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this is a totally open cat-hunting patrol! for more info on what that entails, have a look at the latest message i sent out — anything goes! 'dysfunctional roadtrip camping vibes into the unknown' meets 'bounty hunting to secure the glory and status of a kill for kier and snowblister'; only one can say they won the chase, after all. these aren't teammates — they're rival competitors. or maybe someone wants to try and help her by sabotaging the hunt! everyone can play the NPC prisoner. this is set in the present, so everything that's happened has already happened <3
let's go rustle ourselves an escaped traitor ♡
Leveretpaw was on a patrol, one of the few sent out these days, and the atmosphere was aggravated and listless, tense with irritation: no one wanted to be here, on a patrol more about ticking a box than any actual need, and everyone just wanted to get it done quickly and return to camp. But they still had to stalk the entire boundary of NightClan; the pain of fewer patrols was that when one did go out, they didn’t simply check one side of the territory — they checked all of it. It took hours, and almost always descended into high-ranking cats bullying lower-ranking ones, petty arguments between equal-ranking cats eager to assert their dominance, and half-hearted work. The problem with violence was that the excitement of it became addictive: anything else, anything that would have once been considered an honourable part of being a warrior, was dull and banal. Beneath them.
As the patrol slowed to mark a section of dense pines and sniff suspiciously at fresh claw scratches in the flaking bark, Leveretpaw stopped at the back, quiet and tired and too afraid to make a sound. He raised a paw and flexed it; it ached. The pads were raw and bruised from the amount of ground they’d covered. Letting out a breath of a sigh, he turned his head and gazed out with weary, blackened eyes into the dark, quiet woods. The air was cold and still; not a bird stirred.
And then, suddenly, a shape flashed past him, a blur of pale pelt. He whipped his head after it, eyes widening in fear — not for himself, but for them. It was an Inferior fleeing their execution scheduled for the next night — and she’d chosen the worst stretch of forest to run through. Eyes stretched wide with silent terror, he looked at the rest of the patrol — the rules said they had to give chase, but he hoped with all his heart that they wouldn’t. That they’d let her go. Kier would never know — how would he know? If they agreed to keep it a secret, she would be safe. She would be free. Already the escaped traitor was disappearing into the night, her frantic paws throwing up pine needles as she made for the rogue lands beyond the Northern border, the lands swathed in constant mist and cut through by towering redwoods and a vast, desolate highway. Leveretpaw’s breath came quick and quiet as he stared at the rest of his bloodthirsty patrol — show mercy, he pleaded silently. Don’t go after her.
But these weren't cats anymore; these were hungry killers. And that wasn't a victim; that was a spoil of war, a prize to drag home and drop before Kier and Snowblister for praise and social ascension.
She had no hope. Leveretpaw's heart broke at the undeniable truth. The horror of it.
The long trek through NightClan's territory had had its own impact on Ratpaw's pads and his bones were aching with wariness. He had been excited at first to get to go out and explore a little, but it soon dulled due to the pure lack of entertainment they faced. Despite how tired he was he refused to show it to the others. Instead he held his head and tail high, almost waiting for someone to challenge him, desperate for entertainment and a chance to flash his savagery. His gaze was traveling around the patrol when the look of horror across Leveretpaw's face caught his attention. He followed the other apprentices gaze and just barely spotted the source - a fleeing prisoner.
Ratpaw waited a short moment to see if perhaps the tom would announce this to the rest of the patrol, but quickly a wry grin spread across his face. "Oh, Leveretpaw," He announced to the group, "Just going to keep a fleeing traitor to yourself, are you?" With this he took off after the flash of pale fur, knocking his shoulder into the other apprentice as he went.
Bumblebeepaw too had been with the patrol. It had been boring, meandering, and with the wound still healing slightly on their paw, both physically and mentally painful. The apprentice had spent most of the time making quips that probably drove everyone else crazy, like, "Huh, now look at that, we're now 25% done with checking all the borders. Ah man how exciting, only probably 6 more hours to go!" But truth be told, a part of the apprentice figured they were better off out there, on patrol, than doing nothing in camp. Even if it was drudgery, it was drudgery that kept them moving. And besides, there was the secondary, unique fun of getting into fights that they didn't intend to happen over petty bullcrap, and then getting to half argue, half bully, their way out of it. That was pretty amusing to them in its own right.
