The night sky resembles the raven's feather, dark yet endearing. It reminds her of him; the tom with small bones and dancing firelight glows which pierce her soul and embed themselves into her mind. She remembers that feeling as if he was effortlessly tearing her wall of protection into pieces the sunrise before, his fiery hues a sorry companion to the exuberant painting of oranges, reds, pinks and yellows yet somehow she feels that those ravishing orbs are the finer of the two.
"Don't go," she remembers whispering, bell tinkles ringing against the safe confines of your den. He would stare at her with those ravishing lenses until her breath would hitch and her voice would reduce to mindless stutters.
"I'm sorry," he would apologize, every day, every time. His gorgeous eyes would leave hers and as he slips out of the place where the scent of herbs and honey lingers, she can't help but muse over the fact it doesn't feel like home anymore.
a short-short
(told from spottedleaf's point of view)
edited: 28/11/11 from second person to third person
the pairing is ravenpaw&spottedleaf