She'd always wondered what would have happened, had she stayed under Graythorn, ignored her worries. She would have been Summerclan's medicine-cat by now, probably, might have been happier. Perhaps she was right the first time, and everything after was just reminding her of the mistake she'd made. Sometimes, she would look at Vulturemalice and feel the slightest bit of envy—part of the reason she had mostly avoided him. She didn't know what she would say, had they come face to face. So she resigned herself to dropping off a few anonymous herbs here and there, speeding past his den whenever she came close, taking the thorns out of her paws or fixing the occasional scratch herself. 

She couldn't really avoid him this time, as her paw sent a jolt of pain up her arm. He was sitting alone, probably enjoying his meal, and she had to go up and bother him. Well, maybe she could just fix it herself! It wasn't so bad, even though it hurt to put pressure on at all. She limped over anyway, trying not to make too much of a show. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. 

"Uhm, hello," she spoke softly, politely, though there was still a strained note to her voice that couldn't quite be placed, "Sorry to bug but, ah, I think I pulled a claw and—" she held up her right paw. The movement made her flinch. Starclan, why did they have to hurt so bad? "—I hope it's not too much trouble. Really, I would have tried to fix it myself but I—don't know how." She laughed nervously. She'd never made it far in her training. 

She could see the annoyance, the slight in his voice as he looked up from his meal. She could feel her ears heating up. 

"Well—I was, uhm, I was trying to climb this tree and I think I got it caught, y'know, I wasn't being too careful anyway. Again, I don't think it's that bad, think I just snagged it, or something." She gave an awkward smile, all thin-lipped and forced and not at all pleasant. It could have waited, probably, or perhaps she could have even fixed it herself. Or left it. But then it would probably be infected and Vulturemalice would have more on his paws. So it was probably best that she went now, even if the way he looked at her left her feeling as though she were the worst annoyance in the world. 

"I don't think it'll take long, honestly." As if she knew as much as she thought she did, explaining concepts he had probably mastered already. How do you talk to someone about something they know more about without coming off as incredibly condescending. 

She squirmed slightly under his gaze, in a way which was obvious she was trying to hide it. 

"No pop," she gave a sharp exhale as she wiggled it—it could move, of course, but she couldn't help the wince. She'd always had such a low pain tolerance. "Of course, but again I don't think it's dislocated. Just the claw." The force at her last words were odd, almost out of place with her voice. She was never really one for aggressiveness, and even when she wanted to just cuff someone over the ears she kept her tone even. Honestly, something simple would do, she didn't want to be here all day, not around him. He was lovely, sure, despite as sour as he could come across, and it definitely wasn't any sort of jealousy that made her want to melt in her skin and slink away. Honestly jealous (not that she was) of what? Taking care of coughs and scratches all day? No, thank you. Maybe it was just how confident he was in his place, how simply it was to figure it all out. 

As Vulturemalice got up and began walking away, Sunfreckle stood still, a slightly confused look on her face. Had he decided she wasn't worth it to help—really, it was fine, she could probably do it herself she tried. Well come on, I can't treat you out here can I? She gave another nervous chuckle, "Right, sorry!" Something about being around the tom made her brain short circuit. She hated how, when she was next to him, she couldn't help but only think about everything she'd ever done wrong, everything she'd failed to do, and how he had done it better than her. And it was terrible, that she was making his success about herself, and how she couldn't just be normal and thankful that he was helping her, doing his job—not hers, never hers, his. She followed his lead, reluctantly. 

"What's that for?" She asked idly, watching him skew the bones across the ground. She wasn't a fan of how they looked, how they were once inside a little living creature who had, unfortunately, ended up being killed and eaten. She had never been the biggest fan of hunting, and Sunfreckle couldn't help but feel a little disrespected, perhaps for no other reason than it was him who was doing it. She took a seat closer to the exit, still able to make a hurried leave as soon as they were done with this, waiting a little impatiently. 

"That's. . . helpful," she could understand it, somewhat. Something about him was almost irritating, as if he were rubbing it all in her face, showing her just how much better he was, and maybe she was just jealous, or bitter, but he was feeding into it, pushing her. She flinched slightly, as he grabbed her paw without warning, but slowly settled at the almost instant relief just after. And now she could leave and be done with it. The more she spent time with him the more her annoyance grew. 