They had probably better than most of the cats there accepted the boring reality of the patrol and were getting through it as well as they could, when all of the sudden, they too were left half stunned as they saw the Inferior race past them. At first the gravity didn't quite hit them, they were slightly confused at what the other cat was doing. They were running much too fast and far to be hunting, and way too close to the border, and though in hindsight the reality of what the she cat was doing was obvious, the fact that they had actually been "lucky" enough to see a traitor trying to escape took a second to dawn on them. It was so unlikely, it was so rare, but it was happening.
As the full weight of the situation hit the apprentice, they felt the beginning of a rush of adrenaline start to hit them. Not, ironically, in reaction to the escaping she cat (although perhaps that was a small part of it), but instead to the reality that this had happened while surrounded by a full patrol. It seemed like a dramatic transformation; in an instant the cats around them had gone from a dreary mass of bored and agitated cats, to now a group of competetors who would stop at nothing for the prize of that she cat's head. Bumblebeepaw was a proud cat, cocksure and filled with bravado noramlly even at times when that was damning for them, but the sudden change in atmosphere evoked an indescribable feeling in them. It was akin to being a fox among wolves with a rabbit having sped past; being a predator amongst predators granted them no mercy if they wanted to assure that no one else would take their kill.
Almost instinctually the apprentice's gaze turned to flicking amongst their patrol to read the room, briefly having their eyes land on Leveretpaw and noticing the look on their face. The tacit plea. It stunned them an extra moment, baffled them a bit. It was certainly the one thing they had not expected to see - and it clearly shook them a bit. But Ratpaw's voice snapped them out of it, immediatly feeling the urgency as they caught out of the corner of their eyes the other apprentice already starting to turn to speed off after the fleeing Inferior.
Once more, for a fraction of a second, Bumblebeepaw turned their gaze back to Leveretpaw. His sensitivity, his mercy; to the other apprentice that made him no better than a she cat who ought to have been tucked away in the nursery. His unpsoken plea was met with Bumblebeepaw's equally silent command; "Go home. You don't want to see this." It might have been seen as sympathetic, and in some twisted way it was, though clearly it was built on a base of condescension.
With that the apprentice snapped back around, eyes locked on the Inferior as they too started to give chase. Ratpaw has already gotten a head start over them, but they were dead set on not letting any other cats get that luxury.
For a fraction of a second, as the two other apprentices broke free to give chase, Leveretpaw just stared after them, mouth slightly open and eyes wide with misery, with consternation. He was lucky, in a way, but more and more that luck had started to taste like guilt, like ash, in his mouth; he’d been born a she-cat and had embraced his identity long before Kier had come to NightClan. Lucky he had. And now he was too afraid to speak up, to defend the cruelties he saw committed daily against she-cats in camp, to do anything but hunch his shoulders and bow his head against the crawling sickness that filled his belly whenever the group he was with made vile comments and jokes. He was just as bad as the rest of them, as the ones who actually hurt them, because he did nothing to stop it. He was a coward. He wished more than anything that Oleanderpaw were here — her aggression, her loudness, were comforts to him like no other. She gave orders and he followed them. Now, it was all on him.
And then, heart flooding with sudden resolve, he shot after them. “We don’t have to catch her!” he shouted desperately to the others, twisting and darting through the pine trees as they suddenly rose up from the darkness before him, no more than black pillars in the night. To the east, the horizon was just starting to glow a bright, sickly yellow. They would be out past dawn. He was aware that what he was saying was treason, but he had to try — for once in his life, he had to try and protect this she-cat who could have so easily been him. Who felt fear, joy, pain the same as he did. He hared around a tree, barely missing it as he struggled to keep up with the other apprentices. “We can let her go! What are the chances she came out right where we were — and if they question us, if they find our scent trails, we can say we didn’t see her. Or that we lost her. We can agree on a story.” Closing the gap between them, he fell in place beside Ratpaw, head turned to gaze at him imploringly. Their thundering pawsteps sounded suddenly quiet, muted into the distance as he stared pleadingly at the Executioner. “Please,” he added more quietly, voice tight with desperation.
Perhaps if he were a different cat with semblances of empathy he would pretend as if he saw nothing and continue on their patrol. After all, they were all exhausted, pawpads worn and cracked from the day - to simply finish up their patrol and go home, allowing the escaped prisoner to flee with their life, perhaps it would be a satisfying end to the day. But not for Ratpaw. With each bound his paws screamed in protest and he grinned wider. This was the most exciting part of this lackluster patrol and in his eyes there wasn't a chance he would let this traitor get away. There was simply too much to benefit from them. Life just simply wasn't fair, he supposed.
