Bats Come out at Night [P]

[TheNyanCatMinecart]

~ TWISTEDPAW OF WINDCLAN ~

AFAB | SHE/HER | APPRENTICE | 16 MOONS | NO PURRKS

Small, skinny, black she-cat with a light gray belly and tail-tip, a mangled tail, a crooked jaw, and one blind eye.

Almost... there...

Pain stabbed through her stomach and sent fiery streaks across her flank and leg as Twistedpaw limped across the clearing. It was an effort to stay upright, let alone keep walking. She would've gritted her teeth if her crooked jaw wasn't so stiff and dangly. It was freezing. The night air whipped against her malnourished frame, sinking into her matted fur and building an ache in her deformed areas. Her distorted nose and tiny ear felt frozen with cold. It was strange, only feeling the icy nip in one ear and not both. The chill might've soothed the burn of her tender, healing wounds had she been able to produce any body heat herself. Chills wracked the apprentice's body and caused her cuts to groan in protest. She couldn't remember ever feeling this starved of heat, even in leaf-bare.

Twistedpaw hated it. The pain, the cold. And she felt so alone in the dark. So small. It reminded her of when she was a kit in the nursery, hiding from everyone else because she thought she was cursed, playing with her imaginary friends because she'd cast everyone else out. Now she was an apprentice who should've been a warrior. Claws of mental torment, self-doubt, and then the claws of the RiverClan warriors had dragged her down. And her deformities. Twistedpaw knew she shouldn't hate herself, and... well, she didn't. But she couldn't help feeling worried. Guilty. The sensation swirled in her belly and mixed with the pain and hunger. She hadn't eaten much since her injury.

Staying in the medicine cat's den was unbearable. Lightningstorm was nothing like Cowtuft. She was efficient, but not gentle. Not willing to talk to Twistedpaw beyond basic matters. Sleeping alone was worse. Her wounds hurt, her nest wasn't warm enough, and she was often plagued by nightmares. Cedarfrost's cruel, glittering gaze and lilting voice filled her head as he ripped her apart.

Just look at that ugly face and body of yours. We ain't stopping here, bunny. Have fun.

Twistedpaw suddenly felt queasy. She paused for a moment, panting and shaking, then continued toward the warriors' den.

She needed to talk to Batglare. Now. As her mentor and one of the closest cats to her, she needed his guidance and perspective. Normally, Twistedpaw was terrified of breaking the rules. The experience with RiverClan fortified that. But right now, she didn't care that she probably wasn't supposed to be doing this. She had tunnel vision for Batglare.

Shaking and fighting off whimpers of pain, Twistedpaw stumbled through the entrance. The change was immediate. Warm air flooded over her from sleeping bodies. Gentle snores filled her ears... well, ear. She winced. Standing still, trying not to pant too loudly, she squinted and attempted to make out Batglare. There were several hulking shapes. It was darker in here than it was outside without the silver light of the moon and stars. She tasted the air. That one was Wolffang, that one was Leechscar, and that one... Batglare!

The small black she-cat lurched over to him. It was impressive, how huge and powerful he was even in rest. And oh, that moss-stuffed nest and long fur... It was irresistible.

Twistedpaw initially planned to announce her presence before she settled down, but she was just so cold and exhausted. Lightningstorm had told her that that was the blood loss. She collapsed onto the moss - and let out a high-pitched whine as her stomach shrieked in protest. For a moment, she lay there, gasping and trembling. Then she glanced over at her mentor.

"B-batglare?" she stammered. She was still shaking with pain, exhaustion, and cold, but it was so much warmer in here. She nestled into the nest and pressed close against Batglare. The bulging tip of her mangled tail twitched. Yet again, it reminded her of the ear she had lost. "I-I w-wanted t-to talk t-to y-you..."

Not a question. Surprisingly. Twistedpaw was more direct than even she expected. But she needed to talk now. If he turned her away... No, she didn't want to think about that. So, she lay there, getting her breath back and warming up so she'd be able to say everything she needed to.

@Moonraven

[Moonraven]

Sleep came uneasily that night. The giant tom is lying on his side, his chest rising and falling steadily. He rested along the edges of the warriors' den, having recently moved his nest. During the colder seasons, he slept towards the center of the den, the perks of being a senior warrior gave him the freedom to move his nest wherever he liked without backlash from the younger brats.

