[FinchxFrost] If i walk, would you run? [Talking]

[Whiskers]

Snap.

A hiss escaped Finchpaw as the sound alerted the squirrel but a few yards in front of him and sent the furry creature darting for cover. Cringing at his own lack of hunting abilities, he released the tension in his muscles and let himself relax. That was the second one so far that he had managed to scare away because of his stupid mistakes.

It wasn't all his fault though. Yes, he was inexperienced and his crouch was probably laughable, but his mind was elsewhere. It was back in camp, actually, where Frostpaw was. She was going to be arriving any moment, if only she could get away from the warriors in camp, and that could be troublesome if some of the cats decided to pay her any attention. Finchpaw had managed to ditch his escort (the ever present, ever annoying Firepaw) by challenging him to a race toward Fogclan's shared border with Pineclan. Then, as soon as a tree separated the two brothers, Finchpaw had hightailed it out of there. By now Firepaw had probably realized he had been fooled, but Finchpaw didn't care. It was something his brother would gripe about for two days before seeking revenge in his own way. He'll probably smear my pelt with mouse bile while I'm sleeping. Eh. Well, that's why we have rivers.

The thought of Firepaw was fleeting and unimportant. Finchpaw's thouhts jumped back to Frostpaw and a ridiculous smile twitched on his muzzle. He had been extremely relieved when he had managed to get a hold of her and ask her for some time alone. He needed this. Perhaps that was why he was so unusually impatient right now, his mind hopping, his senses all a quiver. No, there would be no hunting practice now when he was so excited... so happy.

Still... he might as well keep trying, since once Brightnose realized he had left with no excuse whatsoever, he'd probably be in camp for quite a while. Oh yeah, she wouldn't be happy... and if she told Rowanheart...

" You know.. I don't even care," Finchpaw suddenly said aloud, to the trees perhaps, if they decided to listen. He grinned and fell into a hunting crouch. "Let 'em do what they want to me then. They can't touch me now."

And with that thought, Finchpaw started the process over and located a new squirrel to chase. If he didn't catch it... well, Frostpaw would be there any moment so it wouldn't matter.

[/size]

[Rolo]

Frostpaw ambled through the forest, enjoying the first few minutes she'd had alone for a few days. She had always revelled in being alone, in being somewhere where no cat asked anything of her. Despite appearances, she wasn't always in the mood to sit there endlessly arguing over some fox-dung issue with some mouse-brained cat. She needed her moments alone, her moments to think, to keep her sanity... and recently she had been starved of them

She smiled. She found that her mood was surprisingly light today and her mood seemed to put an extra spring in her step. Being her normal self, she would have put that down to the fact that the air was noticably getting chillier, meaning Leaf-bare was coming, and that she was having some time alone, but right now she knew that wasn't the case. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew it was true. There was some other reason for her being happy...

She was meeting Finchpaw.

It was irrational and mouse-brained. Why should that make her happy? She didn't know, and she didn't care to think more about it. It scared her, not knowing, but the alternative was perhaps worse. So she just accepted it and ignored it.

Anyway... perhaps there wasn't anything wrong with deriving some comfort from the tom? They were allies, after all. It wasn't as if she was dependant on him... she just enjoyed knowing he was there. It was like a soothing presence in her mind, something she could... depend on? No, she didn't depend on anything. She just gained happiness from thinking of him.

Sighing, Frostpaw stopped thinking about whatever it was that she was thinking about and turned her thoughts to Finchpaw himself. How had he faired in the time they had been apart? It had been business as normal for her, but he had just broken away from his father... she was sure there had been at least some notable events for him recently. She wondered if he had made any progress with his father... and had faired well while doing so.

As she drew near the clearing, she spotted Finchpaw chasing a nearby squirrel, with his back to her. Grinning, she silently wandered into the clearing and sat down, waiting patiently for the cat to finish. However, half-way through she found herself feeling impatient and she found herself speaking before she had a chance to think.

"Hello Finchpaw."

((This is crap >.> I'm sorrry.))