So it was no surprise that Leveretpaw's pleading did nothing aside from make his pace faster than before, his eagerness to tackle this cat to the ground and drag them back to their demise bringing him the only feelings he felt in that moment. Ratpaw made no attempt to respond to the other apprentice, as he really couldn't drag his attention from the chase and slow himself down. His only communication came in the form of a sinister warning glare as he looked into Leveretpaw's eyes, just for a moment. In that moment his eyes glinted with excitement and they almost seemed to laugh at him. Who would have thought I'd bring two traitors back to Kier today?
The sight of Leveretpaw racing past them, the sound of his pathetic pleas, it sparked something in Bumblebeepaw. The apprentice couldn't put a paw on it -- not that they really had the time to consider what it was -- but they told themselves it was annoyance, absolute frustration at the fact that they had bothered to give the other apprentice an out to run back home like a coward, and they hadn't taken it. And now, they were actually speeding a little past them, breaking neck and neck with Ratpaw even before Bumblebeepaw had a chance to.
It was a convincing explanation. Better than the alternative; that maybe somewhere deep inside them, they knew this was wrong. That something in that tiny moment between when Ratpaw had sped off and Leveretpaw had glanced at them with a look of horror and practically begged an unspoken request for mercy, there might have been the briefest moment when they might have considered talking. That the person they were alone might be different than the same cat that days earlier when among their peers and superiors was cheering on for an execution at a trial, or the cat who was talking big game about the fact they planned to one day be one of the cats to kill an escaping traitor like they were chasing the oppertunity for now. That would mean they would have to admit they had their morals, that maybe somewhere inside of them they didn't want this, or at least that this wasn't worth it to get what they wanted. It would mean admitting they only were convincing themselves it was.
But now they were running, with evey step they were slowly catching up with the pair. Any chance of turning back now was gone, there was only forward.
"Buddy, you're an idiot!" Bumblebeepaw snarled between gasps of breaths. Perhaps it wasn't smart to speak -- in fact, it objectively wasn't. But the apprentice needed some outlit for the emotions that were bubbling inside them. Anger, frustration, annoyance, perhaps even somewhere in that concoction pity and guilt. When this was all over, whether they brought back the head of the inferior or not, they knew how this was going to end for the other apprentice. "You're going to get yourself killed!"
At Ratpaw's look, Leveretpaw's ears drooped back with fear, his eyes widening and flooding with it. And then Bumblebeepaw was snarling at him and he turned his head to look at them, abject misery on his face. You're going to get yourself killed! He had nothing to say to that; the terror of it was already seeping into his chest like cold water. But the terror gave him something else — it gave him inevitability. And with the inevitability, for the first time in his life, came courage. A crazed, frantic brand of it, but courage all the same. Without a word, he ducked his head with fearful determination and sped up until he was outpacing the other two apprentices — Ratpaw was strong, but Leveretpaw was tall, and that gave him speed. He pushed harder, till his muscles burned and wailed, till the pine needles cut at his paw pads, till the other apprentices were just blurred shapes at the edge of his vision — and then he pushed more. They were locked in a deadly race, and for just that second, the silent, anxious one, the one who never raised his voice against injustice, was winning.
He broke free of the trees before Ratpaw and Bumblebeepaw did, and for a second he stood there gasping, looking around frantically for any sign of the rogue. He was too wild with fear to try and scent her; all he could do was gasp in air that smelled distantly of the stinking abandoned highway. Then, still not knowing entirely where he was going but knowing there was no more time for him to decide, knowing the other two were seconds away from catching up to him, he shot out across the narrow strip of treeless land that separated NightClan from rogue territory. He disappeared into the towering redwoods and didn't stop to check for cars on the ghostly expanse of grey highway, covered in cold, swirling mist and bounded by thick trees that reached the sky. Dawn was growing closer. Blind with fear, Leveretpaw raced across the cold, hard tar of the highway and vanished into the undergrowth on the other side. From here the ground rose into rocky mountains with sparse undergrowth — Leveretpaw had never been this far in his life. He struggled up the hill, paws scrabbling against flaky dirt, and once or twice he slipped back down, his heart lurching with terror and his mouth opening in a quiet wail at the thought of one of the other apprentices catching his tail, or a flailing leg, and pulling him down. But they didn't.
