Talking... again

[Rolo]

Frostpaw could see that her excitement was equal with Finchpaw's. Although she was not an emotion-sensitive cat, it was easy for her to be able to understand Finchpaw's feelings right now, to an extent. She could tell the bond was there, running deep below the surface, yet she did not know why. The only way she could word how he could possibly feel was that Finchpaw liked her, and she knew there was so much more to it than that... it probably wasn't even the right word to describe it.

Yet, as she found herself calming down, and in doing so having to think of this feeling logically, she found herself feeling slightly out of her depth. This was completely new to her... she felt almost confused by these feelings and that made her feel vunerable. She had acted upon instinct readily, liking a feeling (when did she start doing that?), and had touched another in a positive way for the first time in moons. It made her feel embarrassed... as if the action and her coldness had thawed her self image. She did not regret it as such... she just felt embarrassed and like she was unpredicatable... a dangerous thing for her. She loathed it and loved it at the same time. She gained happiness but found herself wondering who she was.

And what was she supposed to say now?

Frostpaw drew herself back a bit from Finchpaw, putting back the usual distance she would have between herself and another cat. She focused on hiding her emotion... her excitement, embarrassment and, most of all, weakness and confusion. She only semi-succeeded... there was still an awkwardness in her stance, even though her gaze was cold.

"Yes, but this is-"

She broke off as she heard a rustle somewhere in the distance. She opened her mouth and drew in the scent, her eyes widening as she did so. The smell sent her dashing to the other side of the clearing. She sat down and shot a warning glance at Finchpaw.

This was not good... for either of them.

[Whiskers]

It was very strange how so much could happen in a split second-- he had been close enough to Frostpaw to hear her heartbeat and then, like lightning, she drew away from him like he was a thorn bush. The confusion he felt was only momentary though, because Finchpaw easily spotted the quivering of Frostpaw's whiskers and the downcast glance of her eyes. She wasn't regretting her show of affection and happiness, but she was definitely embarrassed by it. Oddly, this made Finchpaw happy. It made him want to laugh out loud, actually, not at her, but with her. The problem was Frostpaw wasn't laughing and probably wouldn't chime in if he started.

An inward chuckle, a hidden smile, would have to do.

She finally looked back at him, and she seemed to have regained her overall collectiveness. Her eyes were no longer shining, but subdued, and her smile had disappeared. (He wondered when he'd see it again. Hopefully soon.) She had settled back into her comfort zone a tail-length away. While Finchpaw wished he could have experienced the happy Frostpaw for a while longer, he still felt that she was more open to him now, and hopefully she would trust him more as well.

"Yes, but this is-"

The air grew stagnant again and all the exuberance of the evening was drained by the sudden scent of one certain cat. Finchpaw hissed, not bothering to hold it back, though once Rowanheart shouldered his way through the bushes, Finchpaw's jaw snapped shut out of habit.

Rowanheart looked at both of them again, even though Frostpaw had been an effort of putting as much space between them as possible. The pressure built with in him and his face contorted into a series of emotions: shock, bewilderment, frustration, anger... more anger... more anger.

The pressure was released in a hiss. "Again? Why, in all things that are good and holy in this world, are you two together whenever I turn around? Finchpaw!"

Finchpaw felt a surge of defiance. "Yes, dear father?" he feigned his innocence with a lash of his tail.

"You're not collecting herbs are you?"

"No."

"You didn't just "run" into Frostpaw, did you?"

"No."

"Then what's your excuse?"

"I have none," Finchpaw said, and then added, though a little quieter and feebler, "I don't need one..."

Rowanheart looked up at the sky and muttered a very loud prayer before looking back down at his son and then at Frostpaw. Generally, he seemed calmer, now that he has eased his troubles with the soothing presence of Starclan.


"Well at least this means I don't have to go ambling through all of Fogclan territory to find Frostpaw too. That's the bright side," he snorted. "Anyway... well I don't have time to give you a replay of my little speech a few days ago Finchpaw. I'll enlighten you when you get back however. Did you forget what tonight is? It's the half-moon! You have a certain meeting to get to and Brightnose is waiting for you in camp!"

Rowanheart swiveled his head and stalked forward toward Frostpaw next. "And lucky you, you're going too! I've discussed it with Owlstar and we find it the best solution to your... condition." He ran a paw through his whiskers stiffly. "I don't want to hear any arguing about this. It's orders from Owlstar. 'Sides, you get to hang out with your buddy, over there. Consider it a treat."

Rowanheart gave both Finchpaw and Frostpaw one last glare. "Well? Get a move on, both of you!"

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