The Fallen Tree's

[snowstorm]

Cloe sighed with relief that none of the cats came to find her. She jumped out of the tree and poked her nose through the bushes, listening to the conversation. She pricked her ears so she could hear better, and settled down in the bushes. A slight breeze blew across the bushes. Cloe was down wind of them, and she didn't really care.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw waited until he had finished his words before turning her head away from his gaze. The movement seemed to be a mix between a natural glance around the surroundings, as if she was thinking of what to say next, and a flinch. She paused, thinking longer than usual.

She felt... awkward. She never got spoken to about things like this... she was a cat who everyone avoided talking to in this way... as if they feared she would laugh at them. Dealing with this vulnerability was beyond her expertise... in fact, she had little skill in it. What should she say?

Eventually, Frostpaw decided that she would just have to deal with it as best she could, trying to let her emotional side guide her for once in her life.

"I guess... thats understandable." Frostpaw spoke almost with reluctance, as if wishing she did not have to answer for any of this at all. "Those cats mean alot to you... fear is going to hold you back. The real task isn't coming upon the idea of what you should do, it's doing it. I guess that's why most cats do not bother trying, they think they won't succeed. Yet... in the end, the fact that it's so difficult is what makes it worthwhile."

Frostpaw thought for a moment, feeling as if the tension was rising. She hated it. She wasn't used to it. She hated feeling emotionally involved... she'd have to end this soon.

"I... hope your fear ends soon." She said quietly, "Fear is hard to defeat... but it's possible."

Was it her fault that she seemed to have virtually no emotional ties to anyone? Was it her fault she had no fear. No, it wasn't. Despite her breakaway from being a follower long ago, her sudden change of lifestyle had pretty much just snipped the small thread that had linked her and the clan together. She wasn't like Finchpaw... who had cats who cared about him... who expected certain things from him. Apart from her mother, cats had always seen her as a troublemaker and a faithless, perhaps even evil, cat. They expected nothing from her, so when she came to live like this the clan would simply believe she would always have turned out like this...

The words about balancing friendship with defining your own path stung her more than it should. The fact that she had not been able to draw back slightly with those words embarrassed her. In fact, the pain of the mortification perhaps equalled that of the hurt the contents of the words had given her. She hated seeming weak...

Finchpaw obviously didn't understand her position...

"Finchpaw," She mewed calmly, her voice taking on a slightly cold edge, "You differ alot from me. You have people who care about you... my mother disowned me as soon as she realised that I would not believe what she ever would." She spoke with ease again. Though it may have felt like it to Finchpaw, none of the things she was revealing caused her any pain. No, she'd never reveal those things.

She gazed into Finchpaw's eyes, "Finchpaw... it is simply impossible for this clan and I to get along. Every single thing they believe in I go against. They will hate me just because of that. There are cats who put up with me, yes, but in the end they usually wish I wasn't here. They don't like how I question the clan life they so easily accept... so they hate me and label me as a troublemaker. You know it yourself. I do not go out of my way not to be sociable, some cats just..." She shook her head, "they are too deluded for me to be able to hold conversation with. That or they don't respect me because of my views or status. Your own father thinks that I am a concieted and lost cat, for fox-dung's sake!"

She paused, seating herself and closing her eyes. There was no way she would give Finchpaw the chance to pick up on any emotion in her eyes, if there was any, for this next sentence.

"So, do not misunderstand. I do not try to live my life alone, this clan makes me live my life alone."

Once again, she wished, with sadness tinging her emotions, that she lived in Pineclan. Maybe there she would get respect...

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw had an urge to comfort her. But his smarter self warned him of this, hissing in general terror at the idea and the result of what would follow. Frostpaw would shy away at his attempt (and what would he do anyway?) Anyway, this young she-cat would not care for it, Finchpaw was ninety percent sure of this. But he still wanted to.

Would she run from me if I tried to comfort her and hate me because I tried to empathize? Would I lose the respect I have gained throughout this conversation? Why am I even thinking of this? In the big picture, it wouldn't matter if I upset her or not, she is just one cat. Finchpaw thought, debating with himself what tone to use.

He didn't want to sound like he was pitying her or anything. And clearly, Frostpaw had come to terms with it herself.

But Finchpaw detected lingering loneliness and a need for company in her.

Finally, he began to answer her, with compassion in his voice, but he hoped she would not be offended by this. "What you say is all true. But I didn't necessarily mean within the clan, Frostpaw. We are allowed to have friends outside the clan... strong friendships aren't advised, but you're never one to follow the rules anyway."

