- Aug 3, 2022
- 326
- 143
- 43
Granitepelt knows he must talk to the she-kit who’d followed him. He’s put it off as many ways as he could—groveling to Sootstar, learning the ways of his new Clan, getting the wounds inflicted upon him by ShadowClan treated by the medicine cat apprentice. At last, though, there is nothing else he can use to distract him from her presence in WindClan. He seeks her out, blinding-white and wreathed in shadow, and he comes to sit beside her. An uncomfortable silence lies thick like fog between them; when Granitepelt speaks, his breath plumes in the cold.
“How are you holding up? WindClan is strange, I know.” He does not know how to relate to her. He does not want to relate to her—when she turns eyes dark as nightshade on him, he feels the fur on the back of his neck threatening to rise—but she had followed him. All along, the potential he’d longed to see in Flintpaw, in Nettlepaw, had secretly been dormant in the she-kit he despised.
He questions his judgment, then, if only for half a heartbeat. “Why… why is it you followed me here?”
[ @GHOSTPAW. ]
“How are you holding up? WindClan is strange, I know.” He does not know how to relate to her. He does not want to relate to her—when she turns eyes dark as nightshade on him, he feels the fur on the back of his neck threatening to rise—but she had followed him. All along, the potential he’d longed to see in Flintpaw, in Nettlepaw, had secretly been dormant in the she-kit he despised.
He questions his judgment, then, if only for half a heartbeat. “Why… why is it you followed me here?”
[ @GHOSTPAW. ]
, ”