At first, Batglare blamed his ability to fall asleep on the weather. The tom's brown and white pelt was exceedingly fluffy, it kept him warm during leaf-bare but smothered him during greenleaf. He had learned not to kick or squirm too much when he got too hot, and often just left the den to sleep behind it. But something kept him lying there that night, sleepless. He was hot, a bit warmer than he was comfortable with, but wasn't burning to the point that he needed to leave, so that wasn't what kept him up.

The stoic warrior pressed his head against the moss bedding and sighed softly. He knew what kept him up but didn't want to admit it. Young Twistedpaw. Batglare didn't like attachments. Attachments made things messy and more often than not left him feeling bothered. But alas, he knew he could not control who he got attached to. Just like Robin, just like Eldersky, and now he had Twistedpaw. The injured she-cat face kept jumping into his mind.

It was a chore keeping his tail still. He forced the image of the injuired she-cat from his mind and concentracted on clearing his head. It took longer than he would have liked, but evenuallly his mind followed his body and sleep started to creep in. His eyelids grew heavy and sense dulled until he was just about to follow into the relam of slumber, until he felt the weight drop almost on top of him.

Batglare jerked his head up and eyelids open, peering down through the darkness at the cat in his nest. At first, he thought it was one of the warriors who picked the wrong senior to mess with, but the heavy scent of herbs and stale blood reached his nose. That whine reached through the heavy fog disorientation as well. "Twistedpaw," He grumbled in a low meow after the drowiness wore off. She should not be up or wandering in her state.

He was ready to chastise her, however, could he feel her partically vibriated with due to pain? cold? He wasn't certain. As she had just flopped down, she was probably in some pain with her wounds. Resigned that he would always be too soft regarding this she-cat. He huffed exaggeratingly and moved a little closer to her. She was cold, not good for her, but Batglare soaked in the cool chill as he often ran hot.

Assuming she was here for a reason, he dropped his head back down to the moss and coiled his fluffy tail around the curve of her back. It wasn't long before he was asked a question. She always had questions or just wanted to talk. Talking has never been Batglare's strong suit, glareing and brooding was more his thing, but he's been forced to learn to accommodate this troublesome paw. "Speak, I'm listening." He replied, fighting off a yawn.
@TheNyanCatMinecart

[TheNyanCatMinecart]

~ TWISTEDPAW OF WINDCLAN ~

AFAB | SHE/HER | APPRENTICE | 16 MOONS | NO PURRKS

Small, skinny, black she-cat with a light gray belly and tail-tip, a mangled tail, a crooked jaw, and one blind eye.

As Twistedpaw took in deep, gasping breaths, desperately trying to replenish the strength she'd lost on her strenuous walk here, her stomach wailed with pain. Each inhale stretched the deep gashes Cedarfrost had left. She feared the sticky cobwebs and dried poultices Lightingstorm had expertly applied would burst at the seams, staining her mentor's nest with her blood. But, surprisingly, the medicinal items held. Twistedpaw's strength was also beginning to return. She felt less dizzy, and, as her breathing began to slow into a regular rhythm, her belly stopped wailing in protest and faded to a harsh but regular sting. Batglare's fluff helped, too. His warmth poured into the apprentice's cold body and provided her with energy... and comfort.

It took a couple moments for Batglare's narrowed yellow-green gaze to fall upon her. His eyes flashed in the darkness, even more vibrant than his white markings. Twistedpaw felt content - as content as she could be with her wounds constantly burning, anyway. Determination also seared her pelt. I can't sleep in the medicine cat's den anymore, I just can't. I have to talk to him! And yet a tingle of anxiety ran through the black she-cat. Would Batglare be mad at her? Would he call her foolish or force her back? I'm definitely too weak to walk back... The idea made Twistedpaw sick. No, he wouldn't-

Batglare's sleepy, gruff meow cut into her thoughts. She blinked and focused on him. He'd just said her name. Nothing more. His eyes flashed, though, and Twistedpaw's wounds hissed as she tensed. He was going to scold her. She... well, she'd been hoping he wouldn't, but that had been foolish.

Or maybe not. She must've imagined that look, for Batglare was now scooting closer to her, and...

Oh, he was so warm.