His tail fluttered down onto her shoulder automatically,without even a thought-- which was rare for an analytical cat like Finchpaw. "And I think I do understand. I know it's hard for you. You are the sole reason why I'm scared. My father talks of you. He speaks vile lies and shares his deductions that are made from his prejudices about you. His... his hate keeps me silent."

Finchpaw let his tail drop. He was beginning to feel too vulnerable and also like he was betraying his family. Who knew that he had such a slippery tongue? Finchpaw made a note to be more careful... Frostpaw was clever and could use what he said against his father.

Though, Finchpaw found himself torn on that subject. Who would he cheer for, in the end of it all?

"Let's forgo this discussion for another time," Finchpaw meowed casually, for he was sure that there would be another time, another day, "unless you have something to say on the matter." And then, quite randomly, "Tell me, Frostpaw, what about you? Where would you go if you had the choice?"

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[Rolo]

Frostpaw could sense by his reply that he felt for her. Her immediate reaction was an internal growl of annoyance. How could she act so weak? She was stronger than this. She knew she didn't care for friendships, why should she be so bothered by the fact that none desired one with her anyway? However, Frostpaw bit back her annoyance and decided only to speak with conviction rather than anger.

"What is the point in having a friendship with a cat you cannot speak to for moons at a time?" Asked Frostpaw calmly, "Besides, I'll still have to face the hate of the clan when brief liasons with this 'friend' is over. It's pointless. I'm going to be hated anyway, why should one friendship make a difference? Besides, I'm fine as I am. I don't need it."

She spoke cooly though a little too quickly to be completely convincing. The weakness in her voice made her wince. She turned away from him, looking up at the sky.

"You are right to fear." Her voice was gruff, cold. "Not many cats can deal with hatred or awkwardness. I can though. I do it on a daily basis. Knowing the truth and making my path is what I live for, why should I care what others think? It is not hard nor challenging, living this way is as easy for me as the way you live your social life is for you. You've learned to love and I did not. Why should I care about a lack of something in my life when I've never experienced it? You are right to fear, but I do not."

She sat down with her back to him. There were so may ways she could answer his last question. Yet, Frostpaw felt a total lack of will to go on. This cat was... she just couldn't go on.

"Why should you care where I go or what choices I make? You respect me for the lifestyle I have, the personality traits I have but you lack, but you do not care for me. This conversation is but a formal confrontation, not endearing opening to a friendship." She was blunt and to the point. However, her tone was designed to cut and to make a cat question themselves and their actions. She knew she was just a mere fastination to Finchpaw. Without his pity, he would not care for her at all.

[Whiskers]

The tone of her voice dismissed him and even stung him, like the first words she had first spoken. Frostpaw had completely clammed up, resorting to her usual sharp-edged words that sent cats running for the trees. Finchpaw despised this sudden change and it caused his pelt to prickle as he stood, eyes boring into the back of Frostpaw's coat.

This attitude was annoying him. She was belittling him with her inflections and her body language. The words were strong, cutting words but it was more the fact that she turned her back on him that was sending Finchpaw up a tree. The least she could do was face him and look him in the eye as she had been doing. It felt, to him, like she was just giving up their banter for some odd reason.

Finchpaw couldn't explain it.

He felt his agitation grow as she rattled off about how this was just a conversation and merely that. She was absolutely refusing to acknowledge the possibility of some sort of relationship between the two-- whether it was merely acquaintances or actual friends. Frostpaw was purposefully pushing him away.

Though she had no real reason to.

"I asked because I enjoy talking with you. I was curious." Finchpaw said, ignoring the sting that her words had provided and even the feeling of rejection. "You shouldn't make assumptions about my motives. You may view this conversation as a 'formal confrontation' but I don't."

He managed to keep his tone smooth and since she was not facing him, Frostpaw would not be able to detect the irritation in his gaze, or even the hurt that hid behind that.

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[Rolo]

((Young Frostpaw always surprises me... Unlike her older self, her calm is anything but serene. She's so quick to change moods on the smallest of things, she even confuses me. Don't ask where this come from, I don't even know.))

Frostpaw bristled slightly. This cat really didn't have a clue about her. Really. It irritated her. It made her want to snarl at him.