Breaking from the trees, he caught a flash of pale fur and raced after it — until finally, in a clearing surrounded by scraggly undergrowth better suited to SunClan's deserts than NightClan's pine woods, Leveretpaw cornered her. "Wait, wait," he begged, when she glanced at him with huge eyes and made to flee. "Wait — I won't hurt you. I'm trying to help you. Head for DayClan's lands, or SunClan's, it's empty and it'll be safer — somewhere no one will give you back to us. They'll have already raised the warning alarm at home; soon we won't be the only ones looking for you." He snapped his head over his shoulder to look in terror at the undergrowth, then looked back at the she-cat with wide, terror-desperate eyes. "They're right behind me — you have to go! Go!" She stared at him for a moment longer, frozen in fear — and then, finally, without a word, she turned and fled. And the second she did so, by some unspeakable blessing, the heavens opened and rain poured down, washing her scent away in rivulets that coursed down the slope. Leveretpaw tipped his head back to the sky and stared up at it in heart-aching, disbelieving gratitude, mouth open as he let himself breathe. Then, snapping back to the moment, he hurried around the clearing and desperately scrubbed out all traces of her pawprints, brushing his paws over the dirt quickly dissolving into a sea of wet sludge until they were covered in mud. Hearing movement in the undergrowth, he whirled around, eyes wide, and faced Ratpaw and Bumblebeepaw. He didn't bother to deny what he'd done — he couldn't if he'd wanted to. He was frozen in terror, mouth moving but no words coming out. The rain beat down on them all, streaming down their pelts and filling the space between them with dark, thundering grey. He couldn't be proud, couldn't make a grand speech — he was just silent, horribly, fearfully silent. He knew what this meant.
A rush of pure fury coursed through his veins as Leveretpaw sprinted ahead and disappeared through foliage. What was entertainment turned to unbridled rage as he tried to catch up, but to no avail. All he could do now was trace the apprentice's scent and hope the escapee would still be at the end of the line. All the work Ratpaw had been trying to put forth, the effort that was so disrespectfully thrown out the window by this "clanmate"... It was utterly unacceptable. A hulkish yowl escaped him as he pushed himself harder than ever, the heavy falling rain that had began doing nothing to slow him as he skid to a stop before Leveretpaw. The prisoner was gone.
Without hesitation Ratpaw lunged for Leveretpaw and pinned him to the ground, long filthy claws pressing at the tom's neck. Saliva spewed from his mouth as he spat , enraged beyond reason. "You've signed your death sentence."
Bumblebeepaw was near neck and neck with Ratpaw, an impressive feat to be sure. Bumblebeepaw was fast, it was the only way they had caught up like they had, but they were built for quick bursts of speed, not for the types of long stamina runs that meant actually continueing to run for longer than ten minutes at a time. And all of Bumblebeepaw's stamina had been used up for the day, the long patrol had ruined any chance they had ever had to catch up with Leveretpaw. Maybe on a better day, on a different day, but today by the mercy of whatever god was out there, Leveretpaw had managed to outrun not just Bumblebeepaw, but both of them.
But that mercy had soon run out. Bumblebeepaw skidded to a stop but inches from Leveretpaw. Had the apprentice been frustrated before , now they were furious. They were about to open their mouth to yell, to scream, to do or say something to the other apprentice, when Ratpaw actually pinned Leveretpaw to the ground, and Bumblebeepaw froze. The reality of what was going on, what they were likely about to witness, hit them hard. The Inferior had been nothing more than prey, nothing less than a large mouse to be caught, but the shift from some fleeing stranger to a member of their patrol now being perhaps their only possible prize to bring back was a chilling shift.
There was a brief moment when they wanted to deny it, even verbally so. "This isn't worth it." They almost said found the voice to say. "They can't be that far ahead. If you kill him now we're just wasting time." But even they knew that was denial. The chase was pretty much dead, the only trophy now they could possibly bring back was the apprentice that was now pinned underneath Ratpaw's claws.
"Where the hell did they go?" Bumblebeepaw snapped the question at Leveretpaw, but there was such hopelessness it the apprentice's voice. They tried not to show it, tried to pretend the question at this point wasn't just filling the gap between now and Ratpaw's obvious next action. But to anyone who cared to read between the lines, it was too clear. Perhaps even Bumblebeepaw's inactions was too clear. After all, they could fight for this kill couldn't they? Try to knock Ratpaw off and kill Leveretpaw themselves, and thus bring back home a traitor's body all the same? But they didn't, they instead stood there, clearly much less sure in their next actions than Ratpaw was in theirs.
