Sparks and Matches [Wolfsbane, Flint]

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    First it's the spark

    And then it's the flame


    When Flint thought of his ideal type of cat, he thought of black and white fur with large muscles and stern eyes that could easily turn gentle if he admitted he'd made a mistake and needed help fixing it. It was soft smiles shared in the afternoon light filtering through the nursery roof and shared quiet comments and jokes about the past while his nieces and nephew were playing just outside the opening, and it smelled like soft florals and spicy musk. It was the head-strong determination to not give up and give in to Flint's stubborn opinions or his fool-hardy and arrogant comments, it was the ability to silence him with a single look that sent shivers down his spine. It was things that reminded one of home and adventure at the same time - of first loves and idols that he could just barely reach with his paws outstretched. It was not, however, the tom in front of him.

    The male had been polite enough, offering to help Flint with his goal of strengthening the roof of the warriors den so that they'd have something warm to retreat to on chilling winter nights, all syrupy promises as he picked up a thin bundle of sticks and walked side by side with Flint towards the den - but he'd quickly abandoned the facade, seeming content to just lean against a nearby wall and chat Flint up while he did all of the work. It set Flint's teeth on edge, and he was on purpose avoiding and curt with any personal questions - he didn't need someone to give him sticky praises and sly comments, thank you. He had enough issues with that with other cats already, he certainly didn't need some nobody trying to come in and do it to the point that it was making him want to snap. "Speaking of, do you have a mate yet?" The other tom, Flint thinks his name was Rapidfoot, wasn't subtle at all with his probing questions, even if Flint didn't know where they were previously with their one-sided conversation. Flint snorts in derision anyway, flicking his tail as he eyes the roof above them, contemplating that one branch sticking out oddly.

    "There's no one in this camp that would find me attractive enough or emotionally mature enough to pursue." It's a blunt statement, said like a fact that clearly throws the other off a little, and Flint is sure he's about to start back-tracking and complimenting him over-zealously - Flint cuts him off at the pass. "What about you? Any lovers that you need to worry about them finding you hitting on someone like me?" Flint doesn't want a relationship with the guy, like he's sure he's looking for, but he's not going to deny it either.

    It's the first taste of a real possible one-night-stand that Flint's had ever since the city, and as he stands up on his back legs to poke the stick back into place, he eyes the suddenly fidgeting male in the corner. Figures, he's used to pursuing, not being pursued. Flint's a hunter though, always has been, and prefers to chase and be chased at the same time. The guy must have thought that Flint was going to be passive about the whole thing, and let him do the talking. "N-no, no one like that," Rapidfoot says carefully, and Flint gives him a long look. He hums, before turning back to the branch and pushing it in place with his right paw. "Why do you think they don't find you attractive enough?"

    Sweet and demure now, hm? Maybe he just didn't have enough confidence in himself then - Flint could show him some, in that case. But if he was just doing it to pick up extra girls, or even just test the waters, Flint probably was the worst choice possible for him. He'd get devoured. "From my shoulder to the ugly scar on my side, most people don't want to touch damaged goods.

    "You're curious though - want to give it a try?" Flint sends him a half-lidded look, a confident smile twitching at the corner of his lips as he gets down, slinking into his space. He's like a prowling predator, showing off the muscles rippling in his shoulders as he tosses his head to look at him smugly, tongue flashing just slightly to lick his lips as he looks at the other tom like he's a delectable smell or juicy piece of rabbit - hungry. Rapidfoot looks distinctly uncomfortable now, and Flint snorts, backing off. Never-mind then, if he got cold-feet from just having Flint's full focus on him, then he needed to leave.

    "Could you go get me more sticks?" It's a professional question, one that gives him an out to run away and never return. Rapidfoot looks almost grateful for it, and nods before he slinks off. Siren was right - Flint was too self-deprecating to get any good mates, even if he often didn't look like or say things like that. He turns back to look at the roof, glaring at one of the trouble spots before shredding it open with his claws, watching the golden light cascade from the hole as he pulls down rotting branches with a bit too much force to be anything but irritated.

    "I've never been good at getting the things that I want from people though, Sai." Flint whispers to himself, squinting against the golden light that paints him in new shades of silver and smoky grey - leaving him growling deep in his throat at the hideousness of the scar tracing its way down his foreleg. If he wasn't damaged, maybe he'd have an easier time of it, but no one wanted scars like his - easily visible and on display for the world to gawk at and whisper among themselves about. He thinks back to blue eyes like the color of a new spring sky fresh after the clouds have left it and green eyes the colors of leaves that have sunlight filtering through them, of fresh citrus and cool water. It makes him want to vomit when he thinks of his own eyes - putrid yellow and green, like rotting flesh or snake venom.

    He wants to be soft for them, but he can't think past his own issues and the pounding in his head whenever he tries to imagine the cats that they'll eventually fall in love with. It makes him tear more of the roof out in a blind rage, and he drops down to the floor to keep from tearing it all open. Right. Emotionally stunted, average looking at best with a fox-like face and high-cheekbones. He looks like an alien, and his ears flatten to his head as he glares up out of the den at the winter sun.

    He has a brief layer of snow on his shoulders from where it got knocked down from the roof, and sticks at his paws. He has a scar on his leg from failing to save someone and a cut from a badger when he did but it didn't mean anything. He has wiry muscles from trying to become stronger and take a step forward - and from taking five steps back. Maybe if he was softer, he could get people to see him in a way that they don't want to - that they can't. He closes his eyes, taking two deep breaths and opening them again, setting to work repairing the bigger hole he caused in his fit.

    Twisting branches where they need to go like he helps others in their quest to find those they can actually care about and see - torturing himself with the sharp pricks to his own scars as he bends them into place so they fit together just right. Flint might actually be a little masochistic and lost in his own world, but he's hardly out of it enough that he doesn't notice when a new voice pops up - sending new waves of fresh annoyance and irritation through him with the newcomer. "What do you want?" He snaps over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Wolfsbane.

    🔥 Currently listening to [ Spark ] by [ Amber Run ] 🔥

    It's strange, that he's become used to enough to having Flint by his side that a taste of freedom feels unusual. It's strange, although Wolfsbane's been making the most of his stolen bits of freedom. Flint stopped sticking to him like glue when they were in the camp, and more often than not, it's Flint who comes looking for him after they've spent too long doing their own thing. Today, Wolfsbane's the one heading toward Flint, and that feels almost as strange as being alone for so long.


