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I’m still a Warrior no matter what you say!
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Boldclaw stretched in the mid-afternoon sun, yawning widely. It wasn’t as hot today as it had been of late, but even so the ever present weariness bore down on the pointed tom like rocks from a rockslide. He was tired of being tired. Annoyed and frustrated that Fawnstar seemed to constantly ignore his requests to discuss what seemed to be no longer a temporary move to the Elder’s Den. Quietly, Boldclaw lashed his tail as he watched the camp go about their day. He still felt a strong sense of unfairness to his lot, but had been trying to be quieter about it since his talk with Sunbear. The tom flinched at the memory. He had been so angry and then just to spite himself, he had uncontrollably fallen asleep. What hurt more, however, was that despite his anger and nastiness, the elder had still tucked him back into his nest. At least he assumed she had. He dreaded to think that he might be sleep walking as well. Boldclaw shivered at the thought and stared at his paws as he tried to work out how to feel.

After a while, the cream-pelted tom looked back up at the camp and slumped. Warriors were leaving for patrols, bringing prey back or talking quietly together and it reminded Boldclaw of all that he was missing out on. Not only was he no longer allowed to hunt and fight for the clan, but the removal from the Warriors’ Den had seemingly ended all his social attempts. He had no friends to talk to, no topics to bring up. More than that, when the kits visited the Elders’ Den it was never to hear from him. They might ask, but he had no accumulated stories from a long life like the actual elders. He bored them quickly when he did try to tell some sort of story. A sense of hopelessness came over Boldclaw and he lay his head on his paws, feeling sorry for himself. Too young to be interesting as an elder, too afflicted to be allowed to continue warrior duties, and no understanding of why his life had become like this. Had he really tried his hardest to be Windclan’s greatest warrior for nothing? Was he mistaken in thinking that his affliction was a blessing from Starclan? Maybe it was a curse for something he had done? Boldclaw shook the thoughts away and turned his mind firmly back to being angry. Pity hurt too much, besides he had never done anything wrong, his sleepiness was a blessing, he just had to work out how to live with it so that he could hear and remember Starclan’s messages. Then Windclan would respect him once more.