shadowclan apprentice | torbie | dsh | tags
The thought Tansypaw has upon leaving the elder's den is that Owlpaw looks angry. She hasn't been awake for long, just enough time to help the elders with their ticks. She freezes upon exiting the den, taking in Owlpaw's rigid posture. From her angle, she cannot see his face, but she can imagine what expression he must be wearing well enough. Was he angry at her? Did she do something wrong? Would he stop liking her? Did he even actually like her, or was he just placating her?
Or maybe he was upset about something else, waiting for someone to come comfort him, and if Tansypaw didn't that would make him angry with her? Or maybe he'd rather be alone right now, and if Tansypaw tried to talk to him that would make him hate her? Indecision grips her as if it is a physical thing, and there Tansypaw stands for a time, bile soaked moss held in her teeth, dripping onto her paws. The taste unpleasant but not unbearable.
It is when Tansypaw notices blood that her worry for Owlpaw overrides the worry for herself. She drops the moss off, then circles back to Owlpaw, approaching him as one would approach a coiled snake. ”Are you okay?” It's a broad question, one Tansypaw knows must be hard. He recently lost his mentor, of course he wouldn't be okay. A part of Tansypaw hates herself for even asking.
She settles next to Owlpaw, looking out at what he is. Then, her gaze drifts to Owlpaw, to his split ear, and Tansypaw is so completely out of her depth that she hasn't a clue what to say now. State the obvious? Owlpaw likely already knows what happened to his ear. Could she talk him into going to see the medicine cat? Looking at him in profile, Tansypaw cannot help but feel like she is a kit trailing after someone cooler than her, better than her.
”It looks cool,” Tansypaw offers at last, and she hopes she hasn't ruined anything.