The Mind of the Storyteller [open]

[OTTIE]

The other warriors trickled slowly out of the den, their sleepy eyes adjusting to the morning light. Waking from a restful slumber, as they slept through the rain storm that stopped earlier that morning. Not many noticed the odd couple tangled in the chocolate and cream tom's nest. If they did, they didn't think much of it. Apparently most knew the pair was bound to charm their way into each other's hearts. To most, it seemed too long for the two Riverclan cats to wait. Little did they know, at this point it was all a misunderstanding.

Throughout the night, which started off chilly, but quickly became warm as Rowanheart washed and dried Ottersplash's fur, the tom slept peacefully and was extremely comfortable. His breathing was even and he barely shifted his body. Though he was asleep, the tall she-cat who shared his nest with him filled his mind and dreams. Her scent flooded everywhere around him and he enjoyed the feeling of drowning this way much better. The auburn she-cat's image filled his head as he dreamed of her and only her. Spending every waking moment with her. Being able to call her his. Laying in the same nest with her at night. Accompanying each other on patrols. It was pure bliss.

But that was in dream land. Not reality. Only half conscious, Ottersplash felt the warmth radiating from another cat. Still Rowanheart's scent filled the air and realization hit. She had slept with him last night. Now, not in that manner, but they had shared his nest. He clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. Everything was perfect in his sleep world, but here it was a mess. Just like he was. He vaguely recalled walking into the den a soaking wet mass, barely able to stand. He felt embarrassment surge through his veins when memories from the night and day before came rushing back to him.

He couldn't remember everything. And he especially couldn't remember all that he said to Rowanheart. But he remembered enough. He hoped that he hadn't said much to let on his true feelings of her. He slowly opened his eyes, gazing sleepily at the furry body curled against him. She was still sleeping. Content with just laying there with the tall she-cat, Ottersplash tried not to wake her as he gave her a few gentle licks on her soft head. The chocolate and cream warrior took in her scent, and felt as if he would never tire of it.

He hated to hide his feelings from her, but the fear of her rejecting him and his love choked him. It held him back, and even though he was there, in his nest with her at that exact moment, he knew it wouldn't last forever. Once she was awake she would just continue to pity him. Matter of fact, she probably pitied him as she slept too. It would never work out. He would have to start to push away from her. But avoiding someone you were close with and someone who you saw everyday was hard to do. Emotionally and physically. Ottersplash wondered how long he would be able to do it for.

The tom already knew that most of the clan ignored Rowanheart he hated to think he would soon be one of them. He just laid there, thinking of what he was going to do. How it would hurt Rowanheart. Rowanheart... Rowanheart... That's all he could think of. Trying not to move much, as not to wake the sleeping she-cat he carefully cuddled closer to her, burying his nose into her soft fur. Waiting, just waiting for her to wake. Not wanting to rush it, just wanting to stay in this moment forever...

[Lightstar]

It was hunger that pulled Rowanheart from the peace of sleep and into the emotional turmoil that was reality. She hadn’t eaten since the morning prior, a fact she was reminded of by a very dissatisfied stomach. It growled at her from within her belly, prodding her to wakefulness. A very pleasant dream was fading from her conscious as sleep trickled out of her, and the she-cat lunged for it, trying to cling to the unreality of her pleasure. Warmth enveloped her, like she was curled around some core of heat, and sleep reluctantly allowed her to take hold, but only for a few minutes. Another angry growl from her stomach finally banished the warrior’s dream, demanding satiation in actuality, not dreamland fantasy.

A pair of grass-colored eyes fluttered reluctantly open, little gems slowly uncovered by veils of reddish brown. A couple groggy blinks were necessary to clear her vision, and the span of time that it took to do so was also spent curling more firmly around that soft source of heat. She was vaguely aware of something pushed gently into her fur, a something that could be identified as Ottersplash’s nose. It wasn’t until Rowanheart’s sleepy eyes adjusted to the intrusion of light that she recognized the tom around whom she had wrapped herself in the night. Assuming she was still half in a dream, she smiled a dazedly blissful smile at him. It took a few heartbeats more for the memory of the previous night to assert itself in her mind.