    Last he saw, Flint was repairing the warrior den with another cat. Rapidfoot, Wolfsbane thinks: he's learnt the name of most of his male Clanmates, and a good number of his female ones as well. Wolfsbane had been with them at first, although it had been clear that Rapidfoot wanted some time alone with Flint. Flint hadn't seemed to fussy, so Wolfs had announced that he was going to use the dirtplace. He had, but he'd stopped by the nursery afterward to see if Mousenose was in. He still hadn't had a chance to discuss Coyote with her, but he wanted to. Coyote might have left the family, but Liverpool hadn't thrown a fuss, so as far Wolfsbane was concerned, they were still brothers. If Mouse had ever been Coyote's mate, well, she was family too. She was, and her kits were as well.


    In his heart of hearts, Wolfsbane wanted Mousenose to understand that. To understand it and accept it. He craved family. Where he'd once had a whole muck of cats to call kin, these days he was reduced to Moonwillow, Rosebrier, and Citruspaw. His sisters, and he loved them dearly, but they weren't enough. He wanted more. Mousenose could be family, even if she'd broken her ties with Coyote. Petalkit, kit, and Mottledkit—well, not Mottledkit anymore—could be his nieces and nephews. He'd never had those, and he still thought Petalkit was a bit of a brat, but by now, he was willing to settle for a bratty family. It would still be family.


    He hadn't seen Mouse, though, and one of the other queens had been quick to chase him away from the nursery. Wolfsbane didn't like to think that the queens really had any power over him, but they could be awfully fearsome. Mothers always were, although in the natural way of things, they could leave such fearsomeness and disciplining to the father.


    When he made his way back to the warrior's den, Rapidfoot and Flint were talking. It was better than Flint's sullen silence from earlier. Lurking outside, he eavesdropped, confusion rolling off of him as the conversation continued. Why would Rapidfoot even be interested in whether or not Flint had a mate? As far was Wolfsbane knew, Rapidfoot had no living sisters: he couldn't be trying to set Flint up with one of them.


    He stayed outside until Rapidfoot squirmed out, throwing Wolfsbane a glare as he ran off. Taking that as his cue, the tom entered the den, watching Flint at work for a few minutes before speaking. "I said," he repeated, "That I thought you'd get more done while I was away. There's less done than when I left."


    After a few minutes, because he had nothing better to do, he moved next to the blue tabby and began helping him, working from the other side of the roof as Flint was. The work wasn't enjoyable, but it gave him time to think, and Wolfsbane appreciated the physical exertion. He waited until he was starting to make some progress before softly asking, "Flint? Why was he talking to you like that? Like—" Wolfsbane wasn't sure how to conclude, and he broke off, almost embarrassed. "Like one of you was a tom and the other a she-cat?"

    I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic.

    A traitor, I'd trade her in a second


    Flintdropped down to the floor, tail swishing as he looked up at the hole above him, and would tell anyone who asked that he wasn't embarrassed by Wolfsbane's sly, perceptive statement - the hole in his side of the roof was definitely bigger than it was in the beginning, as evidenced by the snow slowly dropping inside of the den - he was just irritated. That was why his ears flattened to his head like they were stuck there with sap, not because he was embarrassed. Flint didn't do embarrassed, he didn't do sad, and he wasn't the type to cry because he was lonely. He had a reason for pulling out those branches - and he'd be damned if Wolfsbane knew the actual, humiliating reason for it. He bit his lip, scanning the hole and trying to figure out how to salvage the issue at hand.

    "The spot was rotten, I was pulling them down so that the rot didn't spread."

    The statement was perfectly short and perfunctory, leaving very little room for details to mess with his obfuscation, and Wolfsbane seemed perfectly fine with the response, considering he turned around and started working on the opposite side of the roof. It was a small crisis averted, and he breathed a small sigh of relief through his nose - doing his best to keep from being too obvious about the fact that Wolfsbane let the matter drop. It was as he was twisting another layer of branches in that he saw the tom's mouth drop open again - and his stomach twisted. "Ah.. Here we go," He thought as he watched Wolfsbane's face.

    The other definitely knew about the reason he tore the roof open, and would make fun of him for it. Flint might've not liked Wolfsbane, but he really, really didn't need anyone poking at open and oozing wounds, much less his unofficial - by the clan's standards - rival. It'd just be worse if it was Wolfsbane, Flint thought, because he'd probably find some way to twist it to suit his own means. His words were sharp whenever he saw Flint's weaknesses, and Flint tried his best to squirrel his actual thoughts behind a facade of bravado and curse words whenever anyone except him and Mouse was around. He couldn't even tell Eagle about them - or the tom would hate him for sure for not living up to expectations.

    He was too busy panicking to hear Wolfsbane's whole question, but he definitely heard the tail end of it. "...One of you was a tom and the other was a she-cat?" Flint could have choked on his tongue, with the noise he made as he lost his grip on the ground, hitting the earth with a heavy thud as his eyes stared forward in shock. One of them was a she-cat? What?

    He'd been about to poke at Flint's vulnerable weaknesses, he thought, and Flint was both abruptly relieved and incredibly confused. What was Wolfsbane talking about? His mind whirled like a dust devil as he chased his thoughts around each other, trying to figure out where she-cats connected to his weaknesses, before abandoning the line of "weakness" thought process altogether and running over the past twenty minutes in a new sort of confusion. It wasn't about the weaknesses that Flint thought he was wearing on his sleeve, so what was it? Looking up at Wolfsbane from underneath him, he blinked his eyes as he searched the other's face - he looked a little surprised, almost, and somewhat embarrassed?

    Well, at least that made two of them, Flint thought as he stared at the other's face, letting his eyes trail from there down his neck towards his chest - NO. Bad Flint, thoughts elsewhere. Wolfsbane was the straightest male in the clan, and it'd do Flint no good to ogle or flirt with him. His eyes darted away, following the edges of the branches as he tried to think about other things than how attractive he found toms like Wolfsbane and heavily built toms..

