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The barn had a nice, quiet sort of quality in the world. Something untouched that Ravenpaw hadn’t realized existed before he had sank his claws into the heartstrings that bound him and ripped them aside. It was calm, like a puddle right in the middle of the ripples, like the one part of a rough gemstonethat’s almost a mirror in the chaos. It smelled like home. It smelled so different from the blood all over his paws.
His walking was slow, free but not light. For once, each step was purposeful. He hadn’t had meaning like this since he looked Tigerclaw in the eye and saw him watch Redtail eaten alive by spiders, puppeting his bulging and contorting body until the light drained from his eyes.
The barn was familiar, safe, and inside he saw two eyes reflecting the light and knew Barley was waiting for him to come back. Ravenpaw staggered forward, not because he had to but because he wanted to, and before he could say a thing Barley was welcoming him back, enveloped wholly in his chest floof and wrapped with his paws and Raven allowed himself to sob for the first time that night.
“You did it.” Barley said.
Ravenpaw’s claws scratched the ground as he sobbed, shaking, shivering.
“You did it.” Barley said again, quieter, like the first one was for the universe and the second one was just for him.
It was later. The barn reflected the moonlight off of spiderwebs and shiny hay and Ravenpaw had stayed awake because he couldn’t sleep and he was watching it all. He had a curious mix of feelings inside, like the space he had held so tightly, squeezed and constricted with fear and anxiety and spiderweb hooks in his skin, had now been scooped out and replaced with an empty cavity, brimming with potential. His body only remembered the fear, and he flinched at every sound without realizing why.
Barley was gone. Where was he? Ravenpaw must have drifted off there and he made his way down from the biggest haybale, hay soft against his pawpads. More familiar than the apprentice den had ever been. Where was Barley? Ravenpaw couldn’t smell a lot here. His paws weren’t red anymore but the blood had stained his one white paw and turned it a delicate shade of light pink. He hated this reminder but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it besides let it fade.
“Barley?” He called, voice small in the huge barn. No answer besides the echo against the walls. He couldn’t see the signature black and white spotted pelt from here, and so he walked out of the barn and over the grass until he smelled him on the wind.
Barley was on top of the fence the dogs were trapped by, curled into a ball. When he saw Ravenpaw come up to him, he froze and looked away. Ravenpaw clawed his way up the fence and flicked his tail, swaying until he balanced and could look at Barley. He stayed a few feet away because he couldn’t read the other cat’s expression or scent and it scared him a little bit.
“What’s happening?” He mewed, concern like a blanket wrapping up his anxiety.
“ I don’t.. I couldn’t…” Barley said. Raven saw his paws flex but of course, no claws came out, just scar tissue. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I thought it’d be okay. I thought I could get past it. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“Barley, you’re scaring me.”
“You scared me.”
Ravenpaw paused, leaned back a touch, bit his inner lip until he tasted blood. He felt his ears lay back, fur bristling and prickling uncomfortably around his shoulders.
“What?”
“All I can see when I close my eyes is you covered in blood.” Barley said, not looking at him, gritting his teeth, the words like a confession. “It’s stupid and horrible and hypocritical I know. But I see it anyways and it hurts.”
Ravenpaw lay down on top of the fence, resting his chin onto it in Barley’s direction but not too close. He forced his fur to lie flat but his ears still rested at his sides like he was expecting an attack. He watched the first breaths of frost freeze onto the grass.
“I’m sorry.” Barley said, finally.
“Yeah.”
“You did what you had to do.”
Ravenpaw’s paw was still pink, still stained. Would that ever wash off? Or would little flakes of Tigerstar’s blood stay caked onto his claws until the day he died?
There was another beat of silence. The evening wind whistled and the sides of the barn creaked and moaned with great difficulty. The sounds were already becoming familiar. Crazy, how fast everything could change.
“I’ve seen Scourge kill someone.” Barley said, breaking the delicate peace. He swallowed. “Saw it when I was scrounging for food one time. He’s got dog teeth pasted onto his claws- you saw that? Yeah- and he’ll start at the top of your neck and drag down and slit your belly and spill your guts before you even realize what’s happening.”
“I saw.” Ravenpaw said. “Saw him kill him. The first time.”
“Oh.”
Barley looked down again, paws like snowy mittens against the tarnished fencepost.
“I saw Scourge.” Ravenpaw said. His voice grew choked. “He looked a bit like me.”
Barley looked up, eyes suddenly filling with moisture as he looked directly at Ravenpaw. “No.”
“No?”
“Stars- Oh, fuck, I’ve been so stupid.”Barley tried to get up, balance wavering side to side like an uncertain decision or possibly a wish. “You’re nothing like him, Ravenpaw. You’re- you’re kind and you’re loyal and you’re soft and you’re nothing like him.” Tears started spilling out of his eyes, “Fuck, how could I have thought that?”
“It’s not your fault.” Ravenpaw said.
“But it is, isn’t it? I saw you covered in blood and all I could think of was him.”
Ravenpaw stood, walked forwards, pressed his forehead against Barley’s chest floof and shook his head softly. “No, no, no.” He repeated as Barley sniffled around him. “We’re all just having a shitty time of it, pretending to be good.”
“You are good.”
“Then so are you.”
Ravenpaw leaned back and looked in Barley’s eyes. Barley blinked, once, slowly, sniffling a bit more and hesitantly smiling. Ravenpaw felt his fur completely smooth down, his ears perk up as his body realized that everything might be okay.
“Trying, maybe. Failing sometimes.” Barley sniffled and laughed, coughing in the crisp air of late night or possibly very early morning. “Like now. I’m sorry.”
“We can try together.” Ravenpaw purred.
Barley looked like the words were a lifeline, a promise he had been waiting to hear for some time now.
“Together.”