The Mind of the Storyteller [open]

[Lightstar]

Rain marched quietly down from the sky, descending almost exactly perpendicular to the earth, as if falling for some great, dutiful purpose. The pitter-patter of droplets on the ground sounded like a military march: pat-pat-pat-pat-pat. The world had turned gray, from the woolen sky to the soggy earth to the wood of the trees and bushes to the churning river. All of it was gray. Even the she-cat who padded along the banks of the river looked gray, though when the sun was shining her fur turned to a dusty brown hue. Her steps were almost in tune with the rain, and by the look of concentration in her eyes (which were a grayed shade of green), stepping in time with the water droplets was her goal.

Rowanheart had actually been patrolling. Yes, it would be quite a shock to the cats of RiverClan if they found out, for nobody had sent her. The normally lazy she-cat had left the camp of her own free will. The truth of the matter was that the sound of rain on the roof of the den made her restless, and for some reason she kept imagining the river bursting its banks and carrying the whole of the Clan away. It was this which urged her out of the camp, but it was her typical sloth which was urging her back.

Her patrol had not been exactly purposeful, anyway. What intruders would plan an assault in this glum weather? This as justification, Rowanheart had idly wandered the territory, daydreaming. This was actually a favorite pastime of hers, though she normally participated in it while she was lying on her soft, mossy bedding. Lately she had been suffering creative blocks, but the dampness of the gray world seemed to have loosened up the thoughts in her mind. Currently, the she-cat’s brain was playing with a story, rolling it over and examining it from all angles. Was it good enough to share yet? Who should she tell it to? Such thoughts popped in at intervals, for the rest of the time she was thinking of the pattern of the marching rain.

The camp slowly swam into the she-cat’s vision, a mirage, a smudge in the vague world created by the shower. Rowanheart drew abreast of the little island that housed the camp, then paused, blinking with an almost surprised expression on her modestly pretty face as she looked down at the water that lapped at her mud-spattered paws. The river was deeper than normal. But, what had to be done had to be done. Without even a grimace, Rowanheart walked right into the water, her paws sinking into the silt that settled beneath the waves. The crests of the little waves were not high enough to stroke her belly at the deepest part of the channel, but that was probably because the long-haired female was a tall cat. Still, a sigh of relief escaped the female’s muzzle as she entered the camp.

Completely breaking out of her story-consumed reverie, she glanced around quickly, to see if any other cats were within her line of sight. In other words, were any others mad enough to be wandering around in the dismal rain, or were they all snuggled up in their nests?

[OTTIE]

The smell of freshly killed fish filled his nose, making his mouth water. He quickly, but carefully picked up the two dead fish and started to limp back to camp. His paws sank deeper into the mud with every step he took. Of course I would take the muddiest route. He chided to himself, not seriously upset. The steady rain beat down from above, soaking not only his pelt, but the earth's. Every step the chocolate and cream tom took made a SQUISH! Though Ottersplash was wet, and though he carried his prey, he still smiled. He was in a good mood. He felt as if something great were to come of this day. What it was? He had no clue, but something told him he would enjoy it.

Sooner then expected, Ottersplash came up to the river where he would need to cross to enter the camp. He watched the rushing water travel past. It didn't seem this high when he crossed it before. Being a Riverclan cat, the Riverclan tom shouldn't have had any reason to worry. The water level was high, but it was still crossable. But being a handicapped cat could cause potential problems. His twist back leg caused him to have a permanent limp, which caused him to be a weaker swimmer than his clanmates.

Ottersplash just shook his head, clearing the negative thoughts from his mind. Or at least trying to. I'll be fine. I've crossed this river plenty of times before. I've crossed it flooded before too. Just go, but be careful. He told himself, urging him onward. His first step into the running water took him by surprise. The water was colder then usual. It sent a shiver down his spine as he took another step so that both front paws were in the river. He tried to take a deep breath, but failed because of he still held the fish in his mouth. Shaking his head once, Ottersplash quickly emerged into the water, claws unsheathed as he tried to stand tall and steady.

The water was rushing faster now as it totally surrounded him. The tom's steps were slow and small, the water freezing as he started to shake. He took another step, the water level just barely below his head. Parts of the fish were submerged into the running river. Ottersplash was more then halfway across the river when he took the step that would hinder him helpless. His paw slipped on a pebble that was on the bottom of the river, plunging his face into the icy waters. He panicked, trying desperately to push off of the ground with his paws. Trying to surface again. The river carried him swiftly down. Ottersplash tried calling out, but only inhaled a mouthful of water. How stupid! Stupid! STUPID!! He yelled in his head, choking on the icy water as he was carried down the river.

The chocolate and cream tom was about to give up when something very hard and large hit his side. He clawed his was up the large, gray boulder, emerging from the icy water gasping for air. He coughed up the river water he had been choking on, the fish completely forgotten and gone with the current. His head was pounding, his side ached, his throat burned. Ottersplash was miserable. He laid sprawled across the boulder, still trying to catch his breath as he tried to figure out how he would get back to shore.

After a few long moments the Riverclan tom gained back some strength and he tried to stand on top of the boulder, which he managed. He realized that he wasn't that far from the land and could jump the distance, if he was careful enough. Taking a deep breath, and not looking down at the rushing river of death he leaped across the running water and landed onto the soggy ground with a light thud. He stumbled a bit, but regained his balance as he let out a sigh of relief. He was safe. "If only I was normal and didn't have problems with my stupid leg!" He meowed, cursing himself.

Ottersplash sat down and tried to slow his breathing. He sighed once more. "It's just the river. Any cat could have had problems crossing. It's unpredictable." He convinced himself, trying not to be a pessimist. Standing up, he took one long look down the river thanking Starclan for saving his life. "Not exactly what I was expecting to enjoy." He meowed, sarcastically. He started to turn toward camp when a shimmering object on the edge of the river caught his eye. He cautiously approached and realized it was the two fish he had caught earlier. A grin spread wide across his face as he bent down to pick them up. He winced a little in pain because he was sore from the river fiasco.

Limping back to camp at a trot he realized that no one would question his limp, he wouldn't think he was in pain and they wouldn't insist on him seeing the Medicine cat. Unless of course they forgot he was injured, which happened more often then you would think. He just shook his head as his soaking wet body carried him back to camp. Once inside he went straight over to the fresh-kill pile, which was running low, and dropped both fish. He shook his pelt off of excess water and looked around, seeing if anyone else was around.

His green-blue eyes fell upon the tall brown frame of a she-cat. The chocolate and cream tom recognized her immediately. Rowanheart. He smiled slightly as he watched her. He could recall many a times where she had told him about daring adventures and other stories that were mostly her daydreams. She was a very entertaining cat to hang around with. There surely was never a dull moment with her. Ottersplash didn't approach her though, he just stood there by the fresh-kill pile soaking wet as the rain continued to drop from the sky as he watched the tall she-cat.


word count ;; 1010...wow....
muse ;; apparently pretty dang good. lol.
other ;; wow, wow, wow this is a really long post. lol. hope you enjoy. ;P but seriously, i didn't mean to make it so long, i got a little bit carried away. haha. don't worry about matching or coming close the same count, it's totally cool, i understand. love you!