”Forever.” Once again, that final word of the tom’s echoed in her ears, though the air had stopped reverberating with the noise of it hours before. Rowanheart grasped that memory and pulled it farther into herself, where it couldn’t possibly escape out her ears and float away on the warm air of the den. Her mossy eyes had cleared suddenly, alertness replacing the remnants of a dream that had already fallen from memory. The smile on her muzzle faltered not. Rather, it grew wider, for now she knew what she was beaming about. A quick prayer went up to her ancestors, begging them to let that last word of Ottersplash’s ring true in her heart and his for all time.

Though nervousness still prickled in the very bottom of her paws, Rowanheart flicked out with her tail-tip, aiming for it to brush the handsome tom’s belly fur. She was so blessed by StarClan to be able to lie beside this wonderful cat at that moment. She dared not push things, though, to a place that they could not be pushed. Destiny alone would determine what lie before this pair of warriors. But destiny was far from the she-cat’s mind that moment, reflected in such a picayune statement as the one she made to Ottersplash upon her awakening: ”Good morning! How are you?”

In the event he returned the question, her answer would be evident in a disruption around her midsection. Rowanheart’s stomach, disliking being ignored in favor of some tomcat, gave such an enormous gurgle and lurch that Ottersplash was sure to hear it, to feel it. A wince finally eradicated the smile from the she-cat’s mouth, and she looked at the tom with a very sheepish expression. It always seems to happen that, when you’re in a situation that might lead to something good and wonderful, some external (or internal in the physical sense of Rowanheart’s case) force makes everything stop prematurely.

[OTTIE]

The time between Ottersplash cuddling closer to Rowanheart and her waking up didn't seem that long to the tom. He was actually quite disappointed. He hated thinking that he would have to leave her soon. It was in her presence that he felt whole. Just thinking of being away from her now was torture. The tom watched her light green eyes flutter open and a smile spread across her face. How happy she looked, or was it just that's what Ottersplash wanted to think. He wanted her to be happy of course, but being happy with him was even more of a wish for him.

The tom didn't take his eyes from the auburn she-cat's face. He couldn't. As he watched her, he believed to see her smile grow. The chocolate and cream tom smiled too. He could tell she was happy, but was it all just a show? Could she just be acting or making it up, just like one of her stories. That was when his smile faded. He couldn't let himself be happy. It would only get himself hurt. That much he knew was true. Rowanheart seemed to be recalling something and was focusing pretty hard on it. Ottersplash's mind raced with ideas of what she could be thinking of.

He couldn't think of anything he had said the night before. But then again he could barely remember anything from last night. He wondered if he had said or done anything that would offend the she-cat that sat before him. Debating on whether or not he should ask her, Rowanheart brought him back down to reality. Her sugary voice that he loved filled the den. 'Good morning! How are you?' Her tail lightly brushed his belly fur and though he tried as hard as he could, Ottersplash failed at suppressing a shiver that ran through him. It was clearly visible too. If it were possible, the tom's ears would have turned bright red, his face blushed in embarrassment.

Slowly recovering from his tremor at the beautiful she-cat's touch, he began to speak. "I'm bet..." His voice was choked off by her growling stomach. His eyes quickly darted from her face to her stomach and then back to her face. "Yo..You're hungry. I will go get you breakfast." He meowed gently, not really wanting to leave, but not wanting her to have to get up and leave his nest. He would try and return as quick as possible. It would be as if he hadn't left at all. Slowly and reluctantly he started to rise from the warm and cozy nest of moss. The sunlight flooded into the den as he removed his gaze from Rowanheart once more and started towards the entrance/exit of the warrior den.

[Lightstar]

That perpetual limp which characterized the walk of the crippled warrior Ottersplash was present now as he padded away from the she-cat’s side, unevenly making his way towards the entrance of the den. Rowanheart’s mossy green eyes followed his shaky movement, and alarm widened them. Had this been another cat, one that she did not feel affectionate towards, she wouldn’t have thought twice about making him go and fetching her breakfast. Laziness tended to weigh down her slender legs and keep her from doing her own work. This was not the time to let her infamous laziness get the better of her, though. Not with this cat.

