Post by Heron on Oct 6, 2015 21:57:03 GMT -5
The temperature was rather warm for the early greenleaf season, and one cat in particular had taken advantage of the steady sunlight and comforting breeze that set across the vast hills and fields of her clan. She had perched herself among the welcoming flowers, abundant early in the season and desperate to escape the coldness of the ground. It was somewhat damp and chilly beneath her paws, but the warmth on her pelt was enough to convince the young she-cat that the harsh leafbare was truly over.
She had gotten thinner with the raging sickness and scarce prey. Her white pelt, mottled with blue-gray stripes, seemed a bit dull. Her usual healthy shine had been replaced with a thickness in a desperate attempt to keep in any sort of body heat. It was something she envied her mentor for each time the snow fell. The thickness of his pelt was inviting, and too often she found herself daydreaming about slipping close enough to him that his fur became her own.
It was dangerous to think such a thing. Her mentor was everything she could admire about a warrior. Whisperclan was surely lucky to have him, and his patience with her was outstanding. When he had grown ill, Echopaw had nearly lost her mind. She was certain Starclan had been working against her-- another attempt to prove to her she hadn't what it took to become a warrior in Whisperclan. When he got better, her heart had soured, and she unleashed realities on herself each time she worked with him slowly but surely. Her hunting had gotten better. Her fighting. She felt different, too. Stronger. Perhaps wiser and wittier. Her tongue was never quite sharp, but she still gained experience in knowing what to say and knowing when to say it. She was still calm and collected and observant. No amount of training could deplete the instincts that came drilled with being born partially deaf.
Deaf. Her ears, too, had gotten a tad bit worse. She failed to mention it to her mentor, not quite sure he ever really took notice. If he did, she hadn't heard anything from him like concern. She was a true artist in concealing it-- how her good ear didn't seem very good at all these days. It was a nightmare. How could she ever expect to receiver her warrior name with her condition? What would her mentor think of all his hard work on her gone to waste? So she concealed it, and it brought her here to the butterfly garden.
Wallowing between the flowers, her green gaze followed the butterflies as they softly flapped their wings and visited each flower that interested them. She had no idea if they knew she was even there. Perhaps they were simply being kind enough to allow her to stay and watch. The scent around her was masked by the flowery aroma, but she knew she would have a visitor soon. She was sure when she slipped from camp that he had seen her, and she knew he would follow obediently.
He always seemed to know what she wanted before she even said it. She was never talkative, but Ashfrost took it farther than that. He had somewhat become an extension of her own self, and it quite frightened her to think he might never speak to her if she received a ceremony. Would he feel obligated to speak to her? Mentors and apprentices always had tight relationships, but then mentors got new apprentices to replace the old. What would become of her? Of them? There were fleeting moments when he looked at her with a rare expression, something she only saw when he allowed it. She'd seen it other places, too-- on the face of other cats looking at their mates. At their family. She'd studied other mentors and the way they looked at their apprentices -- always with fondness, but not the admiration she could sometimes catch in Ashfrost's gaze.
Worse, she didn't know how it made her feel. She knew her heart soured at the thought of him, but he brought her both sadness and joy. Their relationship was coming to a close as mentor and apprentice, and if she weren't so bent on becoming a warrior she might've considered stalling her training to spend more time with him. While she waited in the garden, she contemplated what she would say to him. Tell him about her fading hearing -- or her feelings?
Rogue