[Lightstar]

Rowanheart’s gray-green gaze swept the camp once, and observed nothing but the tumbling rain. Disappointed, yet not exactly surprised, she gave one last glance around, and ended up doing a double (or was it a triple at this point?) take. There, by the fresh-kill pile, which was barely visible behind the curtain of falling water, was the shifting silhouette of another cat. Inadvertently, the leggy she-cat took a small step in the direction of the other cat, scrutinizing it, trying to discern its identity. The moment she did, she drew her paw back. The other cat was Ottersplash, a remarkably handsome tom; she recognized him by the vibrant aqua shade of his eyes, vivid and defiant of the blurring rain. Those striking eyes were staring right at her!

That tom was probably the sweetest, most gentlemanly one that Rowanheart had ever encountered. He had an excellent disposition, and could be adorably shy. The best part, though, was that Ottersplash actually listened when Rowanheart had stories to tell. There was even the added bonus that he seemed to enjoy them. That couldn’t be said about many cats; in fact, most of the RiverClan cats rolled their eyes when Rowanheart showed up, firstly because she was a little peculiar, and secondly because the only reason she’d talk to most cats was because she was dying to share her latest daydream with somebody, anybody. Ottersplash wasn’t like them, and he had reached quite an honorable status in the tall, red-brown warrior’s mind. In fact, you wouldn’t be off-base if you commented that Rowanheart had a little bit of a crush on the attractive, gentlemanly tom. That was the cause for the retracted paw, and the reason the she-cat’s pulse quickened as she realized the tom was watching her.

The she-cat stared back for a moment, imagining that Ottersplash was staring at her because, deep down, he had feelings for her, too. They’d rush into the warriors den, seemingly to get out of the rain. Rowanheart would look deep into the tom’s brilliant eyes and smile, and then he’d confess all of his passionate feelings for her… But of course, this was all just in the she-cat’s head. Returning to the soggy, unromantic present, she felt herself heating up under her fur.

No, that won’t happen,[/color] she reminded herself firmly. I’ll just… I’ll just tell him my story. Yes, that’s it! I’ll tell him my story![/color] The longhaired she-cat flicked her tail at Ottersplash, inviting him to follow her. She quickly turned away, warmth still tickling her auburn fur, and padded towards the warriors’ den. Her attempts to walk gracefully probably resulted in appearing the opposite, for she skidded a little on the muddy ground, but once she ducked into the den, she shook herself, scattering droplets of water from her long, silky coat.

The den was almost totally empty, and her heart hammered even harder; she was going to be practically alone with Ottersplash. This didn’t often happen. Rowanheart padded a little further in, her pelt still feeling damp, and settled into the moss, turning to face the entrance of the den as she waited for the handsome tom to appear before her.

[OTTIE]

His green-blue eyes steadied themselves upon her tall frame, watching her stand in the cold rain. He saw her turn her head once more, looking for what, he wasn't sure. Apparently not finding anything of her interest she turned her head away, but suddenly she turned back to him. He watched as she took a small step, but almost immediately took it back. His face scrunched up, confused and a little hurt. Maybe she though I was someone else. Or maybe someone called her from the den. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't because of him and his leg. He tried so so hard, but felt lightweight devastated. Rowanheart truly was an amazing cat once you got to know her. Sure she could be quite odd at times, but that quirkiness was part of her and Ottersplash enjoyed it.

He sighed and shook his head, The rain fell from the sky drenching his body with it. He shook his head again, trying to get some of the excess water off of him as he shook the rest of his body too. He was starting to shiver because it was so cold. He longed to go curl up in his warm nest and not have to worry about anything. He was still slightly sore from his river mishap earlier and wasn't really in the mood to bring himself down anymore.

He continued to look straight ahead at the tall, brown she-cat as she also stood there looking at him. He couldn't see much through the rain, as to what kind of expression she held on her face. His mind was racing with thoughts of what could have been, he tried despretly to stop them. The crippled, chocolate and cream tom switched his thoughts to Rowanheart's stories. He tried to focus on one, just to get his mind off of the negativity that was ever so often filling him from head to toe. Once his mind was on the stories, he couldn't pick just one. He tried picking his favorite, but realized that he couldn't. Although he did remember each and everyone, almost word for word he loved them all.

Just thinking about them made him smile, all happy and warm inside. The Riverclan tom let his mind wander throughout the stories Rowanheart had told him, the smile growing bigger and bigger. He felt kind of foolish just standing there in the rain, but fear of moving toward the she-cat froze his paws to the ground. He didn't want to scare her off. He didn't want her to react the way she had when she realized it was him. That fear held him there, unmoving. If only he could be more outgoing, he wouldn't have problems approaching her.

After a very long moment, what seemed like forever, Rowanheart moved away from him and entered the den. His heart just about broke. Ottersplash stood stunned, but then noticed with the flick of her tail that the she-cat wanted him to follow her. His body tingled with excitement. He took a few quick steps forward, but stopped. It was his nature to be weary and shy. How could he go and talk to this she-cat? I've talked to her plenty of times before. There is nothing wrong with it or her. She is wonderful... He said, realizing that something was different about today. He slowly began realizing that his feelings toward the she-cat were growing.

She wanted him to follow her into the den. That was a sign right there. She didn't discriminate against him or his injury in any way. She accepted him in the same way that he accepted her. This vote of confidence drove him onward through the pouring rain. He limped quickly, straight into the den. In a way he could have looked like a mentally insane cat as he barged in, water running off of his fur as if he had just came out of the river, or even as if he were the sky himself. His eyes adjusted quickly to the change in light as he glanced around looking for her. His green-blue gaze fell upon her long brown body laying in her nest. He met her gray-blue gaze and smiled. "Rowanheart." Was all he could manage, a little out of breath.

[Lightstar]

For a few brief moments, the only company Rowanheart had in the den was the hollow sound of water pattering on the top of the den, only to slide down the reeds and bush. A couple droplets trickled through patches in the roof, but the young warrior’s spot was rather dry, or would have been, had she not been so damp herself. In those couple heartbeats before the tom entered the den, the she-cat’s heart trembled excitedly in her chest, and she breathed deep, inhaling the damp, muddy air. Turning her head, she looked along the length of her lean body. Oh no… had she really just invited Ottersplash to come see her before she’d even groomed? It was after a patrol, too!

Before she could do anything about her musty pelt, a rustle announced the entrance of the other warrior. Rowanheart’s gray-green eyes turned to see the handsome cat hurry into the comparatively dry space of the den. The female’s heart fluttered with a little more zeal. Though he walked with a limp, or perhaps because of it, his stride seemed to her to be gentle and unassuming, both of which were quite appealing. Water fled the tom’s blotched coat in runnels, as if he were the earth and rivers ran across his surface. Still, the longhaired she-cat’s eyes were drawn to meet his gaze. Their aquamarine hue was the exact color that many folks imagine pure water should be, but the gray-brown rain could never compare.

