Speaking For Once

[Fallenheart]

Mintleaf padded into the camp, a midnight black she-cat with deep green eyes. Her fur was covered with snow flakes, giving her the appearance of stars shining. Her eyes were bright with fever, though. Still, she was determined to speak to Beechstar, no matter the circumstances, or how sick she was. She cleaned herself before approaching the dark den. Her rough, sandpaper-like tongue washed over her, and it calmed her nerves a little. Just a touch, however. Nothing extreme, nothing that pulled her away from the edge. It just helped her gain a bit of balance and let her think clearly. Then, finally, she dared step into the dark den. Despite her ‘fear’ for what lay inside, she pushed onward.

She shivered, the stone floor numbing her paws. Her legs often tangled, and she’d fall forward.

What a fool, she thought.

The light slowly began to dim as she walked forward. It felt like minutes had passed, when really, she had only been in the den for a few seconds. She stopped just where the light ended, and she used her tail to explore the rest of the den. “Beechstar?” she called. “Are you even in here?” She felt around for the familiar pelt of her leader, a warm, reassuring sign that she was still in the living world, and not in some vividly insane dream.

Mintleaf didn’t even know why she was looking for him. It’s not like she had anything to pester him with. Besides, there’d always been a bit of a rivalry between the two. Ever since Spiritstep gave up her position and promoted Beechstar straight to leadership, she’d been a touch more than “embarrassed.” She’d been humiliated, and warriors had interrogated her on the matter. She had simply shrugged them off, though she always wondered it herself.

She shook the thoughts out of her head. It was a small, trivial matter. There was no point in exerting energy on reliving it, on being paranoid of the thoughts of the TreeClan population. It was a small matter, one that didn’t matter anymore. Live and forget. That’s how life should be lived. Especially when Beechstar and Mintleaf had a blooming friendship on the horizon.

Hah!

Blooming friendship. The two hardly spoke, none the less attempted to be friends. Most of the time, they simply shunned each other, for CloudClan-knows-why. But Mintleaf was determined to break the barrier between themselves, and hopefully, TreeClan would get along better if the two got along.

She almost chuckled to herself. Wishful thinking. Something that was always one of her greatest weaknesses. All she ever did was wish things would work out, but never try to make things work out. She’d always been one to prefer grudges over friendships, hatred over love, coldness over compassion. On rare occasions, people would tell her that they hated her for it. But what most didn’t realize was her “wishful thoughts” for an actual friendship. She used to have lots of them; but most of those cats had either left the Clan or died in battle, or from sickness. Beechstar used to be one of them. She continued to wonder what had ruined the friendship . . .

A blast of wind sliced through the darkness, bringing her back to reality. She hissed with surprise, her skin twitching from the cold. She flexed her claws, then re-sheathed them, before waiting patiently for the leader to speak.

[Beechstar]

I saw my black furred deputy enter my den. Was she looking for me? We already had the daily patrols. One of the only things we did together was assign and go on patrols. Wow, I thought we would have been closer than that.

I padded up behind her. Was her jealousy growing so much she wanted to get rid of me? Naw..Mintleaf wasn't the killing type...right?

"Wanna get rid of me so soon, eh?" I meowed behind her, just know I would surprise her.

[Fallenheart]

Mintleaf shuddered, her heart thumping rapidly. She spun around, and glared at the ginger cat behind her. "Was that really necessary?" she hissed at him. She took a few deep breaths before resuming her conversation with him. "I suppose I oughta get right to the point," she muttered. She wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Then again, her thoughts were still muddled from when he scared her. I mean, come on, who scares a cat on purpose? Especially a paranoid cat. Her anger flared up, then it died back down as quickly. Her scare didn't help her try to speak.

But, she came in here for a reason. It's not like she came in to kill him or something. Hah! Why would a cat do that, anyway? And during broad daylight? It'd be a weak attempt.

After a few moments of silence, she resumed speaking. "I suppose . . that . . I should try to . . make a friendship with you. I guess . ." Her voice trailed off, and she scuffled her paws insecurely.