    All the sudden, it seemed to click, and Flint sprung up from the dust cloud he'd created. Rapidfoot. Talking to Flint. Like he was a girl. The pieces fell into place and he looked at Wolfsbane like he had grown a second head almost, his mouth open just slightly in shock as he blinked at him.

    "Y-you do know--" Wait, no, condescending. Restart sentence. Flint swallowed, looking off to the side at the pile of branches as he sat back, trying to figure out how to explain this in the simplest way possible without making the other feel like a total idiot. "Okay, so, there's a.." Agh, that wasn't any good either, and Flint felt himself shrink a little as he tried to figure out how to start.

    He did not expect that this task to fix the warriors' den roof would involve Flint having to teach Wolfsbane that there were guys out there who liked other guys. Ah, wait. That was a perfectly decent way to explain it, wasn't it? Flint cleared his throat, looking back at Wolfsbane. Hm, but even if he explained it, Wolfsbane would probably think it was an insult.

    It was an honest question though, and Flint was always a sucker for explaining things when other cats wanted to learn. And Wolfsbane had expressed a curiosity about it.. He sighed through his nose, rubbing his nose against his right shoulder to clean it of dust before he sneezed. "Okay, look. There are girls who like other girls, cause they're soft and they smell nice, but also because some of them have had bad experiences with guys.

    "Well, the same is true for guys, there are guys who like other guys - or girls and boys who like both genders or all of them - but basically." He paused, feeling himself going on a tangent. He rolled his eyes at himself, looking off to the side and muttering about his own stupidity and incapability to explain this concisely. "Some guys flirt with other guys cause they find them attractive. They want to be with them like mates."

    Flint glared at the floor though, ears flat to his head as he muttered under his breath. "If they're lucky, they can sometimes find them. If not, they end up just pining after the straight ones," He bit out, mostly to himself. Flint fell into the latter category - he always went after the straight ones, the ones that would want nothing to do with him on a good day, and on a bad one would rather make fun of him for it. "Rapidfoot was uh - trying to get with me, basically."

    "Or making fun of me for it," He said as he rubbed his nose across his shoulder, before his ears flicked. It was a possibility he hadn't considered, but it was obvious that Rapidfoot just been messing with Flint in hindsight. That was more soothing to his personal injuries and the raw edges around his heart than Flint having been too ugly and off-putting to consider being with - enough so that Flint could switch from explaining the complicated dynamics of being into other guys with Wolfsbane and focus back on his work on the roof. He'd have to apologize to Rapidfoot later for coming onto him in that way, he was sure it must have been rather daunting to have his joke be misunderstood. "Any other questions?"


    🔥 Currently listening to [ She's a Lady ] by [ Forever the Sickest Kids ] 🔥

    The spot was rotten. Wolfsbane didn't buy that, but he was more concerned with understanding what had happened while he'd been away than he was with pressing Flint on his lie. Besides, the two were probably connected. Flint was a complex cat, but after all this time, Wolfsbane thought that he was starting to understand him. Flint was physical: his actions spoke for him just as much as his words did, and in this case, his actions had to be tied to the strange conversation he'd had with Rapidfoot.


    If only it made any sense.


    He'd managed to get to Flint even without pressing him about the hole, Wolfsbane realized with some satisfaction. The sound Flint made just before he practically collapsed reminded Wolfs of the gargling of a dying cat. Flint was strangely quiet; Wolfsbane enjoyed the moment, a smug smile perching on his lips as his shadow eyed him. He enjoyed this view of Flint, the cat struck silent as he sat in the dust, staring up at Wolfsbane, eyes roving his—what? Flint was examining his body again, like he had when they'd rescued Deadpaw. This time, it was easier to resist the temptation to flex for him. Flint hadn't exactly seemed disgusted the previous time, but Wolfsbane didn't doubt that he'd laughed about it when he was alone. He wasn't giving Flint that opportunity again.


    He'd been about to turn back to his work, bored with Flint, when the tom finally sprang back up, kicking away a mixture of dust and snow. Flint seemed more confused than anything. As he stumbled over his answers, Wolfsbane smirked. "Cat got your tongue?" Whatever Flint wanted to say, he hoped he managed it soon: Wolfsbane was getting tired of listening to him break off every three words as he tried to formulate a sentence. He knew Flint had rocks for brains, but even for him, this was extreme.


    Girls who liked other girls? What was Flint talking about? Wolfsbane's expression grew flat as he eyed the cat facing him. If Flint was trying to answer his question, he was doing a poor job of it. It wasn't until the other feline mentioned mates that he pieced things together, eyes widening. Flint was talking about cats liking cats of the same gender, not as friends but as mates. Was that even a thing? How did they form a functional family unit? And what in the world was 'flirting'?


    He wasn't sure what to think of that. What would Liverpool say? His ears flattened at the thought. He wasn't sure he wanted to consider Liverpool's reaction to such a thing. "But then who takes care of the family? How do they even have kits? And," he pointed out, "If two she-cats become mates, who hunts and protects them?" Of course, these WindClan savages believed in letting mollies hunt and fight, so that might not be an argument Flint would even understand.


    He barely heard Flint's next comment, but as he listened to it, a slow smile spread across his face. Flint like other guys, didn't he? It wasn't about Rapidfoot trying to get him. It was about Flint liking toms. "You like toms," he pointed out. "What's 'straight' mean?" That explained a lot, actually. Could it explain why Flint had been eying him like that? Wolfsbane couldn't resist testing out his new hypothesis.


    He turned back to the sticks, as though he was preparing to get back to work. This time, with his colorless eyes fixed on Flint, he flexed slowly, almost unsure what he wanted the other cat's reaction to be. Flint couldn't possibly like him—not after he'd torn up his leg. Flint practically hated him, didn't he? To make it seem less like he was waiting for Flint's reaction, he took up his offer to ask more questions, trying to make the flexing muscles seemed more natural. "If a tom likes toms, he's saying that he wants to be a molly, right? Like the opposite of Deadpaw." Like the opposite of his brother Spottedelk, who was actually strong enough to pass for a tom: that was probably the only reason Liverpool had even let him change his identity.

