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Sagepaw's mood was sour- it was volatile to begin with, and the fact that she had been bested in today's training by Moonpaw had sent it plummeting. Most cats in Nightclan knew of the tiny tabby's tempers and gave her ample room when that distinct glare entered her amber eyes. However, some were just unlucky- and Hyenaprowl happened to be the unfortunate soul who stumbled into her path.
The russet apprentice wasn't exactly looking where she was going, and she collided full force into the warrior's shoulder when he emerged from the den. Sagepaw steadied herself, the fury doubling in her amber gaze. "Watch where you're walking, you great fat oaf," she snapped, glancing him over. "Don't they teach you to be aware of your surroundings before they let you become a warrior in this clan?"
Hyenaprowl had gotten into a dozen fights since joining, and by his account, he’d won ‘em all. So he was more than ready for #13 when someone bumped into him, whipping his head around to discover the assailant was half his size.
“Why you…” he began, then paused at the insult. Fat? FAT? This was the first time he’d been called fat in his entire life. The tom had grown up half-starved in the city. He had always been tall and willowy. Sure, he had packed on a few pounds since joining Nightclan (his spinal column wasn’t so prominent), but FAT?
“You little ... “
He wanted to strike her. But how would it look beating up a kid? Especially one this small? So he had to stand there with his paws rooted to the ground, glowering down at the little tyke. And the more he looked at her, the more it dawned on him why he looked obese compared to this scrawny bag of skin-and-bones.
“Don’t they teach you to be respectful of your elders, you booger-nosed brat?”
"These forest cats can't teach me anything," Sagepaw said- rather uncharitably, for she was currently learning from Larkspur, Phantomfox, and even Moonpaw (though he didn't count). They certainly knew more about hunting and fighting than she did, and she was taking full advantage of their tutelage. Still, her tempers were the times she was least charitable.
The brat comment made her whiskers twitch, though with rage or amusement she wasn't sure. "Why do you need respect, old man? You can't handle when cats don't grovel at your feet? What have you ever done to earn my respect? All you did was slam into me without any sense of common decency!"
“What’re you a kit, or an apprentice?” He questioned as he scrutinized her. “Do I gotta call your mommy or mentor?” Hyenaprowl didn’t know who Sagepaw was, or the reputation she’d made for herself. He didn’t pay attention to practically anything going on around camp, and no one bothered to tell him anything, save for his sole friend Snakeshiver. He concluded this little russet she-cat was a kitten.
“I don’t want to be groveled or nothing, I want you little kittens to stop buzzing in my ear. It gives me a headache.” He scratched his muzzle absently, and then added, “tell your nurse-mates to leave me ‘lone too. Yesterday I found burrs in my nest. Don’t think I don’t know who put them there, cause I do. You lousy whelps. If your mommy can’t teach you respect, I can.”
"I'm not a kit," Sagepaw protested angrily, staring up at the decrepit old cat. "I don't have a mom or- or a dad and if you want to speak to my mentor, I can point you in Larkspur's direction." As determined as she was to be the best, being trained by the deputy was a big deal for the tiny tabby.
The mom part was true, but it was easier for Sagepaw to discredit her father rather than admit that he'd abandoned her. "Maybe the little brats put burrs in your next because you're an intolerable fat old lard who can't watch where he walks. Did you ever think of that?"
“Oh, so the Deputy’s taken you on, uh?” Hyenaprowl smirked insolently. “What’s he, grooming you to be leader or somethin’? You’d be a lousy leader if all you did was buzz in everyone’s ear, I can hardly hear myself think with all your chirping.”
He frowned down at her. “I don’t got no mom or dad neither, but you don’t see me buzzing in everyone’s ear. They dumped me off and I had to grow up in the city all alone. You know what a city is, you little whelp? It’s a big place where everyone’s nasty, and there’s hardly no food at all, except for what you can steal from rats. It stinks, and you can hardly hear yourself think with all the two-leg noise — you might make more noise than a two-leg though. I grew up in that big place and I don’t buzz at anyone or put burrs in anyone’s nests like you ungrateful whelps.”
The city comment set Sagepaw to bristling again. "OF COURSE I KNOW WHAT A CITY IS," she practically shouted, affronted. "I grew up in a city too! You should've seen me. I was nastier than anyone else, and I had to scrape by too."
In reality, she'd been more sedate and sweet in the city than she was here, waiting day by day for her father to remember to bring her food. Still, the image of a tough city cat wasn't one she wanted to shed so quickly. "I'm not a whelp and for the last time I didn't put burrs in your nest. I wouldn't bother with something as dumb as that. So take that, you ancient turd."
“Now, now, we don’t need to have a tail-measuring contest,” he gave her a toothy grin, dripping with mockery. “So you’re a city cat too, huh? I woulda never guessed it, with how primped and pampered you look. You look softer than a feather.” The only cats Hyenaprowl respected were fellow city cats, who’d had to fight for survival, just like him. But he wasn’t buying Sagepaw’s recollection yet. “You? Nasty? You’re such a tiny thing, I bet the gangs used you to pick their teeth.” His long neck arched as he brought his face closer to hers, his amber gaze burning with savage amusement. “I bet you ate out of two-leg paws just to survive the night!” Nothing could be more disgraceful for a real city cat than begging two-legs.