He said her name in a quiet breath, like a sigh, like a secret. Hardly knowing it, Rowanheart perked up as the tom spoke it. ”Ottersplash,” she returned, her throat restricted because of excitement and nervousness. She imagined it made her voice sound much too matter-of-fact, and she swallowed hard. ”Great weather, huh?” she managed, trying out her voice again. It resumed a more normal tone at that little statement of sarcasm, and relief flowed through her like cool, clean water, which was in her imagination the color of Ottersplash’s eyes, of course. After that, she was able to settle back into her nest again, nodding in indication that the tom should join her. As she waited for him to approach, she furiously began to attack her pelt with her tongue, trying to eradicate the musty smell of rain and mud.

As her tongue raced across long auburn fur, Rowanheart let her gaze slip across to Ottersplash appreciatively. He really was a ridiculously attractive tom, the epitome of the handsome male specimen. His body was so well-formed… She returned her gaze to her own pelt before the tom realized it had been flowing along the length of his body, from his nose to his tail-tip. Warmth blossomed beneath her fur, in spite of how the damp tried to chill her. Trying to distract him, in the event he had, in fact, noticed her staring, Rowanheart jumped directly to what she wanted to say. ”So, I was out patrolling, right? And I was kinda letting my mind wander, and it came to me! A new story!” The words had all tumbled acrobatically from her mouth, but stumbled like excited children on their way to Ottersplash’s ears. The she-cat stopped grooming for a moment, for a mouthful of fur might have hindered communication, and looked at the tom. Her eyes were wide with interest, excitement, and a little anxiety as she mewed, more softly and slowly, ”Do you want to hear it?”

[OTTIE]

The chocolate and cream tom stood there catching his breath. After a moment or two he shook off as much excess water as possible. Water droplets scattered throughout the close vicinity that Ottersplash contained. He tried shaking a little more gently so as not to get everyone's nests wet. His unique green eyes watched as the long limbed she-cat gazed at him. It was then when he felt the most self-conscious he had ever felt. His eyes quickly dropped to the hard ground, embarrassed. But something forced his eyes to slowly meet the auburn cat's gray-blue gaze once more. There was something compelling about her and Ottersplash didn't know exactly how to react.

Her sweet voice filled the air, although it was tainted with a hint of nervousness and something else, which Ottersplash could not identify. But at this point he didn't care. 'Ottersplash. Great weather, huh?' His head tilted slight to the side, just a little bit confused. He hadn't expected those words to be the ones emitted from her mouth. Still, it was rude not to answer. His head was straight now, the way it should be, as he answered in a quiet voice. "Uh, yes. Well, I..uh. No? It's quite wet. Not that there is anything wrong with being wet! I mean we are in Riverclan after all. But...uh..yeah." He stopped himself before he made it any worse than it was. How he always made such a fool out of himself. It was so humiliating for the injured tom.

He saw the subtle nod that was an invitation to join her. Ottersplash took a few steps toward the Riverclan she-cat and stopped. Was he sure he wanted to do this? Of course I am. What's the matter with me? Nothing has changed. I don't understand why I should start ignoring her now. I'm pretty much the only one who pays her any attention. How could I be so rude and heartless? He silently chided himself as he moved forward again. He noticed her beginning to wash her fur. He figured it was more to get her dry then anything because as always she looked wonderfully radiant. He smiled as he stood just outside of her nest.

Before she easily distracted him with her honey rimmed meowing, the chocolate and cream tom could have sworn she was staring at him. He just shook his head once as he carefully climbed into her nest and settled in beside her. His ears felt red hot as their damp pelts brushed together. He could feel her breathing next to him. 'So, I was out patrolling, right? And I was kinda letting my mind wander, and it came to me! A new story!' His smile doubled in size. As always Rowanheart was as excited as a newly appointed apprentice. With his paws tucked underneath him, Ottersplash looked over to the auburn she-cat and met her gray-blue gaze once more. His smile never once faultered as he cautiously stretched his neck out and gave her shoulder a friendly lick.

He didn't want to cross any boundaries, and figured Rowanheart would welcome the help. But what did he know? He was just a tom. Although he tried to hide his fear, it only worked slightly. He reasoned that if she was already cleaning her pelt, why could he help her. That's what the clans did right? Shared tongues? But there was something different about this time. This day. This second. Everything had changed in perspective for Ottersplash. Something was different in the way he reacted to Rowanheart. There was something different in the way she acted towards him. Or was it just that the Riverclan tom was just now choosing to notice the subtle little hints. Once more her voice filled his head, almost making him dizzy. 'Do you want to hear it?' He nodded, still smiling his little smile. "Of course I do. When have I ever stopped you from telling me any of them?" He asked in a quiet whisper as he resumed grooming her.

[Lightstar]

A tongue to the shoulder, the feel of its warm and slightly rough surface grazing her fur, sent ripples of heat coursing through Rowanheart’s body, spreading from that single point of contact and flowing across the rest of her. Excitement prickled in the she-cat’s paws as she blinked rapidly and jerked her head away slightly, gazing off away from the remarkably handsome tom and out past the rain-misted entrance of the den. Despite this, her whiskers were twitched upwards in what was clearly a very pleased expression. As if simple contact stoked a flame of courage in her heart, the she-cat looked back and let her mossy eyes graze Ottersplash’s body again. His words bolstered her even more, and she smiled broadly. Nervousness evaporated as surely as dew on a hot summer day. Rowanheart allowed her gaze to meet the other warrior’s once more, for confidence was flowering in her spirit and spilling out like nectar through her enthusiastic eyes. This was her element: storytelling. This was the tom she wanted to tell. ”It’s called ‘The Leader Frog,’” she announced, and began.

”As surely as there are great leaders, there are terrible ones, as well. Once, long ago, one such leader seized control of RiverClan. This leader was tyrannical and cruel, and treated all of the warriors of RiverClan badly. Under his iron-clawed rule, the cats suffered from lack of food and wounds from unnecessary battle. Finally, a courageous young warrior stood up against the leader. He and a small band of others tried to overthrow the tyrant. Though the other cats of RiverClan also despised their cruel leader, they were too afraid of his strength and power to join in the fight. Perhaps they were right, for though the rebels fought valiantly, the leader vanquished them. He slaughtered the leader of the rebels in front of the entire Clan on one leafbare day, a day as cold as the heart of that tyrant. For in the assembled crowd stood a young she-cat, and her belly was round with the rebel leader’s unborn kits.

“Cold leafbare melted into newleaf, but RiverClan may as well have been trapped in eternal ice, for the tyrant leader still ruled over them all. The she-cat, Lilyheart, whose mate had been killed in the rebellion, had given birth to a tiny litter. Still, in his cruelty, the tyrant RiverClan leader had all but one of the kits killed, in order to make an example of the young queen. Her heart cracked a little more with each death, until there was only a little piece left, which burned with fierce love for her last, tiny, golden-furred kit, and with even fiercer hatred for the wicked cat who still controlled RiverClan, breaking the spirit of the Clan and forcing them to do his bidding.