Rowanheart was on her paws before the tom was halfway to the entrance of the den, and those tidy little paws carried her deftly to his side. ”No, that’s okay,” she insisted as she drew abreast him, looking at her with a gaze that only thinly veiled her muddled emotions, which swirled between concern, guilt, and adoration. ”You relax, ‘kay? I’m perfectly capable of getting myself food. Come on, sit!” At this, the she-cat skipped ahead of Ottersplash and swung around to face him. In a kittenishly playful but nevertheless serious move, she dropped her head and butted him in the chest, trying to force him back to his still-warm nest. An unusual plethora of energy surged through her body even at this small contact. Grinning, perhaps a little sheepishly, Rowanheart quickly turned and sprinted for the den entrance, bursting from the warriors’ den and into glaring sunlight.

Her pupils, which had been wide in the dimness of the den, found it necessary to narrow suddenly, and she blinked as pain exploded in her eyes. The ache was a minor one, though, and not unfamiliar. Through slitted eyes, Rowanheart trotted at the pace and with the gait of a moderately disoriented cat, heading haphazardly for the fresh-kill pile. By the time she reached it, to her stomach’s great content, her eyes had adjusted to the resplendence of morning and were able to be opened fully. They filled with pleasant surprise as they alighted upon a semi-large fish lying at the base of the dwindling pile. A smile rippled across her muzzle like waves over water, like the ripples that spread across a small pool of rainwater as droplets dripped into it from a bent-backed reed. Not daring to wait for some other cat to seize this perfect find, Rowanheart snatched the trout in her jaws. Scales pricked her sensitive tongue while oily juices slid across her taste buds. An eager stomach demanded gratification immediately, but, much to its continued discontent, it was ignored. Contact with Otterplash had left this she-cat feeling inspired. Rather than gobble up the rather large breakfast, she whipped around and sprinted back to the warriors’ den, her brain reminding her that she best hurry before someone told her to take her meal to the elders or queens.

It had been an in-and-out affair, and Rowanheart’s return was speedy indeed. She ducked beneath the entrance to the den, greeting Ottersplash with pricked whiskers and ears. Once again, her eyes were abused as they were forced to readjust themselves once again, but it wasn’t long before a handsome tomcat swam into their vision. A purr forced its way out from behind the heavily flavored fish as the she-cat trotted proudly to her favorite male in RiverClan. The turn of her whiskers hinted that she thought herself very clever indeed. She dropped her catch rather unceremoniously in front of Otterplash, then gave her head a smug flick. ”Enough for two!” she announced boldly.

All of a sudden, concern reared in Rowanheart’s eyes again, and the look of pride dropped. Her body took a visible blow from this change of mood. ”Or… is it not enough?” she asked, desperately concerned. She ached for Ottersplash’s approval and for his happiness with her; she didn’t want to mess up something as trivial as breakfast!

[OTTIE]

Getting breakfast. It was something he had done every day of his life. By himself, without any help. At least since his leg had healed. Every now and again he wouldn't think about his leg. Somehow he would block the thoughts of disapproval from his mind. He knew that the others thought him incapable, even if he had learned to deal with his imperfection. This morning was one of those times. He just set off out of the warm nest, which he hated to do because he didn't want to leave the loving she-cat who had spent the night with him. But she was in need of a morning meal. Not once did he think of how she would look at him as he limped toward the entrance of the den. That is until she was at his side, speaking. 'No, that’s okay. You relax, ‘kay? I’m perfectly capable of getting myself food. Come on, sit!'

His unique green eyes meet hers. All at once her emotions hit him. Concern, guilt, pity. Yes, that must have been at least some of them. His heart fell to the ground it seemed. His stomach was in his throat. How he could so easily forget such a simple fact. Rowanheart pitied him. Her words ran through his head over and over again. 'I’m perfectly capable...' The hurt rushed through his veins, cold as the rain water he almost drowned in yesterday. Unable to argue he let her gently push him back towards his nest. The world was all a blur. His mind couldn't stop. Every thought of him ever being happy with Rowanheart was washed away. She pities me. That's the only reason she stayed with me last night. The only reason she's going to get me food, which I could have gotten. She would never want me.