“Yeah I’m old,” he smirked proudly. He wasn’t very old, but he took that as a compliment. “I had to earn every single one of my days. Unlike you little urchins, who earned nothing and know nothing, all you’re good for is nagging everyone and eating up all the prey. I recon if you scared anyone away, it's because of that loud, haggish voice of 'ors. It’s like to split a cat’s head open.”
No way was Sagepaw going to tell him the truth about her upbringing- that she'd lived in a little abandoned house with her dad and his friends, and never seen much of the city at all. But she'd heard enough of their stories to know what made a good brag. "I would never eat anything a two-leg offered me," she said haughtily, tossing her head slightly.
"I hunted rats just to get by- and one day I fought the meanest one in the city. It was nearly the size of a rabbit. I-" she paused for just a second, trying to remember how Jasper's story had gone. "I wrestled it to the ground and ripped its throat out with my teeth. I've barely put on weight since I got here," she protested, not wanting to be construed as pampered or soft. And truthfully, there was still the faint outline of ribs on her small tabby sides. "I don't chow down like this lazy forest cats."
Hyenaprowl wasn’t feeling as angry as before, more amused at the devilish little liar chirping before him. “Oh, did they crown you the rat queen after that? Should I be calling you ‘your highness?’” He threw his head back and hooted. “The little Rat Slayer. What’d you do next, kill a two-leg? Take over the whole blood city?” His long, bony frame racked with laughter.
Between laughs, he smirked down at her. “That tale’s taller than a two-leg nest. You’ve probably never even touched a monster path, or walked into a dark alley, where real rats will gnaw your eyes out before you can say ‘dinner.’ I bet you ate soft two-leg mush, out of soft two-leg paws, and purred cute as a bunny when they gave you pats on the head. I think you’re so skinny cause you don’t have a taste for this wild game. I reckon it’s too stringy in those little pricks you call teeth.”
Oh, Sagepaw could've slapped him upside the head. Instead, she ground those pricks she called teeth, looking away. "Fine, maybe I didn't kill a rat," she admitted, her fury simmering to a deeply rooted sullenness. "But I wasn't a kittypet and I never played with twolegs once, honest. I did live in a city. The only reason I left was because my dad said-"
Her own inadvertent mention of her father caused a fresh ripple of pain to spear through her chest, and she paused, collecting herself before continuing. "Whatever. You act all tough but there's no proof you were a real city cat either. You're probably just skinny because you're no good at hunting."
Hyenaprowl sensed that her story about non-existent parents had just been another lie, and even for a cat as uncouth as himself, it was easy to read the pain on her face.
“Parents are no good. You’re better off without ‘em.” He sniffed. He wasn’t trying to comfort her or anything, but he could relate to having crappy parents. He hadn’t asked to be born to parents that didn’t want him, and neither had she.
“I’m a city cat through and through,” he puffed proudly, then lowered his shoulder to show his proof. “You don’t get tokens like this in this forest.” A crisscrossing scar wound around his sandy shoulder, where no fur grew at all. “Dog bite. Big bugger, and not very friendly.” He straightened again, and narrowed his eyes down at her. “Your Da was clever to get you out of there. A little thing like you would have been someone’s breakfast. Or worse.”
"Don't talk about my dad," Sagepaw muttered sulkily, but she quite vehemently agreed with his assessment that parents were no good. And besides, his scar was interesting. She leaned in closer despite herself, examining the furless spot. "How'd you get away?" She asked, before remembering she was supposed to be mad at this annoying warrior. "From the dog- and the city too, I guess."
Hyenaprowl shrugged. It made no difference to him who this runt’s dad was. But as annoying as she was, he wasn’t low enough to bully a cat barely older than a suckling kitten.
He smirked smugly as she checked out his scar. He’d never admit it, but he liked people knowing how tough he was. Even annoying little furballs like this one. It felt like the only thing he’d taken with him from the city.
“Getting away from the dog was the easy part,” he shrugged again at her question. “I ran away.”
“How’d I get away from the city? Well, that took a while. I sort of just… wandered away.” He picked at his scar. “Food was getting harder to come by. So, I just started walking. I walked and walked. And then I ended up here, with you lot. Never meant to stay in Nightclan. Never meant to stay anywhere.”
His scar was raw and red where he’d picked at it. “Food here’s tougher to catch,” he continued. “But at least you don’t have to fight anyone for it. There’s nothing but scraps left in the city after the rats ‘been at it.” Suddenly, he felt like he had to ask her a question. That’s what normal cats did, right?
“You think you ‘gon be a good warrior?” He asked awkwardly after a pause. He was going to add a snide remark about her size again, but the smallest semblance of manners stopped him.