As Ratpaw pinned him down, all his bravery melted away into a child's fear. "Please—please," he begged, trying to press his head as far back against the wet earth as he could to get distance between them; he could hardly see — the rain pelted down onto his face, his eyes, and Ratpaw was just a black silhouette against a grey, storming sky. The water got in his nose, in his mouth, so he felt like he was drowning, so he couldn't breathe, so he was sputtering on it. "Please—I don't know!" he answered Bumblebeepaw, turning his head to stare desperately at the other apprentice. His paws were hooked around Ratpaw's, trying to relieve the pressure of his full weight, trying to still his claws. "I had to—" He looked back up at Ratpaw, eyes huge with pleading fear. "I couldn't let you kill her. She hasn't done anything wrong — her only crime was being born a..." His voice faltered over the word, like it was something shameful, and he hated that in these few months of Kier's reign he'd already succeeded in making him feel like that. "A she-cat." Leveretpaw rolled his cheek ever so slightly against the ground at that, looking at Bumblebeepaw past Ratpaw's foreleg with something like unwilling, agonised hesitancy. It was a dangerous appeal, he knew that, to point out between them the secret the other apprentice always tried to keep. But he was just grabbing at any lifeline he could.
He looked back up at Ratpaw, still clinging to the other tom's paws. "She's gone — for now, she's gone. We can pick up the trail when the rain stops. For now, we can... we can make camp." It was the best compromise he could give them, the best way he could think to delay his own death. And the worst part was that now, with his noble act done and Ratpaw's claws at his throat, he didn't know if he could do it again. Didn't know if his gesture would mean anything at all, because if it came down to his life or the she-cat's, if they cornered her... He might choose his. He'd thought he could sacrifice himself — but now, it was so torturously easy to turn the patrol's attention to the traitor again. The guilt swallowed him like black water. He looked up at Ratpaw imploringly, trying to look calm, to look encouraging, like the blooded Executioner were a wild animal; he forced himself to loosen his grip on the apprentice's forelegs like he might do the same in return. "Yeah? I can... I can get bedding. We can find somewhere warm to wait out the rain. It's dawn anyway. No point burning our eyes... Yeah?" He tried a smile, brows rising hopefully; it shook at the edges.
Cold water streamed down his pelt as he pressed the tips of his claws into the traitor before him. Though he was never a fan of the rain, he was a fan of the scene before him: a scraggly apprentice begging for their life under his muddy paws, grasping at any straws they could see, desperately trying to escape the situation. An ugly laughter began to bubble from Ratpaw's chest, sharp yellow teeth slick with rain and eyes wild with bloodlust. The pleas that poured from Leveretpaw did nothing besides encourage him to continue, feeling no morsel of sympathy. "What a stupid, valiant effort, truly." He shoved his face closer, his spit mingling with rain as he bore a fiery hole into the other apprentice. "I can't wait to see you weasel around in front of the clan on trial, begging for your life again, only this time, to our lord. Your blood will baptize the masses.." Another laugh escaped him, considerably more maniacal, and he stopped short to whip his gaze to Levertpaw's once again.
"I've no intention on staying here tonight. The prisoner is long gone now - and you've taken her place. Congratulations." A grin spread across his face and finally his gaze flicked to Bumblebeepaw. "Let's surround him. We're taking him to Kier."
The rain, the blur of water, the chilling cold, the apprentice's pleas, it all felt surreal. The quiet rumble of distant thunder was like some twisted soundtrack to the scene that Bumblebeepaw felt forced to watch. It was pitiful; Leveretpaw shoved into the ground, chocking on rain. And for a second, for a short period of time, there was some pity from Bumblebeepaw -- if admittedly mixed with a churning and absolute horror and a dreadful oncoming acceptance of their reality. And then Leveretpaw tried to make their appeal to them.
A she-cat. Those words mixed with the glance at them made their blood run cold, their claws unsheathed, their whole body tense. There was a look, a brief look, that without a word should have been enough to tell Leveretpaw that in that exact instance he was lucky to have be under Ratpaw's claws and not theirs. They bit back a snarl and the growl that was bubbeling up in their chest, if only because Ratpaw was right there -- but it didn't stop the visceral and absolute hatred the breifly took hold of them. It felt like blackmail, it felt like a passive threat, and from a cat sputtering and whimpering for their lives under Ratpaw's claws, it felt disgusting, like they were trying them. Of course that wasn't what is was, and somewhere in the rational part of Bumblebeepaw's brain they knew that it wasn't. It was an appeal to empathy, to compassion, to understanding, to anything that might make them change their mind about hunting that she cat, to anything that might change their mind about killing him. But it was easier to hate him right now, because it mean they didn't have to think too much about the fact that soon they were about to be seeing a cat not all too different from theselves sent to their death.