    I wanna be who I couldn't say I'd ever been

    All the people I know aren't who they used to be



    The moment Wolfsbane had asked his first question, Flint was already writing him off in his head. The "ah, here we go," reaction was back in full-force, and he sighed through his nose. Honestly, would this guy ever be able to accept a new reality without running back to his old one with his tail between his legs? Flint eyed him as he kept talking, his expression unreadable. Probably not, in Wolfsbane's case.


    Flint didn't know why it bothered him so much at that moment in time, but it did.


    Glancing back to his work, he put off answering any of Wolfsbane's questions until he'd figured out how to put it delicately that Wolfsbane might have been a bit soft in the head. He turned his head back to face the other tom with a sigh - and promptly bit the shit out of his tongue. He tasted blood as he watched Wolfsbane flex in front of him, to the point that his mouth was dyed with the color as he stared openly. He tensed, his eyes roaming across Wolfsbane's fur as he drank in the sight. Far be it from him to not enjoy an open show - but this was an impulse he had to stomp down like when his paws hit the ground earlier.


    And stamp it down he did, at Wolfsbane's next sentence, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Yet another thing he didn't know the reason behind his reaction to - Wolfsbane asking him if he wanted to be a girl shouldn't have been insulting, but it was. Was it because he knew the tom was using it like a weapon, like a tool to be wielded against him and destroy him in the process? Was it because he was saying that as he was flexing to test out whether or not Flint's attraction to the same sex could be used against him? His eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Wolfsbane's eyes, glittering with hidden malice, and he felt ire rise up in him.


    Wolfsbane would never be able to think past his goal to make the clan more like his family, or his goal to gain power by stepping on everyone he met, would he? He wanted things to fit into his narrative, and Flint hated the feeling of being forced into a box he didn't want to fit into - like a jagged piece of bone sticking out from rotting meat, Flint had never fit in that kind of thing. Eagle, however, might. Eagle was the hero, the superior to both of them and the first that the clan would run to in any danger - it'd be hard to argue with such a thing like that, and Flint almost envied Eagle because he didn't have to deal with Wolfsbane.


    He didn't have to struggle and deal with tearing down all the damn walls that were boxing him in the more he tried to breathe and break out of them, and it seemed like every attempt made those walls thicker - especially in regards to Wolfsbane and what he was trying to do. Speaking of boxing him in though.. Why was Wolfsbane trying so hard anyway? It wasn't like Flint was much of a threat to him in regards for anything else - Eagle had that covered, Flint was just the weak chain keeping him restrained, and he obviously wasn't doing much of a good job at it if Wolfsbane was still spouting similar things to what he'd been spouting at the start of it all.


    Ah, was that it? Was Wolfsbane trying to box him in so that he could break him and run rampant in the clan? Flint had to get out of the box that he was looking up out of - and into the open space where he could duel with Wolfsbane on equal terms. He just didn't know where to start with that.


    "You have another thing coming if you think that I'd rather be a girl - I don't need to be a girl to like guys, or your body, for that matter." He informed the other tom with a snap of his teeth. Bastard thought he could use the fact that Flint was interested in his body against him? Flint was about to prove him wrong, and take his deeply coveted secrets and use them as a tool himself. "And that's where you can stay - just be another faceless piece of meat in the crowd, just muscles to glance at as I move on by and onto better things, alright?"

    It was a lie - it came through his teeth like a dark, withering thing, and Flint wanted to snap it back up. Bitter anger was never a tool to use against other people, and it did more damage to Flint that it ever could good. He hated lying, always had ever since his childhood. Flint could use anger, he could use righteous rage and spite, they fueled him, allowed him to run the distance that others said he couldn't. But he'd always been careful to not let his bitter feelings reach the surface of things he did - or he thought he had been. But he'd probably slipped up with his words somewhere - left something out in the open he should have left unsaid, said something that could be used against him later. He was never good at words either, and it always left him more open than he really wanted to be, always left his secrets out in the open for people trying to steal them and use them against him.


    That had to be what Wolfsbane was doing, he had a one-track mind like that, and Flint dropped down onto the ground after tucking the last branch in, tossing his head back to glare at the other, a sneer on his face. "And for another matter, even if I was a girl, there was no way I'd go for someone based just on their muscles. I'd go for someone like Rapidfoot before I went for someone like you," Flint said with bared teeth, shoulder checking the tom on his way past him out to the outside world. "Clean up will you?


    "I have better things to do than mess around with ignorant idiots,"     He finished over his shoulder, stomping off towards the fresh-kill pile. He wasn't expecting Wolfsbane to follow him, if he actually did want to, but at this point, Flint would probably start more than a simple argument. So when another tom like Rapidfoot tried to approach him, he thought this one was Stagsight, he bared his teeth. "I'm not interested," He bit out, much to the other tom's confusion. "I'm not interested in any kind of conversation - get lost."


    Watching the tan male run off with his tail almost actually between his legs, Flint couldn't help but give a snort of satisfaction, his mask falling just a little bit. Ah, so that was why people didn't like him. Staring forlornly at the back of the tom, he turned his gaze back to the pile, teeth sinking into the meat of a.. Honestly, he wasn't paying much attention. His thoughts were abruptly consumed, leaving him on edge and more aggressive than usual - and he'd already been in a bad mood all day.


    ------


    What would Eagle have done?


    The thought gave him a head-ache, and he grit his teeth against the throbbing in the back of his head, systematically tearing another section of the apprentice roof down, clearing away rot and dirt with his actions as he pulled weak branches out of the way - and making no effort to hide his agitation. He hadn't told anyone he was doing this aside from the apprentices, so he shouldn't be necessarily bothered by much else aside from the stray apprentice bringing more sticks in for him to weave into their roof. But there was always a chance he'd be followed - it was a rather obvious place for him to be after fixing up the warriors' den roof. Setting his paws back on solid earth so he could eye the roof he was working on, his thoughts slowly but surely went from the task back to the previous thoughts, much to his chagrin and disappointment. It wasn't like he couldn't think for himself - but Eagle had always been Flint's touchstone on how to react to things.


