of fur by the time the status quo of the one-way battle changed. The calico was moving slower now. Her claws missed more often than not and she seldom put in the effort to use her teeth anymore. Her breaths coming in ragged gasps and her body clearly strained from the effort of keeping up the constant assault. The grey tom frowned.
"S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-t-t-t-t-t-ah-ahp?" Gullkit asked. Was she ready to stop now? He did not want her hurting herself.
Patchpaw paused, panting. No sooner did she lower her raised paw and give a tired nod, then the grey tom barreled his sister over, rubbing his head up tight against her chest and a purr rumbling deep in his throat. The calico let a surprised, exhausted laugh escape her, patting her brother's head lovingly. Gullkit did not like practice fighting with her. He staunchly refused to swipe at his sister for any reason, even if it was only for training. Patchpaw had relented, instead being the attacker instead of attackee. It had taken several nights for the grey tom to realize she meant business though.
At first Gullkit would just ignore her assault, instead choosing to sleep or glare at her lazily. He did not see why he had to be out here training so late at night and not Cherrykit. Patchpaw had tried to explain it was because Cherrykit, unlike Gullkit, showed a potential for hunting. So he got hunting training during the day when Patchpaw could spare the time. Gullkit did not seem to think this was fair. Patchpaw did not seem to think life was fair and he should get used to it. So the tom had dutifully followed the shecat out into the drier territory to train, but he had not been really trying. -Not until Patchpaw got the bright idea to use her claws and teeth to make him feel the sting of failure.
That had sure gotten her brother's attention. He had been shocked at first, but quickly wised up. His sister was not going to give on this. She would accept nothing less than the best he could do and the fasted way for him to get back to camp and his nice cozy nest was to just humor her. The better he did, the less he would ache tomorrow. It worked for both of them. Patchpaw got to train Gullkit, really train him, and Gullkit got to make his sister happy and (secretly) feel quite proud of himself. That first night he had looked like he fell in a thorn bush and thrashed around in it for a few hours. Now he only had a few minor scratches and some bruises that he would be remembering well tomorrow.
Patchpaw sighed as she looked up at the stars from where her brother had tackled her. She wished she had a better solution than all this nonsense. She did not like clawing her own brother. The fact that she could, and not only claw him but attack him for all she was worth night after night... It scared her. What kind of cat was she becoming? What would her mother think to see her now? To see a sister that could blood her brother without any hesitance?
It is necessary.
Yes. It was necessary. Patchpaw could strike at her sibling, hurt him and scrape out his fur, because it was necessary. Because she had no choice. Because it was that, or condemn Gullkit to a short life of uncertainty that would not last very long. Duskblaze's words from the night of his ascension still burned in her ears. He would never tolerate an overgrown kit that could not provide for the clan in the coming Leafbare. He would cast her and her brothers out, she knew it. They would be left to fend for themselves in the snow and freezing cold. Patchpaw had never seen snow, but had heard stories from the other cats and she feared it. She had never known starvation, but she did not wish to, and she certainly did not wish for her brothers to discover it as they huddled alone, cold and dying in a patch of snow all alone in the world.
This was necessary. She had to toughen Gullkit for a world that would go no easier on him than they would on her. In fact, they would go harder due to his deafness. He was weak -which meant he had to be stronger than anyone to survive. She had to do what she did. But did the ends justify the means? Just because she wanted him to be strong against others that would attack him, did that give her the right to attack him herself? She had raised her claws to her own brother! She had ripped his fur and bruised his fragile body with her own paws, claws, and teeth. What kind of sister was she? What kind of monst-
Gullkit licked his sister's nose, derailing her thoughts. She had not even noticed when he stopped nuzzling her. Big green eyes stared down at her chidingly. Some cats thought because her brothers were deaf that they could not speak clearly. Patchpaw laughed at such notions. Her brother's actions and facial expressions spoke more clearly that any cat she had ever met.
Stop moping. I forgive you. Be happy again. That's what those big eyes spoke to her. Patchpaw looked at a graze on the tom's cheek where he had been too slow ducking down and she had caught him with her claws. She reached up to lick the wound gently, her face sad.
I hurt you. I should be sad, her frown told him, her ears back.
Nah, Gullkit snorted, puffing out his chest. Look at me. Invincible!
Patchpaw smiled, then looked back to the stars. What would her mama think if she saw them now? She wished she knew. Her mama was such a smart cat. She had a solution for everything. She walked in Star Clan now. Patchpaw wondered if she would see her some day. Good cats went to Star Clan. Would they even let her go? A sister who attacked her brother? A shecat who clawed an innocent tom who would not even fight back? She wanted to protect her brothers. She wanted to protect them from the horrors every cat said was coming with the changing seasons and yet here she was. Not protecting. Attacking. She justified it over and over in her head but still she-
A paw swatted the calico's face, bringing her back to the real world and out of her thoughts. You were doing it again.
Patchpaw narrowed her eyes and looked away quickly. Was not.
Another paw smack, this time lightly on the tip of her nose. Was too.
Patchpaw shook her head. Not about this.
Gullkit's head cocked to the side curiously, wondering what had his worrisome sister upset now. Patchpaw got worried over everything. Ev. Er. Y. Thing. If he managed to catch a mouse one day, he was sure the calico would find a way to be worried about it. Like maybe it was diseased and now all his fur would fall out like Tornpelt's did or something like that.
