Talks in the Sun
Arnicabark is getting older, and Duskripple is trying to spend time with her as much as possible. He admits that in recent days, that he has been neglecting her. Even if it’s okay, and he is making his life. In a way he never expected himself to have. So in a small apology, they bring her a mouse and ask if she wants to talk for a while.
“Starlight, you know you don’t have to ask right?”
“I know, old habits die hard.”
“Lead the way then, Starlight. I’ll follow.”
They go where their paws take them; it feels like forever. Until their pelt slowly warms as the light hits it, the wind howls. It doesn’t echo, but shifts the sands, enough to know they made it outside. Their aunt brushes their side, bonking lightly…clumsily as the family is used to do. A cave staple that makes them both laugh, and apologize all at the same time.
The two cats talk, chatting about several things and nothing all at once. Something missed in the hectic nature of the clans it seems. Until she drops something, something that makes her heart clench.
“So I heard about the exploration, it seems something beautiful has formed there.”
Admittedly, something in them drops. Singing in tones of twisting roses. Beautiful flowers with three blooms. Making a triangle, but also sensing the empty spaces. Seeing the heart that is growing from buds. Think of the way that two of his closest friends have gotten closer. In a small way, how they don’t groan in disgust as they normally do. Because his friends deserve such happiness, especially in the dark times they have seen.
But they don’t miss the way their fur prickles in slight heat at her next question;
“And how are you and that lovely Buzzardcall. Probably gossiping in the corner, pretending to brood right?”
Their hearing falls away, as their heart clenches and squeezes like a vice. A small thing that tugs and prickles and hurts in a small way. A good pain, but a pain none the less. Their ears pull back, as if they are curled up in a nest with someone else. With them. Like they can’t tell where one cat begins and the other ends. Except for the small space in the middle that reminds them that they are indeed two cats. The two staccato breaths that fill the space, even amongst all of the other sounds that should overwhelm their ears.
But because they are there, it doesn’t. Because that small snuffle, and their cold nest behind them. Sitting like a heavy shadow, like the clan they never knew but left behind. Realizing if they had never been blind, they would have never been able to meet any of their friends. Or their new family for that matter.
But when their aunt asks if they are okay, he returns to the conversation. Offering a small response, even if they don’t know why their heart squeezes.
“They are good! They have been chatting with Beetle recently, as well as spike. I think Spike needs Buzzard’s brain cell.”
He lets the laugh overwhelm them, changing the subject but not knowing why they want too.