Chapter 72: Rage of Failure

Recovering from the raid was going smoothly. The clan's morale seemed to be rising given our recent victory and that it occurred without losses. I was glad that there wasn't any backlash at me for the raid to have gotten in unnoticed. They either didn't believe it was my fault or at least believed I was trying to prevent any future raids by offsetting our patrol schedules. Regardless, I felt guilty.

I knew they had been out there. I had known that they could get onto our territory relatively easily. I'd even had Hattie keeping an eye on them. Despite all this, they still managed to blindside me. I had a burning hatred for incompetency, and I had proven incompetent. I aggressively paced our border with the city just hoping for some rogue to cross me. I wanted to hurt someone, to let out some steam. Unfortunately, no rogue decided to tempt fate.

I returned to camp, still frustrated. Ravenfeather was quick to notice, trotting over to me with Ashpaw. "You look upset Smudgefoot. Everything alright?" He asked.

I shook my head, barely containing my self-loathing rage. "No. I'm really not. That raid should never have happened. We should have seen them coming. I even knew where they were camped out at before they decided to raid, but somehow they slipped beneath my watch. They somehow got all the way to our camp without a single cat detecting them. This is my fault. I'm the one who assigns patrols. The fact that they got in means I failed." I hissed.

Whitestorm must have noticed my tantrum because he decided to approach us. "Even so, you haven't been deputy for long. You are still learning. You let the border with the Twoleg Place go lax and now you know better." He commiserated.

I instinctively lashed out. "No! I don't get to fail! Someone could have died. If I'm hurt because I messed up, that's fine, but when its those under my protection… Unforgivable… Unforgivable!" I spat.

I almost struck him. I wanted to. I really wanted to, but that would be misdirected. The one I wanted to hurt… The one I really wanted to hurt… was myself… I hated it. I hated it with every fiber of my being. I don't do failure. I must be punished. Ravenfeather approached me with concern. I almost did it. It would have been easy. I could have killed him then and there. I even rose my paw to do it, but I restrained myself in the only way I could. I bit the offending leg hard, embracing the pain, feeling the blood begin to run down my leg as my anger began to cool. I was beginning to think rationally again. Why had I even reacted that way? That's not like me. I'm usually calm and collected. How had I let something set me off like that?

I slowly released my grip on my leg, tasting the all too familiar taste of iron. The wound bled a steady stream, spiraling down my leg as a small scarlet river. I must have bitten myself pretty hard for that. I honestly didn't feel it. I felt numb. Everything felt a bit muted. It took me a moment to even realize Ravenfeather was talking to me.

"Smudgefoot! Are you ok? Say something!" He desperately mewed.

"I'm… I've calmed down. I'm not going to say I'm fine. I appear to have bitten myself pretty hard. I don't know what came over me." I tried to explain.

"I don't care. We're going to the medicine den now. We'll talk about it later." He commanded, physically dragging me away, which was impressive given my size.

After ensuring Yellowfang would take care of me, he took off with Ashpaw, afraid he'd somehow set me off again. I couldn't deny his choice. I had hurt myself, and I still wasn't totally feeling myself. A wild and unrelenting storm of emotions still roiled around in the back of my mind, and I was still trying to stamp it out.

"It's hardly been a day and you are already back in here, and from what Ravenfeather told me, the wound is self-inflicted. Here you are, supposed to be ruling the clan, and yet you can't even rule your own emotions." She goaded.

I couldn't help but snarl at the insult. That storm I was trying to press down only grew more turbulent.

"Ooh. Scary." She teased. "The big bad, not even deputy, is snarling at me. Go ahead. Do it. Strike me." She baited.

I suppressed my snarl, forcing myself into an uneasy calm. "No. I refuse." I stated, hostility still present in my voice.

"Well at least you have the piece of mind to rein yourself in. Cinderpaw, you'll be treating that bite. It'll be good training, and if I did, Smudgefoot my try and claw me." She ordered, drawing my ire.

As Cinderpaw dressed my wound, I couldn't keep myself from staring at Yellowfang with hatred. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I didn't hate her. My emotions were still out of control. She was just the target of the maelstrom.

"Smudgefoot?" Cinderpaw queried, snapping me out of my rage.

My emotions seemed slightly easier to manage, so I was able to answer calmly. "What's up?" I responded.

"You don't need to suppress yourself like that. Its not good for you." She hesitantly stated.

"And what do you know?!" I growled, getting up in her face.

"I know what that feels like. When… When I lost my leg, I did the exact same thing. I wanted to blame someone, anyone. I kept suppressing it, pretending I wasn't upset, pretending I was alright. It wasn't alright. I was hurt, and I wasn't dealing with it. It just kept building under the surface until I lashed out. Thankfully, Yellowfang saw it coming. I only managed to scratch her before I got a hold of myself. She knew what I was doing and was waiting for me to snap. It was a lesson I won't forget. I could have done something unforgivable because I decided to try and hide my emotions. After my outburst, she took me out to the training ground. She let me strike and destroy anything I saw. She let me howl out my rage and sorrow. Then, she made me talk to those close to me. I talked to Fireheart about how much it hurt that I wasn't his apprentice anymore. I talked to Bluestar about how cheated I felt that I couldn't become a warrior. I even raved at Yellowfang for taking away my leg, even if I knew it was the right choice. I wish I'd said something to you too. Maybe if you saw that you don't need to suppress yourself, you wouldn't be here with a self-inflicted bite. I'm sorry." She apologized.

"You did nothing wrong. Our situations are different. You were angry with something that happened to you. Me, I'm angry at something I did. I failed when I had every means to prevent what happened." I started to growl again.

I felt her paw press into me as she drew my focus. "Sometimes stuff happens. You can't be prepared for everything, and when things go bad, you've got to get up and do better next time. What I prescribe you to do is not take some calming herbs and not remain calm. I want you to go out into the forest and rage, eviscerate some prey. Don't even worry about needing to bring anything back. Howl your lungs out. Get every bit of feeling out of your system then come back. We'll address your issues at the root when you get back." She ordered gently.

And so I took her advice. I tore apart two mice, shredding them to pieces and spattering an area in gore. I ran mindlessly through our territory, pushing all my anger into every step. It was starting to turn to dusk once I got done running. Finally, I headed into the training clearing, knowing no one would be anywhere nearby. I howled myself hoarse. The funny thing is that it worked. My mind felt much clearer. I felt like myself again. I trotted back to camp feeling much better.