#nightthroat

Name: Hawthorn Past Names: Nameless/Son Age: 38 months (3 years)  Rank: Fellow Identity & Pronouns: CIS tom, he/him  Orientation: Bisexual 

Family: 

Unnamed vagabond mother

There were two rare sights in RiverClan: the first one was seeing Vervainstripe pissed off, the second one, which was even rarer, was seeing Vervainstripe and Nightthroat arguing. 

Lucky for Nightthroat, he got to experience both of those first-hand right now. 

Vervainstripe scowled at the tom standing before him, smack dab in the middle of RiverClan territory, and his gray tabby tail lashed, annoyed, behind him. 

“Get out of my way, Nightthroat,” Vervainstripe spat, lip curling. Nightthroat remained steadfast in his resolution to be as much of an inconvenience to Vervainstripe’s mission goal as possible; although, considering Vervainstripe could just go in a different direction, there was some part of him that wanted to stay and hear out what his friend had to say. Nightthroat was his best friend, after all, despite how much he was pissing Vervainstripe off now. 

“Move!” Vervainstripe snapped, advancing, and Nightthroat mirrored him in turn, stepping towards him. “There, I moved.”

“You know what I mean, smartass,” Vervainstripe’s voice dropped to a growl, his light green eyes narrowed with frustration. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You! You’re my problem! You won’t listen!” Nightthroat exclaimed, exasperated, his fur fluffing out around him. “Do you know how dangerous this is? Something could happen to you.”

“Something could happen to me with anything I do! That’s just how life is!”

“You’re supposed to avoid danger, not run head first into it and crack open your skull,” Nightthroat countered, pelt prickling. “Snowstar’s already suspicious, Vervainstripe, please, I’m begging you. Stop going.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Vervainstripe’s voice shook. “You supported me this far, why aren’t you now?” The annoyance from earlier melted into something colder, a dull ache in his chest, like he lost something important to him and couldn’t find it anywhere in the camp.

“The hounds hunting you down weren’t this close on your trail before,” Nightthroat answered, the fear in his eyes shining and evident. “I can’t - it’s not worth it anymore.”

The ache in Vervainstripe’s chest turned red-hot and bitter, any previous melancholy now replaced with a searing anger he hadn’t felt towards Nightthroat often - or at all, really. “Not worth it? Their lives are on the line!”

“So is yours!”

“Well, I can handle myself,” Vervainstripe retorted. “I’m not your child.”

“It’s not like that! You’re - you’re my best friend, dude. I’m scared for you, I’m worried for you - .”

“Then stop worrying about me,” Vervainstripe interrupted, bordering on a hiss. That must’ve struck a cord in Nightthroat, Vervainstripe realized too late, as the other tom’s eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath, preparing to say something impulsive or stupid or both.

“Stop worrying about you? Stop worrying about you?” Nightthroat echoed, and the way his voice rose told Vervainstripe all he needed to know, judging by the way guilt gnawed its way through his gut. “I can barely stop thinking about you! You know that? Do you know that?”

Vervainstripe flinched. Nightthroat’s mouth pulled into a thin line, forcing himself to shut up, while his claws dug anxiously into the loamy soil below. Nothing followed - just the sounds of their breaths coming out ragged and fast after their argument; Vervainstripe stared up at Nightthroat, their gazes locked, with his ears flattened and his eyes narrowed as he tried to work through his own feelings. Guilt, frustration, anxiety, alarm, urgency. Everything was just too much right now - he had too much to do, and as much as he cared about Nightthroat, he couldn’t risk an entire group of cats’ lives just because Nightthroat was worried Snowstar would get wise. She hadn’t yet, and if Snowstar did catch on eventually, then Vervainstripe would just have to burn that bridge when he got to it.

Coming to his own personal resolution, Vervainstripe pushed forward with determination, shouldering past Nightthroat and into the foliage beyond him.

“Vervainstripe -,” Nightthroat began, but Vervainstripe was quick to cut him off, voice straining as he shot back, “Just - just - just leave me alone.” 

There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the territory being disturbed as Vervainstripe stomped by, but then Nightthroat finally regained himself.

“Fine, then,” he snapped, voice cracking as he spoke, “get yourself hunted down! See what I care.” 

“You, uh, you could’ve died, you know.”

“I know.”

Nightpaw rolled a piece of moss from his nest between his shuffling black paws, opting to stare that down rather than look at Vervainpaw, huddled in the nest just before him. His voice sounded so nasally.

“And now you’re all sick,” Nightpaw added, not bringing his eyes up from the suddenly extremely interesting piece of moss. He heard a snotty laugh come from Vervainpaw, then a loud, wet sniffling followed. “I know.” 

Silence fell between the duo once more, only punctuated by the occasional snore of Hazelnose, sleeping soundly in their nest further down in the den. Nightpaw nearly jumped when Vervainpaw rustled in his nest and slapped his paw next to Nightpaw’s - not touching, just next to. 

“You’re all sick, too, though,” he said, and when Nightpaw finally lifted his eyes up to Vervainpaw, the other tom was wearing a grin that could rival the sun itself. Nightpaw found himself having to look back down between his paws again, his pelt ruffling up despite his best intentions. A mellow chuckle rolled from his chest, a low huff of laughter in the form of a puff of air from his clogged, stuffy nose and a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah, yeah I guess so.” 

He felt - he felt weird. Maybe the fever from earlier was back. He felt weird and warm and gushy and he swore every hair in his black pelt was on fire. Especially his face - why did his face feel this warm? The silence from earlier fell back on the duo again, and Nightpaw wondered if Vervainpaw was winding down to go to bed for the night - or perhaps, already passed out in his nest. 

“You’re worth it, you know,” Vervainpaw piped up again eventually, breaking the layer of silence Nightpaw had tucked in under. “Worth saving, I mean. I’d do it again.” 

Nightpaw dropped his head between his paws, pressing his face into the comfortingly cool moss that composed his nest below, all in a vain effort to muffle the startled whine that fell from his throat. Words could not begin to describe the way his thoughts stuttered to a halt in favor of instead flooding Nightpaw with a rush of emotions he wasn’t sure how to label yet.

Vervainpaw laughed beside him, a soothing, syruppy laugh that soaked into Nightpaw’s ears like honey soothing a sore throat. 

“You’re funny, Nightpaw.”