“As it turned out, that newleaf was just as harsh as leafbare, but with water instead of snow. The river swelled, impregnated, thought the elders of that time, with the evil that the evil RiverClan leader held in his heart. The river turned as cruel as that cat, and swept into the Clan’s camp. The cats evacuated, and though the leader demanded the weakest be left behind, other warriors managed to help the elders to safety. Before anyone could save Lilyheart’s last kit, though, the river broke through the nursery and swept the child away while its mother was helping the elders. The young queen returned for her kit to find only rushing water and broken nests.

“The RiverClan tyrant tried to catch her, but the love which burned in Lilyheart’s spirit lent fuel to her legs, and when she escaped from the flooding camp, she raced along the riverside, calling out for her kit. Finally, she saw it! A little golden body clinging to a slim log! But Lilyheart was tiring, her legs slowing even as she tried to urge them onwards. ‘Someone help me!’ she cried. ‘StarClan, please!’

“A croak responded to Lilyheart’s pleas, and into her vision hopped the fattest, slimiest, greenest frog she had ever set eyes on! The young queen was desperate, though, and quite delirious with pain and exhaustion and panic, and wailed to the frog, ‘Save my kit! I’ll do anything!’ Then she stumbled to the ground, for she was weak with hunger and from the cruel treatment the leader had given her. She looked imploringly at the frog, and to her numb shock, she thought she saw it nod. Then, with a squelch, it leapt from the bank and into the swollen, swift, deadly river.

“Lilyheart didn’t know how long she lay, sobbing, in the mud, when she heard another croak. The mother raised her weary eyes and gasped. There, in front of her, sat the enormous frog, and clinging to its slippery back was a very tiny, very bedraggled, very golden kit, shivering with cold, but staring at its mother with wide blue eyes. Lilyheart leapt forward and took her kit from the frog, and as she began to lick the filthy water and frog slime from her child, her eyes stayed on the frog, thanks brimming in her eyes. The frog looked back at her, a frank and uncannily clever look in its wide eyes. When her kit was safely tucked beneath her, Lilyheart finally said to the frog, ‘I said I’d do anything. Are you still here because you’re expecting something?’

“To the cat’s immense surprise, the frog nodded.

“Lilyheart sighed. ‘I have nothing to give you, kind, brave frog. I can’t even return to my Clan, for the leader will surely kill you for saving my kit, and then eat you up.’ The queen looked skyward, for the light was fading as day slipped into night. She looked back at the frog and said, ‘All I can offer is warmth. I will allow you to sleep by my side tonight. Though I can’t promise comfort, it’s all I have to give. Will it be enough?’

“The frog nodded again. Perplexed but still grateful, Lilyheart picked up her kit and made her way into the bushes to find a place to sleep for the night, followed by the squelching, hopping frog. The queen made a nest for the three of them by scraping together some moss and settled down with her kit. The huge frog curled up with the kit beside the she-cat’s belly. Its cold, slimy body was awful to feel against her soft, warm belly fur, but Lilyheart had made a promise, and the three of them settled into an uncomfortable sleep.

“When Lilyheart awakened, she at first thought that maybe she was back in the warriors’ den, for she was warm and surrounded by soft fur. Perhaps her whole ordeal with the tyrant, the flood, and the frog had been just a nightmare. But when the she-cat opened her eyes, she saw the golden fur of her kit, and beside it… Well, it was a cat, but no cat Lilyheart had ever seen! It had short and strangely damp fur, the same color as the muddy, flooded river, it had no tail, and it was gazing at her with eyes as green as a frog.

“’Hello, Lilyheart,’ the strange tom meowed to her. ‘I am the frog who saved your kit yesterday. StarClan sent me to you, and because of your kindness, and because you treated me as a fellow cat, StarClan transformed me into one. Now I have been given the task of saving the whole of RiverClan. Follow me!’ With that, the strange cat leapt away with a gait that was surprisingly froglike, and Lilyheart could only scramble after the stranger, very confused but putting her trust in StarClan.

“The strange trio—the former frog, the young queen, and the golden kit—found the rest of RiverClan hiding in some high-growing bushes not far from the flooded camp. The froglike cat bounded into the middle of the Clan warriors and cried, ‘Leader of RiverClan! I challenge you to a battle to the death, for I am the one who will free this oppressed Clan!’

“When the tyrannical leader heard this, he laughed a harsh, smug laugh. Who was this silly hopping cat to come and challenge him? Still, the leader accepted the challenge, and ran for the frog-cat with a yowl. The frog-cat, though, was swift and clever, and hopped easily out of the way. The leader looked around, confused, then ran at the frog-cat again, still yowling threats. Again and again, the frog-cat leapt out of the tyrant’s way, for he could still jump like a frog, even though his was the body of a cat. The frog-cat dodged the tyrant over and over, and all the while, he led the leader down to the flooded river’s edge, letting the leader tire over time as the dueling cats approached the water.

“Finally, the frog-cat crouched by the very edge of the river, taunting the leader. ‘Can’t you get me?’ he called. Infuriated, the leader gave one last leap right for the frog-cat, but the tailless tom hopped away again. This time, though, he landed right beside the leader, and as the tyrant stumbled, the frog-cat pushed the evil tom into the river. The leader yowled and fought, but the water dragged him away, swallowing him hungrily up and cleansing RiverClan of its most evil leader.

“In gratitude, the RiverClan cats made their savior their leader. The froglike tom was granted nine lives from StarClan, and a new name, which was, predictably, Frogstar. Frogstar and Lilyheart became mates, and when the river went down soon after, they brought the rest of RiverClan home. The Clan felt hope once more, for a prosperous future could be seen waiting for them, now that their tyrannical leader was dead. And the golden kit who Frogstar had saved from the river grew up to be a fine warrior, another cat of legends. For RiverClan is a Clan of the terrible and the great.”

All through the story, Rowanheart had felt as if she was submerged in her own words, living through the eyes of Lilyheart and Frogstar and the little golden kit. Her eyes were wild with excitement, brimming like a flooded river. Her claws extended when she spoke of the fight, and her voice grew tense. She was animated, excited, enthusiastic, and halfway through the story, she couldn’t resist jumping up and acting out the more action-packed parts. As the tale came to a close, she finally plopped back down beside Ottersplash, her flank pressed against his side as it heaved with excited breaths. As she stared boldly at the handsome tom, her eyes were bold and confident, and for a moment, she almost imagined his eyes flashed as green as a frog’s.

[ooc: The story is a Clan adaptation of “The Frog Prince” haha.]

