Текст - мт.
Графика - *карамелькин

emberpaw stuck his nose out of the stuffy den. all the other apprentices had been curled up asleep, chasing their dreams. but the only dreams the young tom was able to chase was blurry images of the she-cat he had met at the gathering. no matter what he did, he was not able to get her words out of his mind, 'meet me here in three days.'

and now, it was three nights since the gathering. if hawkstrider finds out about this...well no, no one will find out about this. i'm just going to see her. besides, i bet my whiskers she won't even show up. but deep inside, he knew he was hoping to see that familiar face.

slowly, he pushed his way past the dirt-place tunnel, and made his way into the fresh air. the birds whispered their songs quietly, not daring enough to wake the night of it's silence. emberpaw had always liked the night time, it let him unwind from everything that was going on in his life.

he followed the familiar route to fourtrees, wrinkling his nose at the lingering smells of all four clans. the stars sang and dance in the moonlight, and ancestral voices whispered in the wind, making dead leaves move across the forest floor.

for the first time, he felt hesitant to go through and step into fourtrees. moths fluttered in his chest and he felt as if they would never be free. he sighed and sat down, trying to clear his troubled mind of every thing.

why did there have to be so many stinking rules? why did he feel guilt clawing at his lovesick heart? why was in love with a thunderclan she-cat? starclan! everything seemed to be getting even more confusing.

the birds had stopped their soft songs and now the cricket's reign began. the fireflies danced around his autumn colored ears and made him smile. no matter what he was feeling, he would always remember this moment, this life changing moment.

gathering up his courage, he took a deep breath and whispered, 'lilypaw?' he stepped into the light that bathed his fur. it made all the golden colours turn silver in the light.
(с) [ember].[paw]

A lithe, creamy brown warrior followed her clan, WindClan, to the gathering as the moved briskly over the white tundra. Sighing, Daisyfield looked around, her pelt fluffed up in the cold weather. This is the only time of year I don't like, she thought to herself, picking up her paws and shaking them to get rid of the snow. Crouching down, she saw saw the signal to move and followed the rest of the clan in, blinking her yellow eyes to get snow out of them. Reaching the clearing, she sat down, looking around, before going over to where a couple of warriors were talking. Nodding her head in greeting, she settled down and listened silently, waiting for the gathering to start.
(с) *~Daisyfield~*

Sweetmelody didn't say anything at first, she just stood there, gawking. He wondered for a moment if she had planned on saying anything to begin with. Who would forget what they wanted to say? His emerald gaze was level, though a brow raised ever so slightly. He expected her to at least say something, hell, even Hi, how ya doin?, not just stand there like a tree. He leaned forward, waiting as patiently as he could. He blinked once, and he could have swore he'd heard her say something... Hello, Smallclaw, Sweetmelody, I assume you can hear me? His heart stopped dead for three seconds, and his deep eyes grew wide. What was that? Glancing around swiftly, he circled his spot, his moonstones hard as he scanned the entire clearing around him for signs of a familiar ginger pelt, but he found none in sight. "No..." he whispered, his voice hoarse as he whipped towards Sweetmelody. "No! Stop that!" He growled, the firelight in his rays beginning to creep back into its olive depths. She was playing with him! She knew Sparrowflight so well, so she thought she could just... mimic her, huh!? The same laugh, too. His fury was rising again.

He'd loved Sparrowflight more than anything, and she was gone now. There was no reason to keep talking about her when the thought and memory of her obviously pained him. He narrowed his eyes at the Warrior, while his ears fell back ever so slightly. Well, I hope you can. I'm not exactly sure how this dead cat thing works exactly. First time I tried it so far. My, it's a chilly night isn't it? He... couldn't believe it... he felt his blood run cold, and all the heat from his face fade away. No, this wasn't happening. I can't do this all over again! I can't take this anymore! If Sweetmelody was seeing him, he was sure she could see his ghostly gaze now, emerald though, chilling. All of those precious memories of her, of fighting for her, of loving her, and she was dead! He knew it, and he'd always known it since she disappeared, but whatever was going on now didn't make him feel comforted, relieved or joyous. He wasn't even afraid, he was angry and shocked, and he wanted it all to go away! For once, Smallclaw was at a lost for words. He arched his back, his dark, sleek fur reflected silver under the moonlight.

He knew Sweetmelody was stunned too, but he didn't laugh, and he didn't smile. He was hearing her perfectly fine, he was just too shaken and upset to move, or even speak. Now, Smallclaw, listen to what the young one has to say and don't be too harsh on her. Can't you tell she's dead scared of you and your attitude? He gritted his teeth, his expression never easing, only tightening into a hard, cold stare straight ahead. If Sweetmelody moved, he could even still be staring past her. He didn't want to acknowledge that any of this was happening, but there were so many signs of proof that it was. He knew if he turned to look for Sparrowflight, she would not be there. She would not be right, nor left, she wouldn't be whole. She was dead. And she would be dead forever. I'm not who I used to be, can't you see that? Can't you understand that I have been through so much? He thought. Who I am now is the final draft, shaping my future and who I am and will always be. I don't want to be feared, but sometimes I don't have a choice. He ignored the figure that had appeared, he didn't blink. He might not even be breathing. If he had hands, they would be fists and they would continue tightening.

Go on, he won't bite. And I won't interrupt. Let's tell him the truth. What truth? He wondered then, his moonstones flickering to Sparrowflights paws. Al-alright. she stammered, and he felt his blood pound in his ears, though he couldn't hear it. The murmurs of different conversations around them seemed silent now, upon Sweetmelody's words. (But they weren't, he just didn't acknowledge them anymore) She didn't run away and die... she died by- His pupils became wide and round, and his brow eased - even if just a little, he wanted her to finish. He had to hear this, even though he knew it would destroy him. Go on.

And she did, he couldn't even look at her anymore. His gaze fell to his paws then, hanging limply. His shoulders sagged, grieving... mourning... all of the memories of pain came rushing back. She saved me from a fox. I-I'm so sorry Smallclaw.

He could have screamed in anger, demanded why they were out in the territory in the first place. Why Sparrowflight left camp, why Sweetmelody had to be so soft then, but he couldn't find the anger in him. He couldn't find the hatred, or the rage, or the desire for revenge. He only felt the numbness of his mind, of his heart. To find that the she-cat he had once loved so much, had died to defend an Apprentice from a fox. To know what he could have saved her, but he wasn't around, he wasn't there. He wasn't responsible enough to have been there, but he felt responsible for her death... He wasn't thankful for the information. He would have been happy going on as he had, even ignorantly, as long as the potent pain couldn't find him anymore. He was hardened because of it, because of the loss he had suffered. She was his first love, and she would always have a place in his heart, but now... discovering so late how she had truly died, whatever heart he had left, was scarred, bruised and freshly cut. He shook his head, his orbs narrowed as far as they could, closed though under the shadows of the night, under the silhouette of his shoulders.

"Don't ever talk to me again..." He whispered, but instead of fury tainting his voice, it was sorrowful, sobbing, tear stained. He had a she-cat he loved back at camp who was suffering. He didn't want to be here anymore, he wanted to go back to ShadowClan to be with her, and make sure that she was safe.

He hoped Sweetmelody wasn't afraid of him anymore. Now that she could see the vision of him he had tried so hard to conceal from the world. Now that she could see he was a broken man. He barged past her, feeling the regrets beginning to sink in, everything he had ever thought... fought for... wondered... had that been a lie too? What was the real truth of everything... ? And I didn't want regrets for this reason... And from the darkness of Fourtrees, the bushes shifted before they stilled. He was going home.

To: Camp
(с) brittliee™

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