But Leveretpaw continued; sad, pitiful, hopeful. And it was only the three of them, lonesome and small in the midst of the clearing. All of them were sad and pathetic and small amongst the looming trees and the forest that surounded them, walled around them. They were only kids, tiny, pathetic teenagers, and all of them might have been such an equally sad sight in the pouring rain, except for the fact that one of them was locked under the other's claws and being drown by the water that kept falling from the grey and merciless heavens above. Bumblebeepaw was half aware of this, aware at least of feeling small in the moment, maybe smaller than they'd ever felt as the hatred numbed away and Leveretpaw continued on. That miserable "Yeah?", that shaky expression, the soft release of the paws that held the claws on his throat, as if letting them go was some sort of bargaining chip for his life. In that moment, Bumblebeepaw wanted to disapear. They had never wanted that before, it was a strange and terrifying feeling for them in how antithetical is was to everything they'd ever felt, with their love of attention and the love of the spotlight. But right now they wanted so badly to not exist, to not have to take any resposibility in standing here, of watching what Ratpaw would do next. Because they wouldn't intervene, they knew that much. They were prepared for Ratpaw to slice the apprentice's throat open right there, to watch as the pouring rain flushed the blood onto their golden paws and turned them a sickening shade of soft pink. And they still wouldn't step in. Not because they didn't want to, not because they wanted to see this; this wasn't a trial or a show, this wasn't fun. This wasn't being done with the glitz and glamour of a cheering crowd to a spectacle where one could turn their empathy off and "ooh" and "ahh' and cheer because that wasn't their peer anymore, it was a circus animal being paraded and tortured was for their amusement. This wasn't a hunt and a chase where the thrill of pride and glory was enough to make any morality become a pale afterthought in the background to future thoughts of fame and recognition. This was real, and raw, and it made Bumblebeepaw's stomach churn.
And then Ratpaw laughed, and then he said they'd be taking him to Keir, and Bumblebeepaw was glad the pouring rain likely hid the hint of relief they let slip at the declaration. Days from now they'd lay in their nest, troubled and uneasy, sick to death with the memory of what was unfolding in front of their eyes right now. They'd question if they were a coward, they'd wonder what they would have done if it had been just them and Leveretpaw, they'd question if they were a monster, and then lambast themselves for not being strong enough, for being so weak as to feel relief when the little traitor didn't immediatly get what they deserved. And then they'd hear Leveretpaw's pleas in their head again, and their heart would sink into their gut, and it would start all over again. But for now, a weight had been taken off of their shoulders: They were taking him to Kier. It was no longer their problem, and the rewards for dragging in a traitor would likely still be good.
And the relief, the feeling of dread slowly falling away, allowed them to think again. To plan and to plot, and to actually use their brain instead of being some horrified deer in the headlights. They met Ratpaw's gaze with a different look, a look that seemed to say, "Give me a second, trust me." as they began to stalk around to the other side of Leveretpaw, till they were just above his head and gazing down at him with their sharp chartruese gaze that, in the dark of the clouds and pouring rain, seemed to reflect back a similar stormy grey. "How about we make a deal." The words clicked off of their tongue, they forced their voice to be cold, sharp, toying, fully in command of the situation. They refused to let their prior feelings show through. "You have to have a clue which way she went running. You were here before either of us, and we're not stupid. Niether is Kier. We all know you have some sense of which direction she went, and I don't think Kier will be half so nice about getting information out of you as I am." They took a pause as if to let it sink in, before plopping down and taking a seat right where they had stood. The gesture was friendly, almost playing, but their expression was anything but. "So, why don't you tell us which way she went? It's a win-win for us both. We can tell Kier that you seemed like you really regreted what you did, that we didn't even have to do anything. We just saw you and you felt guilty and you told us which way she went. We'll say we had to take you back because now you were a liability, but you don't seem half as unrepentent. That'll sound a lot better at trial than, "And Ratpaw had to hold Leveretpaw down and threaten him within an inch of his life to get him to even regret what he did, and he intentionally left no chance of finding the escapee by withholding information." It was barely a legitimate ultimatum, but Bumblebeepaw figured that Leveretpaw's options were so slim that the tom had little choice to accept it. Even if a chance of a softer trial didn't motivate him, they figured Ratpaw's claws still poking into his neck would.