[Whiskers]

"Hello Finchpaw"

Her voice jerked Finchpaw out of his own little world, and he stopped his chase for the squirrel, once again letting prey slip from under his paws. He swung his head around and his eyes searched for the face that went along with the voice. She wasn't hard to find. Her silver tinted pelt stood out like a sore thumb among the ruddy browns of the forest. The sight of her, sitting there calmly and quietly, was enough for him. And even better, he could swear that she was smiling... maybe?

Finchpaw purred "Frostpaw!" before scampering toward her like an excited kit, stumbling awkwardly over some undergrowth as he did so. (Though he wasn't embarrassed that easily by his clumsiness). As he arrived, he very nearly reached out and touched his nose to her own, before remembering just who he was about to talk to. Frostpaw, while his friend, was still Frostpaw and Finchpaw was still extremely hesitant when it came to any physical contact with her. If it was because he was scared of her reaction, or if he was merely shy, Finchpaw couldn't say.

"I see you managed to slip away from under my father's paws," he joked, instantly lighthearted when he was around her. It felt good to finally be himself, truly, after so long. No lies. Just him. It was like he was shedding layer after layer of his disguise, shaking off the lies that clung to his pelt, and opening up his mind to someone.

This feeling was met with another one of uncertainty. After all he didn't know how Frostpaw was going to react when he told her of his problems. Would she scoff at him? Tell him to be braver and to just tell the truth? Finchpaw almost expected this from Frostpaw. He even scolded himself on these things and yet, he could never follow through. Yet with Frostpaw... if she said it, it would mean something. He would do it for her and because it was the right thing to do.

And what of Frostpaw? Last time they had parted, she had been thoroughly beaten down by his father. Now she seemed strong and sturdy again, Finchpaw thought. It was a beautiful thing, the confidence that Frostpaw wore, and Finchpaw wished he knew her secret. How had she recovered? How could she stay so strong when her situation was worse than his?

[/size]

[Rolo]

Frostpaw didn't know what she felt about the tom's very apparant eagerness, her whiskers twitching with amusement as he stumbled over himself to get to her. Her first instinctual feelings were to think the ginger cat kittish and scoff at the silly cat, yet somehow this normal reaction was overwritten. Oddly, she found herself deriving a hint of pleasure from the sight, and not in the normal superior way but an affectionate one. She wanted to tell him to stop being silly, she was no cat to get worked up about, and at the same time she longed to be able to act with the same freedom.

Despite trying vainly to hold it back, Frostpaw felt a hint of fear threatening to overtake her mind. It shadowed her heart, to make all her mastery of words disappear.

Frostpaw was not one prone to awkwardness, but this made her feel completely ill at ease. She didn't understand herself... or what she was supposed to do now, it made her want to get away as quickly as possible. If it wasn't for the fact that this was Finchpaw she would have left by now.

She covered up her hesitation with a swift smile, showing her amusement at Finchpaw's comment. She silently thanked him for giving her something to talk about that wouldn't sound completely mouse-brained.

"Indeed I did." She mewed matter-of-factly, a soft smile still upon her face.

She got to her paws, as if restless, "But somehow I think he let me. I should think your father has given up on my training by now anyway, since I'm completely past redeeming and I damned him."

She smirked despite herself, feeling immense pleasure as she remembered the indignant look upon the older red tom's face. However, this smile, though it remained upon her face, quickly dissolved in her mind.

What was she supposed to say now? What? How in Earth's name do you sustain a friendly conversation? What was she meant to say?

She wracked her brains for something to talk about, to break the ice, snarling inwardly at herself as she did so.

She hated herself when she was like this.

However, luckily, in a flash the perfect topic came to her. The thought of the situation, as well as relief, set a smile upon her face.

"Oh, and I wanted to tell you, I had a rather interesting encounter with that mouse-brained deputy. She seems utterly convinced that she has to order me to do something as soon as I pause for thought, and she is determined to spout nonsense at me." She chuckled, managing to face him properly for the first time. "It seems I've made yet more enemies in the clan. Who would have thought it?" She grinned cheekily, "Your father must have been telling everyone how dreadfully evil I am again."

((>.> I hate her when she's like this. I don't know what to type. Sorry if this is crap.))

