Okay, so... do NOT ask where this came from. XD; Idk, I just... I like StormSquirrel, and I was watching GLEE the other day and thought of the idea for this oneshot. Yes, it's long. No, I don't care. It's all but impossible for me to write a fic WITHOUT going all tl;dr these days.
If there are a couple of blips here and there, I apologize. I wrote all this in one day and I got my wisdom teeth out, like, two days ago, so if this makes any sense to anyone other than me, it'll be a bloody miracle. XD Also, this has a timeline to it; you should figure it out as you go along.
That being said, enjoy!
Disclaimer- Oh the things I would change if I owned this brilliant series. Also, I do not own the song "She is the Sunlight," which contains the lyrics for which this fic is named. That lovely song belongs to Trading Yesterday.
Daylight flickered down through the leaves of the trees surrounding the stone path. The dark gray tom padding alongside his five comrades kept his eyes on his paws, occasionally flicking his gaze up to his silver-furred sister to check her status. At this point they were all either too tired to care or – the example Brambleclaw had set – refusing to show any trace of exhaustion on their face, so the automatic glance up at his sister yielded relatively few results.
(Well, his irritation rose when he saw that silvery fur of hers mingled conspicuously next to the black pelt of that stupid WindClan apprentice, but other than that, nothing much.
Yep. She was fine.)
The tom looked back down at his paws and suddenly had to repress a sigh. He fixed his attention on the movement of his feet against the white stone of the Twolegplace Thunderpath, hoping to lose the melancholia that had sneaked up on him in the rhythm of his paw-steps. One, two, three, four, five, six…
"I'm bored."
The sound of the voice came from just next to the tom's ear, causing him to halt in his tracks (huh, I was about to get to ten, too) and jolt nearly out of his skin. He whirled to the side, ready to tell off the she-cat who had interrupted his reverie, even though he knew the culprit could only be one of two cats (due to his sister's little conversation with the WindClan cat, a thought that still made him frown). One of these two cats was currently walking next to Brambleclaw at the front of the group, so…
Sure enough, dark ginger fur and lazy emerald eyes greeted the dark gray tom's eyes. He blinked at her. "Squirrelpaw, don't do that," he muttered, lowering his gaze back to his paws – seven, eight, nine – and resuming on his way. As a result, the she-cat had to hurry to catch up, her shorter legs slowing her down. "You scared me out of my fur."
"No, I didn't," Squirrelpaw retorted at once. "You've still got your fur on, haven't you? And anyway, didn't you hear me, Stormfur?" She angled her head to the side; glancing over at her at the shift of movement on her part, Stormfur felt the breath catch rather abruptly in his throat. Sure, she was a pretty cat and everything, but, as he had had ample time to learn over the course of this journey, any sort of attractiveness on her part was negated instantly by her kit-like petulance and constant need to be right.
So, he told himself firmly, this way his heart began to pound at the glow in her eyes (why did it feel like it was all just for him?) meant nothing. This was how his parents had spiraled so far down, after all.
"Hello? You alive in there?" Squirrelpaw waved her tail in front of Stormfur's face.
All at once, he realized she had just spoken. "Uh, sorry, I was thinking about… other stuff," he finished pathetically. Great job, Stormfur, he could almost hear Stonefur, his former mentor, snort, albeit somewhat playfully even in his mind to accommodate Stormfur's characterization of him. So not obvious.
Squirrelpaw huffed and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, you've got to stop spacing out. One of these days you're going to get into a heap of trouble because of it, and I won't be there to save you."
Despite himself, Stormfur's ears – and lips – twitched. "Well, I wouldn't want you to come save me anyway," he teased, flicking his tail over her ears, causing an indignant expression to appear on her face. "You'd either let me die or you'd be too busy yowling at Brambleclaw to do anything about it."
The younger cat opened her mouth to retort, only to snap her jaws shut as she realized the truth of his words. "Shut up," she grumbled, turning away. Concern flickered throughout Stormfur that he had said the wrong thing (time to refocus on walking again, then), but then she looked back up at him. "I said, I'm bored."
Stormfur snorted and looked back to the rest of the group; they were still close to the other four, but what made the others stand out most were the respective shades of their fur and different structures – the mottled tortoiseshell and powerful form of Tawnypelt; Brambleclaw's dark tabby fur and broad shoulders (Stormfur nearly started right then and there as he realizes he's begun to think of Brambleclaw's appearance as his and not Tigerstar's); Crowpaw's lithe black body; and his own sister, Feathertail, slender and light-furred.
Seeing them all together like that, Stormfur stopped right then and there, causing Squirrelpaw to nearly run into his back. Her annoyed squawks of protest went all but unnoticed behind him.