"Sorry for the bother," there was nothing sincere about her apology, something cold had settled into her voice, but she covered it with a smile and a quick laugh. She hastily, clumsily, got to her feet, still not putting much pressure on her injury, flicked her tail as if to note the end of their interaction, "I hope you have a. . . nice day." Actually, Sunfreckle slightly hoped he stubbed his foot or something along those lines. 

perfectly okay!! hope you're alright and staying safe and stuff :(

What a silly question, was her first thought, because she had already told him what had happened. Obviously, she'd snagged her claw on a tree, but Sunfreckle knew he wasn't really talking about that. She wanted to reply with a quizzical look, a 'wasn't that the first thing you asked?' but she didn't, instead she paused as she reached the exit, tail nearly brushing against the floor. 

". . . I don't know." And she was genuine, there was a resignation of sorts in her words. She didn't know, and that was what bothered her the most. She'd had everything perfect, she had known what she wanted to do and had taken that opportunity, had a great support system and everything she could have wanted, and it still fell apart. Sunfreckle had done everything right. 

"Really," she let out a breathless laugh, turning to face him and look, actually look at him, "I don't know." She'd run every option into the ground, only sticking with her current role because there was nothing better, and she wasn't even good at it. Garden Keeper was too similar. She'd try leaving, that didn't work either. A stalemate. For a moment, she caught his eyes. 

"Why do you ask? Want to rub it in? Oh, look at you, Vulturemalice, so great and so smart, my apologies for forgetting!" She had never been so bitter towards someone before, and she said it so sickly sweet, but it did nothing to hide her sarcasm, her brief flare of irritation mixed with some sort of confidence that she usually didn't possess. She'd always tried to stay on others' good sides, polite and kind and ready to help, even if she wasn't much use, and maybe they'd even stick around. As quickly and suddenly as she started, her energy was gone; she looked slightly embarrassed, even. 

Are you done? She huffed, deflated. Usually, she would have attempted to compose herself, flatten her fur, take a deep breath, but she didn't, simply stood there and let her fluttering heart settle. She let out another airy laugh, "Yeah—I'm sorry, that was. . . that was stupid," she felt guilty, for how sudden it was, how irrationally angry the tom made her for something that was out of his control. It had only ever been her. Sunfreckle didn't entirely doubt that he did understand, and it still irritated her. She shifted her paws uncomfortably, as if the ground burned to the touch. 

She was uneasy, looking at the area around Vulturemalice instead of directly at him. She had a hundred different things to say, and she had no idea where to start. "I think. . . you're good at it," an awkward start, slow and strained, "I'm glad it's, uh, it's you." Perhaps that had been the whole reason she'd been mad in the first place, that he was made for it and she wasn't. "Nothing's ever seemed to work for me, I think something might be wrong," she sounded nearly child-like, naïve and confused and a little bit scared, because even if something was wrong, she could never figure out what it is. She sat down, idly kicking away a pebble that had been in front of her uninjured paw. 

"It's dumb, right?" 

She gave a hesitant smile back. "I just don't know if I'm cut out for this," vaguely, she gestured towards the rest of camp, "but I've already tried leaving too, and it didn't work either." Sunfreckle was bitter, with herself, with her boring, repeating life, with the fact nothing ever seemed to work or fit, that she failed at everything she did. Maybe it was a curse or something, and she was about to ask Vulturemalice if that was even a thing, but she kept quiet. She'd already embarrassed herself enough. 

"Can you. . . tell me it'll work out soon?" She knew she sounded childish, immature, and maybe it was a ridiculous request, but she wanted to hear it, even if just once, even if she had asked. Emotions were exhausting, she realized, and now that everything was coming out she wondered how she thought she was actually in control of them. More in control of pushing them down, she supposed, but never feeling. She'd tried to listen to her parents advice — 'oh, you can get over it, look how lucky you are, nothing's ever gone wrong,' — and it hadn't worked. Surprisingly.