[Whiskers]

Frostpaw didn’t seem all that different to Finchpaw, and this should have been comforting, as Finchpaw loved constants. And he wasn’t exactly unnerved by any of her mannerisms—the way she spoke (he knew the edge to her voice well, though if asked, he couldn’t describe it) or the way she held her face together when she did talk. He had learned through careful observation that each expression she let cross her face was usually one she chose, not one that came naturally and without prior thought. But at the same time, he was almost itching for more. More expression from her, more… more ease. He did not want her to choose the face she wore when she talked to him. He wanted it to be a surprise, to both of them. Other wise, they would still be speaking through their masks and the words and meanings would be muffled.

But this wasn’t something he could ask of her, it was something Frostpaw would hopefully develop. Besides, surprises were sometimes not good things.

“Rowanheart? Give up? I doubt it, he’s too proud for that and as it is he thinks himself a failure of a mentor. If anything, he’ll be coming back again with a new strategy and he’ll be as persistent as ever,” Finchpaw remarked with his smile fading from his muzzle. He knew from first hand experience the persistence of Rowanheart. With each failed attempt, it only spurred Rowanheart onward, with occasional breaks in-between.

The mention of the deputy only furthered the furrow in Finchpaw’s brow. She had popped up in two of his conversations now. And he wasn’t liking it. In fact he felt so ill at ease at the sight of her, as if her eyes were digging inside him and searching him for something. She was more alert than Owlstar, stalking the camp like a fox, eyes wide open for any mistake she can spot. All apprentices were on their best around Mistpelt, or she would quickly punish them for their laziness.

And of course, he couldn’t help but dislike her now that she was preying on his own father.

“Mistpelt is more than likely encouraging him too,” his pelt bristled as the name passed his lips. ” She was sharing tongues with my father the other day… they could have swapped ideas or strategies on how to deal with us. ” It never bode well for Finchpaw when his father sat down and talked with any cat for a good length of time. It meant trouble him or Frostpaw. Who else, after all, could he be oppressing? “Though you never know, they could be innocently chatting. I find myself growing more and more paranoid as the days go by.”

[Rolo]

Frostpaw was thankful that Finchpaw had taken the bait and started a conversation that she could reply to comfortably.

"You're probably right about that." She said with a chuckle, her face beaming with amusement.

"Your father would never give up." She grinned, "I was silly to suggest it."

She raised her head to the sky, giggling. "He's probably just letting me off for a bit to reform his thoughts."

She smiled, enjoying being able to talk about her problems for once. She was so used to keeping them all inside and, as much as she could deal with it herself, it was nice to make them lighter on her mind by talking about them with another. She glanced over at him, her eyes still warm, and that was when she saw the notable change in the tom.

She might not be the most emotionally receptive cat in the world, but she would have had to have been completely blind to not realise that something was bothering him. Turning her full attention towards him, she saw him mumble and his pelt bristling as the topic of Mistpelt reached her lips.

She would have been lying to herself if she had denied that his words worried her, for they worried her truely. Mistpelt and Rowanheart? Friends... accomplices? Within seconds of the suggestion that they could be working side-by-side, she could see the infinite problems a union between them could hold. Mistpelt was practically insane, if Rowanheart was to be taken in by him... he would become unbearable. Yet, even worse, if Rowanheart started to support Mistpelt... what would happen? If Mistpelt drew strength from Rowanheart she could... well, become practically lethal.

That and the idea of Rowanheart and Mistpelt... together made bile rise in her throat.

She felt sorry for Finchpaw... this could spell some trouble for him. She knew really that whatever he got, she would get it tenfold, but that didn't help her feel any less pity for him. Something about the fact that he was in such a troubling position, in ways she couldn't understand (the idea of family bonds were beyond her), made her feel as if his position was not much better than hers. Perhaps she would be hated, yes, but she was used to it. Finchpaw was only just beginning to understand what it was like to speak his own words... though she should feel more pain than him, she knew that he was the one who would truly get hurt.

But what could she say to help? To support him? She had vowed to help him as he helped her... but how in Earth's name was she supposed to do that? She didn't do speaking her emotions... she barely understood them.

Then she knew.