It seemed like forever had passed by the time the tall she-cat bounded back into the warm den, she still seemed so cheerful. A large fish was hanging from her jaws. He didn't care. He met her eyes once. Just once. That's all it took. His heart was slowly breaking and melting at the same time. He gave a faint smile that was so forced she could probably tell. Ottersplash had no idea how to approach this area. What was he to say? He let out a little sigh as his gaze slid to the ground, where the fish now lay. His shoulders visibly slumped. "Rowanheart," He looked up at met her eyes again. How could she do that? Just one look was all it took for him to be consumed. Consumed by her everything. Her pale green eyes, her soft, but slightly ruffled fur, her tall limbs, each delicate whisker, her ears and how they were too large for her head and yet she still looked adorable. Yes, consumed. Consumed by her.

"I..I could have gotten it," He meowed softly, his eyes not knowing where to go. They rested upon the fish for a few moments and then met Rowanheart's once more. "But then again, maybe I wouldn't have chosen this wonderful piece that you have." He added, trying to act a little more cheerful. He subtly straightened the way he was sitting and pulled his injured leg underneath him as best as he could. The small smile didn't seem as forced now. Not knowing what else to say he nodded his head slightly toward the fish. "You take the first bite."

[Lightstar]

Panic had swamped her brain as Rowanheart had seen the false-looking smile mar the handsome face of the tom. Terror leached the energy that sleep and contact with Ottersplash had given her limbs, and she felt her legs quake, imperceptible to sight, obvious to feel. She swallowed, tiny molecules of fish oil sliding down her tightened throat, as the tom offered his insufficient reply. "I... I could have gotten it." Dung! StarClan damn her! She hadn't done it right. This was Ottersplash's way of saying that she hadn't gotten breakfast properly, in the way he would have gotten it, which obviously would have been preferable. For one wild moment, Rowanheart wondered if perhaps Ottersplash didn't like fish... or worse, he didn't want to share with her. That sent chills through muscles that already trembled with the cold of fear.

Ottersplash's next words seemed to confirm the latter suspicion, that Rowanheart was the reason that this food was insufficient. Ottersplash simply did not want to share his meal with the she-cat. Everything he said, every single bloody word that dropped from his mouth and landed heavily like a stone on the floor of the den confirmed this. The cold refused to leave the she-cat's frozen-stiff body as she looked down at the tom with wide eyes that were naked with fear. At his command, though, the she-cat dropped into a crouch. The ice that had locked her muscles coldly together shattered, splintering across her limbs, then melting to fill her heart with a damp sort of cold.

Mechanically, Rowanheart bit into the succulent flesh of the fish. It was rich and full of flavor, and her stomach roared with pleasure, but the she-cat couldn't join in with the rejoicing of her body. Needle-like canines sliced through whitish-gray flesh and silvery scale alike, not bothering to discriminate, not taking a moment to try and determine the difference between the two parts. She swallowed dutifully, the lump of cold food slowly being forced down an unwilling throat. Though in truth her stomach was hungry and celebrated the entrance of food into it, Rowanheart thought that she was going to be sick, and her unhappy mind forced her belly to clench painfully. It took a good deal of willpower to force the chunk of fish all the way into an eagerly waiting stomach. Of course, it wasn't the hunger that drove Rowanheart to eat. It was the command of the tomcat. Though it disinterested her entirely, the fish was all that was contained in her vision: the fish and Ottersplash's graceful paws.

Perhaps if Rowanheart was more socially skillful, she wouldn't have next said what she did. Perhaps her mouth would have remained closed, and she would have known better than to say such things. She would have been subtle, intelligent, political. But this red-brown she-cat was not so charismatic or savvy. Words served her only when they were conglomerated in a story. They offered her no charisma.