[OTTIE]

Her honey coated voice filled the warm, almost all dry den. His pink tongue continued to rasp over her shoulders, her back, her chest, neck, sometimes even her ear or cheek, drying the damp fur with each stroke. With each word Rowanheart spoke, the chocolate and cream tom could hear her excitement start to escalate. She was so known to be elaborate and over the top with her stories and that was just one reason of many that Ottersplash liked to spend time with her. She was her own cat and had just about the most unique personality that no one truly seemed to appreciate. Just because the tall auburn she-cat wasn't like others that automatically labeled her as an outcast from the clan.

Ottersplash was one of the few, if the only Riverclan cat who did accept her for her. He found Rowanheart's stories intriguing just like her. Every story kept him coming back for more, and not just her stories. But many aspects of the beautiful, lean she-cat attracted her to him. He didn't feel as if she judged him like the rest of the clan. But he couldn't convince himself that she felt any other feeling then pity for him. After all, didn't it seem as if he pitied her? Trying to keep his mind off of the topic he was consumed by her sugary voice and exciting, adventurous story about Lilyheart and the tyrannous leader.

Her story was so decorated and detailed that he felt as if he was in the story. As if he was watching the whole thing unravel while Rowanheart's voice carried the thorough tale through his mind. Once she spoke of Lilyheart's kits and all but one being killed Ottersplash was appalled that someone would be that evil. He let his mind wander and prayed to Starclan that nothing like that would ever happen. Especially to someone like Rowanheart. Matter of fact, he wished it specifically about Rowanheart. He couldn't imagine having her lose someone so precious to her. He couldn't imagine seeing her in so much pain and anguish.

He shivered slightly. Ottersplash didn't want to think of Rowanheart having kits. Not because he was heartless, but because he knew that they wouldn't be from him. Rowanheart would never allow it. I'm being absurd. What am I thinking about? These feelings, where are they all coming from? Nothing has changed. But in truth everything had changed. The Riverclan tom use to see Rowanheart as just a friend, but now...now he wanted her to be so much more. He shook his head once. I don't want it. No..I can't want it. It'll only lead to more pain. Haven't I suffered enough? He contemplated all of this as Rowanheart's storytelling faded in and out. The chocolate and cream couldn't believe that he actually wasn't listening to her story.

This seemed like one she was ten times more excited for too. He pulled his mind back to her and focused only on her and the story. He watched how animated and energized the beautiful she-cat was. He focused more on how her jaw moved up and down, how her eyes darted around, how her claws extended, all as she told her story to him. He felt privileged to be the one she told her stories to. Even though Rowanheart probably couldn't notice, seeing as she was so wrapped up in her story, Ottersplash jumped slightly as the she-cat hopped out of the warm nest and starting acting out the scenes. His smile grew larger and he even let out a chuckle. How amazing Rowanheart was astounded him.

When her tall body plopped herself back into the nest and their pelts touched, Ottersplash could feel his ears grow hot and his whole body tingle with excitement. He smiled as he nuzzled his face against her shoulder, letting out a soft purr. Once she finished with the elaborate tale he looked up to her face and met her gray-green gaze. They held eye contact for a moment or two before the Riverclan tom came crashing back to reality. He quickly looked down at his paws, his smile shrinking a bit. "As always Rowanheart, your story was amazing." He meowed in his quiet voice as he met her gaze once more and gave her a swift lick on the cheek. The crippled tom lifted himself from the warm and cozy nest, not wanting to leave, but forcing himself to. His soft tail, which was almost completely dry, as was the rest of his fur, brushed lightly against her shoulder as he limped away.

He wished he could say more, and stay with her forever, or even just five more minutes but he couldn't. He couldn't trust himself not to make a fool of himself. Not anymore than he had, which he truly believed somehow he had managed to act out of turn. But that was Ottersplash's character. Always blaming himself, thinking of his insecurities, and running away from problems...or rather she-cats. Without another glance back at the auburn she-cat he left the den and reentered the rain-soaked world. His paws squished into the ground with each step he took away from the one he liked and might have even loved. Off to wallow away by his miserable self once more and more importantly to steer clear of any other cats. Especially she-cats. Especially Rowanheart...

[Lightstar]

Rowanheart was brought sharply back into reality moments before the tom was. The cause of this was the feeling of his face against her shoulder, nuzzling her in that gentle way the she-cat always imagined he would. The sound of his purr vibrated on her eardrum, drowning out her mental gasp. Though surprise now entered her mossy eyes, the previous emotions that had lingered there—the boldness and the confidence—did not disappear. His gaze, so incredibly different from the green eyes of her imagined Frogstar and five thousand times more glorious, locked with hers for a few brief moments of clarity. Her heart must have hammered out a million beats in the span of a second.

Then the visual contact was broken, and the tom’s eyes were focused on his paws. Rowanheart watched Ottersplash form complimentary words with his mouth, but the poise and courage drained out of her stare. When his eyes would meet hers a second time, they would see a bewildered young she-cat still looking at the tom. His face came close to hers, and her heart, which had begun to slow, picked up its pace again. She could feel his breath stirring her long whiskers, smell the fish that he had held in his jaws not long before, and her spine stiffened. For a moment that she wished was much longer, the she-cat felt the other warrior gently lick her cheek. Hope flew through her mind and swarmed into her eyes, though she dared not move or express it in any other way.

But the tom was already pulling away. Next he was limping away from her, his soft fur brushing hers, sending a tingling sensation through her shoulder. How dare her shoulder take pleasure in this casual contact, though! Ottersplash was leaving! Rowanheart’s face followed the tom as he walked unsteadily from the den. Hope plummeted, landing somewhere around her paws and leaving her head feeling unpleasantly light. It took several moments for her to lift herself up on her long legs and for her mouth to form the words, ”Where are you going?” By that time, he probably didn’t even hear her, for all of him had left but his soft, dry tail. In the time it took to blink an eye, that, too, was gone, disappearing rapidly in the gloom of the rain.

A few futile pawsteps led the she-cat to the entrance of the den, close enough that the chill of the water rippled across her face and a spray of dampness clung to her whiskers. Rowanheart could still see Ottersplash’s vague silhouette, limping away from the den. Away from her. What did I do?[/color] the huntress thought, dismayed. A chill that had naught to do with the storm raced through her, making the long hairs on her legs and spine prickle uncomfortably. The she-cat’s stomach twisted painfully in her gut. Obviously, she’d done something to offend the tom. Why else would he choose the swarming rain over the warm comfort of the den? Perhaps it had been a bad story. Maybe she really did smell as dreadful as she feared.

She hoped beyond practicality that it wasn’t her personality that caused Ottersplash to flee her company.

The she-cat barely realized she had slumped into a sitting position at the entrance to the warriors’ den, staring sadly out at the rain. After what felt like a very long time, her mouth wrapped itself around a pair of whispered words. ”I’m sorry.” Sorrow bit the corners of Rowanheart’s eyes and she blinked furiously. She wished she was the kind of cat who had the courage to go after that handsome tom and tell that to his face. She wasn’t, though. She just wasn’t that strong. Fear locked her hindquarters to the ground, refused to let her follow.

Rowanheart wasn’t going to run after Ottersplash.