Getting up slowly, she wandered closer towards him, moving to his left. Careful not to brush against him, she then spun around and seated herself beside him, with a grace and slightly self-concious edge. When she finally settled down, her back was straight, her tail neatly curled around her feet.

Frostpaw did not possess the gift of warmth, neither in body or in speech. She hoped that by seating herself beside him, she could break the ice slightly... for perhaps if he could feel her long fur against his, he would know she did mean to be... whatever that word was. Comfortable? Inviting? Friendly? Whatever it was, she was trying to signal in the only way she could that she was trying to be comfortable... trying to put him at ease. She could not speak emotions and did not have the tones to sooth him with, so this would have to do.

It took her several attempts to speak, her mouth not managing to find any appropriate words.

"Don't be too paranoid." She said eventually, her words seemingly more cold than usual. She winced at her own tone, knowing not how to soften it. "In the end, they can throw whatever they wish at us... and we'll beat it."

Her voice was... strange. It held a numb edge... but a soft one too. These were words that she felt she should whisper... yet had forced herself to speak aloud. It embarrassed her.

She coughed, forcing a smile across her face, "But anyway, in the end, Mistpelt is one mouse short of a fresh-kill pile. Even if she does plant some fox-dung ideas in your fathers head, in the end you can always change his mind... if you learn how."

She grinned to herself, feeling a little more confident in herself. Her usual tone began to return.

"They're a threat though, you're right." The smile on her face did not fit her words, "But it'll be an interesting challenge, in the end. That is... if Mistpelt learns to speak anything more than nonsense. That and Rowanheart will probably realise she's completely repulsive before he gets in too deep."

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw's breath hitched in his throat when Frostpaw's fur brushed against his own. She was good. She was too good. For yet again he had been caught off guard by her actions, thrown for another loop that he was not prepared for. Finchpaw hated this feeling, of not knowing, but for some reason with Frostpaw...well it was different. It was...a pleasant surprise. He couldn't quite explain it to himself, but Frostpaw seemed to free him from himself. Because he did not understand her, his own reactions were impulses, all heart, no mind.

He...sort of...loved it? Finchpaw thought he did, but it was hard to shift through all the feelings, when they were jumping 'round in his head because of the past few weeks. But those didn't even matter right now. Because he had this moment, and he had never felt better. With Frostpaw beside him, making this bold gesture (on her part), he could believe in her words. He felt calmed.

Finchpaw lowered his head and nuzzled Frostpaw's cheek briefly, his own sign that he truly appreciated her and all that she had done for him.

"Yes, you're right. My father isn't crazy enough to meet Mistpelt's requirements," said Finchpaw, "When he begins to greet me as Blessed Finchpaw, then I'll start to worry."

And though he believed her words that Rowanheart was not so delusional that he would bless the stones and dirt and trees, in the back of his mind, he still felt that fear. It was a weed, encroaching on his rationality, muffling Frostpaw's words. He wished he could believe t hem 100%, instead of half way, but the feeling ... it acted like a warning, telling him to watch out.

Finchpaw sighed inwardly and ignored it. He couldn't handle problems that hadn't happened yet, just the ones that were in front of his paws now. And the problem in front of him was Brightnose, his stupid, troublesome, nosy, ineffectual, careless, annoying mentor who for some reason insisted on caring about him, all of the sudden. It was rather suspicious to him and definitely a new obstacle he faced. Though, she seemed spineless enough last time, and had withdrawn the moment he had bit back. (Finchpaw felt guilty thinking about it, still, though he had been in the right...right?)

It was frustrating just thinking about it.

"But I think he put Brightnose on my case," Finchpaw spoke again, and he struggled to keep the swift anger he felt at bay. "She's asking questions. We got into a row the other day and... I don't know, I snapped. I almost... I had the impulse to tell her everything, just so I could be done with it all."

" And now we're not speaking. I can't tell if that's a good thing or not... some moments I do feel grateful to not have her chattering in my ear. But it doesn't make anything better." Finchpaw shuffled his paws in frustration. Maybe he should just tell the truth. Honestly, then he'll get kicked out of the position and his father would lose respect in him and his brother would probably attack him and he'd become a social pariah and...

