Are Ya Winnin Son?

Creekpelt
Gatherings hadn't been going well for Creekpelt the last couple moons, so when Flintstar had banned him and Rustleflame from attending the last one after he had revealed their past relationship with Rowanscar, it was, in a way, a welcome relief. But in another way, it was also the worst punishment she could give him— because despite how treading around circles of LynxClan cats had become more akin to treading through a nest of vipers, each time he'd been metaphorically bitten the last few moons, he'd also learned truths that had changed his life. It had been painful, incredibly so, but he would have experienced it all over again rather than continue to live in ignorance of his mistakes. And he'd gotten through it all with his head held high— mostly.

His head was ducked low now, but only because he was skirting past a group of LynxClan warriors. He didn't look closely enough to recognize any pelts, and he didn't care to. He didn't want to shun all LynxClan cats, but if Briarstep was around, it'd have to be up to him to single out Creekpelt. He had to be mindful to avoid stepping on the wrong tails this night.

Unfortunately, his paws were large, and his spatial awareness was very, very small. “Sorry!” He apologized quickly, withdrawing his paw from the white-tipped tail before he had put much weight on it at all— a practiced motion, as many of his den mates could attest to. His mouth was already running as his eyes followed the red-furred tail back to its host. “I didn't get it too badly, did I? I'm always bumping into cats or stepping on limbs, I promise it was nothing personal…” His words trailed off as he took in the red tabby in front of him.

He was a young tom, either an older apprentice or a recently named warrior. Creekpelt's analysis of him would've ended there if not for the scent of LynxClan, which prompted him to notice the white marking on his face that matched perfectly Rowanscar and Beetlestar, his red fur that matched closely to Rustleflame's, and the way his tabby stripes ran down his shoulders— much the same as Creekpelt's own. “Leopardpaw?” Creekpelt asked, his mouth suddenly dry and his stomach hollow.

Leopardpaw
The red-furred apprentice hadn’t looked anything in the eyes for what felt like a lifetime. After Bearpaw’s passing, everything had sort of… Well, it had fallen apart. Lionpaw apparently couldn’t stand the sight of him, and Rowanscar had all but disappeared into herself. Everyone else in his family was trying to deal with all of that in the best way they could, but Leopardpaw had kind of just… existed. He didn’t know what to feel anymore. Everything felt wrong. Even his aunties, who he turned to whenever things felt especially vulnerable, were also dealing with their own things. This was certainly the case for Otterspark, who was dealing with grief three times the size of his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her smile.

Leopardpaw wasn’t even sure why he’d come to the Gathering. Was it for a change of pace, perhaps? Was it because he wished to escape the unbearable weight of misery and suffering? All of this was viable, and while he likely should’ve stayed at home… He also couldn’t think of anything worse. Right now, what he needed was to try and pretend like everything was normal. Or as normal as it could be under the circumstances. This was a lot harder than he initially thought, but he was at least going to try. The alternative was to stay in camp and continue with his depressing routine, and he would much rather try anything else than go back to that at this moment.

His attention had been planted on the floor this whole time, and so it took him a moment to register that his tail was being trodden on by the slightly larger body of a dark-furred tom who stunk of SnakeClan. Leopardpaw peered down at his tail for a moment before pulling it back towards his body, his gaze searching up and landing on a face that— Well, he’d never met this tom before in his life. He groomed the fur around his shoulders to flatten it, and then sighed, “You’re fine. It didn’t hurt, so no biggie.” He stated simply. Leopardpaw despised how flat his voice had become, but he had found no way of fixing it so far so it was just… stuck. Why bother putting any emotion into his voice when he hardly felt any? Exactly.

A small spark of curiosity lighted in his eyes as the stranger said his name, however. His gaze once more searched the SnakeClan tom’s face, though this time with much more invigorated interest. Leopardpaw came back disappointed though. Flicking an ear and feeling slightly uncomfortable for not recognising whoever this was, he avoided the other’s eyes, searching instead for someone to take him away from here, though nobody who cared enough to do that for him had come to the Gathering. Feeling slightly trapped, he finally responded, “Sorry but… Do I know you?” His thoughts didn’t wander to any important SnakeClan cats he should know, instead only focused on the idea that perhaps he should’ve stayed back at camp if he was just going to have uncomfortable interactions with cats he’d never met before.

