camp THE RIVER LETHE'S TASTE IS BITTER \ a recollection

[FEATHERSPINE]

Featherspine hunched over a rabbit, blood spreading across her tongue, a mind grasping for thoughts in the quiet of a lonesome mealtime. Something whispered within- yellow eyes twitched, and her jaw moved slowly, slowly. White paws flexed upon the earth, tearing at it, pushing claws through thin burrows. Something was bothering him, it was clear- the lines of his scowl were set deep, and Featherspine's stomach churned.

It had dawned on him after waking, days and days after that hazy, warmth-drenched night. Nightmares had persisted since then, but pleasant dreams brushed soft wing along his mind, too ... and that kindness was always accompanied with a face. Grinning, with bright blue-ringed eyes- his best friend, his oldest friend. Unrelenting fondness for her ran under everything she did, but the more she pondered upon the feeling, the more she remembered.

Past the story of two rabbits - the assurance that she was there, and would not leave... there had been another admission. As he had hunkered down with his meal, it had dawne on Featherspine. Love you, she'd said. And out loud.

In that quietness, the closeness of their huddled bodies... there was no way Pinkshine could have missed it. And- and Featherspine could remember nothing after that except a comfortable unconsciousness, the vague awarness of everything slipping away.

"I'm not hungry, actually," he mumbed hurriedly to a long shadow cast over her, the approach of another. Her heart thumped wildly, and slitted pupils stared at nothing. Oh, she couldn't have ... couldn't have heard it. ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[downyfur]

It's hard to miss the relationship between her sister and Bearflight's sister. Pinkshine's always worn her heart on her pelt, and her feelings were as loud as the sound of water in the tunnels. Sometimes they wonder whether such a private cat minds. He's always guarded the insides of his ribcage like they were something sacred, but moreover something dark, as though his barbs and thorns weren't to keep everyone else out but to keep it all in. But Pinkshine positively glowed every time they saw them together; it's easy to see with all her light.

Downyfur's words—something about getting ready for the dusk patrol—dry on their tongue as Featherspine turns her head from her food. Marine hues flick from the half-eaten meal to the unfocused glare to the thin grooves in the still-green earth, and they swallow lightly. "Are you alright?" She makes no move towards the food. "Featherspine, if you're sick..." She hates to cause undue paranoia, but with Wolfsong out of commission and Celandinepaw still as green as the moors, WindClan just couldn't afford another young warrior following Quietcrow. And StarClan, they loathed being confrontational, but their peer was never exactly the type to take her rightful rest days either...​