[attr="class","adrie-c"]

[attr="class","adrie-img"]

[attr="class","adrie-img2"]

[attr="class","inner-finally"]A torrent of tumultuous emotions surged through the deputy's mind, etched within his amber chasms as a visage of concern. Distress softened his hardened expression, substituted by traces of anxiety and frustration. The realization of his failure to adequately protect his children plagued him, his possessive instincts intensifying as the years prematurely transformed them into young adults. In most recent moons, Bullwasp has attempted to interrupt training sessions and lessen the time his father spends unattended with his children. With the unalterable passage of time, Bullwasp clung to the desperate hope that his children, particularly the defiant Goatstripe, would eventually find it within their hearts to absolve him of his shortcomings. Every flicker of movement from Goatstripe's willowy frame sent a ripple of trepidation rushing through the deputy's veins. The acrid lump in his throat threatened to suffocate him with apprehension as he struggled to suppress the rising tide of dread. He refused to witness the untimely demise of his son; fate had spared him once, and he was resolved to ensure its unwavering decree.

"Coward?" Bullwasp hissed in query, the insult cutting deep. His eyes narrowed, their amber depths swirling with a dangerous mix of fury and hurt. Despite his larger size and imposing presence, he felt a sting of shame at Goatstripe's comment. Deep down, a flicker of doubt gnawed at him. Had he indeed been a coward when he had failed to act on Bisonstorm's declarations? Could he have prevented the tragedy that had befallen his mate and kits? But then, a projection of defiance flushed over him. He was Bullwasp, the deputy of OrchidClan. He had faced countless dangers and emerged victorious, particularly from the wrath of his father, Bisonstorm. He would not let his son's scorn break him.

"I never wanted to be seen as a coward, Goatstripe," he bellowed, his voice a low, menacing rumble. Bisonstorm is a shrewd and vengeful tom in general, harboring a long-harbored, deep-rooted grudge against Bullwasp. This hatred stemmed from a long-standing feud between the two, which had its roots in a familial dispute that had escalated into a bitter rivalry. Bisonstorm, driven by his desire for vengeance, had concocted a sinister plan to eliminate Goatstripe, Bullwasp's beloved son, in a bid to weaken his adversary and assert his eminence. He succeeded at that moment, though evidently, his endeavors flunked miserably. However, not entirely, considering the condition in which Goatstripe was discovered. As Bullwasp stood before Goatstripe, his son couldn't even abide to look at him, although Bullwasp's watch locked upon him like daggers; a squall of anger and resentment raged within him. However, this anger and resentment wasn't toward Goatstripe; it was the facade of a warrior with guilt. He had endured countless nights of torment, witnessing firsthand the scars inflicted upon his precious son without uttering a single word. The weight of his silence had crushed him, leaving a void that gnawed at his soul. Yet now, in Goatstripe's callous response, he was vilified as an apathetic father, a traitor who had abandoned his flesh and blood.

Bullwasp's talons unsheathed and flexed involuntarily, the urge to tear into the younger warrior's smug exterior almost irresistible. But amidst the turmoil, a spark of resistance to acting out kindled within him. He would not let Goatstripe define him. He had been a coward, a doormat; however, he was not heartless. He had searched for his son with every fiber of his being, his digits bloodied and his essence broken. And while he may have failed to protect Goatstripe from his grandfather's cruelty, he would not allow Goatstripe to calumniate his devotion and anguish. In a poignant moment of self-reproach, Bullwasp, his gaze lost in the depths of the forest, uttered words that reverberated through the enveloping silence. His voice carried a weight of remorse, each syllable an echo of his shattered dreams. "I failed my children; I failed you," he divulged, his core heavy with the burden of his past actions. In seeing Goatstripe now, he understood the depths of the damage he had inflicted upon his loved ones. The silence of his son felt like a testament to the chasm he had created between them, engraved in him, amplifying the emptiness that consumed him. Bullwasp's words were a stark acknowledgment of his failures, and he was condemned to bear the weight of that knowledge for the remainder of his existence.

As Bullwasp meticulously swept their surroundings, the weight of doubt and impending doom clung to him like a persistent shadow. The possibility of finding a haven for Goatstripe, a place where he could finally rest without fear, seemed like a fading mirage foreordained to betray him with its elusive nature. The very thought of being abandoned again, this time by his sire, would create more remorse, a grim reminder of his deep-rooted sequestration. Bullwasp's deep orange orbs averted towards Goatstripe, who possessed a gnawing ache in his body; the throbbing pain that mocked his every movement presented him with a cruel ultimatum. Even if the revered medicine cat graced them with their presence, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, Bullwasp questioned the allure of returning to the treacherous confines of OrchidClan. The mere idea of confronting the scene of his unspeakable torment, where Bisonstorm still reigned supreme in the family, filled him with an all-consuming apprehension. An anguished lament echoed within his very crux, nearly swallowing him whole in contemplation.

Bullwasp's heart clenched at the sight of Goatstripe's frail stature, perilously close to the escarpment of the afterlife. The towering tomcat refused to surrender his child to the unyielding clasp of StarClan. With a contrary scoff, he approached Goatstripe, casting a pall of protection over his fading kin. Bullwasp's voice carried a profound weight as he whispered, "I will not allow StarClan to claim you, Goatstripe. You will rise and regain your strength." The words hung in the air, imbued with a tenacious determination that belied the tumult within Bullwasp's own heart. He would not stand idly by and watch as the relentless claws of destiny threatened to extinguish the flame of Goatstripe's life. The behemoth feline's every fiber reverberated. With a deliberate and measured descent, Bullwasp lowered his colossal form toward the solid ground, harnessing his crania and raw strength. He effortlessly lifted the robust frame of Goatstripe, who was also of considerable size. Goatstripe's gangly legs hung limply from each side of Bullwasp's imposing flanks, resting horizontally upon the broad expanse of his back. Bullwasp quickened his gait towards OrchidClan's camp, eschewing a hasty sprint in favor of a controlled, purposeful stride. This cultivated shuffle carried them steadily along the path, with a determined cadence to speak with the medicine cat, Iceeyes.