Patchpaw put a paw over her heart and the tom understood. Mama.
The grey tom sighed and rolled off his sister to look up at the sky. He knew about the Cats in the Stars. Mama had taught all of the siblings about them. When she got sick, Patchpaw had to work three times as hard as any cat, taking care of the clan, her, and them. She had worked her paws off and been rewarded by her mentor doing something bad (Gullkit was not clear on what, just that Patchpaw was afraid of the tom now), and by Mama dying. That night, Patchpaw had been out hunting when it happened. Scared and alone, Gullkit and his brother had left the camp to go find her. It took her a moment to understand, but there had been no question of when she got it.
Gullkit still remembered the look on his sister's face. He had been scared. Mama would not wake up. She was cold and would not play with them. Even without a word for what death was, he had felt in his bones that something had been wrong. He had known Mama would not wake up, no matter what he or Cherrykit did. They had run for their sister. She made things better, just like Mama. She would fix it. She would make everything all right. But the look on her face when she heard the news shattered that illusion. Her shoulders had slumped and her tail had dropped, lifeless to the ground. Her eyes had welled with tears and in that moment, Gullkit realized, maybe for the first time, that his sister was hardly more than a kit herself.
He had never noticed it before. Even now, it was hard to do. She always felt like more. She was always doing so many things. She played with them, and hunted, and talked to cats, and checked in on them several times a day, and did battle training, and made sure they had eaten, and kept up good relations with the other cats, and trained with Duskblaze even though Gullkit knew she was afraid of him. She always did so much! She behaved just like an adult cat, like a full Warrior and not just a tiny apprentice.
Until Mama died, Gullkit had never once thought twice about lazing about the camp while his sister worked her tail off each day because he had never noticed. He just knew she was always busy. He had never bothered to learn the specifics because that was just how Patchpaw was. He had been fooling himself, thinking that his sister was somehow different than them, that she did not need as much sleep or had more energy or- Honestly he was not even sure how he had been justifying it once he saw the broken look on her face and realized the truth.
After Mama died, everything changed. Now when Patchpaw stopped to spend time with them, it was for training, not playing. They both had tried to worm their way out of it at first, but their sister was different now and both toms sensed it. She was less patient, more strict. She was like a piece of mouse that had been stretched too far and was slowly tearing at the seams. Now she still worked just as hard, stayed up just as long, but the time she would have devoted to taking care of Mama was spent either hunting with Cherrykit or fighting with Gullkit.
The old Gullkit would have been angry at his sister for the change. He would have been selfish and grouchy that he had to work instead of lounge about the camp growing fat on prey and sleeping in the sun, but the grey tom was different now. Well, not really. He still just wanted to lounge about the camp, grow fat on prey, and sleep in the sun whenever possible, but he saw Patchpaw in a different light now. Mama's death and his sister's broken spirit in that moment had made him realize he needed to work hard too, like she did.
He was still not allowed to leave the camp unattended though. From what the grey tom understood, he was still a kit in the eyes of the clan, likely because of his deafness. Patchpaw was worried about this. That was why she was pushing them. That was why she took time out of her busy day to spend hours going over and over how to hunt with Cherrykit. That was why she stayed up until long after other cats had gone to sleep to fight with him even though she had to be exhausted and nearly dead on her paws. That, more than anything, was what kept him following his sister out into the night and enduring the training he honestly could not care less about.
He knew his sister was stressed. He knew she was scared -for him. She loved them, both of them, even though no other cat paid them much mind. He loved her, and if coming out her and doing this would ease the worry he could see drowning her every day, then he would do it and wear his scratches proudly.
He put his paw over his own heart, then pressed it to Patchpaw's, looking up at the sky. Mama loves you.
He watched his sister's pale white eyes get cloudy and moist. She nodded, a small smile on her lips. She put her paw on his heart. I love you, Gullkit.
The grey tom grinned and smacked his sister's shoulder lightly. Of course I know that, silly.
They were both quiet for a time.
Rising from the grass to go home and shaking a bit of dew from his thick pelt, the green eyed tom gingerly licked over his thick fur, hiding the red marks and grimacing at the stings he felt all over his skin. Dang. She just couldn't go easy on him, could she? Gullkit ruffled his pelt in annoyance, looking very much like an irate bird. He glared down at Patchpaw to see-
The calico was fast asleep.
Her black and orange splashes, bleached blue in the moonlight, looked softer and smaller as the shecat lay on her back in the grass, already lost to the world of dreams. It was hard for any cat to remember how small and frail Patchpaw really was. When awake, she could be so active and strong, a blur of movement and flash of powerful blue-white eyes. She seemed larger than life practically all of the time. It was only rare instances, like this one, when how small she really was struck Gullkit. The grey tom found himself marveling at how much she accomplished. She likely did more in a single day that Gullkit did in a whole moon. She always had things together. She was always on top. Seeing her misstep, seeing her fall asleep from exhaustion in the middle of a conversation...
The tom flicked his tail in faked annoyance before settling back down to curl around his sister to keep her warm against the midnight cold. He was just a little bit bigger than her now, he realized. When had that happened? The tiny calico murmured something in her sleep and Gullkit discarded the thought as he hunkered down. A few more hours out of camp would not kill them and he figured his sister had more than earned it.