I'm not getting left behind again (p)

[poppy]

She remembered this place. All too well. How it stank like wet, crusty moss. How it was dark and spooky to the weak minded. But she had been here before. The scariest part of this place was how positively egotistical the residents were. How smart they thought they were. It was laughable. At least, it would be, if it was funny. Though it wasn't. Not a bit. The last time she was here, she had been passed out from a dog attack. She had been a sad kid with a sister and brother and a dad. And now she was angry and orphaned and only had her brother. She had more to fight for. She had more fights now.

"Are you going to hurt my feelings like you did last time, or can we have a sensible conversation?" A familiar, snide voice came from behind her and the tabby turned around with an irritated scoff. A mocking pout was on the face of the cat in front of her, a handsome white and gray tom with piercing orange eyes. Her eyes narrowed coldly, and she kept her face carefully deadpan. "I'm not sure that's possible with you, but sure. I want to be trained."

The tom slunk out of the undergrowth, catbrow arched. "Do you now? What a change of pace from the wannabe goody-goody that I approached last time." His eyes search her face, his gaze ancient and knowledgeable but his face light and youthful, only being 16 moons when he died. The ginger tabby before him kept her gaze steady on his, which was impressive. Even if it was a little funny to see.

"Maybe I'm more morally gray than I thought." At his inquisitive head tip, she continued softly. "I'm tired of being hurt and not being able to defend myself. I'm tired of being forgotten, and I'm tired of being left behind." Good reasons, he conceded, but he didn't need some kid trying to be a hero. He needed someone unafraid of being a little messy when getting what she wanted.

Clearly uninterested but not yet letting go, he tipped his head to the side once more, flexing his muscles under a smooth multicolored coat. That wasn't a satisfactory answer, he heard that all the damn time. "You do realize I'm not as enticed as I used to be. I'm not convinced you have what it takes, pretty kitty." Her teeth bared in annoyance, and she leaned forward.

"Then why the hell did you approach me those moons ago?" She snarled, claws unfurling in irritation, and he glanced at them passively, weighing his answers, before he spoke again, and her eyes widened slightly.

"Because you and me are one in the same. Teetering on adolescence and already being beaten down and lied to. Being treated like a child only when it's convenient, then being harmed like a full warrior when you spoke up and pissed someone off. Or... in your case, tried to protect those you cared about. Your brother. That Beetlekid. Your Clan. Yourself. Back then you knew how to let it all out, you bottle it all up now and it's so cliche." His eyes rolled slightly and a purr rumbled, and she felt like she was gut punched. Was this asshole a mind reader? "So I'll ask you again- How are you ready now? What makes you different?"

The ginger tabby in front of him stared at the ground, teeth gritted, and for a second he thought that he broke her. Which would've been funny if he wasn't waiting for an answer. Being dead didn't mean he didn't have a schedule. Slowly, her head raised, though, and he waited with a sardonic smirk.

"I keep trying... to be good enough, but it's not working out. There's always someone better, and I'm no one's first choice. I'm done loving too hard and trying too hard just to get cast to the side and ignored for better things. I'm done allowing cats to forget me. I don't care if I'm the hero or the villain but I won't be a background character, and I want to ensure that. And if you won't train me, there are lots of other cats here that will."

The tom was silent, pondering her response. At least it was more... interesting. And he could relate to her struggles. A bit. 100 moons of being dead was time that he was utilizing. He had seen every struggle, watched cats far better and worse than the cat in front of him fall, but something brought him to his decision. What the hell, right? You're only dead once.

"Alright, Briarpaw. We'll discuss this more tomorrow night." A glance at a stingy puddle let the handsome spirit know that it was nearly morning, and he tsked softly, and unceremoniously, he stepped back, the slightest of sparkles in his orange eyes, as she returned to the waking world. This would be interesting.