Unable to bear the uncertainty--for Rowanheart had grown accustomed to being certain, for she was the controller of all her tales--the she-cat looked up at the tom, worry sending gray clouds to cover the grassy green of her eyes. In truth, it was the dim lighting that caused her eyes to take on such a silvery hue, but it may as well have been the icy cold emotion that swelled across her as a frigid wave across the ocean. "Ottersplash," she whispered, the name barely making it past the tightness in her throat, so thick and heavy with fear it was, "why are you so unhappy? Do you not... want... to share breakfast? With me, I mean?" All of the baffled hurt that she felt struggled through the gray clouds in her eyes, but no lightning flashes of hope interrupted this storm of negativity in her. She had done something wrong, and she was determined to discover what it was. Perhaps there would be no way to remedy this wrong, and perhaps knowing what she had done would only pierce her more than the imagined shards of ice that her panic had formed... But she had to know.

"What did I do wrong?" she whispered miserably.

[OTTIE]

Her misery almost made him writhe in his own pain. Agony flooded his heart. The tom could tell that he had deeply upset the she-cat sitting before him. His heart ached at seeing how hurt she was. And for what? Just because he was trying to be proud and prove himself to her? But it wasn't his fault. He never meant any true harm. He was just tired of everyone treating him differently. Just like everyone else Ottersplash could tell she pitied him. That's all he could think of. Why else would Rowanheart rush to go and get breakfast when he was clearly willing and able? Pity. That word and feeling clouded his whole mind, every thought. His entire world. If only he could take his mind off of what other's thought of him for maybe just a second, then maybe he could see that Rowanheart was just trying to be polite, generous, nice. That was never a bad thing, none of those things were. And yet, the crippled tom was only thinking of himself.

He just didn't understand why she desired to make him stay here. There were plenty of other times when she barely moved because she could be lazy at times. He sighed, looking at the ground, trying to think of what to say. Before he could meow a word, the auburn she-cat's voice filled the warm den. Ottersplash, why are you so unhappy? Do you not... want... to share breakfast? With me, I mean? The tom was barely able to look up at her. He continued to look at the ground, rushing to think of anything to say to make her feel better. Once again she beat him to speaking. What did I do wrong?

He wished he could just rub against her warm fur to give her some sort of comfort, but all of his insecurities held him frozen to the spot at which he sat. Ottersplash shook his head lightly from side to side a few times. His voice came out cracked and dry. "Ro..Rowanheart, of course I would like to share breakfast with you. It's just..well.." What else could he say? I wanted to get it? How stupid did that sound? He felt like he was acting like a kit that didn't get his way. But that p word, pity, popped back into his mind. Ottersplash wanted the other cats to stop pitying him, he didn't know how. After sitting in silence for a few moments the tom took a deep breath and glanced upward with just his eyes, looking at Rowanheart. How perfect she was and here he sat trying to win her heart by making her feel horrible? Then something hit him. It was almost as if he was forcing her to pity him. Everything was his fault and he was bringing it all upon himself. What a mouse-brained kit.

"You did nothing wrong. Please Rowanheart, don't be upset. I didn't mean anything by any of it." He meowed quietly, still her pain was making him feel worse and worse with each passing second. "I should go..." He whispered, struggling to stand as he held the tears from falling from his eyes. He stumbled toward the den entrance, tripping and almost falling several times. He cursed himself and everything else as he got to the opening. He stopped, glancing back at Rowanheart, not really wanting to leave her, but feeling the need to stop embarrassing himself anymore. He took another step toward the entrance, hurting inside for both of them.

[Lightstar]

The petrified doubt refused to stop gnawing on Rowanheart’s mind. Its teeth nibbled insistently, questioning, fearing, eating away the hope that the she-cat had that everything would turn out okay between herself and this fine specimen of a tomcat before her. Her rapidly fluttering heart refused to calm as Ottersplash offered his completely insufficient response to the she-cat’s query. That heart ached with the speed at which it pounded against the muscles of her chest, and the fangs of doubt bit deeper into the she-cat. Blood rushed to the feline’s ears, filling them with a roaring sound. Though her ears were filled with the noise of rushing blood, Rowanheart could only fill her eyes with the face of the most painfully handsome tom in RiverClan.