Because, seeing the chosen cats of each Clan – the ones who were supposed to be on this journey, free of any extra dark gray or orange baggage – seeing them all together made the slightest hint of doubt blossom in Stormfur's chest.
"What's wrong with you?" Squirrelpaw asked roughly, twisting around to get a better look at him. "You look like you lost a rabbit and found a shrew."
Looking down at her, Stormfur saw genuine worry in her gaze, an emotion that darkened those emerald pools and throttled his breath in his throat all over again. Stop stop stop stop stop, he told himself, it won't end well, it never does, Brambleclaw would make her a much better mate anyway.
The reasons had lined themselves so clearly up in his mind, and yet he couldn't believe them.
Squirrelpaw huffed. "You're spacing again," she reminded him, drawing out the last word.
Stormfur's tail twitched in amusement, only to fall limp on the ground again. "Do you think we did the right thing?" he murmured at last, staring up at the sparse trees that lined the Thunderpath. It was a paltry reminder of what he had left behind, but still a reminder.
He didn't know he had expected her to snap back at him until he heard her sigh behind him. Startled, he turned and saw the small apprentice eyeing him with sympathy in her eyes. "What, leaving when we did?" she queried for clarification, and when Stormfur nodded, she continued, a trace of heaviness creeping into her voice despite her words. "Well, there's no use crying over spoiled prey, right? We're here now, and that should be all that matters." She looked back ahead before glancing back at Stormfur, and he silently thanked StarClan that the trademark stubbornness had reappeared on her countenance, as quickly as it had fled. "Now it won't matter at all if we let them leave us behind…"
Stormfur blinked before it hit him that she was right. "Right," he said. Before he could stop himself, he had leaned over and rasped his tongue across her ear. "Thanks."
He drew back, trying not to let the way her fur smelled of honey and how he had been close enough to hear her heartbeat speed up affect him.
Ten, eleven, twelve…
"You have really got to stop doing stupid things."
"Shut up."
"I mean, seriously, I could have told you you would've gotten stuck in that fence stuff –"
"I said shut up, Stormfur!"
Stormfur couldn't hold back a tiny smirk. "I would, if you'd just concede my point."
"You have no point," Squirrelpaw growled, not looking up from where she was cleaning her flank. She winced as her tongue scraped over the place where the fence stuff had tugged her fur out. "StarClan, that hurts."
"That's what you get," Stormfur laughed.
"Stormfur, shut your stupid mouth or StarClan help me, I'm going to go over there and rip your ears off."
"Like the fence ripped your fur off?"
"That does it!"
Before Stormfur could do anything, Squirrelpaw had leaped to her paws and lunged at him. Although she had taken him by surprise, the fact that he had actually completed his warrior training before tagging along on a fateful journey gave him the edge, and so he dodged her attack easily. What he hadn't expected was for her to whirl around and continue her charge after skidding to an unceremonious stop on the grass.
"Wait, Squirrelpaw, I was kidding –" he began.
And somewhere along the line the ginger she-cat had tripped over something in the field – a leftover piece of the mouse they had eaten earlier, a dip in the ground, he still didn't know – and suddenly she was tumbling toward him.
The force of her body crashing into his knocked the breath out of Stormfur, and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut as his head landed against the dirt. That hurt way more than it should have, he thought, and made a mental note to have Feathertail check it for bleeding later.
That mental note flew out of his mind entirely, however, when the spots cleared away from the inside of his eyelids and he dared open his eyes.
His breath caught (why did that seem to happen so often when he was around her?) and his eyes widened as the position they had landed in fully became clear to him. "Uh, hi," he managed, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that she could feel more than hear every word he said blasting into her face.
Squirrelpaw blinked, for once totally silent, as though Stormfur's realization of what speaking would mean had reached her as well. Then, to his surprise, her eyes narrowed, and she pushed herself off him with one paw.
"You smell like mouse," was all she said.
Stormfur couldn't hold back a snort. "Gee, I wonder why?" he asked, but he got no response.
He curled up into one of the dips in the ground and repressed a sigh as the memories of the day came back to him: Crowpaw getting his salt-water sign; fleeing from those Twolegs; finding out Purdy was leading them the wrong way and having to turn back around… If I never get to another Twolegplace, it'll be too soon.
"Hey."
Squirrelpaw sounded oddly subdued as she slid into a sitting position next to him. "You feeling all right?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
Looking at her, Stormfur thought he should feel his breath do that annoying catch-thing again at the genuine curiosity in her eyes; as it was, though, all he could think of was sleep, and how Squirrelpaw was keeping him from getting it. "What do you think?" he muttered, putting his head on his paws.
"Well, excuse me for being concerned." The she-cat snorted, pointedly turning away. Stormfur couldn't see her face anymore, but a furry ginger tail flipped into his face and he hissed as he batted it away. Okay, okay, I get the point.
