Secret Jig

Cloverflame peeked his head out of the medicine cat's den and glanced around the camp. "Shellstar?" he called out tentatively before exiting his den to look closer. It was true - she was gone. She must be on another patrol, the medicine cat thought to himself with a small grin.

In the center of the camp, the tortoiseshell cat stood, his head held up proudly. Cloverflame inhaled a deep breath of the salty sea air. And then he began to dance. It was a little jig, one he learned from the place he was born and one that he would keep for all the places he would go. Now it was a jig that he would keep to himself as a memory and a tribute to all of the experiences he had before settling down.

Back at his old home, he considered himself to be the best. Even on the ship that he traveled on, all of the Nofurs enthused their delight when Cloverflame danced. But he was named Clover back then, and he gave up that life. However... that didn't mean that he had to give up dancing. No, he would simply do it in private. Not that he wasn't proud. Cloverflame was confident in the ability of his jig, as his paws skittered over the sand and landed perfectly to the beat in his head.

Sometimes it made him miss the music that the Nofurs played on the ship with the odd wooden sticks they held to their mouth. Cloverflame didn't know how they had made the sticks play tunes, but they were beautiful and extravagant. Just the thought of them made his short, curled tail twitch happily and his paws to tapping.

Cloverflame danced until the moon was high in the sky, his shadow moving with him. Before long, he would retire to his den. But for now, he would jig. His paws were already aching and his heart was beating fast, but the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through him was exhilarating. Cloverflame exhaled heavily every time he jumped into the air and landed hard on his paws, continuing the fancy footwork.

After dancing, every night he would dream about doing his jig again. Sometimes his paws twitch in his sleep.