The she-cat watched as the tom lifted his crystalline gaze to hers. His eyes were so mysterious, so provocative, where hers were so plain, so ashen. Those mysterious eyes of Ottersplash’s filled the she-cat with pain, radiating deep into her body from her eyes. Though the tom’s voice assured that she did nothing wrong, Rowanheart was looking into his beautiful, heart-breaking blue eyes, and she could see an accusation sitting in them, leering out at her, a malignant little worm that marred a pair of otherwise perfect eyes. Those astounding orbs of teal swam in misery, a beautiful sadness that tore into the she-cat’s heart with every second they were in her gaze.

”I should go.” Those dreadful words reached through the roaring in Rowanheart’s ears and plunged right into her spirit, sharp and accurate as a needle. Her vision, before so intently focused, began to blur suddenly. The huntress struggled to maintain focus, to stare defiantly right back at Ottersplash, but she suddenly couldn’t see him so well. Besides, he was rising, passing her on his way out of the warriors’ den. Though her ears burned with blood, Rowanheart could hear the whisper of his fur, the soft but uneven thud of his footsteps. Still, she focused her gaze on the place where the tom had been, not daring to move a single one of her lean muscles, not daring to stir a single whisker.

Whispering footsteps were suddenly silenced, breaking the horror that had held Rowanheart in an iron vice. The warrior finally turned her head rapidly, looking back at Ottersplash as he turned to look at her. Her jaw trembled, words still unformed by her mind stuck between her teeth. The horror locked her heart and body in place once more as the tom’s spellbinding gaze reached straight into hers. A step by the tom was all that was needed to break the lock this time, and without mentally analyzing what she was about to do—an action unusual for this warrior—she stumbled to her paws as she attempted to turn towards the tom who was even then leaving her alone in the empty, echoing den.

”Stop it!” The command sprang unbidden from her parted maw, born from the parents of panic and desire. Hurt bubbled up inside of her, suddenly freed from its fetters for reasons Rowanheart could not know why. Upon analyzing, she could probably discover that it was because she had spent a night by the side of this tom, and suddenly he was leaving her. The word he had said the night before hung from her soul like a broken promise, but she wouldn’t let it fall from her heart entirely. ”Just… stop! Come back!” The words were somewhere between demanding and pleading, the confliction reflected in a pair of wide green eyes. Rowanheart took a few distinct steps towards Ottersplash as she spoke.

”These mind games!” she fumed, demands turning to anger and pleas turning to pain. ”They’re so stupid! What, you say one thing and do another? I’m supposed to guess what’s on your mind? Stop it!” Those steps Rowanheart was taking, they carried her across the mossy den floor and brought her up to the tom. She shoved her own slim body between the tom and the exit to the den, staring him down with emotion-torn eyes. The she-cat’s mouth tightened briefly, trembling even as it did. She thrust her head towards Ottersplash, crying, ”Just say what you mean, and mean what you say! Stop being so damn confusing!”

When you said “forever,” did you mean it or not? Just tell me what’s on your heart and give me peace. These were the words that Rowanheart could not bear to say, at least not at this juncture. They were the words that her spirit cried as she stared searchingly into the tom’s beautiful blue eyes, seeking the truth of this matter.

[OTTIE]

She looked almost lifeless, just sitting there looking at the empty space at which he once was contained. But then her head turned towards him. His eyes met hers for an instant and yet it seemed like years. Still, he turned away. Not able to look at how much pain he had caused her. Not able to give into her pleading gaze. Before he could step out of the den her voice made him falter in his step. 'Stop it! Just… stop! Come back!' The tom could almost feel his heart shatter with her pain. He couldn't turn and look at her though. No, why punish both of them even more? He took another step away, but didn't see her step toward him. Ottersplash was looking out into the sun filled camp, only a few steps away from freedom. His mind was too busy accusing himself and her for everything that he didn't hear her paws carry her across the den.