    What would Eagle have done? He certainly wouldn't have gotten angry at Wolfsbane for his questions - oh sure, he'd definitely vent to Flint later about it, but he'd have tried to keep from being so openly agitated. He'd probably have said a couple words to make Wolfsbane back off and think about himself for a bit, or limp away to lick the wounds left by the encounter. But Flint wasn't that, as much as he tried to be. Eagle probably would have said something smart, loomed over him and put him back into his place - and Wolfsbane would have seethed by let the point stand.


    No, if Eagle was the eyes that saw everything and instructed others how to use their weapons, then Flint was the claws - Flint was blunt damage and harsh words that would never truly hit home. Eagle was like his namesake - strong, dependable and usually always got the thing he sought. Flint fumbled his way through most things and tried to act like he had his act together - and never actually did. His emotions were plain to see if you actually looked, and his secrets were constantly on his shoulder, plain for all to see just like his scars were.


    He was back at square one ever since coming to the clan, and he hated it.


    🔥 Currently listening to [ Say Amen (Saturday Night) ] by [ P!ATD ] 🔥

    Whatever reaction Wolfsbane had been expecting, it wasn't the anger that seethed from Flint like churning water as the latter fought to pull his eyes away from Wolfsbane's chest. He wretched the stick he'd been working on into place as he met Flint's eyes, which were as full of blind rage as a badger that ripped through the camp, destroying simply because it could. He'd been pushing the other cat, testing his limits, but he hadn't done anything worse than usual, so why as Flint so upset? He clambered down to pick up another stick, finding it easier to focus on the object than on his shadow.


    Flint's actual words confused him. He'd expected yelling, a tantrum, not the icy, bitter tones that Flint actually used. He still didn't fully understand what it meant not be a girl and still like toms. Wolfsbane was trying to fit the information into the narrative he'd been taught from the time he was a child, but whole idea was a square peg, and try as he did, he couldn't shove it into a round hole. He'd need to either shave the sides of the peg, filtering out the parts of the information that didn't fit with his preconceived beliefs, or he'd have to figure out how to enlarge the hole or change its shape.


    He'd been trying to change the hole since he'd arrived here, hadn't he? He'd taken everything the Clan cats spouted about females hunting and fighting alongside the males and tried to make sense of it. No, he realized bitterly. He hadn't. He hadn't done a thing to that hole. He'd been working on the peg all along. He'd tried explaining every new concept he came across in terms of what Liverpool had taught him. He hadn't tried to understand why the WindClan concept of equality might possibly be better than his concept of equality. Instead, he'd focused on all the flaws he'd both observed and inferred from WindClan's system.


    But was that such a bad thing? Did he truly have to change everything he'd been taught because the cats in his new home held different opinions? Visitors had been so rare as a child that he could barely remember anyone staying with them who didn't already agree with his family's way of doing things. Coyote had agreed. Poppy—well, he'd thought that she did, as she'd never complained or argued, but it was quickly becoming clear to him that she sided with the majority of WindClan. He was alone in what he thought. Did that make him wrong? Or could he keep resolutely going forward until something fell apart and he was forced to either leave or adapt?


    Wolfsbane was strangely flattered when Flint admitted that his body was something to be admired, even if the other tom was comparing it to a chunk of meat that one drooled over but didn't actually care about. Still, flattered as he was, he couldn't help but feel annoyed that Flint bypassed answering his question in favor of snapping at him. Yes, he wanted the information to use against Flint, but he also wanted an answer to his question. How was he supposed to even begin trying to adapt if Flint wouldn't work with him? "Flint," he began, but broke off as the tabby turned toward him with bared teeth.


    He didn't get a chance to respond before Flint shoved past him, roughly clipping his shoulder. His scabbed over wounds itched ferociously as Flint's fur brushed against them, but Wolfsbane set his mouth in a line, refusing to give the other the satisfaction of seeing how the movement had affected him.


    When Flint was gone, he eyed the small pile of sticks still remaining, pearly teeth bared. Where did Flint come off calling him ignorant if he refused to teach? Wolfsbane couldn't deny that he was interested in the matter because of the power it might give him over his guard, but he was also interested for the sake of the topic. He couldn't adjust to Clan life if everything he did was viewed suspiciously! Was there a purpose to trying?


    Huffing, he violently kicked one of the sticks away from him, watching with satisfaction as it flew across the den. Laying himself across the frosty ground, he considered the whole conversation again, sulking and mulling over what he'd learnt in turn. It was some time before he finally rose and grudgingly neatened the pile of sticks, weaving the last few into the roof until the den was fully covered.


    -----


    He wasn't really interested in speaking to Flint again, but Wolfsbane couldn't ignore him forever. His ruminations had gotten him nowhere. All they'd managed to accomplish was to confuse him even more, until he almost wished that Liverpool was there to make everything make sense again. Wolfsbane was enjoying his new freedom, but he couldn't help but miss the time when his family had still been together. He hadn't had the luxury of confusion then. He'd known to obey everything his father thought and said or risk punishment. Life had been simpler. There hadn't been things like sexism or homosexuality to consider. He'd been able to do what he was told to with the knowledge that he was doing the best he could. He hadn't had to make moral decisions. All he'd had to do was keep his head down and refrain from making waves.


    Funny, but it seemed that all he'd done since joining WindClan was make waves. Would Liverpool be proud of him? Did it matter? If Liverpool somehow found him and the others, would WindClan support Wolfsbane, or would he have to go back to life under his father's thumb? Would he himself even be willing to take a stand or would he meekly obey Liverpool?


    Wolfsbane wasn't a hero. He wasn't brave. He knew the answer: he'd probably do whatever Liverpool wanted simply because he was too scared to argue with his father.


    Wolfsbane didn't want to, but he knew he'd have to speak to Flint. It was almost ridiculously easy to find the grey tom: Wolfsbane had seen a few apprentices carrying sticks to the apprentice den, and when he questioned one of them, she quickly revealed that Flint was repairing the roof. Relieving her of her burden, Wolfsbane clutched the twigs between his jaws and headed toward the apprentice den.


    Dropping the sticks near the entrance, he examined Flint. The tom wasn't facing him, which meant that Wolfsbane had a moment or two to eye him before he was noticed. With his luck, Flint would probably walk off as soon as he noticed his visitor, as though Wolfsbane wasn't actually trying. Resentment started to build up within him, and he quickly trashed it down. Now wasn't the time to be resentful or bitter if he wanted to accomplish anything.