Every cat in the clan knew Frostpaw's skill with words. In fact, the grey she-cat was famous for her sharp ones. She had the ability to bite a cat where it hurt most, sometimes wounding them emotionally for good. She was also known for her ability to gain the upper hand in verbal battles, making a cat doubt themselves and forget their own opinion in her quickness. Yet, her quickness with words worked both ways, she could be the most coldly affectionate sounding cat if she wanted to. Frostpaw had the ability to make the simplest of compliments become a cat's entire world if she wanted to. She had an ability to shape and sculpt her words and tone into anything she wished just by willing it, it gave her an immense power over cats. Frostpaw could manipulate or inpower a cat with a simple change of voice. Frostpaw knew that Frostpaw's words often meant alot, held a lot of significance. She was so open and honest, cats knew that she would not lie to them. Yet, even those who recognised her intelligence managed to underestimate the sheer amount of puppetry that was behind her words. She spoke everything, she spoke nothing. She was open but she was closed. Frostpaw, in reality, told very little of herself. She just made it SEEM like she said everything. That was her skill, craft and power. That was what came to her with the power to say whatever she wanted without giving anything away, she never had to tell the truths she did not wish to tell... or even admit.

The truth she ignored now was that she was completely out of her depth. This was a situation she had never been in before. A cat was interested in her... genuinely interested in her. And she knew it was slightly beyond mere fastination, there was some kind of affection behind their conversation. Frostpaw didn't know how to deal with that. It barely even registered with her that there was some kind of friendly connection between them, she just knew something was different. Frostpaw had spent her entire life eradicating her emotions from every situation. Hate was replaced with disrespect. Love was exchanged for respect. She knew not of like and dislike. Formality had always been the thing inspiring her discussions, not friendship. She knew not of friendship, of companionship. She didn't even know how that started, or for what reason. Her life had been deprived of it, how was she to know how to recognise the signs? How was she to know the supposed 'joy' that came from it? Talking to Finchpaw, entrusting him with a part of her soul by telling him her dreams and aspirations, was a thought she couldn't bare to think about. Trust meant damage. Trust meant darkness. Trust meant hurt. To put her emotions into things meant weakness. She could not do it. She could never do it.

"Confrontation?" She asked sharply, "I thought it more as a conversation."

She did not turn to him. She wasn't calm enough. Her emotions were still threatening to make her move a way she did not want to.

"It is... good you enjoyed talking to me." She mumbled, uncertain, "But... in the end you are just curious. Just like you said. I..."

She trailed off awkwardly. She truely didn't know what to say. Eventually she settled upon a few choice words, which she spoke with a voice mixed with confusion, anger, sadness, happiness and embarrassment;

"I don't know why you're talking to me."

[Whiskers]

The young tom tried to calm himself, reviewing herbs over in his head in order to distract his mind from the petty emotions that he was feeling. What should he be upset? They did barely know each other, after all. But, as his brother always teased him, he was the 'she-cat' in the family, always more intuitive and senstive than Firepaw and even Rowanheart. (Though Rowanheart was emotional and both of those toms depended heavily on their gut feelings.) Still, it was Finchpaw that got upset when cats died or when something unfortunate happened. He was just so much better at controlling it and masking it with fancy words and a calm, professional stance.

You use lavender when dealing with chills and the scent often calms the cat... poppy seeds are good for pain of course... oh darn, what was goldenrod again?

Finchpaw couldn't find the information anywhere in his brain-- but he didn't have to strain himself, for Frostpaw had snapped him back to reality. He focused into her words again, but now he was more cautious as to what she would say. He held back his laugh when she reacted briskly to the word 'confrontation' though he was the one who had quoted her. She did not notice the same snort that had come out though, as she rattled on without even turning back to see him... which still drove him mad. He waited for her to finish speaking her mumbled, uncertain response and then he took it upon himself to fix the problem, standing up and walking around her, his tail gliding across his shoulder as he turned with a swift jerk and sat himself in front of her. Finchpaw gave her a pointed look and didn't even care if she found him rude. She was the one who was being rude-- she would address him properly.

But his own expression faded into one of confusion. She didn't know why? Hadn't he just told her? Though, thinking deeply into the question, Finchpaw truly didn't know why he had started talking to her either. To defy his father? Did he just need someone to vent to?


"I... I'm not sure as what my initial motive is, Frostpaw. But I do now that I'm still talking to you because I like trying to predict what you're going to say... and what you're going to do. When I'm wrong, it challenges my own answer. And when you pass off our conversation as a meaningless event, it annoys me. I don't want that."