His fur prickled and his body shuddered as her warm fur blended with his for just the briefest of moments. Rowanheart pushed her way between the opening and himself, blocking his way out. 'These mind games! They’re so stupid! What, you say one thing and do another? I’m supposed to guess what’s on your mind? Stop it!' Her voice, demanding yet pleading rang through the den with a sternness and anger that he never thought could come from her. His ears flattened against his head as he looked dejectedly at his own paws, not able to view the pain on her face, nor the accusation. Ottersplash thought of how horrible a friend he was being at this moment. He knew that the odd she-cat didn't have many friends to begin with and here he was pushing her away, just like everyone else.

The tom could barely keep himself from rushing past her and running away. That's what he always did when confronted, and even more so with she-cats. Run away. Rowanheart continued to block his way and he felt it just plain rude to push her out of his way. He thought he was already being rude enough. 'Just say what you mean, and mean what you say! Stop being so damn confusing! Her desperate, but angry pleas forced him to finally look at her, his own pain emerging only through his eyes as he fought himself. Say something you idiot! You've already screwed up enough. Just apologize...But you know that won't make anything better. Just leave. But how will that be any better than the other cats that treat her this way. She has an amazing personality and you are the only one who accepts her, just tell her how you feel. She only pities you... His mind slowly churned through all the words he wished his heart wanted to say, but that his mind kept from her ears. His eyes drifted to the ground in front of them.

His chocolate and cream fur bristled slightly as anger emerged. She pities you... Only pity... That's all it was... That's all it ever will be... Slowly his gaze trailed up her paws to her legs, her neck, and finally her face. He met her gaze, her pain still visible to him. Even though he was still hurting it was slowly being pushed to the back of his mind. "I don't know what you want me to say Rowanheart. You are the one playing mind games. Nothing ever seems enough for you. Even when I try to do things for you, you constantly bring me down. Why don't you just stop?" His voice came out in a stern whisper, almost in a sneer. His emotions and patience were running thin, unable to tell her how he really felt. Ottersplash stood face to face with the auburn she-cat, practically glaring her down as he started to cover his pain with more anger.

[Lightstar]

The pain that swam in the tom’s teal eyes was melting away, but rather than melting into some positive emotion, hard anger was revealed beneath the hurt. The anger shocked Rowanheart. Those beautiful, entrancing eyes accused her. The heat of the tom’s rage seared her, right into her. Their closeness in proximity the night before had allowed her to slowly open her heart a tiny bit, and it unfurled in the light of their two warm bodies like a morning glory in the dawn sunlight. Now the light that had coaxed her heart open scorched its delicate petals. Quickly, the she-cat closed her heart again, lest she was hurt any more than she already was.

She couldn’t close it fast enough, though. Ottersplash’s angry hiss of speech slipped through the half-closed seams, slicing through the fragile layers of her heart. The words left her feeling raw, exposed, even though she shut herself off as quickly as possible. She only seemed to trap the tom’s rage inside of her.

Confusion swarmed through Rowanheart’s mind as she struggled to process the tom’s cutting words. What did she want him to say? She wanted him to say what he meant, that was all! Should she still let her delicate hope cling to him? Should she reopen the flower of her heart to his? Yet the words that followed these first ones out of his mouth assured her that she should not expose her soul to this cat. He accused her of playing mind games, of being too needy. Ottersplash said she brought him down. Was that true? But what did Rowanheart do to bring him down? She racked her mind, but couldn’t think of what it was.

Oh, was it her affection for him, which she’d nursed so carefully, so tenderly, that brought him down? Was this Ottersplash’s way of rejecting her? When he said “just stop,” did he mean just stop pursuing him? That was the only reasonable explanation for all of this.

Rowanheart vaguely realized she’d been standing numbly before the tomcat all the time she was trying to puzzle a meaning out of his words. She stood there, limbs stiff, eyes wide with confusion and, yes, hurt. She might have chosen to close her heart off to Ottersplash, but his words still cut her, and cut her deep. Fascinatingly, feeling affection for someone else wasn’t something that was easy to just stop doing. The seams covering her heart would not completely close; time alone could heal them shut, as it heals shut the skin above a wound.