Nevermind.

[/size]

[Rolo]

Frostpaw felt Finchpaw relax a little and felt content that she'd done the right thing. She smiled slightly.

But then she felt him turn to her and before she knew what was happening, he was... nuzzling her. The contact was so sudden... so unexpected that she froze, a look of slight panic entering her eyes for a moment.

She had... not been touched like that for a long time. Not since she was a mere kit... back when her mother cared for her in the usual way a mother should. Even in late kithood, she was never treated to such contact by any cat. Cats didn't like her... none wanted to acknowledge her beyond a nod of the head. The feeling was strange to her... it scared her...

But she appreciated it. Along with her unease, elation simmered slightly under the surface. She was... what was the word... touched? She was pleased to have made him happy... pleased to have earnt such a thing. Without her wanting it to, it meant alot...

She wanted to snarl and purr at Finchpaw simultaneously. Why did he have to leave her at such a loss when it came to things to say... in such a nice way?

Hastily, she thought over how to react. After mulling over a few options, she concluded quickly that the best thing to do would be... not to react. There was no way she could hide her true thoughts just now.

"Yes, that would be... strange." She said as a nifty cover-up, in reply to Finchpaw's first comment. She giggled openly, "Heathen Finchpaw, would you kindly get some blessed water for the dear elders?"

She spoke mockingly, emulating the tom's father's usual tone. She was about to continue when she realised that Finchpaw was bristling slightly again. He was agitated again? He really hadn't had a good time these past moons. She felt the urge to chuckle. How different this tom had become in the few moons she had known him! Now he actually had opinions...

She giggled, "That does sound like him..." She said trailing off, her eyes brightening, "Hey, you had an arguement with a medicine cat? Am I really effecting you that much?"

It was a friendly jibe, it held no hint of mocking. In fact, it held more pride than malice. She felt like laughing openly, she was so chuffed. She chuckled quietly again, knowing that this was probably a big issue for the red tom.

"Sorry," She grinned, "I'm... not used to being told these things."

She wiped the smile off her face and it simultaneously took on a look of seriousness, "I wouldn't worry too much... she's just a medicine cat. You don't need to prove yourself to her or to tell her anything. After all, she's more than a little mouse-brained and she doesn't matter to you anyway. Just stop caring about it, and the worry will go away. Just don't care what she thinks."

She spoke this with great conviction, giving him the only advice she knew.

[Whiskers]

Finchpaw’s expression changed once more, transformed by Frostpaw’s awkwardness, confidence, laughter… all of her just made him smile. She was acting so insanely different , but in a good way, a way he liked. She still had her smirk and her cockiness and her forwardness, only now it was all… all…sweet, like honey? No. He didn’t think Frostpaw could ever become that sickly sweet—Earth knows, he didn’t really want to see it anyway, Frostpaw wasn’t that type of female. She was more balanced, he supposed. All the traits that Fogclan viewed as negative were suddenly bathed in a new light and it was a shame that only Finchpaw got to see them portrayed so pleasantly.

He chuckled a little bit to himself as he looked at Frostpaw and her face. She was having some trouble keeping herself collected, he saw. At least he wasn’t the only one who was losing his control over what he felt and did around her. Like now—his gesture of friendly affection had frozen her. He wasn’t daft after all. He felt her stiffen, and he had seen the flicker of panic in her eyes, though she had silenced this panic a second later. Her reaction made him want to laugh again, for some reason... to shake his head at her…silliness over something so trite. But to her, of course…it wasn’t, was it? No one ever nudged her playfully, or licked her ear encouragingly. His actions held more weight for her.

He was struck by how sad that was, and more than anything he wanted to give that to her now. But I don’t think she’d like me very much if I did, Finchpaw thought to himself. He had to take everything a little bit slower with Frostpaw. This was no normal friendship.

Her words made him laugh though. It eased the pity he was hiding from her.

“Don’t apologize… I’m not used to saying these things either,” Finchpaw said quietly, trying to ease her blatant discomfort. He switched his tone to one of light-heartedness as he continued, “but I think we make a good team anyway.”