It wasn't what he truly wanted to say. But Finchpaw couldn't find the correct words this time. He didn't know how to tell her what he wanted to tell her, how to get through to Frostpaw that he planned to talk to her again-- whether she wanted to or not. He didn't care if she hated him because he cured cats of sicknesses or healed their wounds. He didn't care if his father was going to be stupid and tell him that demons had possessed her and that she was doomed.

Finchpaw would, for once in his life, do what he wanted to do. Even if it was just as simple as talking to Frostpaw.

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[snowstorm]

Cloe sighed, almost buried alive by nearby leaves, pine needles, and twigs. She shook the debris off of her coat and stared ahead. She twitched her tail in curiosity, as she listened to the cats talk. Suddenly, she felt the wind shift and she was up-wind of the cats.
"Uh-oh.."
she mewed, and tried to bury herself again.

[Rolo]

Frostpaw sat stock still as he passed her in a jerky movement, sitting down in front of her and fixing his eyes upon her. It was such a swift movement, she couldn't say she wasn't a little startled, however her steely determination stopped it from showing. Besides, the movement just the wake-up call she needed. As if waking from a nightmare, the sudden movement and evident annoyance in the tom's movement provided just enough distraction for her to awaken into her real world. In but seconds she had completely buried her emotions again. She could feel all bitterness and sadness floating away to be replaced with her normal, arguementative self. What's more, she slipped into it with ease. Why?

Finchpaw had reacted in just the right way to bring her back. She who was the one with no emotions, whose entire being was based upon beliefs and ponderings returned in an instant. Finchpaw's odd behaviour, defiance in such a passive cat, had been enough to peak her interest enough for her to eradicate all emotion. By providing content she found fastinating, Finchpaw had single-handedly removed all Frostpaw's emotions from the situation.

Finchpaw had sparked her sense of humor, her curiousity and her arguementative side simultaneously. Such a show of anger and rudeness from such a quiet cat would never fail to start a blaze of thoughts and arguements in her brain.

Frostpaw's face widened into a smirk and then an untimely chuckle came from her throat. It felt so out of place in this conversation, it delighted her. He wanted to predict her actions? Well, he'd find it completely impossible. She'd make it impossible.

After a few seconds of dislike, Frostpaw liked him again.

"So you have the ability to speak as bluntly as me, then?" She spoke casually, strongly, "That's a surprise. You're so careful not to let your opinions impose on people usually."

She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she focused directly and unflinchingly on his gaze, "I fastinate you, I can see that... but your plight is trivial. I'm sure that you've found, in the course of this conversation, that every tiny thing you thought you knew about me before was false. Your truth is your truth, my truth is mine. I'll always suprise you, Finchpaw, unless you can get into cat's heads. Cats are unable to see another's truth, after all."

She was purposely cryptic. She spoke dismissively, with a very slight mocking edge to her voice. However, this edge was more the result of her elatedness of having something to argue about, rather than it being due to malicious intent.

However, her last few points of discussion was where her interest truely lied;

"And why is this conversation so important to you?" She asked curiously, "It's but a conversation after all, what should it matter if it is meaningless?"

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw was getting good at this-- at preparing himself for her rude tones or swings at emotions. She still managed to throw him for a loop, but at leats he was harder, and quicker on the draw. Through this entire conversation-- and it had drawn itself out, though Finchpaw didn't want it to end, so there was no issue there-- he had been observing in his own way. And he had been forced to look at things in an entirely different perspective and hopefully, he had made some sort of impact on Frostpaw, though she did not make it obvious as she was. But several times, he had caught her unarmed. And Finchpaw took secret pride in that.

Finchpaw was surprisingly pleased when she resorted back to her haughty gaze and mocking words-- she was no longer uncomfortable with him and she was back to confronting him with confidence. This is what he enjoyed. He did not want her to turn away and stare at the ground. He liked seeing her eyes. This is how they would hold the conversation.

"It is true, that what I thought of you before has now become false, though you've actually confirmed a few other notions of mine as well. But, I could say the same thing to you-- your own opinions of me are no longer in effect. I have created a new image of myself in your eyes. Is it possible then, that you have not succeeded in getting into my head?" Finchpaw countered.

Her last question made him pause for a few moments. It was almost amusing to be having a conversation about why they were having a conversation and the thought made his tail curl up and he chuckled to himself, though it was his own silly joke and Frostpaw wouldn't understand it.

"I don't like wasting my breath, Frostpaw. So when I speak, I have something to say. I could ask you the same question, though, with a slight modification; why isn't this conversation important to you? Are you just talking to talk?"

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