She gathered herself, though, this warrior feline with the mossy green eyes and the bark-colored fur. She tightened her mouth, tried to keep her ears straight as she could, and did her best to harden her eyes, though they burned with the fresh pain that Ottersplash had given her with his hurting words. Rowanheart swallowed with some difficulty, forcing saliva past the hard lump in her throat. Her mouth opened, the intention being for it to form words, but the words didn’t come. She closed her mouth and tried again, taking a quick, deep breath, sucking the warm air into her quaking lungs before she began. Finally, the words she meant to say, the words that lingered unwillingly in her throat behind that cold, hard lump, emerged.

”Alright,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. ”If this is what’s been on your mind this whole time… well, thanks for telling me, I guess.” The words were halting, unwilling, painful to spit out, clogging her throat as they built up, causing that pressure in her throat, in her chest. All the while, her eyes continued to burn, though she struggled to keep them solidified, neutral. ”That… that was all I wanted you to say. I’m sorry I wasn’t… enough. I’m just… I’m going to go now.” The she-cat meant to say goodbye, but her eyes would certainly betray her at any moment.

Rowanheart turned, stumbling out of the den and into the blazing sunlight. She stared dead ahead, not wanting any cat to see her, to see the tremble in her whiskers, see the way her eyes screwed up in agony. Hastily, the she-cat trotted forward, heading directly for the entrance to the camp. Her feathery tail flicked limply behind her; she had not the willpower to control it, to lift it in some semblance of feeling okay. Her belly was knotted, twisted; at any moment, she was going to vomit all over the sandy ground, and then all the cats in RiverClan would come rushing out to see what was wrong with her. She didn’t want anyone to see her, didn’t want anyone to acknowledge her if they did. Most of all, she didn’t want that tomcat she had just left to follow her, to see the wounds he’d given her. Surely he’d have time to see them later, for they would certainly be leaving scars.

The camp entrance between the reeds engulfed Rowanheart, the shade of the long stems criss-crossing her auburn body. It wasn’t until she was halfway through that her stomach gave a final heave, and that one mouthful of fish threatened to flee her body through her mouth. All that left her muzzle, though, was a quiet moan. The she-cat squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out everything, but the hurt still massed in her slim body, shaking it from the inside out.

[OTTIE]

Almost as quickly as his anger came on it disappeared. He could see how much pain he was causing this she-cat that he cared so much about. At least he thought he saw how much, but in truth he could never realize that he had basically taken her heart and thrown it away like crow food. Oh how he wished he could just comfort her, run up to her, nuzzle her, and make her feel loved. His fear kept his paws frozen to the den floor. His gaze took in the pain emitted from her eyes that shone like fresh moss on a rock. Ottersplash could just about feel her gaze turn cold. Her voice was barely audible and the tom could tell Rowanheart was struggling to speak. 'Alright, If this is what’s been on your mind this whole time… well, thanks for telling me, I guess.'

Ottersplash opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. He shook his head as her whisper filled his head. 'That… that was all I wanted you to say. I’m sorry I wasn’t… enough. I’m just… I’m going to go now.' She turned away from him, stumbling out. "Rowanheart...No, don't..." He called, but she was gone, weaving through the cats who never took notice toward her. It was as if she was invisible. He watched her tall legs carry her slim, brown body out of the camp. And yet not one cat stopped her. Not one cat asked if she was okay. Not only had Ottersplash ruined Rowanheart's heart, he demolished his with hers.

Seeing the one cat he cared about above everyone else trudge away from him, just on the brink of tears, killed him. He found his paws forcing him to pace back and forth inside of the warriors den. I'm the only one that ever accepted her and now look at what I've done. She'll never forgive me. I'm so damn stupid! Ottersplash sighed, scolding himself silently. His eyes stayed on the entrance of the camp, hoping that his beloved would return. She didn't. After a few moments of debating he forced his way out of the warriors den, past his clan mates, his eyes never leaving the entrance of the camp. He took no notice of the cats he brushed against, pushing his way forward. His limping quickened, almost out of the camp. Following the auburn she-cat's sweet scent he broke into a run once he was out of camp. It was more like fast hobbling because of his injured leg, but he knew he would catch up with her sooner or later.