Creekpelt
Creekpelt sat dumbfounded for a few moments, his tongue moving stiffly in his mouth as he tried to form words. StarClan had a sadistic sense of humor, he thought— but then, maybe this was his punishment's for breaking the warrior code. Maybe he was bearing his mother's punishment's too, because it all felt too cruel a punishment for just one cat.

“N... no, sorry, you don't.” He eventually forced the words out after a few heartbeats of awkward silence. “My... my name is Creekpelt,” He introduced himself, trying to steel himself over, but cringing inwardly at what he knew was already shaping up to be another poor interaction with one of Rowanscar's kits. “Lionpaw probably... your mom said she told you about me?” He asked, quietly relieved he at least didn't have to stumble over that explanation again.

“I'll— I'll leave if you want me to,” He offered quickly. “Lionpaw said she didn't want me to speak to you, so I— It's fine if you want the same,” He hastily tried to explain, a part of him hoping the Leopardpaw would send him away. As horrible as the interaction with Lionpaw had gone, leaving her and her remaining brother alone was at least less effort than any other alternative.

Leopardpaw
The atmosphere between them only became more awkward as Leopardpaw waited for the other tom to respond. He flicked an ear, not wanting to really pressure the stranger to reply to him, thinking that perhaps he would just move on. This was evidently not a very pleasant conversation… Though before his thoughts began to drift off too far, the dark-furred tom spoke again, and Leopardpaw’s gaze flickered back to him. Creekpelt? His mother? Lionpaw?

His shoulders suddenly felt very stiff. He didn’t really understand what all these details piled together really meant. Leopardpaw would’ve just thought nothing of it, if Creekpelt hadn’t mentioned his littermate. How come she didn’t want this particular cat to approach him? Had he done something? The red-furred apprentice blinked, finally replying, “Well… Uh. Nice to meet you, I guess?” What else was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to pry too deeply (nor did he have much energy to), but something deep in his gut was pushing him to do so.

“Why would my mother mention you?” Leopardpaw asked quietly, trying to figure out the significance of all this. “And why would Lionpaw tell you not to speak to me?” He pushed aside the annoyance that sprung up at the idea Lionpaw was trying to control anything that happened in his life, instead focusing on his curiosity. This tom had apparently met half of his family so he was evidently important. A heartbeat passed before his stomach suddenly dropped. Creekpelt smelled like SnakeClan… And Rowanscar had only mentioned SnakeClan once before, in a very significant conversation.

He already knew the answer but he wanted to make sure, anyway. Perhaps he was mistaken, or overthinking it? Swallowing hard, he spoke again, “What— What Clan did you say you were from?” Even though Creekpelt had never mentioned a Clan.

Creekpelt
It was childish, but Creekpelt suddenly couldn’t bring himself to look above his own paws. He was praying that Leopardpaw would just send him away, though with preferably less venom than Lionpaw had— but instead, he sounded… confused. Confused, even after Creekpelt had told him his name, like he hadn’t even heard it before. “I… Rowanscar said—” His mind reeled, trying to backtrack to the last time he had spoken to Rowanscar, in that horrible conversation across the border. She said that… she said she told her one kit who asked her. Was he wrong to assume that she had been referring to Leopardpaw? StarClan, she only had the two kits left, and Lionpaw obviously hadn’t known.

He kept his jaw firmly shut as Leopardpaw inquired further, eyes finally lifting up past his paws only to stare just past the apprentice’s shoulder, still unable to completely meet his gaze. Rowanscar, you… a dozen insults passed through his head, but he suppressed himself from thinking any of them too loudly, self-conscious of her kit sitting a tail-length away.

He didn’t want to try and explain this again. But he knew he had to. “I… I’m from SnakeClan.” He answered, momentarily glad for the simple question that he knew how to answer. But even that question isn’t simple. “Though— my father is in LynxClan. It’s— That was only something I learned after becoming a warrior, though, and after I had already—” He cut himself off, inhaling deeply. Leopardpaw didn’t need to hear his whole life story. Only the parts that concerned him. “I… knew your mother when I was a young warrior. Her, me, and my clanmate, Rustleflame. We were… close.”