    "Flint," he finally called, trying (and only partly succeeding) to wipe the sullenness off of his face. "We're stuck with each other, and I hate it just as much as you. Unless you could change that, do your job and help me become a WindClanner." He pushed his way fully into the den, locking eyes with Flint. "You didn't answer me. You wouldn't run off on Petalkit asking you a question. Don't run off on me. I don't have the same background as the cats born here, and I'm sick of being viewed as a villain for something no one can explain to me." He'd heard the others say that it had been wrong when he'd hit Petalkit, but no one had listened to his defense and explained things. No one had told him why he wasn't helping her. He'd learned his whole life that a she-cat who mouthed off was liable to make tom fly into a rage with her. He'd seen it happen, and his father had often explained that although it looked wrong, punishing mollies who spoke out of place would keep them from experiencing greater punishment at the hands of others. That made sense to Wolfsbane, and although his clanmates had no problems telling him he was immoral, they couldn't explain how what they did protected cats any better.


    "I want to fit in, Flint. I want to be a WindClanner." His eyes dropped. Of all the cats who had to see him like this, Flint wasn't the one he wanted it to be, but who else could he turn to? "I want to learn. It's not going to happen overnight. Everyone expects big changes, but I can't change my worldview in a day, and I can't change it if I can't figure out why it's so bad. You're willing to fight me over me beliefs. Are you willing to try to understand them?"


    That was the root of it. They were too busy condemning him to give him a chance. "I wasn't trying to upset you, but I don't know what it means for two toms to like each other. I never heard of anything like that before today. I never heard of choosing your own mate until I came to WindClan." Taking a deep breath and trying not to hate himself too much, Wolfsbane asked, "I've never known anything different, but I want to learn. Give me a chance, Flint. A real one."

    LYRICS HERE

    sublyrics here


    Flint's muscles had tensed the moment that Wolfsbane spoke, his eyes glazing over in an almost blind rage. He hadn't been wanting to deal with the tom, hadn't wanted to engage in this topic any further - but it seemed that Wolfsbane was honestly trying to continue this farce. It made his blood boil all over again, and he would have returned with sharp words, would have cut Wolfsbane off at the pass - would have said anything he could say to make the tom feel outcast and left alone - and then he took a deep breath. Siren hadn't done that to him, neither had Eagle or any of the Windclan cats. He didn't have any right to do it to Wolfsbane.

    Eagle would hear him out - that's what Flint was going to do. And so he did, but that didn't stop the emotions welling up inside of him, didn't stop his thoughts from racing after he heard each statement, but he was determined not to say a word until Wolfsbane had said his piece.

    So he took a deep breath, but didn't turn to face Wolfsbane. His expression was too open, he felt, it would show ever flicker of emotion as Wolfsbane asked him and pleaded with him. "I could change it." Flint said abruptly, ears flicking back and forth as he looked over to the wall off to the right of him, Wolfsbane. "I could change it - I could have given you to Eagle, or one of the other senior warriors after our fight, but they would have just seen you with double the suspicion that I already do; Because they would have seen the instant you changed over from me to them as you being a risk, a liability, and would have treated you more like a prisoner than I already do.

    "Everyone would have understood - would have even agreed with me if I told Eagle I didn't think you were going to change and you could have gotten kicked out. I could have done any number of things to remove you from the problem altogether. But it would have done us all a lot more harm than good-" Flint tasted copper again, the wounds on the inside of his cheek and his tongue opening up from moving his mouth to talk. He'd been tearing up the inside of his mouth a lot lately to keep from saying things that he didn't want to be said - let alone keep from saying the worst of it. "I don't want you to feel indebted to me - that's not what I'm saying - but I didn't want to have you be kicked out when there still might be a chance."

    "I want to give you a chance, and by leaving you unsupervised, asking you to do things like help me with Deadpaw, letting you speak your mind to the members of the clan.. I thought I was doing that. It's obvious though, that there's been a miscommunication with the both of us. Windclan is one of the harder clans to fit into - and even when you become a full-fledged warrior, you'll not be an actual warrior until you get accepted by the cats in the clan itself." Flint could remember, a couple moons before Wolfsbane showed up, of Mouse complaining about the same thing - cats telling her she wasn't Windclan enough, wasn't warrior enough, that she should just go home. He remembered his piece of advice to her back then too.

    If they don't accept you as you were, then you forced them to - whether it was by changing their opinion of you in slow increments or by ramming yourself into the uneven slot that you etched out for yourself. Flint would like to say that the same tactic would work for Wolfsbane - but it wouldn't. Or at least, not completely. There'd have to be changes for him to undergo - Flint would have to explain things that he thought were common sense until it clicked. Flint cleared his throat, staring at the wall, feeling awkwardness settle over him because he didn't know how to teach things that were common sense, let alone how to go on this road with Wolfsbane of all people.

    And then he had another thought that set uneasiness into his stomach. They'd already done so much to damage Wolfsbane's reputation among the clan - and had even further cemented those things in their mind with every argument and every time they stomped off in an outraged haze from each other. They had to not only formulate a plan but set up a plan of action how to approach everything.

    "The clan's going to challenge you at every available opportunity - this is no longer a just a test for you, it's a tribunal. They're going to zero in on any mistakes you make and build a case to kick you out. If we're going to do this, then we need ground rules. Mine are pretty simple actually. Stop trying to use gather info for the sole purpose of sniffing out other's weak spots to use against them later, and if you have any actual questions, you come to me with them.

    "Don't try to figure them out on your own,"     Flint said as he finally turned to look over his shoulder at Wolfsbane, ignoring the dribble of blood down his chin from the open cuts that were finally starting to stop their sluggish leaking. "We've both seen what happens when we leave each other to their own devices and opinions on things."

    🔥 Currently listening to [ SONG TITLE ] by [ BAND NAME ] 🔥

    Flint refused to so much as look at him. Wolfsbane understood what that meant: the other tom wasn't interested in listening to him, wasn't interested in giving him a chance. Flint would happily let him suffer, secure in the knowledge that he'd naked himself to Flint for no reason. That by itself was a form of torment, and Flint had to realize that. He was tempted to stop, to just give up and walk out, but something kept him going, kept him speaking until he'd finished his piece.