Leveretpaw's eyes widened with terrified dismay, the expression scrunched a second later as he flinched and turned his cheek against the mud to avoid being hit in the face by Ratpaw's dripping saliva. His heart, a moment earlier lifting with wary hope, plummeted straight to the black pit of his stomach. His paw returned to Ratpaw's and he began to struggle more, not even really meaning to — he was just desperate, frightened, frenzied by the need to stay alive, his claws digging in subconsciously. When Bumblebeepaw padded over to sit beside his head, Leveretpaw tilted his forehead back against the mud to look up at them upside down, his desperate breaths falling quieter and his huge eyes flooding with some middle ground between terror and silent hope at the intervention. At the mention of a deal, his heart hammered harder in his chest and his stomach squirmed; those were never good words, not here, not now. He couldn't say it, couldn't acknowledge the finely veiled mercy, but as he looked up at Bumblebeepaw, unblinking despite the rain streaming down, his terror-glassy eyes held a silent, shaking thank you — he just hoped it would go over Ratpaw's head, this kindness of Bumblebeepaw's that was both generosity and reward for themself if they did manage to capture the prisoner, or that the possibility of catching up to the she-cat was enticement enough to lessen the blow to himself. It was almost an art, and even in his state Leveretpaw could faintly marvel at it: that the apprentice had somehow woven together a selfish scenario in which they benefited from either outcome, in which they came out on top of the mercy and of the bounty. It was brilliant enough to make Leveretpaw sick with fear.
Because what could he say?
What could he do?
He could die on the podium for some traitor he didn't know, or he could...
There was no dilemma, was there? Not really. Not for anyone. Not for even the kindest soul in the world.
"Yes," he gasped out against the rain, and the second time he said it, it came out as half a sob, looking back up at Ratpaw like he was pleading with him to uphold, to honour, Bumblebeepaw's deal. "Yes." His eyes were wild, beseeching, his brows drawn together. "She went left." He jerked his head back as best he could against the mud, towards the drenched thornbushes clacking together in the howling rain. "Towards SunClan." He sobbed again, tearless and hoarse, half-hidden by the rain, and this time it was out of disgust for himself. For his cowardliness. He was still facing trial, he was still facing the uncertainty of surviving it — and he'd sacrificed someone wholly more innocent than himself for that tiny chance. That tiny chance that might still lead to the gallows. It was such a pitifully bleak exchange. Such a poor, selfish reason to let someone else die. He tucked his chin in against his dripping wet chest fur, slumping completely against the mud, near catatonic with guilt, too drowned by self-hatred to put up any more fight, to care about Ratpaw's claws in his neck, to do anything but lie there and be jostled and wait for him to get off him, for him to leave him there in the indignity of the slush at Bumblebeepaw's paws. If he were going to continue along on this hunt to the ash-choked deserts, dragged along behind like a prisoner roped round the wrists and hooked to a horse's saddle, he'd have to be forced to his paws and nosed along.
Ratpaw would admit to the delightful enjoyment that coursed through him as he stared into the tortured eyes of the traitor below him. To say this was the most exciting and fulfilling thing to happen to him since the Trial would be an understatement. Unlike the others around him, he reveled in the suffering laid thick in the humid air, the delicious desperation that rolled off of Leveretpaw in waves. His selfish thoughts were interrupted by Bumblebeepaw's undiscussed proposition and a growl bubbled in his chest, feeling indignance as they spoke as if they were the leader of this patrol, as if they were somehow more than him. It continued to simmer as he listened to the proposition, realizing Bumblebeepaw was happy to simply let Leveretpaw weasel his way out of this, all to chase after some lowly escapee that was long gone anyway. It was all so infuriating, so ridiculous and pathetic, so absolutely unacceptable. The pathetic look in Leveretpaw's eyes as he met his gaze only propelled his fury, instead of fueling his sick sadism as it had moments before.
With another guttural growl Ratpaw moved from above Leveretpaw and swatted him to the side, ensuring that the apprentice saw the look of disgust in his gaze before he turned it to Bumblebeepaw. Then there was something different there, something so vaguely sinister behind the wall of fire; he let this last a moment longer before turning and bolting away in the direction of SunClan. Better to catch up on his own rather than be slowed down once again by the pity train of traitors behind him. As he darted through the cold, wet rain he felt hotter than ever. If they both thought that was the end of things, they were utterly wrong.