Of course, an instant after that dry thought made its way into his head, Stormfur felt a wave of guilt wash over him. She really did have the right to express worry about him; they were friends, after all.
But you want it to be more, right?
He firmly shook off that rampant thought and fixed his attention on Squirrelpaw, lifting his head to properly do so. She remained stubbornly facing away from him, though he swore he saw her pupils move to detect the source of his shift of movement. "Sorry," he said, trying to sound reassuring and convey just how sorry he felt at the same time. It was more difficult than it seemed. "It's just… it's kind of been a long day."
This time, Squirrelpaw turned fully to look at him. Maybe it was just him, but he thought he saw a mildly surprised glint take over the typical glimmer of annoyance and stubbornness that dominated her gaze. Just as quickly, though, it had vanished, and the wall of perpetual petulance had gone back up. "It's been a long day for everyone," she pointed out. She sighed. "I can't believe I purred at a Twoleg," she muttered, sounding almost absentminded, as though she were speaking without meaning to.
Despite himself, Stormfur's ears twitched at the memory. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "That was pretty funny."
Squirrelpaw's eyes widened as she whirled toward him. "You tell anybody back home and I'll make your fur my bedding," she threatened, sounding only half-teasing.
"More empty threats?" Stormfur drawled, feeling something within him relax at the return of the banter that had made its temporary exit after the fence incident. "Those don't make a warrior, Squirrelpaw."
"Stop talking like you're my mentor," the ThunderClan she-cat ordered. And yet she was smiling as she said it – not smirking, not grinning like a kit eating its first mouse, but genuinely smiling.
Comfortable silence descended upon the duo. Stormfur's tail wrapped itself around his paws as the thought of what had happened between them not too long ago went through his mind. His traitorous reminiscence brought back the details of that day, to the point where he could almost smell that honey scent in his nostrils and see the look of shock in those green eyes. The lightness of the silence that had come upon the two cats thickened just a bit as a core of unease began to form in his gut. Yes, they shared a bond, perhaps due to their status of being the only two non-chosen cats among the group. Yes, she was pretty. Yes, they were from different Clans (he and Feathertail knew all too well how that kind of relationship ended up). And yet…
He opened his mouth, steeled himself, readied himself to address her about her unceremonious little tumble – and then a voice broke through the silence.
Not hers. But Brambleclaw's.
"Are you two getting ready to go to bed?"
Stormfur closed his mouth and looked over at the tabby tom, who was padding toward them. Now that he was looking more properly, he could see the shapes curled up in the field around them (Tawnypelt had already claimed a spot near a tree with low-hanging branches, while Feathertail and Crowpaw are sleeping disturbingly close together; to Stormfur's mild alarm, that doesn't disturb him as much as it should) and realized how far the sun had fallen from its apex in the sky. Time flies when you're traveling, I guess.
Squirrelpaw was the one who replied to Brambleclaw's statement. "Yeah," she confirmed, and looked back at Stormfur. "I'll… see you in the morning?"
The dark gray tom met her eyes; he didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed that she had yet to detect the turmoil whirling within him. Because it had such an idiotic reason behind it, and yet having her know the reason why he felt like he could trust her with his life seemed like a preferable alternative.
"Yeah," he answered carefully. Brambleclaw watched with mildly expectant amber eyes (Stormfur had to tell himself to stop feeling like the ThunderClan chosen was hovering, and that frightened him more than anything else, that the cat he had come to trust now made him feel such irritation) as Squirrelpaw rose and followed him over to the edge of the copse. Stormfur looked on and felt something rising within his belly.
He put his head back on his paws. No way was he getting any sleep tonight.
Stormfur really hated rats. Officially.
They had never really troubled RiverClan – ShadowClan were the ones who had issues in that regard – and Stormfur had always taken that for granted.
Now, though? Never again.
StarClan help them all, never again.
He pressed closer to Tawnypelt, only wincing very slightly as he felt the blood from her wounded shoulder soak into his fur. All of them – except Brambleclaw, who had taken first watch at the entrance to the hole in the wall – had huddled close together for warmth, not caring that this meant that their blood from the battle would mingle and become one.
Maybe it's better that way, Stormfur thought, and couldn't help but put it into a metaphorical context. (Feathertail was definitely rubbing off on him.) We all need to work together as one, no matter what Clan we're in. Right?
(It wasn't just because of his tendency to feel warmth and comfort and anxiety all rolled into one around a certain ThunderClan apprentice.)
Instinctively, he sought out a honey-scented ginger pelt with which to share his warmth (because she had to be cold, too). When the half-light failed to reveal her, however, he narrowed his eyes and lifted his head to look around.
