The leaves rustled. The patrolling apprentices of Talonclan took a pace backward, away from the berry bush that theyd been harvesting food for their camp from, and their eyes grew very wide when they saw a white-tipped tail of silken rufous fur swaying left and right, peering just above the lush foliage. FOX! shrieked one of the apprentices, but she was cut off when her eldest sister, Stumptail, clasped the screaming pullets beak in her claws and hushed her. The fox stopped mid-gait and sniffed the air, licking its ivory fangs. Nice going, Iris, she muttered through a gritted beak. Irispaws jaw quivered, and she, not the slightest bit confident in her fighting skills, bolted away like a bullet, rashly leaving her sisters, Stumptail and Speckledpaw, behind to fight the hungry beast themselves. The fox pursued Speckledpaw on silent, swift feet. She ran as fast as her feet would take her, deftly skirting trees and leaping over brambles, while Stumptail cleverly chased the fox from high above in the forests dense canopy. To their surprise, their half-brother, Quartzpaw, leapt into the fray, just in time.
A smirk touched one side of Quartzpaws beak when he saw two trees that were merely inches apart. First, he ruffled in place to divert the fox from Speckledpaw, then ran up to the twin Oaks, and boldly turned to face the fox, allowing it to come a dangerously close distance before leaping high into the air and crash! The fox rammed straight into the gap, and his head was wedged between the two trunks. It gasped with wide brown eyes, its neck aching as he panicked and struggled to get out. He snapped at the air when Quartzpaw teasingly stepped in front of it. Distraught, his two sisters stood and looked on with grim expressions and gaping beaks. What? No thanks for your help? He seemed surprised, heedlessly toying with the foxs death almost as though it meant little to him. Tears began to brim Speckledpaws eyes as she pleadingly demanded, Let him go or kill him fast! Hes in pain! Dont tease it, Quartz! Have a heart! Stumptail called after him. Quartzpaw shrugged and sighed heavily, carefully lifting the foxs head by its chin until its head reached a more distanced gap between the trees, enough for it to forcefully jerk back and escape the trap. It whined like a pup and padded off into the labyrinth of foliage. His half-sisters shot him cold glares that seemed almost spiteful, as they walked, wing-in-wing, back to camp.
This made his heart sink, and he lagged behind with his head low, but soon departed instead to find a quiet place in the woods. This was definitely not the first time Quartzpaw was given these glares of contempt or scolded sharply for his harsh methods. His own family did not accept him for who he was.
---
Quiet sniffling could be heard near Hellfire. The little cockerel, with blindingly white plumage and pale skin sat on a boulder by the stream, in the middle of nowhere, fighting the rageful tears that made his pink eyes bleary. Well acquainted with the feeling of being watched, he could almost sense eyes staring right through him. His head forthwith jolted up to look at the forest, and he spotted a shadow that was noiselessly watching, stark red eyes peering at him from beside a grand conifer. Crowfeather.
Crowfeather felt an odd sense of sympathy for the cockerels feelings. It was rare that Crowfeather ever felt sorrow, or anything for that matter. She'd forgotten how it felt to feel. Her eye twitched slightly.
Don't cry, darling, the silhouetted figure said, Shhh... It placed an ebony flight feather to it's slate gray beak, the sharp tip glinting fiercely under the faint rays of sunlight that sparsely shone down into the forest through the mighty boughs and rattling leaves.
The white cockerel narrowed his eyes and wiped them briskly with his sleek, nacreous flight feathers. Who are you? he asked, his voice trembling as he was still nearly shaking with rage. My name is Crowfeather, it said, the beautiful black hen behind the smooth voice stepping out of the shadows. The cockerel's eyelids drooped tiredly, he was clearly exasperated from painfully holding back his emotions and the spiteful words that yearned to be released from his ivory beak. What do you want? he muttered, impatience and annoyance lacing her words. To help you. Crowfeather explained, a soft, warm smile spreading across her beak. Ridiculous, the cockerel chuckled humorlessly, Not a single soul has ever understood or acknowledged my woes, and now a total stranger wants to help me? And how would you know so much about me, anyway? He uttered a pffft in disbelief, shaking his head. Crowfeather seemed to ignore the comment, but was rather amused by his magniloquence. Tell me, what is your name? asked the hen. The cockerel was about to retort with something else, but restrained himself, curious of what the strange black hen had to say, and also, seeing that the hen would probably persist despite anything he would say. Quartzpaw, he replied, his grim expression fading.
Quartzpaw, she mused with a slow nod. I heard what theyd said to you- she was cut off when he wore a slight moue and uttered under his breath, Dont even remind me. Crowfeather placed a wing over his shoulder, and gazed intently into his rosy pink eyes, her strangely intense eyes immediately silencing him as he blankly stared back. Tell me everything, dear. You know you want to. He shot her a glare as he continued. They hate me because Im different. They hate me for- She finished his sentence, Something you cant change? she questioned, her eyes solemn with understanding. He nodded.