His throat was parched. After two attempts, he managed to swallow. “When she had kits, I didn’t know that…” He trailed off, unwilling to claim ownership over Leopardpaw or his sister. He was sure Leopardpaw wouldn’t appreciate it, and furthermore, Creekpelt didn’t want any of it. But he thought about his father in LynxClan, and how Silverwind was still hardly more than a stranger to him, and he promised himself to be better. “I just learned a few moons ago. I’m sorry I didn’t find you earlier, but… Lionpaw was pretty clear with how much she wanted to see me, and I didn’t want to…” Words were so hard. He exhaled sharply, frustrated at how terrible he was at explaining himself. “I want to do whatever makes her comfortable. Whatever makes you comfortable.” He amended.

Under his fur, beneath the awkwardness of the encounter and frustration at himself for making it so awkward, he burned with anger that he had to be the cat to explain this to both of Rowanscar’s kits. But they were, in a sense, his responsibility as well as hers. And if this was how he had to pay that, then… well, he was here, doing it.

Leopardpaw
Now that he had become so much more concerned about what this discussion might entail, Leopardpaw’s attention never swayed from Creekpelt’s face, analysing any small change. A part of him wanted to connect, to see if there were any similarities between the two of them— to find out whether his suspicions were true. He didn’t even take much notice of the slight accusation in the other tom’s voice, how he seemed to say Rowanscar’s name with hardly concealed venom. Instead, he waited for Creekpelt to explain, to make sense of it all. Why was it that everyone but him had seemed to interact with this SnakeClan cat? And why did this realisation hurt his feelings, however minutely?

The apprentice had to control himself not to snap at Creekpelt to look at him. If he wanted answers, he had to be patient. Besides, he’d made it this far without so much of a mention of either Creekpelt or Rustleflame… So would it really pain him that much to go a bit longer? “Rustleflame.” He echoed, as if testing out the name. Another one he’d never heard before. Leopardpaw was beginning to grow agitated, though not at Creekpelt. It wasn’t his fault that every member of his family apparently held secrets… Secrets that they hid specifically from Leopardpaw. Flicking his tail to try and calm himself down, he inquired, “Close?” He wasn’t really asking a question and he didn’t really need an answer. The tom had a feeling he knew exactly what that meant, though he didn’t really understand it.

A small scoff escaped him, “Well you weren’t the only one clueless, so.” He couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. He’d always been the first to support Rowanscar, no matter what she did. Even now, this wouldn’t be something that would cause him to part from her… Though he couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed. He wasn’t a kit anymore. She could have at least mentioned names, especially when he’d reached apprenticeship. He deserved to know. Leopardpaw spoke up again, trying to ignore all the negative feelings clenching his chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a brat.” Now he sighed, releasing his frustrations. “She, uh… She told me about you guys, but didn’t exactly mention names. Just said SnakeClan.”

There was a slight irony that he was finding out who his biological father — or, well fathers in this case — was now. Leopardpaw couldn’t even remember if Rowanscar even said that there were two potential fathers. She probably did. It had been so long ago that all the details had left him now. Plus, Reedsprout had sort of filled the hole in Leopardpaw’s heart. He’d never complained about it or let it upset him, but the LynxClan tom had fulfilled a role Leopardpaw hadn’t even been aware that he’d needed. After a little while, all questions regarding his biological father had just… faded from his mind, because he had a father. Well, apparently he now had three.

Leopardpaw held in the cringe that was building up. This was… awful. He wasn’t in the right headspace to even deal with this properly right now, let alone alongside the fact that he was still grieving the loss of his brother and the shell his mother had become. Any other time, Leopardpaw would’ve been ecstatic — asking questions, accepting Creekpelt as his father and acting like they’d never been apart. But he didn’t have the energy for all that right at this moment. He had to concentrate on not regurgitating the prey he’d eaten, feeling incredibly vulnerable. It wasn’t exactly like Rowanscar had lied… Right?

Unless you believed that she lied by omission.

Creekpelt
“If it were up to me,” He was speaking before he fully processed the words, latching onto the moment he heard the same hint of frustration and bitterness in Leopardpaw’s voice that he felt. “Everyone would’ve known. No secrets— none.” He pressed, momentarily digging his claws into the moist soil underpaw. He thought there were no more secrets left, but here he was, still cleaning up Rowanscar’s mess. It’s my mess too, he reminded himself belatedly. It was just so easy to blame it all on Rowanscar— and he did blame her for most of it. But not all.