“Huh, you’re right—you must be rubbing off on me. You’ll be proud to know I won the argument at least, though I was up against Brightnose. Any kit with sense could have done it,” Finchpaw thoroughly enjoyed insulting Brightnose, it got his frustration out. He still wished he could shake the guilty feeling afterward of course. ”And I tricked Firepaw in order to get here. I’m becoming more of a troublemaker every day, thanks to you,” his tone was good-natured and teasing, though the joke in itself held more truth to it than Finchpaw realized.

And though Frostpaw’s advice was sound, it did little good for him. Because Brightnose was too powerful to ignore, certainly Frostpaw knew that? He could go about his business, not think about her, not care about her, but that didn’t mean that Brightnose would return the favor.

“I don’t care about what she thinks, I just care about what she can do. If that makes…any sense,” he said. “But then again, I shouldn’t care about that either. I still don’t know how you do it, Frostpaw. I want to live like you. I’m so sick of hiding. Sometimes I think about not going back to camp at all.”

[/size]

[Rolo]

Frostpaw could guess that he was as torn as her when it came to these things. She had no doubt that the tom had noticed her unease at his bold gesture... in fact, he was probably feeling sorry for her again right now. The idea of it urked her but, nevertheless, there was not a thing she could do about it, at present, without making things worse for herself. Grudgingly, she let her annoyance fade.

A wide smile grew increasingly on her face as he spoke lightly of the situation, chuckling at parts which she found distinctly amusing. Finchpaw was perhaps the first cat she had effected as she had always wished to, she had helped aid him to be himself. She'd helped him see that his own path was worth following, that his life was not something to be dictated to him. It made her proud again, to know that her plight was not completely in vain.

"I am very proud," She smiled, her eyebrow rising slightly. Her tone had seriousness and humour mixed into it in equal parts. "Even if you were arguing against a herb-headed mousebrain, you still won. Kit-steps are still steps."

She grinned widely, her tone held a playful mocking. Oddly though, there was a trace of affection wound softly through her voice that she herself didn't spot. She was completely unconcious of it.

"It seems I am doing something right," Her grin didn't falter, "Although I don't really try to make trouble-makers... just independent cats. However, the idea of you tricking Firepaw is so amusing, perhaps I don't mind if you do decide to spread mischief."

Her eyes glittered notably. She was enjoying this almost as much as she would a stimulating conversation, though she was so caught up in the mood she didn't really consider how she was feeling.

However, then Finchpaw had to go back to being serious again. The sound of his worrying began to muffle her purrs. She felt like rolling her eyes at him. Having your fur standing on end all the time couldn't be good for you. Besides, the tom made so much out of nothing! Inexperienced as he was with these things, he shouldn't be letting such a petty arguement go to his heart. He should know by now that he had bigger problems, like his father and Mispelt, yet somehow he was freaking out about the least important.

Then he had to go and make it all worse by saying he wanted to live like her. Finchpaw, though bright, really did say some mousebrained things sometimes.

"And, for earth's sake, just stop worrying!" Her tone was still relaxed, but held a chilling authority. There was no spite or annoyance in her words, only a hint of mother-like scolding. "If you don't care that she cares, it doesn't matter what she does. She's a flea on your pelt, she might make you scratch now and again but she won't do any lasting damage." She chuckled, enjoying the fact that she had managed to come up with such an apt metaphor on the fly, "Besides, this is a problem of a similar size to a skinny vole. It'll last as long as a one too. Stop getting worked up."

She paused for a moment. Though subtle, her body took on a greater look of seriousness as she turned to look at him. Her eyes latched onto his and didn't move for the duration of her next speech.

"And don't be mousebrained." She said bluntly, coldly, "You do not want to live like me. You know that too. If you pity me for the pains I recieve for living as I do, you certainly don't want to live them yourself."

She turned away again, closing her eyes. She paused for a moment, as if in deep thought.

"Besides, you still have bonds with your father... and you know that those bonds are worth having. I may have it easy, having the amount of ties to other cats that I do, but that doesn't mean it's the right thing for you. You already know that. You must perform a balancing act between those you are attached to against your own path, for surely it isn't worth losing them... yet?"