The realization filled her with such a cold that she felt she must be made of ice. It was a strange red-brown lump of snow that sat at the entrance to the warriors’ den, not a cat. This had happened before. Obviously, Ottersplash wasn’t the first cat on whom Rowanheart had had a crush. There had been a new tom practically every week while she was an apprentice. The reason she cycled through them so fast? She had not the courage to run after them.

Who knows how long Rowanheart sat there, hating herself? The time spent in brooding, though, was the time spent by a quiet mind hatching a plan. It took a while for Rowanheart to reach her conclusion, but reach it she did. It began as a seed, burrowed into the soil of her brain, but it was spreading its roots until she could think nothing else.

Alright, so I’m not going to run after him. So I’ll just wait here for him.[/color]

Ottersplash had to come back to the den at some point, right? He slept here, after all.

The plan solidified in Rowanheart’s mind, and at long last, she relinquished her sitting position at the entrance of the den. She gazed out at the rain one last time, wishing she could spot that handsome tom lurking past the curtain of falling water, but the shower had intensified during her period of brooding. She could see hardly anything. The longhaired she-cat raised herself to her delicate paws and turned back into the warm gloom of the den. She knew precisely where Ottersplash slept at night. Perhaps it was presumptuous of her, but she made her decision. The lean feline padded to the mossy nest and circled in it a few times before lying down.

Immediately, the warm smell of the tomcat enveloped her, and she closed her eyes as the sensation swept through her. It was the most wonderful scent in the world, and she inhaled it greedily. Lightheadedness made her tipsy as she curled up comfortably in a bed that wasn’t hers. Still, she had the wits to turn her head towards the glum entrance of the den, waiting for Ottersplash to appear once more.

[OTTIE]

The sun dipped way below the horizon. The dull and gloomy day turned into a dark and bitter night. Endless water droplets fell from the cloudy sky. Not a single star shone through the wispy veil. The moon was invisible. A bone chilling wind tore through Riverclan's territory. Once more Ottersplash was soaked. His color blotched fur stuck to his medium frame as he limped out of the camp and wandered about. He had no place in mind to go. He just needed to get away for the time being. The tom couldn't be near that retched she-cat who only pitied him. He was so mad at himself for thinking anything could come from her friendship. He longed to be curled up with her in the warm and dry warrior den. Imagining her voice filling the air with another of her creative stories.

His limping through the territory slowed. He hadn't crossed the river yet. The rain had caused it to flood in most places. Ottersplash recalled the incident earlier. He had slipped while crossing back to return home and nearly drowned. If he couldn't feel the after effects and wasn't so sore, the tom would have thought that the misfortune from earlier that day had been moons, or even ages ago. All his mind could think about now was that cursed auburn she-cat that he was in fact in love with. "Why didn't you just let me drown earlier?!" He shouted up to the sky. "Haven't I suffered enough? You are the ones who let me be injured in the first place and now you are throwing more and more pain at me. What did I do that was so wrong?" His voice started off strong, but faded into a soft whisper.

The tom continued to travel around the small island Riverclan called home. It seemed as if the darkness had intensified, covering every part of land. Even the water seemed like a dark and bottomless, running body of water. There was a bunch of bushes up ahead. Maybe I could sleep there for the night. Or at least settle there for a little bit. He decided, limping quickly toward the largest bush. Pushing his lithe body under the soggy branches, he curled himself up. The ground was slightly wet and rain fell through patches of the bush. It was a lot dryer then outside of the bush. Shivering, he closed his eyes as he bunched his paws underneath him and wrapped his tail neatly around his body. He shook as much water off as he could just laying down. He was exhausted from today and it felt like the longest day of his life. Ottersplash dozed in and out of sleep.

*****A COUPLE HOURS LATER*****

Slowly and painfully the chocolate and cream tom limped into the Riverclan camp. His legs were cramping and his crippled leg was in a large amount of pain. He contemplated stopping by the Medicine Cat's den for some poppy seeds to help, but his need and want of sleep overrode his pain, slightly. Although he had fallen asleep under the large bush outside of the camp, he had a very restless slumber. He constantly shivered and the rain water repeatedly fell through the bushes leaves. His mind was focused on the warmth of the warriors den and also the pain he was in. For the moment his mind was clear of any cat, including Rowanheart. All he wanted was to be curled up in his dry nest. The events that occured with Rowanheart were forgotten temporarily as he thought about the drowning incident. Besides, if he had thought of her at all he would have figured she would be in her nest, sleeping by now.

With his slow limps he finally made it into the dark and warm den. He could hear the muffled sounds of purring and soft breathing from his sleeping clanmates. It was late, almost halfway through the night. The pleasant scents of the other cats filled his nose, making him smile weakly. At last he could get some sleep. As he made his way through the den, toward his nest, Rowanheart's scent specifically filled his head. He tried to shake it off as he weakly slumped into his warm and fuzzy bed. Icy cold water was still dripping from him, but he had no energy to wash right now. Closing his eyes, about to drift off to sleep he realized his nest wasn't supposed to be fuzzy or lumpy, the way it was. He feebly rose from the nest, trying to figure out what was in his bed.

Once again, Rowanheart's strong scent filled the air around him. He glanced over to her nest, which wasn't far from his. It was empty. Stunned and surprised he became reasonably worried. She couldn't have followed me out of camp. Where is she? Where could she be? He asked himself silently as he thought of any and all possibilities. Ottersplash started to blame himself. Only wanting to find the tall, auburn she-cat he gained a slight amount of energy back. Water was still dripping from his cold body into his nest as he looked down, to see what was in his nest. Relief flooded through the chocolate and cream tom. His heart beating twice as fast and a small smile spreading across his face. Rowanheart. The very cat he was worried about. Thank Starclan she is alright. He sent a silent prayer up to his warrior ancestors.

He weakly sank back into the nest and nudged the she-cat lightly. "Rowanheart." He wispered, nudging her once more. "Come on Rowanheart, get in your own nest." He meowed gently, in a joking tone. As happy as he was to be next to her once more, the feelings from earlier rushed back. She only pities me. That's it. Just as I do her. The feeling is mutual. He tried to convince himself, closing his eyes. Was this really needed? All the poor tom wanted was some sleep. He sighed as he waited for Rowanheart's reply.