    Flint didn't quite turn toward him as he began speaking, and Wolfsbane's claws dug deep grooves in the ground, dissatisfaction pulling at his features. Flint could have changed it? The words came abruptly and Wolfsbane blinked, mentally retracing the conversation until the comment made sense. In truth, he'd wondered why he hadn't been reassigned to a different warrior. After the fight, Wolfsbane had been expecting it, and when it hadn't happened, he'd nearly gone to Eaglespirit to demand a change. Looking at the matter through Flint's perspective, he was suddenly grateful that he hadn't, although he couldn't understand why Flint had still been willing to give him a chance.


    What did Flint see in him, that despite the fact that he'd torn the other's leg, he still wanted to give him a chance? It hadn't felt like a chance to Wolfsbane, and Flint was the last cat he'd have thought would take his side, but in hindsight, he couldn't ignore the fact that that was exactly what had happened.


    His ears tilted uncertainly as Flint continued. The real question, a part of him couldn't help but rebelliously wonder, was why Flint was eligible to give him advice on becoming a WindClanner when he himself hadn't been accepted as a warrior. His status wasn't one Wolfsbane could place: he was not quite a warrior, but he wasn't a loner either. Like it or not, Flint had etched out a place for himself in WindClan, a task Wolfsbane was still struggling with.


    As Flint finally spun to face him, Wolfsbane found himself captivated by the dribble of blood that was trickling down the other cat's face. He stared at it, nearly tasting the coppery tang in his mouth that Flint had to be tasting, and slowly dragged his gaze back up to the other's eyes. Part of him was insulted by the insinuation that he couldn't figure things out on his own, but it was clear that all the conclusions he'd come to were wrong.


    Instead, honestly, he asked, "And what am I supposed to do if I don't try to gather intelligence on others? I'm not as strong as my father or as clever as my mothers. I need the extra boost if I'm going to survive." Coming from him, as muscled as a bodybuilder and as manipulative as a viper, the words probably seemed laughable, but Wolfsbane was fully serious. How would he turn bad situations to his advantage if he couldn't rely on every tool at his disposal?

    Can’t help myself

    Got secrets I can’t tell


    Flint looked at Wolfsbane with an incredulous look on his face before sighing a little. If the other was fully serious, then Flint could be too, even though he thought that the other wasn't really looking at himself clearly. "I said you shouldn't gather info with the sole purpose of wielding it against others - that doesn't mean halt altogether. But it means that the info you've gathered could be put to better use than to bring your clan-mates down. I know you're at least smart enough to figure out where to use that info aside from a threat or a weapon, right?"

    He twitched his ear, snorting a little. "As for the other half of your comment, give yourself some credit - not many cats can make the journey over months with having to keep together their siblings and make sure everyone stays healthy and well-fed." Flint knew just how hard it was to make a multiple moon journey; He'd taken one to get to Windclan, after all. It'd taken him months just to find anyone who had seen someone who looked like Eagle or Sparrow - and even longer still to track down just how long ago they passed through. Then he had to spend time in multiple other areas piecing together a profile of what he remembered of Eagle's past self.

    And then to add on managing a group of other cats? Flint didn't have that much leadership skills - but Eagle and Wolfsbane seemed to. They could be great together, Flint belatedly realized, if he could just get them onto an even playing field. He just wasn't sure why he thought they would be - just that he knew they could be. Thinking on it, he pursed his lips as he stepped towards Wolfsbane, stepping past him and then turning back around to walk back the way he came - pacing.

    "No, actually, you're smarter and probably stronger than your parents. Or-" He paused, taking a glance at the wall, before breaking into pacing again, his yellow-green eyes dancing as he struggled with new thoughts and possibilities. He was mostly talking on auto-pilot now. If he could get Eagle and Wolfsbane on even playing ground, and maybe someone else to handle the more sensitive diplomatic matters of clan relation - because Eagle had said there were other clans - then he could, supposedly, help sort out the power imbalance he'd noticed. But then again, would Wolfsbane ever stop trying to grab that leadership role from Eagle?

    Would Eagle ever let Wolfsbane suggest his ideas - or would he brush them off as reckless thoughts like he did with Flint? With too much emotion or what have you to have any of his ideas and suggestions to be worth any use to the tom, Flint tended to filter them through Mouse - she usually had a much more intelligent way of putting his raw ideas so they were better received, and working with Eagle to help fill in the holes. Flint wasn't ever going to be good at that kind of thing, so he just left it to Mouse or whoever he caught that was closest to Eagle to pass his ideas to and move on. Flint had pretty much accepted at this point that he wouldn't ever be as skilled with words as Eagle or Wolfsbane - or even other cats - and decided he was probably better off as being a grunt working underneath cats like Eagle anyway. "Maybe they are smarter, in certain areas, but there's different areas of merit and different cats are more geared towards certain things."

    "You've still got plenty of room to improve where they don't."     Flint stopped, his eyes clearing as clarity reached back to him, and he wanted to choke back the words he'd just spoken. That was probably.. Vaguely insulting Wolfsbane's parents, and he looked at the other tom. "No offense, I mean."

    He cleared his throat, stopping his pacing. The idea with Wolfsbane and Eagle working together would have to wait - first he had to get Wolfsbane there. It wouldn't be easy, it'd be filled with more sleepless nights and moments of Flint controlling his temper than it would to just let Wolfsbane get kicked out of the clan - but he didn't want that. It felt like failure on his part and left an uneasy feeling rolling in his gut. Maybe he was too emotionally attached to this - maybe he should back off a little.

    He still hadn't noticed the blood congealing on the side of his mouth, too absorbed with his own thoughts.

    🔥 Currently listening to [ Play With Fire ] by [ Sam Tinnesz ] 🔥

    Wolfsbane narrowed his eyes toward Flint, trying to make sense of his words. Gather information and use it for other purposes? Like what? Flint couldn't expect him to try to help his clanmates. It was all well and good to say that they all looked out for each other but Wolfsbane knew the truth of things. It was cat-eat-cat, and if he tried to help the others, they'd take advantage of his generosity without repaying it. The only exception was the family unit, and even then, he'd always fought with his brothers' for Liverpool's approval. They'd helped the weaker members of the family but when it came to each other, they'd been independent.