“She...” He made a noise between a hum and a growl, pulling back on the many things he could’ve said about Rowanscar to end that statement. If Leopardpaw was worried about sounding like a brat, what must Creekpelt sound like? “I wish she had given you our names.” He settled on saying. “But she probably didn’t want you seeking me out for that exact reason. I only found out after…” He trailed off, momentarily reliving that awful encounter once again. “... Rowanscar told me after… after Bearpaw.” And then he had to bring up the apprentice’s dead brother. Great job, idiot. But under the embarrassment and nervousness, there was still that same anger, because Rowanscar hadn’t even meant to tell him then, it had just slipped out because she was so—

“I’m sorry,” He meowed, knowing that Leopardpaw must still be feeling the loss. He hoped the apprentice was dealing with it better than his mother was. “I wish I could’ve met him.” A heartbeat passed. “Though,” he amended after a moment of thought, “Lionpaw seemed to think he would’ve hated me.” So maybe it’s for the best, his mind finished. Luckily, he had just enough sense not to say it aloud.

“... You don’t seem to hate me?” He asked cautiously after a few more heartbeats passed. It was more an observation than a question— there was far less spiked fur and insults being thrown now than how his interactions with Rowanscar and Lionpaw had gone. But he was too self-conscious of himself and his position to dare assume it as a fact.

Leopardpaw
The apprentice was a little taken aback to hear the tone of voice that Creekpelt used. From all the memories that he held that may have at least hinted at his father, he had never got the impression that Rowanscar had been on bad terms with them. But to be fair, that likely didn’t really mean much when regarding everything else. If his mother had kept the important details to herself for the entirety of Leopardpaw’s life, then it wasn’t entirely shocking to learn that things weren’t great between his parents. The red-furred tom perked his ears, nodding, “Yeah… me too.” His tail flicked as he tried to keep his irritation to a minimum. He didn’t want to be angry with Rowanscar, but this entire situation was so unfair. Leopardpaw felt completely out of his depth.

He ended up nodding again, agreeing once more with the other tom, “Sure would’ve made everything easier, I suppose. And a lot less confusing.” Leopardpaw said this last part with a little huff, his head already hurting just a little from this interaction. He hadn’t actually been expecting to talk to anyone, let alone find out about all this. He suppressed a sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. At the mention of Bearpaw, this tiredness turned into exhaustion. His shoulders slumped and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Oh… yeah. Bearpaw.” His chest felt like it was collapsing. It felt strange to say his name, especially after everything that had been happening with Rowanscar lately.

A dry chuckle left him at Creekpelt’s last words. “Lionpaw likes to say a lot of things to hurt people. But… I think she’s probably right.” Leopardpaw suddenly felt incredibly guilty, feeling like he had to explain, “That doesn’t really mean much though! I don’t think Bearpaw really liked anyone. I know he especially despised me, so…” He trailed off a little awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. That was the truth though, wasn’t it? Leopardpaw thought that Bearpaw would be pissed if he’d said it any other way or tried to pretend that they’d gotten along. His brother had always had the tendency to tell the truth, though sometimes he was a little too honest for Leopardpaw’s liking. He missed him so much.

He glanced up quickly at the other tom, a little alarmed at the statement. Well… He didn’t hate Creekpelt. At all, actually. He thought for a second, furrowing his eyebrows, “No. I don’t hate you. To be honest, I never really felt the need to. I’ve always had a dad.” He paused for a second, before realising that maybe Creekpelt didn’t know about any of this (from what he’d learned about Rowanscar’s habits by now). “Uh, Reedsprout? He’s always been there for me. I guess the others… Uh, well… They never accepted him or even liked him at all, really. Wherever their hatred stems from is lost to me.” Leopardpaw confessed. He didn’t really realise why he was saying all this, but it felt like the right thing to say. Although he stopped talking, thinking that he’d perhaps said enough.