[Lightstar]

It was so comfortable in Ottersplash’s nest, even if the feel of it was so strange. The way each cat positions himself to sleep at night is different, and the moss of the nest was bunched up in unfamiliar places, churned in unexpected ways. But bedding is bedding, and an effective cat can sleep just about anywhere. An added bonus was the heavy scent of the tom that clung to every inch of his bed, so warm and so earthy, like any animal, but with that familiar tinge of distinction that defined the smell as a particular cat’s. Rowanheart felt quite cozy lying down to rest where normally a handsome, if crippled, male did. Ottersplash was taking so darned long to get his fuzzy butt back in the den. The she-cat felt her eyelids sinking over her eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to just close them for a minute and rest her head on her paws…

There was a soft, auburn ball of fur cozied up in Ottersplash’s nest. As the rest of the drenched warriors of RiverClan trickled in, few noticed Rowanheart sleeping in a spot that was not her own. The cats who slept closest to Ottersplash were exceptions, glancing with surprise at the she-cat who had shamelessly invaded the nest of the tom with whom she was obviously infatuated. Still, she was such a strange one they didn’t bother to question it. They were tired, too, and they ignored the female who slept with her feathery tail wrapped over her nose as they rested their tired eyes…

Anyone who’s had the displeasure of experiencing such a phenomenon can tell you that the surest way to be woken up is to have someone sit on you while you’re sleeping. Until that night, Rowanheart hadn’t been among those who had had such an experience, but the moment that Ottersplash came crashing down on her willowy frame, she lost her not-having-been-woken-by-somebody-sitting-on-you status. She woke immediately as that unexpected pressure landed on her, grunting quietly and her ashy green eyes flying wide. Her moment of befuddlement left her speechless, or perhaps that was the pressure squeezing the air out of her lungs. While she was unable to speak, her mind whirled through the fog of sleep, trying to shred through the weariness that clogged her thoughts.

The moment of enlightenment came suddenly, bursting into her mind like a ray of sunshine through the clouds. Realization hit her with an impact even more forceful than the cat who was squashing her, but now slowly getting off. She was in Ottersplash’s nest. She shouldn’t be. Ottersplash was somewhat lying on top of her.

However, her ability to understand faded after realizing that. In spite of everything else, why was the tom lying on top of her? That had rather risqué implications that caused heat to sweep through the she-cat and burn fiercely in her ears. She didn’t dare think what she was thinking. She had better not be thinking what she was thinking. Oh, great StarClan, she was thinking what she was thinking. Agitated and ashamed, because she knew her imagination was definitely not reality, no matter what circumstantial evidence suggested, she squeezed her eyes shut again, hardly daring to breathe. Rather instinctively, she feigned sleep. It wasn’t long after that when she felt gentle nudging, and heard the soft voice of Ottersplash stirring her ear fur.

Reluctantly, Rowanheart opened her eyes, a very guilty expression gleaming in the light that they reflected. ”Oh.” That was all she said. What more could be said at an awkward moment like this? The leggy she-cat raised herself up on sleep-weary limbs and stumbled over the bodies of her sleeping comrades back to the nest she normally slept in. She was sinking into the unpleasantly cold moss before she remembered why she had been in Ottersplash’s nest in the first place.

The she-cat got to her paws once more and meandered carefully through the warm felines. When she reached Ottersplash, she crouched down beside him but didn’t dare touch him again. Cold rippled across her as sickening fear tightened her belly once more, and there was a moment of relative quiet before the female spoke.

”I’m sorry, Ottersplash,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and drawing her tail up close to her side. ”For the… erm… nest thing, and the story. I didn’t mean to offend you. I…” What else was there to say? Quiet reigned for another brief regime, but Rowanheart found something else to say. ”Just wanted you to know. So… yeah,” she finished lamely. Embarrassment, cold as river water, trickled across her skin as she rose once more to leave, giving the handsome tom one last conflicted look.

[OTTIE]

The freezing cold, soaking wet tom struggled to keep his eyes open. But he watched as Rowanheart rose from his nest and dejectedly crept back to her empty nest. He shook his head, not able to make a sound or speak seeing as he was so exhausted. His body slumped back into his nest, which had been pre-warmed by the tall she-cat. Closing his bright green eyes, which seemed dull now he hoped to get some much needed sleep. He curled his body up into the tightest ball he could get, wrapping his tail around his body and resting the tip on his front paws.

But before he could fall unconscious the crippled tom's attention was brought back to Rowanheart's airy whisper. Her warm scent enveloped him once more. Even though his nest was covered with her unique aroma, her standing just outside of the nest made it ten times stronger. He closed his eyes tight, taking as much of her scent in as he could. 'I’m sorry, Ottersplash,' Her mumbled words drew him from his reverie. His eyes opened and he glanced at his beautiful clanmate. She was so beautiful it hurt.

Focusing on the words once more, Ottersplash shook his head. But more words followed. 'For the… erm… nest thing, and the story. I didn’t mean to offend you. I…' He winced when the realization of why Rowanheart was apologizing. She thought she offended him. Great. Could I be more mouse-brained? She thinks it's all her fault. The chocolate and cream tom shook his head and looked directly into her gray-blue eyes. 'Just wanted you to know. So… yeah,' The auburn she-cat started to take her leave, but Ottersplash spoke. "Rowanheart, wait..." He tried to find any courage he had, but failed. "I...Rowanheart, you could never offend me. All you did was tell me another of your fantastic stories. I'm sorry if it seemed that I was upset, but I wasn't...I'm not..." He whispered, not fully aware of exactly what he was say. His teeth started to chatter, even though he lay in a warm nest. The damp fur still chilled him.

Keeping quiet, as not to wake the other cats he sat up with a slight grunt. He glanced around and saw his clanmates sleeping, all warm and cozy in their nests. He didn't want to send Rowanheart off to her nest. It would be cold. But he couldn't just invite her to sleep with him either. The tom figured he should have just let her leave. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the sticky situation he was in. But it would have been rude. "D...Don't go." He sighed, giving her a pleading look. How desperate could he be?

His aching body was bound to give way any moment, but he still sat up, waiting for Rowanheart's answer. "Just for tonight, stay?" He asked, hoping she would say yes. A shiver convulsed through his body as his eyes sagged, wanting to close and find sleep for a very long time. It would keep both of them warmer he tried to reason with himself. He tried not to feel the attraction that was definitely there between the two. He sighed, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth twice.

[Lightstar]

The muscles in her limbs already twitched with their intention, and Rowanheart gave a small lurch in the direction of her nest when a hushed voice rose above the whispers of the dreamers. "Rowanheart, wait… I...Rowanheart, you could never offend me. All you did was tell me another of your fantastic stories. I'm sorry if it seemed that I was upset, but I wasn't...I'm not..." The words dangled before her, tantalizing, tempting, and the she-cat went for them. She clung to them, the sound of each syllable a pawhold. Her eyes were unable to move, for they were glued to the handsome, weary face of Ottersplash, the tom who spoke those beautifully kind words. The heart of the she-cat shivered frantically in her chest, wishing with all its might that those words were absolutely true but terrified the tom was just being too kindhearted for his own good.

Dared she react in any way to what the tom said? What if he was honest? What if it was a lie? Rowanheart could discern no safe reaction. She stared at the tired tom a few moments more, her eyes wide and practically bereft of weariness, so desperate were they in hope and fear. The tom seemed to wilt before her very eyes. Clearly, he wanted nothing more to do with her, and desired only the peace of sleep. Without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, the female ripped her eyes from Ottersplash’s beautiful face as she tottered towards her nest again, her tail drooping distinctively. It was at that precise moment that a stuttered request fluttered from the mouth of that marvelous cat sagging into the soft moss of his bedding. More than willingly, the she-cat turned expectant eyes on the tom, her heart beating with an undue ferocity that caused all her veins to burn.