How did you know? he asked, furrowing a brow. Because, though I dont carry albinism, Im the same way as far as personality goes, she simply answered, patting his back and smiling. learned how to lead on a good life anyway. Their conversation went on for hours, each taking turns to confide in one another their feelings toward the world. Quartzpaws expression slowly brightened throughout the entire discussion; he no longer felt so alone in this harsh, unforgiving world.
Their conversation finally was coming to a close. So, the point is, dont give a darn about how they feel about you. You are born this way, and you cant change it. Let them know how they made you feel, and forget about it. Just leave and live your life for you.
She winced slightly in disbelief when she heard these words come from her own mouth. Violence was always the answer for Crowfeather; such good advice was rarely to be preached by her, not to mention the compassion she was showing to this cockerel was entirely foreign altogether. But, of course; she did find a way to incorporate some violence into it, by instructing him to get revenge. Just- leave? Isnt that disloyal? he sputtered with a cocked, bushy white brow, taken aback by her suggestions. Is it not disloyal to throw away the life that our beloved Starclan has blessed you with? she calmly remarked. He stared at the ground for a moment, pondering the thought. I guess so, he uttered in a museful manner, Then go! she told him. He nodded stiffly, slowly rising to his pink feet. I-I will, he answered, slowly gaining confidence. I will. She smiled up at the tall cockerel, But wait! she said, gently seizing him by the wing before he could turn to leave. You need to go by an entirely new name, she said, Something that reflects your appearance or personality... Hmmm, she tapped a feather on the tip of her beak. Say youre old enough for a warrior name. What do you think of Whitecloud, or maybe Iceheart? Or- Oh, wait! Ive got one! How about Speartalon?
Speartalon he liked that very much. Perfect. Yeah, thats the one, he smugly half-grinned. Ill be seeing you, he said, indicating the forest. Thanks for everything.
---
Returning to Talonclan hours later to inconspicuously peer over a short shrub, he saw Iris and Speckledpaw frantically waving their wings, making gestures of distress as he vaguely heard them talking about Quartzpaws sudden absence, and in their stammering theyd apologized a multitude of times to their mother, who appeared to be livid by the undismayable scowl on her face. All of his back-stabbing and sharp-tongued peers came to the scene when they heard the commotion from afar, and their faces too fell when they were told the news. He would do more to those individuals, but his consciousness told him not to. At least Crowfeather hadnt ruined him completely; he still had some good left in him. Though, should she get her wings on him again, she just might.
This was enough, he thought; as angry as they made him, that was all he was willing to do to his sisters as far as revenge. With that, he trailed off without a sound, not a single songbird daring to make the slightest utterance as they watched him casually stroll away, his gaze cold and stoic, almost entirely unforgiving.
But as he walked, his carriage was relaxed, and betrayed more relief than spiteful anger; he was freed from the shackles of those banes in his past.
A smirk touched one side of Quartzpaws beak when he saw two trees that were merely inches apart. First, he ruffled in place to divert the fox from Speckledpaw, then ran up to the twin Oaks, and boldly turned to face the fox, allowing it to come a dangerously close distance before leaping high into the air and crash! The fox rammed straight into the gap, and his head was wedged between the two trunks. It gasped with wide brown eyes, its neck aching as he panicked and struggled to get out. He snapped at the air when Quartzpaw teasingly stepped in front of it. Distraught, his two sisters stood and looked on with grim expressions and gaping beaks. What? No thanks for your help? He seemed surprised, heedlessly toying with the foxs death almost as though it meant little to him. Tears began to brim Speckledpaws eyes as she pleadingly demanded, Let him go or kill him fast! Hes in pain! Dont tease it, Quartz! Have a heart! Stumptail called after him. Quartzpaw shrugged and sighed heavily, carefully lifting the foxs head by its chin until its head reached a more distanced gap between the trees, enough for it to forcefully jerk back and escape the trap. It whined like a pup and padded off into the labyrinth of foliage. His half-sisters shot him cold glares that seemed almost spiteful, as they walked, wing-in-wing, back to camp.
This made his heart sink, and he lagged behind with his head low, but soon departed instead to find a quiet place in the woods. This was definitely not the first time Quartzpaw was given these glares of contempt or scolded sharply for his harsh methods. His own family did not accept him for who he was.
---
Quiet sniffling could be heard near Hellfire. The little cockerel, with blindingly white plumage and pale skin sat on a boulder by the stream, in the middle of nowhere, fighting the rageful tears that made his pink eyes bleary. Well acquainted with the feeling of being watched, he could almost sense eyes staring right through him. His head forthwith jolted up to look at the forest, and he spotted a shadow that was noiselessly watching, stark red eyes peering at him from beside a grand conifer. Crowfeather.
