The typical clouds that would smother the sky, and everything that laid beneath it, in its miserable shade were nowhere to be found. Rather - in its place - stood the sun, baking the sand in a stinging heat as it sat proudly at its pinnacle. Fatepaw welcomed the sensation with a soft grimace that she left plastered on her features, as to let the world know exactly how she was feeling. Anger. Betrayal. Confusion. It wasn’t typical for the world around Fate to paint itself suffocating, but even so… Like a parasite that couldn’t be dislodged: What came along with every accomplishment, every success, every glorious victory that Fatepaw earned…! Was a loss. Even if her opponent’s face quivered under the pressure of her paw, keeping it planted in the dirt. Even if the tips of her claws were tinted red with their blood. Even if the struggle had left the other - the /loser/ - with lasting scars… !!! The victory wouldn’t last. There would always be something to douse her flames. And the extinguisher, like clockwork, was a sour, bitter loss that would send cracks at her foundations. Fate had always ruled it as a nonissue. Losing to Hemlockkit and Primrosekit was nothing, of course, than a small dent: one that she didn’t need to patch - only to prove to others that it wasn’t a dent. And even now, as her steps became reduced to paces and her mind nothing less of a whirlwind, she still supposed it was one. A nonissue. Why would the universe have made its own perfect creation, something to be broken? How did that make any sense? The universe was a benefactor! A friend! Her creator, and only guardian. If it had come to root for her - tell her to take the plunge! Smack a couple kits! Steal a piece of honeycomb! And simply let her have fun! She was meant to be the victor - Why would it allow herself to be reduced to… this? Clams… With a sigh, the young apprentice settled at the edge of a river in hopes that maybe she could find a distraction, a newfound solace, in the sounds of the deep - ones that she used to find uncomfortable. The rushing waves made the young apprentice’s reflection dance wildly - her image bending and breaking with a single touch of foam and bubbles. Fate didn’t take much notice of the sight in front of her, and rather laid her head close. Close enough for the mist of the currents to paint itself on her features, and for the river’s gurgling to be the only thing she could hear. … and yet … her thoughts … persisted … Splinterpaw. The absolute nerve of her..!! Not only had she ruined her plan - one that she had spent a particularly long time to assemble and set into motion, as per her first failure - she had the nerve to accuse her of something so absolutely insane, it couldn’t help but make Fatepaw hang her jaw in surprise. Poisoning the prey pile! Had the young apprentice done it before? No! Would she? Well, of course she would! She wasn’t going to kid anyone. But the assumption still hurt… Fatepaw cringed. No it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. What hurt was how.. How utterly hellbent every cat in Urchinclan was to stopping crime! Ochreserenity, too - a full grown warrior - had warned her and Crafty away from the prey pile the first time around! Now, if the universe whispered her - took her by the paw and, in its soothing - motherly tones - had told her to have fun. Be free. Why couldn't she? Why would everybody rebel against the word of the world? Finally shifting her gaze to the waters below, rising herself back up to her paws, she saw the same broken image. The currents kept rushing and the foam kept settling. But she knew, as she did before, that everything was simply as it was. Nothing. What was really wrong was the Urchinclan. If Fatepaw had been gracing the sands that she’d walked on, being the absolute perfect being that she was. The perfect being that she was made to be. Then that made everybody else a deviant. The ones who made the rules - a deviant. And, especially, the ones who enforced the rules - a deviant. Something had to be done.
art soon!!