"Yeah, the best," Sagepaw said, brightening up. "I'm gonna win Top of the Class and be in the Loyal Guard. Maybe even Captain, one day." That part was just humility- she knew she would be Captain. "I'll be even fiercer than Phantomfox." Her semi-adopted father figure was perhaps her greatest inspiration, ever since she'd seen him snap Pinesimmer's leg. That kind of ferocity was something she could respect.
"No one's ever believed I could do. I bet you don't." The tiny russet apprentice was quick to disparage other's opinion of her, rather than give them the chance to tear her down first. Distance was safe, pessimism meant the expected words didn't hurt so much. "But I'll prove you all wrong. Do you think you're a good warrior?"
Hyenaprowl laughed. “You kids are so unsuspecting.” He remembered being a wide-eyed little squirt that thought anything was possible. That was before the world smacked him around, and he found out that only hard work and a little smack back made dreams come true. He shrugged at her accusation. “I don’t believe anything. Words are wind – you’ll learn that soon enough. But if you try your best kid, maybe you’ll make something of yourself.”
He laughed again. “Nah, I’m definitely not a good Warrior.” Him and this warrior business was an ill-fit. “Don’t follow my lead. You’ll get into too much trouble if you do. And then you’ll never get to become Captain or whatever.” He was pessimistic and grumpy beyond his years, and that afforded him utter honesty. “In fact, your parents – I mean your mentor – would probably throw a fit seeing you hanging out with me.”
Part of him wanted to be a great Warrior. He little bit of him envied the cats in shining armor on the loyal guard, but he knew he wasn’t cut out for it. He was too gruff, too pessimistic. And too battered and jaded to believe in their ideals.
"I try my best every day," Sagepaw said, lifting her chin higher. She'd show Hyenaprowl- she'd show ThemTM, whoever they were, that she could do it. She'd make something of herself or die trying. "And I don't care what anyone thinks! I hang out with whoever I want. Well, scratch that- that makes it sound like I'm choosing to hang out with you right now."
Sagepaw made a face, whiskers twitching, but made no move to actually leave. "Why aren't you a good warrior? I thought you were strong. Isn't that what it takes to be a good warrior?"
“Naw, if that’s all it took I’d be leader by now,” Hyenaprowl ventured with a crooked smile. His boast was more serious than his expression, though. For all his grumpiness, he had no doubts about his fighting ability. He was tall and willowy; not the strongest cat by any means, but he made up for it in speed and natural craftiness. None of these downy Nightclan cats had gone toe-to-toe with a dog, as far as he’d heard.
“To be a good Warrior you have to do all this extra stuff. ‘Think of everyone before you think of yourself.’ I don’t know how they get y’all to buy into this stuff; let me ask you this – if your fur’s on fire, are you worrying about the next cat’s fur or your own?” He laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard. “I guess they get you when you’re young and impressionable.” He scratched his scar again, a self-conscious tic, as it struck him that he was doing the whole ‘bad influence’ thing again.
“Don’t listen to me, though. Your dashing mentor will set you straight. Just don’t let nobody push you around. ‘Cause when the going gets tough everyone’s gonna want scrappy cats more than these gilded lamb-hearts.”
"Nobody pushes me around," Sagepaw said, flicking her tail proudly. There came a call from behind her- Larkspur, trying to get training started. Sagepaw turned, glancing in her direction, before turning back to Hyenaprowl. "I bet you're a better warrior than you let on," she said quickly, before bounding off with a grumbled goodbye.
Some moons had passed before Sage crossed paths with the tom again. This time, however, she was newly christened- Sagebristle, the newest member of the Loyal Guard. Her arrogance in that first week was insufferable, but most cats indulged her due to the fact she'd achieved her lifelong goal.
The warriors den was empty of most cats when Sagebristle pushed her way in, searching for a sleeping spot in this new den. She paused when she saw Hyenaprowl in the corner, then grinned widely. "Hey. Know any good nests that are empty in here?"
Hyenaprowl watched her approach through unreadable amber eyes. “TheyTM say you’re on the loyal guard.” It wasn’t a question – just a remark, really. For several moments it seemed that’s all he meant to say; he turned his gaze away, bent down to sniff the ragged nest he was about to tuck into. But then another heartbeat passed, he raised his head again, flicked an ear with his gaze still lowered, and grumbled a “good job.”
The moons had changed him as well. Softened him slightly. He’d grown closer to Snakeshiver. Began to consider what he wanted in his future. Gotten more used to clan life, he’d hate to admit. But he still slept in the outskirts of the den, usually reserved for the newest warriors. That’s where he’d planted his nest the first night he’d stayed in Nightclan, and that’s where he meant to stay. Perhaps enduring the cold at the edges made him feel like a tough city cat.
In any case, Snakeshiver’s nest was to the left of his, but to the right was an empty spot. He gestured there with a sandy paw. “You can sleep right here. Just remember to keep the burrs in your nest and out of mine.” He looked back up at her to flash a smirk. Maybe he hadn’t changed that much.
