Work Text:
My name is Krestlepaw.
I was the brown tom, who never received his warrior name.
You might know me as the 'quiet' cat of Riverclan.
I was born into this world a runt. My siblings pushed me aside as they drank their milk, and my mother only pitied me.
Unfortunately for me, my parents didn't have the best relationship. They only had children because they thought it'd bring them closer together.
They argued often. Mom sometimes stood outside the nursery as she shouted insults at my dad, and my father would usually break and claw at my mother.
All I remember in my kit years was the constant arguing, or being picked on by my siblings. They'd throw me down or laugh at me for being so small.
Since I normally never got any milk, I was very thin. Multiple warriors would ask about me to my mother, asking if I got enough milk because of how frail I looked.
She always just brushed them aside. Of course she did, the bitch would never think about her kits. She'd have abandoned us already if it weren't for the Clan being excited for the new kits.
Somehow, I managed to survive. I got to be an apprentice.
Not like it mattered, my siblings still bullied me and the other apprentices started to pick up that I was the weakest.
During training, the other apprentices would sometimes bite a 'little too hard', or they'd 'accidentally' scratch in a sensitive area. The mentors always let it slide because the little brats would feign innocence.
But that wasn't my biggest problem. No matter what I did, I always seemed to mess up. It didn't matter if it was hunting, training or what not. I always did something wrong.
I always messed up my hunting, could never get the crouch right. Or I'd walk too fast and startle the rat.
Fighting wasn't any better. I couldn't get the moves right, couldn't strike hard and quick enough. Couldn't dodge fast enough. I'd be out of breath by the time we were done.
My mentor berated me, telling me I should train harder, focus more. Then he'd tell my father, and my dad would have a word with me. With his claws, of course, because my mother would've pissed him off by then.
I pushed my self some days, I'll admit. I once fainted because of how hard I was trying to perfect the dodge. Ended up in the medicine den for a day, only to get berated by my mentor again when I came out.
Border skirmishes always left me as a mess. Thunderclan tried to get bold and take the other side of the river once. I was unlucky enough to be apart of the patrol that found them.
Before I knew it, a Thunderclan warrior was on top of me. He clawed my back so thoroughly I was seeing stars. I managed to wriggle out and hit him, but he headbutted me into a tree.
I had hit my head. Hard. The whole world was spinning. The Thunderclan warrior didn't hesitate at the opportunity, he clawed me hard and deep. There was a puddle of blood by the time my patrol had chased them off.
I was made to get to my paws and walk home. The other warriors only had a few minor cuts and bite marks, but I was bleeding everywhere. Everything hurt, and I was only made fun of more when I started to cry.
I wasn't in the medicine den long, my mentor didn't let me stay. I was back out training, my wounds still fresh.
But that's when I met her.
A pretty white she-cat, looked to be my age. I hadn't noticed her before, but she was training with us that day.
All my anger seemingly vanished when I saw her. I remember stumbling up and introducing myself.
I cringe when I think back on it, it was embarrassing for me. But she took it well, she introduced herself back.
"I'm Whitepaw!" She said.
White fur, Whitepaw. Classic. Still, I thought she was one of the prettiest cats I had ever seen. Somehow, we managed to get closer.
Although I wasn't good at it, I'd show her things I had learned on the side. I'd always mess them up, but Whitepaw still appreciated it.
The giggle she would make... Starclan, I would kill to hear it again. Her happiness made me feel alive.
For the next few moons, Whitepaw was my friend. I would try to do something to impress her, fail, and she'd giggle at my attempt and it would make me feel better.
If I wasn't training or apart of some patrol to work on my skills, I would be with Whitepaw. I felt like I was fighting for something, to prove myself to her.
But then...Whitepaw made friends with a few of my siblings and the other apprentices. I thought nothing of it at first, but I noticed she didn't spend as much time with me.
Sure, she had other cats she was friends with now. I let it slide. But as I tried to be with Whitepaw again, she kept making excuses.
"Oh... I'll be busy tomorrow so I'll need to sleep early." Was one of Whitepaw's many excuses.
"I'm tired today, I think I'll just rest my paws." Was another.
I caught on soon enough. It was Whitepaw's friends, they were telling something about me to her. That's what I guessed, anyway. She wasn't like this before she made friends with them.