Creekpelt
Creekpelt could feel the weight in the air after his mention of Bearpaw, and he yearned to go back in time and take his careless words back, take back ever admitting that he recognized Leopardpaw as Rowanscar’s kit, take back ever even meeting Rowanscar—

He breathed in purposefully, and let it out in an awkward exhale of amusement as Leopardpaw admitted that he wasn’t very much liked by his brother, though Creekpelt wasn’t sure if it was meant as a joke. “I’m not very popular with my littermates either,” He confessed. “At least, ever since I found out we were half clan and told everyone— or since I found out about you and Lionpaw, and then… told everyone again,” He admitted. A small part of him recognized the pattern and momentarily thought that he understood Rowanscar’s point of view, but he crushed the thought as quickly as it occurred. Some things shouldn’t be kept as secrets. He was right to tell everyone. He had to be.

Hearing the confirmation that Leopardpaw didn’t hate him took a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t even realised was there— but without it, he was left feeling unbalanced, unsure of what he was meant to do if not being told to stay away. “I’ve heard about Reedsprout,” He said for lack of anything else. “I don’t know him, but I knew that he was Rowanscar’s mate.” He’d also assumed that he was the father of her kits— and while after learning the truth he had felt like a complete idiot for thinking so, he was gratified now to learn it was at least partially true. “I’m glad to hear he was there for you.”

He paused, and he could feel the awkward silence creeping back in. He sent a quick, longing glance over his shoulder at the split rock, wishing for the gathering announcements to begin and cut the conversation short.

“I’m, uh— I don’t know how to act,” He admitted, his mouth blurting out the truth as it always did, usually to his detriment. “I don’t know how to be… what I am, to you,” He cringed at his awkward wording, but he pressed on anyway. “But, uh… when I spoke to Lionpaw, I told her that I was there for her if she… wanted me to be. She didn’t, obviously,” He cleared his throat. “But… the same offer is there for you. I can’t promise that I’ll amaze or impress you— probably the opposite, if that wasn’t clear already— but… if you want to be… acquaintances, or— or anything else. Friends, maybe—” Creekpelt swallowed, moistening his dry mouth. He was so careful to avoid crossing that line and claim to be something he never was to Leopardpaw, but he still felt the urge to be better than his father had been for him. He’d wished so desperately that Silverwind had reached out more after learning the truth, that they could at least try to have any kind of relationship. Despite his own limitations and hesitations, he had to offer Leopardpaw the thing that his own father had never given to him. “I’m here.”

Leopardpaw
A small smile appeared on his face at Creekpelt’s admittance to being a serial confessor. There was a part of him that understood that: Leopardpaw also had difficulty with always telling the truth— If he didn’t, he found that he ended up feeling weirdly dirty, no matter how small the secret may have been. Secrets were better told in his opinion, even if they might hurt someone else’s feelings. Leopardpaw believed that it was better to tell someone something that might hurt them from your own mouth, rather than let them find out when they least expect it.

Just like what was happening now.

“Well… You seem like a decent cat to me.” The tom admitted quietly, suddenly feeling very bashful. He knew that he’d only known Creekpelt for a few moments, but he felt very secure around him— Like he could admit a dark thought and not be judged for it. Not that Leopardpaw really had dark thoughts… Except, perhaps, the recent ones he’d had against his mother though the apprentice felt that they were at least somewhat justified given the circumstances.

At the mention of Reedsprout, the red-furred tom brightened considerably, “Yeah, he’s great! Actually, he’s also mentoring me— So I guess he’s been there for me in more ways than one.” He hesitated, trying to make an effort not to cause Creekpelt to feel bad. It wasn’t exactly his fault for not being able to be there for Leopardpaw… He certainly played a part in the relationship, but he hadn’t known about his kits. There was a short silence as the two toms tried to think up something to say. Leopardpaw was grateful to Creekpelt for speaking again first.

He hesitated, though not out of awkwardness this time— Instead, the red-furred apprentice felt incredibly touched. Leopardpaw blinked at the warrior, his father, before him, initially unsure of how he was supposed to respond. What words would ever get his true depth of feelings across? He settled for a slightly gruff ‘Thank you’ as he choked the words out. “I appreciate that. It might be a lil’ stiff at first, but I would like to get to know you. Maybe hear some stories sometime.”

Then, he smiled. A soft, genuine smile. Creekpelt’s (albeit very clumsy) confession had truly warmed the apprentice’s heart, who honestly wanted nothing more than to take up the tabby’s offer. He never liked giving up, and this was one of those situations— Even if their relationship might have started out a little rocky, Leopardpaw had hope of what it might develop into. He already had a dad in his own eyes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have one more.

Or perhaps even two.