Crowfeather felt an odd sense of sympathy for the cockerels feelings. It was rare that Crowfeather ever felt sorrow, or anything for that matter. She'd forgotten how it felt to feel. Her eye twitched slightly.
Don't cry, darling, the silhouetted figure said, Shhh... It placed an ebony flight feather to it's slate gray beak, the sharp tip glinting fiercely under the faint rays of sunlight that sparsely shone down into the forest through the mighty boughs and rattling leaves.
The white cockerel narrowed his eyes and wiped them briskly with his sleek, nacreous flight feathers. Who are you? he asked, his voice trembling as he was still nearly shaking with rage. My name is Crowfeather, it said, the beautiful black hen behind the smooth voice stepping out of the shadows. The cockerel's eyelids drooped tiredly, he was clearly exasperated from painfully holding back his emotions and the spiteful words that yearned to be released from his ivory beak. What do you want? he muttered, impatience and annoyance lacing her words. To help you. Crowfeather explained, a soft, warm smile spreading across her beak. Ridiculous, the cockerel chuckled humorlessly, Not a single soul has ever understood or acknowledged my woes, and now a total stranger wants to help me? And how would you know so much about me, anyway? He uttered a pffft in disbelief, shaking his head. Crowfeather seemed to ignore the comment, but was rather amused by his magniloquence. Tell me, what is your name? asked the hen. The cockerel was about to retort with something else, but restrained himself, curious of what the strange black hen had to say, and also, seeing that the hen would probably persist despite anything he would say. Quartzpaw, he replied, his grim expression fading.
Quartzpaw, she mused with a slow nod. I heard what theyd said to you- she was cut off when he wore a slight moue and uttered under his breath, Dont even remind me. Crowfeather placed a wing over his shoulder, and gazed intently into his rosy pink eyes, her strangely intense eyes immediately silencing him as he blankly stared back. Tell me everything, dear. You know you want to. He shot her a glare as he continued. They hate me because Im different. They hate me for- She finished his sentence, Something you cant change? she questioned, her eyes solemn with understanding. He nodded.
How did you know? he asked, furrowing a brow. Because, though I dont carry albinism, Im the same way as far as personality goes, she simply answered, patting his back and smiling. learned how to lead on a good life anyway. Their conversation went on for hours, each taking turns to confide in one another their feelings toward the world. Quartzpaws expression slowly brightened throughout the entire discussion; he no longer felt so alone in this harsh, unforgiving world.
Their conversation finally was coming to a close. So, the point is, dont give a darn about how they feel about you. You are born this way, and you cant change it. Let them know how they made you feel, and forget about it. Just leave and live your life for you.
She winced slightly in disbelief when she heard these words come from her own mouth. Violence was always the answer for Crowfeather; such good advice was rarely to be preached by her, not to mention the compassion she was showing to this cockerel was entirely foreign altogether. But, of course; she did find a way to incorporate some violence into it, by instructing him to get revenge. Just- leave? Isnt that disloyal? he sputtered with a cocked, bushy white brow, taken aback by her suggestions. Is it not disloyal to throw away the life that our beloved Starclan has blessed you with? she calmly remarked. He stared at the ground for a moment, pondering the thought. I guess so, he uttered in a museful manner, Then go! she told him. He nodded stiffly, slowly rising to his pink feet. I-I will, he answered, slowly gaining confidence. I will. She smiled up at the tall cockerel, But wait! she said, gently seizing him by the wing before he could turn to leave. You need to go by an entirely new name, she said, Something that reflects your appearance or personality... Hmmm, she tapped a feather on the tip of her beak. Say youre old enough for a warrior name. What do you think of Whitecloud, or maybe Iceheart? Or- Oh, wait! Ive got one! How about Speartalon?
Speartalon he liked that very much. Perfect. Yeah, thats the one, he smugly half-grinned. Ill be seeing you, he said, indicating the forest. Thanks for everything.
---
Returning to Talonclan hours later to inconspicuously peer over a short shrub, he saw Iris and Speckledpaw frantically waving their wings, making gestures of distress as he vaguely heard them talking about Quartzpaws sudden absence, and in their stammering theyd apologized a multitude of times to their mother, who appeared to be livid by the undismayable scowl on her face. All of his back-stabbing and sharp-tongued peers came to the scene when they heard the commotion from afar, and their faces too fell when they were told the news. He would do more to those individuals, but his consciousness told him not to. At least Crowfeather hadnt ruined him completely; he still had some good left in him. Though, should she get her wings on him again, she just might.
This was enough, he thought; as angry as they made him, that was all he was willing to do to his sisters as far as revenge. With that, he trailed off without a sound, not a single songbird daring to make the slightest utterance as they watched him casually stroll away, his gaze cold and stoic, almost entirely unforgiving.
But as he walked, his carriage was relaxed, and betrayed more relief than spiteful anger; he was freed from the shackles of those banes in his past.
