Post by Glowy on Jan 13, 2015 11:53:40 GMT -10
Crowflower's heart did not know how to process that interaction with FogClan. He was battling between two emotions he was not even certain should exist in the same breath: anger and compassion. Strangely enough it was the compassion that was causing him the most trouble. Anyone who knew him would think that was as far removed from his character as rock is removed from sky. Compassion was his default. The problem right now was that he didn't want it. It felt like weakness, in light of his anger. Thrushflower accused his entire clan of looking down upon his apprentice because of his father. She accused them of actually having similar sentiments to her own clan, the clan that bleeds out its apprentices and warriors in the name of theoretically pleasing a bunch of dead cats.
They were not alike. Not by any stretching of imagination could they ever be alike. PineClan welcomed cats from all backgrounds. History was strength and no cause for dishonor, especially if the history was not yours. Yet, she accused PineClan of using Quailpaw as a "whipping boy." Did she not understand his clan's commitment to honor? Did she have any understanding of it?
"Who in the name of sanity does that she-badger think she is?" He spat. He was so angry he wanted to destroy something. Like a bug. Or a flower that wasn't useful. That was justified, yes? His anger was righteous anger? He didn't know. Anger was not something that came over him often, and it had never been this focused.
He turned to Ravenheart, who was following him. He had also been at the meeting of the patrols. He had seen and heard, but he had said nothing yet. "I can't believe her. I can't believe ALL OF THEM! Did you see that white apprentice? She was riddled with scars and fresh wounds. Those wounds were infected. They aren't healing their own. Yet we are accused of- of..." he trailed off. The words would not come. Compassion was rising to combat his anger. Seeing the state of their bodies was what kept him from fully surrendering to his anger and letting it rule him.
He needed to be rational. That's what his mother might say. It's definitely what Gingerstar would say. He needed to elevate himself above his heart's turmoil and find someplace without fog, but he couldn't right now. His anger was subsiding but it was turning into deep grief. There was a growing ache in his heart for the suffering of the FogClanners. A place where a cat like Thrushflower, who had been so ready to sink her teeth and claws into his clanmates, must be sick on a level deeper than he could see.
FogClan was infected. It needed to be cured, but not at the expense of any lives.
This could be what Crowflower was looking for. This could be his mission. It should be. It was right. It was necessary. Could he do it? Probably not.
They were not alike. Not by any stretching of imagination could they ever be alike. PineClan welcomed cats from all backgrounds. History was strength and no cause for dishonor, especially if the history was not yours. Yet, she accused PineClan of using Quailpaw as a "whipping boy." Did she not understand his clan's commitment to honor? Did she have any understanding of it?
"Who in the name of sanity does that she-badger think she is?" He spat. He was so angry he wanted to destroy something. Like a bug. Or a flower that wasn't useful. That was justified, yes? His anger was righteous anger? He didn't know. Anger was not something that came over him often, and it had never been this focused.
He turned to Ravenheart, who was following him. He had also been at the meeting of the patrols. He had seen and heard, but he had said nothing yet. "I can't believe her. I can't believe ALL OF THEM! Did you see that white apprentice? She was riddled with scars and fresh wounds. Those wounds were infected. They aren't healing their own. Yet we are accused of- of..." he trailed off. The words would not come. Compassion was rising to combat his anger. Seeing the state of their bodies was what kept him from fully surrendering to his anger and letting it rule him.
He needed to be rational. That's what his mother might say. It's definitely what Gingerstar would say. He needed to elevate himself above his heart's turmoil and find someplace without fog, but he couldn't right now. His anger was subsiding but it was turning into deep grief. There was a growing ache in his heart for the suffering of the FogClanners. A place where a cat like Thrushflower, who had been so ready to sink her teeth and claws into his clanmates, must be sick on a level deeper than he could see.
FogClan was infected. It needed to be cured, but not at the expense of any lives.
This could be what Crowflower was looking for. This could be his mission. It should be. It was right. It was necessary. Could he do it? Probably not.