    "I only came with Moose and Moonwillow," he reminded Flint. Moose had also hunted for Moon and protected her. They'd split that responsibility, and the only extra thing Wolfsbane had done was try to keep his hotheaded brother in line and out of trouble. He'd barely managed that, as the situation when they'd joined proved. "I didn't even try to find Grace or Rosebrier. I just took the first two siblings who'd come with me and left." That wasn't courage or strength. That was another example of his inadequacy.


    If anything, his expression only grew more bitter as Flint continued. The tom clearly didn't know what he was talking about, and although an inner passion seemed to have gripped him, he couldn't have been more wrong. As the other cat paced, Wolfsbane shifted from side to side, pawing at the pale powder dusting the ground.


    "They don't need to improve," he explained resentfully. "Don't give me that. I've got room to improve where they don't because they don't need to improve. Playing nice with everyone won't change that." He broke off, aware of what he'd just admitted to Flint, stance growing stiff. Spirits! For a moment he'd started talking to Flint as though they were friends. Shaking himself briskly, he searched for a way to change the topic.


    As it happened, Flint himself provided the distraction Wolfsbane needed. Padding closer to the other feline, he raised a paw, dabbing at the blood on Flint's cheek and showing it to the grey male. "You're bleeding. Why are you always bleeding around me?" This time, at least, he wasn't the cause of the blood, or so it seemed safe to assume.

    LYRICS HERE

    sublyrics here


    Flint didn't so much as look at the blood - instead, he flinched away from Wolfsbane like he'd been burned, unconsciously turning his shoulder away from the tom and breathing in and out slowly. He hadn't even seen the tom move, too consumed by his own thoughts to register that he was coming close to him. It must have looked a little odd, for Flint to have such a visceral reaction to such a simple movement, but as he came back to himself, he glared at the other. "Don't act like you care about why I'm bleeding - you're changing the subject to avoid the matter at hand," He grumbled, rubbing his muzzle against one of his forelegs while giving the other a suspicious glance. Honestly, what was with Wolfsbane today?

    He'd already played that card earlier, and Flint was getting tired of it, really.

    "Playing nice with everyone at this point is the only thing that will keep you around your sisters - who I'm sure you still want to be around, right?" He asked sharply, making a mental note to try and open up more about Wolfsbane's feelings of inadequacy and parental issues later, because Flint had seen them at play in tons of other cats too. It eventually ate at their minds - it was also the first step to any cat wanting more than they should have. His mom had talked about it at length with what had happened with his father, and well.. It was a slippery slope to go down.

    "At this point, Wolfsbane, playing nice is the only thing that will stop you from getting kicked out of the clan - you either get with the program, or they'll boot you out of it entirely." Flint grumbled, tail twitching. "And once again - consider that you kept those two siblings alive and at least somewhat healthy - most cats I know couldn't do it if they had some supernatural deity on their side, much less without one and on the tail end of whatever happened with you guys." He glanced at the tom, shuffling a bit further away. He wasn't going to lie, the tom suddenly getting closer had spooked him, had left his fur on an uneasy edge, and the other would probably interpret it as a weakness of sorts. And it probably was, to some degree.

    He didn't know how to counter the instinct though, and it was all he could have done to not lash out at the abrupt movement. He was further away from his training than he thought he was, he realized bitterly, and almost tore another chunk out of his cheek to hide an ugly hiss. His bleeding thing didn't need an answer for the other tom, but Flint was also thinking on that as he was speaking. Flint wasn't sure when the mouth biting had started, but he would have to try harder to break the habit. He wasn't even conscious he was doing it anymore, he just did it whenever he was alone and was consumed by his thoughts.


    It wasn't the best thing - but it didn't harm anyone else aside from himself. It'd be fine.

    🔥 Currently listening to [ SONG TITLE ] by [ BAND NAME ] 🔥

    Wolfsbane should have expected Flint to jerk away from him as though his touch burned. No matter how much Flint might be willing to help him, he still didn't like him. Wolfsbane wouldn't experience any physical contact for a long time, disregarding the touch of his sisters—and for the first time in his life, he was on rocky footing with some of them. Flint's glare was venomous; Wolfsbane half expected the other to snap that he should keep his paws far away from him. What came instead was Flint's insight on his concern. It bothered Wolfsbane more than it should have that the quasi-warrior had seen right through him, despite the fact that he hadn't been the most subtle. Blowing out angrily, he demanded, "So what? Maybe I don't want to talk about the subject at hand." They'd beat this particular line of thought plenty and were approaching more touchy areas. Couldn't Flint leave well enough alone? They'd agreed to try. That ought to be enough for him.


    It never would be, though. Trying wasn't enough. He had to succeed, no matter how impossible it seemed. Mentally cursing the other tom and WindClan as a whole, he tried refocusing on whatever nonsense Flint still had up his sleeve. It turned out to be threats. Play nice or get away and never see his sisters or Poppy again. If that was the stick, what was the carrot? Acceptance? Flint had already said that would be nearly impossible to gain. Getting to be with his family? That ought to be a given. He lived for his family almost as much as he lived for himself. Threating to deny him them was getting old. Sullenly, he nodded, admitting that being separated from them was indeed a huge fear on his part.


    Flint didn't understand what WindClan had done to them. They'd been happy before, satisfied. WindClan had turned everything on its head until it was nearly impossible to distinguish right from wrong. WindClan had clouded the clarity that Liverpool had instilled in them. Once, Wolfsbane might have said that if he was kicked out, his sisters would follow him, but he was no longer sure of the validity of that statement.


    His gaze followed Flint as the latter slid away, obviously on edge from being near him. Once again, Wolfsbane reminded himself that he wouldn't have friends, wouldn't have anyone who minded standing next to him or sharing tongues with him, until he succeeded in proving himself to the Clan. The space in the den seemed claustrophobically small now and Wolfsbane started to pull himself toward the entrance, eager to get out. "I get it," he growled. "Are we done?"


    He continued moving outward, unsure of where he intended to head. Beneath his breath, almost inaudibly, he added, "But you should still get that checked out." Playing nice.