Featherpaw stared at the back of Sootpaw's body, observing how his dark-grey tail squished from side to side.
She swallowed the growl that threatened to burst in her chest. The nerve of him! Even though she was greatly intimidated by him, she was, by no means, afraid of him.
She thought she was used to cold, scornful cats from her time in ThunderClan. Snowfall had been a perfect example. The sleek white she-cat still managed to feature heavily in her thoughts, despite Featherpaw's wish for the contrary.
Snowfall was all the way in ThunderClan, all the way across the large, spacious moors, and hidden by the large, twisting ravine that ThunderClan called home.
Featherpaw shook her head furiously; she didn't want to think of Snowfall anymore, nor did she want to think of ThunderClan either.
That clan of cats had been nothing but awful to her, and Featherpaw was quite happy to say that she would never step foot back in that ravine ever again.
It wasn't like anyone would miss her there anyway. Snowfall loathed her, Cinderkit never bothered to hide his disdain, and Flamestreak...
Well, he wasn't much better.
He had been cold and distant the entirety of her life, so she found it hard to believe that he really did love her. If so, then why did he leave Cinderkit? The grey kitten was his son, and Featherpaw knew that it would have been hard to leave him, as Flamestreak had doted on him.
Featherpaw shrugged her shoulders; she didn't care anyway. Her 'father' had never made an effort to repair their relationship- if they even had one to begin with.
Speaking of Flamestreak, she could spot the bright red coat shimmering in the distance.
She suddenly remembered the way that Morningstar's had twisted when Flamestreak had been mentioned. There had been raw fury on her face, but also... pain?
Why would the mighty WindClan have looked pained?
Featherpaw didn't know, but there would be only one way to find out.
She quickly made her decision before her mind could process how intrusive and invading such a question could be.
She quickly approached Flamestreak, dragging her deformed paws in front of her, though when she saw one cat gawking at her, she mustered up the hardest glare she could, and, when the cat widened its eyes and quickly looked away, she continued on, quite satisfied with herself.
It had only been three days since she had run away from ThunderClan and Featherpaw found herself the most confident she had ever been.
No cat in WindClan actively glared at her, though she did still receive wary stares.
Featherpaw appreciated it.
Flamestreak was heading toward what Featherpaw recognised as the elders' den. Why would he be going there?
A grizzled grey she-cat approached him at the mouth of the den, and her watery eyes lit up as soon as she saw the tom.
"Flamekit," she mowed, her voice raspy and thin.
Featherpaw scrunched her face up. Why was a batty old cat calling Flamestreak by his kit?
"Don't call me that," Flamestreak muttered sharply. "I'm not a kit anymore."
A noise, a mix between a grunt and a laugh, escaped the old cat. Featherpaw realised that the sound was a laugh.
"You'll always be a kit to me," she said, her voice tender. She took a step closer, craning her neck so she could take in the massive form of Flamestreak. "You look so much like your father. An absolute spitting image."
"Don't speak of him," Flamestreak snapped, his bright eyes narrowing to the point of slits.
"Redhaze loved you-" the old cat was cut off.
"If he ever loved me," Flamestreak sneered the word, "then he would have left us well alone!" He softened his words when the old cat's face crumpled into an expression of hurt. "I'm not going to apologise for my words, Pebblefoot, because he did cause her death, and he never cared for anything but himself. There was no love. There was no love in him. And now, I'm turning into him."
The old cat, Pebblefoot, peered over Flamestreak's shoulder, and her eyes widened in delight. "Is that your kit, Flamekit?" Her voice was heading.
Flamestreak stiffened, before he let out a long, tired sigh. He turned his head around and pierced Featherpaw with unfathomable green eyes.
"How much did you hear?" he asked bluntly.
Featherpaw shrunk back slightly at the coldness in his eyes. Then, she shrugged. "Not much," she said. "Something about this Redhaze guy. Don't really care much, to be honest."
Pebblefoot let out a loud cackle of delight. "She's just like when you were a kit."
Flamestreak very nearly looked like he would roll his eyes. Instead, he let out another sigh. "Don't listen to anything she says, Featherpaw. She's gone crazy in her old age."
"Crazy?" Pebblefoot suddenly shouted in outrage. "Crazy?! I'll show you crazy, you cheeky little kit!"