A growl was already bubbeling in their throat as Ratpaw took off. The entire thing was so ridiculous, it was beyond infuriating. It was stupid. Had they had a moment in edgewise to speak, the would have mention that this could only benefit everyone, that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. They were bringing in two prisoners for the price of one, all for just a little lie to make it all go down a little smoother. At least, Bumblebeepaw was convinced that was why, so much so they could almost believe that there hadn't been horror, relief, and pity coursing through them just moments before, that there hadn't been some meager mercy to their own actions.
But then Ratpaw stared at him in disgust, and before they could even speak he was bolting off into Sunclan's lands, leaving Bumblebeepaw with fur raised and claws unsheethed, their jaw locked in a bitter seethe. What almost might have been a very sarcastic "Great." fell apart mid-way into a frustrated snarl, before their eyes locked back onto Leveretpaw, still languishing in the mud and water; another half-snarled sound, a near enraged "tck", rose from their throat. They snapped their jaw down onto Leveretpaw's scruff, the force of their movement so violent it sent the water and mud that had been pooling around the apprentice's body in a wild splash, specks and droplets flying everywhere and painting their golden muzzle brown. And yet, despite the agressiveness of the motion, the graps was not as tight as it could have been, and nor was the one fluid motion they proceeded to use to yank Leveretpaw back to their feet as rough as it might have appeared. Giving one more sharp, ticked off breath, they locked their gaze onto the other apprentice. It was searing and near-livid, but more than anything, absolutely frustrated.
"Come on asshole." The words were biting, and with fur bristiling they too took off towards Sunclan, not willing to waste more time. They could only hope that Leveretpaw would follow along; the inherent stupidity of splitting up was that it left no one to watch the other apprentice, to make sure that they could drag him back to Kier. A tenuous alliance would have been best, it was what Bumblebeepaw had hoped would come of this. But it was just their luck that they had been left in the dust, just having to pray that Leveretpaw didn't use the opportunity to slink away and prove themselves even more of a traitor than they already had.
When Ratpaw stepped off him, he flinched defensively, like he might hit him in passing, and barely relaxed as the Executioner bounded off into the thornbushes. His senses were so consumed with the pounding grey sheets of rain, with the thunder, with the droplets sharp as ice ricocheting up off the mud and cutting through his fur, that Bumblebeepaw hauling him up caught him off guard, a sudden, bewildering assault no matter how gentle it was. When he was dragged up, it took him a moment to find the ground with his paws, so disoriented — the rain blurred everything; the directions, the sky, the other apprentice in front of him. He slipped, paw skidding slightly through the swimming mud. Come on asshole. Shaking his head once, twice, to flick water from his eyes, from his whiskers, he gasped against the rain and just managed to see Bumblebeepaw disappearing after Ratpaw. If he stayed here any longer, the hollow would fill with water; it was already wet enough to send a mudslide crashing down into the pines below. And so, because he had nowhere else to go, because these were his only companions and, for better or for worse, they were all trapped out here together, he bounded after them through the slipping mud.
As soon as he was among the thornbushes, he was lost. Everything was grey — the air, the sky, the tangled branches that rose up all around him. They clawed at his fur, slowed his pace until he was turning around in slow, terrified circles, completely directionless. The rain was utterly blinding, so strong that it was almost enough to suffocate him just by slipping again, again, again over his nose. And then he saw a distant flash of gold and followed blindly after the idea of Bumblebeepaw.
Finally, he found both apprentices and came crashing out beside them. "It's raining too hard," he shouted, eyes almost closed against the downpour. Even with his voice raised, he could hardly be heard. "We'll never find her in this." Though he didn't know it, they had come out on an overhang of brittle earthen cliff — down there, through the grey sheets of rain that fell so heavily they might as well have been fog rolling in off a churning sea, was SunClan's desert. Red and black and burned, mesas and pillars of hot, towering stone rising from the dunes. But now, the desert was bleached of all colour, just haze of near-flooded white that was scarcely visible through the ocean of icy rain. It was like gauze, like a soft-focus dream of lace — if you peered through it, there, ever so faint, was the outline of the desert below. But don't peer, take one step, and you'll find thin air beneath your paws as the cliff gives way to nothing. Without Leveretpaw knowing it, they stood on a precipice.