The tom was trembling, practically falling into his nest. His form was still attractive, for nothing could diminish the regal bone structure of his face, but now, for practically the first time, Rowanheart saw him clearly. With his fur sagging under the weight of dampness, his eyelids drooping over eyes that were rimmed with tiredness, his entire body trembling from cold and exhaustion, Ottersplash wasn’t mind-boggling handsome. He even had his mauled leg, sitting there awkwardly, linked pointlessly to his body. As if her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness, the she-cat saw it all. Her gray-green eyes grew very wide, gleaming silver in the darkness of the den. It was as if she’d never looked at this cat—really looked at him—before.

It was at the moment that the reality of Ottersplash’s appearance crashed down into her mind that Rowanheart had made her decision. Change flicked across her gaze, subtle enough that the sleepy cats would probably not see it, subtle enough that not even the she-cat realized it at the time, but present all the same.

A young, whole, moderately pretty she-cat padded forward, towards the older, maimed, rather good-looking tom. His fur was so damp that tiny droplets of water slid from his fur to hers. Rowanheart curled herself around the weary tom, pressing her warm, soft, dry pelt against Ottersplash’s. Her body was long, so wrapping around him was a non-issue. Her feathery auburn tail slipped around the tom’s body, as well, while her paws were tucked under her narrow, cream-colored chest.

The tom was weary, it was plain to see. Comfortingly, the younger warrior began to lick the soft fur at the base of his ears, drying them, warming then, before moving along the rest of the back of his head, then along his back. Between gentle but certain strokes, she whispered a response to Ottersplash. ”Of course,” she mewed, perhaps unnecessarily. She hesitated only a moment before adding, ”As long as you want me.” This quietly hinted at exactly what it sounded like, though the tom was so tired Rowanheart wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t remember it in the morning. Far from deterring her, it emboldened her to speak freely.

”Sleep,” she crooned softly, a gentle purr humming through her body. ”Sleep.” As for herself… well, she could sleep as soon as Ottersplash was dry and she was sure he was comfortable. She was more concerned about that at this moment.

[OTTIE]

Darkness and the soft breathing of his fellow warriors lured him, tempting him to sleep. With great strength, he forced himself to stay awake, to stay sitting. He forced himself to wait for the highly anticipated reply from the tall auburn she-cat who had ventured off toward her cold, empty nest. With his eyes still closed, he let his mind wander through the possibilities of Rowanheart's response. Hope flooded Ottersplash's heart. If she only stayed with him one night, that would make his life. He didn't care if it was out of pity. He wanted her. He needed her. If only for just this one, single night.

It seemed as if many moons had passed before he felt the warmth of Rowanheart press against his cold body. His eyes remained closed, but he did flinch slightly. She kept so quiet. With a tiny, almost invisible smile he sank down completely into the nest. He folded his front paws underneath his chest and pulled his injured back leg in as much as it would allow. His soggy tail drooped randomly to the side of him. Almost immediately he started to drift in and out of sleep, but could still feel the she-cat's body wrap around his, fitting perfectly. He could feel her tail brushing lightly against his side.

Once he felt her warm tongue stroke the fur on his ears, he feared she would be burned from the red hot heat he could feel. The chocolate and cream tom struggled to stay awake, even though his eyes were closed. His head rested on a lump in the nest, his face turned towards the heat of Rowanheart's body. A faint smile appeared on his lips as he heard her words. 'Of course. As long as you want me.' Ottersplash nodded once, and barely conscious replied, unknowingly. "Forever..." His whisper faded into soft purring as Rowanheart continued to dry him.

Whether he would remember in the morning was a mystery, all he knew was he was warm, lying in his nest with the beautiful she-cat that he truly cared for. If he hadn't been so exhausted he would have reached out and gave her a lick on the shoulder, cheek, where ever he could reach. Ottersplash heard Rowanheart's voice once more and felt the vibrations of her purring. 'Sleep, sleep.' Without much more coaxing, Ottersplash fell asleep quickly. Letting her soft crooning and gentle washing be his lullaby.

[Lightstar]

”Forever…”

The word whispered like a dream through the air, like the sigh of a cloud gently drifting across the night sky. There were no such clouds in the reality of this night, for the sky was heavy with waterlogged wool, like the sky itself was an animal shaking the droplets of rain from its pelt. They were of no concern to the she-cat who lay far below that sky, shielded by the roof of the RiverClan warriors’ den. As far as she was concerned, the sky was illuminated with magical stars, with cloudy dreams floating along its length. That single, three-syllable word floated up into that imagined sky, but instead of drifting away, hovered right above Rowanheart’s brown-tinged head. It sat there like a promise that made her heart beat even more frantically, past the point where it should have burst. It made her pause for a moment in her grooming, so that an even louder purr could push its way to the surface.

Regardless of whether or not Ottersplash had meant the word, or even knew what he had sleepily mumbled before his breathing settled into the steadiness of sleep, he had still said it, and Rowanheart pulled that dream-like word close to her heart and sheltered it there, within her chest. She made no audible reply, unless her intensified purring is counted, but her heart murmured a response. Of course,[/color] it whispered softly, gently. If you want me here forever, I’ll stay with you forever.[/color] Perhaps this pact was the result of being young and emotional. Maybe it was made because she was inexperienced. There was a third possibility, though, that it was the right thing to say. Too wrapped up in the moment, it was impossible for Rowanheart to discern which it was in the moment. The only one who could tell her which it was was time.

Rowanheart continued to groom the tom with long strokes of her tongue even past the point where his short, cocoa-and-milk fur was dried. She continued to lick his fur merely because she enjoyed it. At the end, she bent close to his face and ran her tongue over one cheek, then the other. Ever so gently, not wanting to disturb the slumbering tom, the female nuzzled his cheek with her reddish nose. The sensation tingled across her muzzle and rippled right down her body, and a delightful buzzing seemed to fill her from the inside. A smile, tired but sincere, perched upon her face as she closed her eyes and nuzzled Ottersplash one last, glorious time. Next, she was laying her soft head beside his, so close that her whiskers brushed his finely-boned cheeks. The position was warm, comfortable. Rowanheart was sure she could get used to this.

Please don’t regret this when you wake up,[/color] she pleaded silently with the tom even as she cuddled up close. As for herself, well, how could she regret this? She let out a long, slow breath, her body partially collapsing into itself as she relaxed. Shoulders rolled and spine stretched as she made herself comfortable, brushing Ottersplash’s belly fur with her bushy tail. Then she was still, and slumber quickly wrapped itself around her slim form, a heavy, stifling second pelt that she almost wished would hesitate to cover her, just so she could be awake and aware of the tom’s presence a bit longer. But sleep triumphed, and soon her breathing became measured like the tom’s, and dreams that would be forgotten upon waking stirred in her mind.