"She's blind in one eye," Flamestreak informed her.
Featherpaw blinked, looked between Flamestreak and Pebblefoot, then blinked again. Then, she snapped, "What in StarClan are you going on about?! And whose that?" She indicated Pebblefoot with a deformed paw.
"This is Pebblefoot," Flamestreak motioned to the grizzled old cat in question with a roll of his eyes. "My aunt."
Featherpaw inhaled sharply. "Your aunt?!" she screeched. She looked between the two cats, trying to find any semblance of relation. There wasn't any. Flamestreak was a deep ginger colour, whereas Pebblefoot was a soft grey colour.
Wait...
She looked closer, noting Flamestreak's softer facials which were an exact replica of the old cat next to him.
"You have kin in WindClan?" Featherpaw demanded. "What in StarClan! WHAT IN STARCLAN IS GOING ON!"
Flamestreak opened his mouth to reply, but Featherpaw cut him off. "No," she flowered, "You don't get to speak. It's my turn. All this time you had kin here in WindClan, yet you stayed in ThunderClan. Why? Why would you do that?"
"Because I got taken away!" Flamestreak exploded, shoving his face close to her. He glared at her crossly, but lowered his voice as he mewed, "Redhaze shamed himself, and so he decided to rectify the mistake: by taking me away from everything I had ever known. The Clans agreed to, as they say, split the status quo. I never saw them again."
Featherpaw's tail dropped, and a frown tugged at her lips. Flamestreak shut his eyes, his face tired and worn.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," Featherpaw said softly.
Flamestreak tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "It's fine," he said shortly. He pierced her with keen eyes. "Run along now. Why don't you go and train or find that friend of yours?"
Glaring at being so easily dismissed, Featherpaw snapped, "His name is Darkpaw!"
"Go and find him then," Flamestreak muttered. "I'm in no mood to talk anymore."
Featherpaw huffed out a breath. "Fine," she answered, before stalking off, her tail swishing behind her.
She headed off in the direction of the moors. She figured that, if no one was going to train her, then she would train herself. But she needed to find Darkpaw first.
Before coming to the conclusion of training herself, she wanted to see if he would help her. If not, then she would help herself.
As she padded to the entrance of the camp, her eyes widened slightly as she saw the large white form of Cloudstorm approaching her.
Featherpaw considered ignoring the white tom, but the stern set of his lips prevented her from doing so.
She scowled angrily when he came to a stop in front of her. Cloudstorm gazed down at her with unblinking yellow eyes, and as she only reached the top of his shoulders, she had to look up at him. Which she did not like. At all.
"What do you want?" she sneered, unable to keep the emotion from her voice.
Cloudstorm had been the first grown up cat to fully pay her any positive attention. He had given her a safe place, had shielded her, then he had disappeared.
He hadn't spoken a single word to her the entire time she had been in camp.
"Where is your mentor?" Cloudstorm demanded, his voice stern. "Why aren't you training with him?"
Featherpaw scoffed. "I haven't trained once since I've been here," she mowed, her voice dripping with poison. "Scorchfur's too bothered by my presence to actually train me, let alone like me."
A severe frown crinkled the deputy's face. "Why are you like this?" he murmured, his voice softer than before. "Where was the kit who was so happy to be here?"
"You left!" Featherpaw blurted. Cloudstorm just stared at her, and she wanted to sink into the ground, her embarrassment burning her face. "You... You left. You were there and then you left."
Cloudstorm blinked once, then let out a sigh. "Featherpaw." He sounded awkward. "You have to understand, I can't be there all the time. I'm the deputy of this Clan, and I have an apprentice to train. But," here, he looked as if he had swallowed something horrible, "I have never left. I'm doing my best to watch over you. It was me who suggested Scorchfur as your mentor, as I've seen you with his son. He needed it, as did you. But, you need to understand, Featherpaw." He softened his voice into a gentle tone, "I'm not your father."
Featherpaw swallowed the lump in her throat, a strange feeling taking hold of her chest. It twisted at her heart and burned her throat.
She didn't know what it was. It was familiar, yet it wasn't.
Cloudstorm touched his muzzle to hers, before padding past her, murmuring, "You're a good kit."
Once she was sure he was out of sight, Featherpaw whispered, "But you've been more of a father to me than Flamestreak ever has."