Twistedpaw burrowed deeper into his fur, pressing her small, skinny frame against his huge, muscular body. A purr rumbled in her throat. It made her stomach hurt, but she didn't care. The chill that had taken root deep within her bones began to melt away like frost under the newleaf sun. She closed her eyes for a moment and let the comforting feelings wash over her. And the way he draped his tail over her back a moment later... It reminded the she-cat of when Fireflame had cared for her. The memory brought a pang of loss, but it was quickly swamped by the comfort provided by Batglare. Was... was this what having a father was like? Someone who wasn't a mother, but still provided support and solace? She'd felt similarly with Cowtuft whenever he'd cuddled with her. Like there was a parental presence holding her in its cozy embrace.

Cowtuft. The memory of the huge, fluffy, white-and-black tom brought another pang of loss, fresher and more vivid than Fireflame's as the tang of stale herbs flooded into Twistedpaw's nose. The purr died in her throat. She opened her eyes. Batglare was now asking her to speak. The time had come.

The thoughts and worries that had plagued the apprentice since she'd gone into the medicine cat's den returned. They made her itch with nerves and discomfort. She was used to feeling like this. Confused. Anxious. And yet... tonight, though the thoughts bothered her, they were nowhere near as crippling as they'd been before. She needed guidance and comfort, yes, but she wasn't lost. She wasn't pushing away the support she'd acquired.

Twistedpaw looked up at Batglare and breathed in his familiar scent. Thank you, StarClan, for making him my mentor. And Twilightstar. She didn't want to know where she'd be without him.

"Batglare..." she began. A little twinge of pain cut her off. I'll have to get used to that, she thought with a twitch of her bulging tail-tip, its light gray coloring prominent in the shadows. It must look like it was floating in the air; the rest of her black fur would be invisible in the gloom. Batglare's dark brown coat was already difficult to distinguish. Twistedpaw took a deep breath to prepare herself for the words to come, but that just caused another flare of pain in her stomach. She winced. Don't do that. She'd just have to speak normally and fight through the pain.

How much pain would she have to fight through in her life?

"Batglare, I... it's so hard for me to sleep in the medicine cat's den. Cowtuft isn't there anymore, and Lightningstorm isn't the same. It hurts... I'm so cold... and..."

Everything she said was true. So why did it feel like she was prancing around the topic? Am I scared of him judging me? She blinked, her eyes flashing in the shadows. It didn't take her long to find the answer. Yes. Batglare had been so great about not judging her, but she was afraid that what she said next would sound unwarriorlike. Cowardly. She let her stomach settle a little and allowed more warmth to seep into her body before continuing.

"...and I keep getting nightmares. About the attack from RiverClan." She lowered her gaze. Her cheeks burned, and her chest felt tight with fear as the memories came flooding back. "I... I didn't t-tell you everything that happened. There... just wasn't a chance. When one of the cats - Cedarfrost - attacked me, he... he mocked me. For the way I looked. He... he said something... was wrong with me, and I deserved to suffer. And against them both, I... I wasn't strong enough to fight back."

Her eye had adjusted to the gloom, and she could both see and feel her paws trembling. The pain in her stomach and flank stopped the tremor from spreading to the rest of her body. Could Batglare feel it, too? Probably, since they were pressed so close together.

"Batglare..." She looked back up at her mentor, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. They stung, though they felt insignificant, considering what she'd been through. "I-I know other cats are gonna treat me differently because of the way I look. Like... like Willowsky and Flutteringkit. My deformities make them act out. They make me a target. And... and I know pain is a part of life. We're warriors. We fight. But..."

The shame and confusion came back in full force. Although she was comfortable, her cheeks and ear felt too hot. It felt like a lump was forming in her throat. The sensation was all too familiar. She called it her throat frog. The thought felt silly, considering the circumstances.

"Is... is it wrong of me to be afraid? To be scared that... that I'll be targeted again? To be scared that I'm gonna get hurt? Because... I don't wanna get hurt. I don't wanna be targeted. But I want... I want to be a warrior. I shouldn't be afraid. Especially since I'm old enough to be a warrior. I would be if it wasn't for... for all my... for everything that's happened to me. But I am."

Her stomach was truly burning now. The fresh tremors that had overtaken Twistedpaw's body didn't help. The skinny apprentice, overcome by emotion and anxiously awaiting her mentor's response, leaned against him more heavily as hot tears streamed down her face.

@Moonraven (AAA I LOVE THESE TWO)