=In The Weasel's Eye = Weaselcharm SRP Pt. 2

Instructions

Fear was ever present in everyone, and to deny such a fact would be ignorant and foolish. Everyone felt fear, even the strongest of warriors, and it seemed that Weaselcharm, at least at the moment, was no different. For the past moon, Weaselcharm had lived in fear, a terror barely concealed by his fake attempts at confidence and laughs that sounded more forced than not. Everyone inevitably feared something, a fact painfully obvious in the deputy's mind. But why did that terror have to grow? Why did it become the only thing he could think about? At first, it had been manageable, a small worry that stuck to the back of his mind that he could wave off and pretend didn't exist at a moment's notice. But now? It was all he could think about. Despite Helleborestar's reassurances that no one would forget him, he couldn't help but think of the sad reality that was to occur after he was gone. Shadowclan would have a new deputy almost instantly, a foolish cat who would be nowhere as good as he was, but who the clan would turn to almost instantly, forgetting he ever existed in the first place. Blind loyalty to a cat who replaced him after Weaselcharm had given everything. All of this he was sure of, and as time went by, it was harder to change his mind on the issue. /no one/ would be better than him, no one! He was smart, kind, dedicated, and brave. Everything a deputy should be. Who would be able to best him at that? But despite everything, despite all of his victories, the end was still cruel, and Weaselcharm's name would fade from existence eventually, and this he hated more than anything in the world. The hate he felt for life's forgetfulness could fill the whole of Shadowclan, for it was too unfair to be true. As days went by, it wasn't hard to see that Weaselcharm's fear had become more and more consuming, the anger and terror in his eyes more difficult to hide, which he compensated for by instead opting to hide away from the clan. He spent less and less time socializing with others, lingering in the territory or on the edges of camp, hiding his face from anyone who dared look, worried that they would see him and know something was wrong with the deputy who had shown nothing but confidence before. The only thing that seemed to stay consistent was the time he spent with his family, where he would plaster on a smile and pretend nothing was wrong. It was moments like these where he almost felt normal. Almost. It was at this time that Weaselcharm learned that hiding fear wasn't as easy as hiding hate. He had been good at that, back when he and Helleborestar were rivals. He had been able to hide anger at a moment's notice, even when it was all he felt. Why was this any different? It was on a day like any other when something… changed. Weaselcharm hadn’t really spoken to anyone, hadn’t made his presence known in the clan like he usually did. When the sun started rising, he was quick to scurry off and go to bed, exiting the scene like a ghost, pawsteps silent yet quick. It was clear he didn’t want to be seen anymore, clear he preferred to hide away, at least for now. Sleeping was difficult, eluding him for several hours as he stared up at the ceiling of the den, eyes wide and unblinking. Quietly contemplating. But after several hours, he could feel his eyes getting heavy, a yawn tugging at his muzzle. Finally, despite everything, Weaselcharm was able to fall asleep. - - - His paws felt lighter as he padded through the forest, the chirp of the birds silent for once. It was eerier than normal, which was saying something for Shadowclan, where everything just felt a bit strange. Brown-furred creatures with long bodies and small ears scurried through the underbrush, barely visible until they disappeared again, as if they were never even there. To say Weaselcharm was confused would be an understatement, but he kept trudging forward, eyes locked on whatever was ahead, not sure what awaited him, if anything at all. After a few more minutes of walking, he arrived at a clearing, a small patch of grass surrounded by trees and bushes. Unassuming. If anything, it reminded Weaselcharm of a place in Shadowclan territory that he liked to visit, which made him smile. A small puddle, possibly from a recent rain, sat off to the side, and despite wanting to explore, Weaselcharm couldn't help but pad over. As soon as Weaselcharm stared into the puzzle, a sense of shock filled him. He /didn't recognize/ the cat staring back at him, the ripples upon the water blinding him to his own face. But it was undeniably /him/ underneath all of that, underneath the confusion. A soul attached to the wrong face, a face he couldn't recognize but knew was his. The wrong being but the right heart. It was just a dream, but he had no way of knowing that. Or perhaps, he did know and just refused to ackowledge it. [cont]