They Will Never Understand(Book 2)

.•/Prologue\•.

Fernpaw faced Rosepaw, baring his fangs. In the dark of night, he could barely see her, but he didn't waver.

Rosepaw suddenly launched herself at him. Fernpaw ducked, but then pushed up with his head, making Rosepaw flip over. Fernpaw quickly turned around before she could get up and pinned her to the soft ground.

Rosepaw hissed in protest. "If you keep beating me, I'll stop helping you train."

Fernpaw rolled his eyes. "If I keep beating you, I won't need anymore extra training."

With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Rosepaw swatted him off of her. Fernpaw chuckled.

Rosepaw crouched down, ready to pounce, but movement at the edge of his vision caught Fernpaw's eye.

Prone to being distracted, Fernpaw's head flicked to the side, focusing on where he thought he saw something.

Suddenly a bush nearby rustled.

Rosepaw squeaked quietly and backed away, ears down. "Let's leave, Fernpaw. I don't want you to get hurt."

But his curiosity held him there. "What if it's another cat. We could bring it in and show Rainstar. Maybe she'll make us warriors then."

Fernpaw took a step forward.

"Don't be stupid, Fernpaw, we're barely 8 moons old. It's probably just a rabbit." Rosepaw licked her fur, trying to hide her uneasiness.

"Fine, Rosepaw", he said with hesitation.

Both apprentices turned turned to go back to camp, but a low grumbling sound began to fill their ears.

Fernpaw turned around just in time to see a young cat leap out of the bushes and attack them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fernpaw lay in the medicine, wincing as he reached to lap at damp moss. He looked at the long cut up his arm. It was covered in an uncomfortable and pungent assortment of herbs.

Fernpaw looked at Rosepaw nearby. The cream she-cat was sleeping soundly, but her ears were covered in the same stuff that he had on his wound. He pelt was riddled with small cuts and scrapes.

Fernpaw felt weak. Even though he had been getting better, Rosepaw still had to protect him.

Fernpaw put his head in his paws, grimacing as his whiskers poked his cut.

Though his sister looked peaceful, Fernpaw couldn't help but imagine that she had died there. Under the stars. Unprotected. Abandoned. And certainly if she had died that would be no chance he had survived.

This war. I can't imagine what others think when a loved one comes back, covered in blood and in pain.

Fernpaw couldn't stop imagining worried and terrified siblings, parents, mates, and kits watching as their beloved bled. Fernpaw couldn't even imagine the sorrow when a loved one dies in battle.

He didn't want to do it. To cause someone that much fear. He didn't want to fight.

As time wore on, Fernpaw and Rosepaw handled that night in two very different ways.

Fernpaw lived in fear of messing up and causing someone harm. Rosepaw hated herself for not being strong enough for her brother to walk away unscathed. She took her anger out on her mother, never showing the true reason for her hatred show.

The siblings never learned how to handle their emotions, and Fernpaw would never admit it, but both of their paths would wind up at the same end.