But what made me realize the most was after our battle in Windclan. Thunderclan and Windclan had been at war for a few moons, and at the climax Shadowclan and Thunderclan joined forces to attack their camp.
Windclan asked us for aid, and Riverclan came. I came as well, but only because I was chosen and not because I wanted to.
If you know about my prior battling skills, you can assume it didn't end well for me. I was cornered and beaten, torn to shreds until I was bleeding and trying to crawl away from battle.
When Riverclan and Windclan won the fight, I was a bloody mess again, but worse this time. All of my fur was stained with blood, I looked like I had been murdered. I was struggling on my paws when we made the walk home.
When we arrived back at camp, I remember seeing Whitepaw in the middle of the clearing. She hadn't come, so she had been waiting this whole time. Her eyes lit up, and she got to her paws and ran over.
I thought it was me she was running to, but she ran past me and nuzzled against one of the apprentices who had bullied me before. My entire world shattered when I saw that, and I felt light on my paws.
I was eventually pushed into the medicine den because of my injuries, so I was forced away from the scene. But it didn't matter. It was fresh in my mind for the next few days.
I was the one that was bloodied and battered. I was the one struggling on my paws, only for who I thought was my only friend to run past me and toward the cat that had barely been scratched. I had never been angrier.
I got slower at things. Slower at eating, slower at training, slower at keeping up in patrols. It got to the point the leader was screaming at me to do better, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
A few moons passed, the other apprentices got their warrior names and I was left behind in the apprentice den with a few younger apprentices. Because of my lack of improvement, I never received my name. What did it matter? I fucked up everything I did anyway.
I guess the Clan didn't want to feel embarrassed by such an old cat being in the apprentice den, because my mentor told me one morning that I would be getting my warrior name that night.
When the time came, the leader rehearsed the usual words. He came to the part where he asked if I would give my life to defend the Clan.
I said no.
Multiple cats gasped, probably surprised about my answer. The leader didn't even know what to say. I didn't have jack-shit to fight for in the Clan. I didn't want to fight for this damn Clan, I hated it.
Because of my refusal, I never got my name. I kept sleeping in the apprentice den while my mentor dropped me for another cat that had recently become an apprentice.
Meanwhile, I would watch Whitepaw continue to be with that apprentice. Or, warrior now. I had no idea what Whitepaw's name was now, I never talked to any cats to know nor did I attend her ceremony to hear her new name. So, to me, she was still Whitepaw.
I guess that warrior got her pregnant, because her tummy got bigger. It's poetic she was becoming a mother. My father was in the elder's den because of his declining mental health and my mother had never talked to me again after I came out of the nursery. I had no one.
I would always just sulk in the darkest corner of the camp. No one came up to me, no one called for me on patrols. The fresh-kill pile was nearby, so I could easily grab something to eat and continue to sleep all day. I guess the peace wasn't all bad, but I got bored.
One night, I woke up. I felt the emptiest I ever had been. My world felt small and I knew I was unloved.
I got to my paws and trekked out of camp. I walked around the territory, searching for the only way out of this mess. Eventually, I found it. The bright red berries that hung off of a green stem.
Deathberries is what they were known as. I bit off one of the stems and set it in front of my paws.
And that brings me to now. I sit here, reminiscing about my life and how much of a waste it has been.
How much of a fuck-up I am.
How my only friend abandoned me.
How my parents didn't love me, nor did my siblings.
I question why I decided to live this long. Maybe I was stubborn? I don't know. I was a defect. Weak. Useless.
I almost want to cry, but what is there to cry over? No one will miss me. Clan life will continue as usual. If I'm lucky they'll bury me, or maybe they'll just throw me into the river so I can be swept away and forgotten.
I guess it doesn't matter. Starclan has cursed me, so maybe they wanted this. To see cats suffer because they're bored.
I hate them.
I hate ALL of you.
I fight till I'm bleeding on the floor AND YOU ALL STILL HATE ME?! DID I NEVER FIGHT HARD ENOUGH? WAS I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU FUCKERS!?!
Hah...
I'm getting angry over nothing.
I just hope it takes me quickly, I'm done suffering. I'm done being the runt. I'm done being so useless.
This is my end.
Goodbye.