It didn't take him long to see a smaller shape slip up next to the broad-shouldered form of Brambleclaw at the entrance to the den.
Something shifted within Stormfur then, and he tiredly closed his eyes, letting the sound of her voice (addressing Brambleclaw, not him, which he couldn't bring himself to try and figure out) wash over him (so quiet, all but devoid of its typical fire) and grab him by the paw and lead him to sleep.
"So what do you think of this place?"
Stormfur glanced over at Squirrelpaw; the dead hawk in his jaws severely obscured his view of her in favor of limp brown feathers, but he still saw her there, next to her nest, all but ripping open a mountain hare. She swallowed her mouthful of fresh-kill, raised her head to look at him, and tilted her head almost contemptuously. "You haven't spaced out on me for a while," she commented. "What's wrong?"
You're talking to me and not tracking down Brambleclaw instead, that's what's wrong. With some effort, Stormfur pushed that venomous thought out of his mind and away from his lips; it was unfair to Brambleclaw to think that way, especially due to his own friendship with the ThunderClan tabby tom. Discomfort briefly surged within Stormfur's belly as he realized how little they had spoken since their escapades in Twolegplace with Purdy (inwardly, he snorted; escapades, that's one word for it) – discomfort, and regret so sharp that it seems to pierce him like a claw.
Yet now the regret seemed to have a different source than what it would have had before coming to the Tribe. Stormfur spent a few moments digging deeper and realized it originated from the desire for her friendship, her voice, and her fire. That, more than ever, shook him to the core; he couldn't explain it, but the prey-hunter Brook came into his mind when he thought about it.
He tried not to think of all that and concentrated his energy on responding to Squirrelpaw instead. "Nothing," he replied, watching her face closely to see if she'd had the same emotions that had plagued him just moments before, or at the very least to see if she'd picked up his feelings. Squirrelpaw was more perceptive than she seemed, after all.
But if she detected his bemusement toward her and jealousy toward Brambleclaw, she didn't mention it. She simply patted the spot next to her with her tail. "Eat with me?" she offered.
And because of that desire to be with her, Stormfur found himself nodding and making his way over to her, nearly tripping over the prey in his jaws as he lowered himself to crouch beside her. Squirrelpaw purred in amusement at his stumble and refocused her hunger on her own meal. "So," she mumbled around a mouthful of meat, "you still haven't answered my question. What do you think of the Tribe so far?"
Stormfur had been about to tear the hawk open, but at her words, he paused and lifted his head. Meeting her green eyes with his own amber ones, he was somehow surprised to see only innocent curiosity there, not the accusing air of a cat ready to call him a traitor if he even slightly enjoyed being in the cave.
Why should you feel like she'd accuse you? Squirrelpaw's not like those cats back home who looked at me and Feathertail like we were parasites just for being half-Clan. At the thought of those cats, Stormfur's claws unconsciously slid out and braced against the stone floor. Maybe that was one reason why he enjoyed the Tribe more than his companions did: here, he felt like he could start over, without his heritage constantly haunting him and creating prejudices before even getting to know others.
Realizing Squirrelpaw was waiting for him to answer (with an accusation of his "spacing out" waiting for him, no doubt; was it good or bad, that she always made him think?), he began to speak. "Well," he said, "they're certainly… different, but that doesn't mean they're bad."
"I didn't say they were." Squirrelpaw swallowed and looked very seriously at Stormfur. With a twinge in his heart, he saw something strange lurking in those dark green pools as they bore into his. "Do you like it here?"
"What is this, the question game?" the gray tom tried to dodge.
"Don't mess with me, Stormfur," Squirrelpaw growled. "I'm trying to talk to you like a normal cat here, and…" She then did something extremely anomalous for her: hesitated, actually paused in her stream of retorts, and he got the feeling she was about to say something important, and his breath caught (again) at the thought. But then she was dropping her eyes and glaring at the ground and hollow disappointment filled him as he realized the moment had passed. "Just answer the stupid question," she muttered.
Somewhat awkwardly, Stormfur glanced away, allowing his gaze to sweep the cave. The ironic thing was that, despite the aesthetic differences between the Tribe and the Clans – mud-slicked fur as opposed to clean pelts; divisions of warriors as hunters and fighters as opposed to training unity; icy cold air and rock as opposed to changing climate and foliage – the two groups were quite similar in terms of hierarchy. Apprentices took orders from warriors and learned their respective trades, and the Tribe got omens from their own ancestors just as the Clans did. I can't really see how we're different.
Almost against his will, he found his gaze drawn to the lean, mud-clad form of Brook. She was sitting with a group of fellow prey-hunters, and even though he sat on the opposite side of the cavern from her, he could hear the low hum of their strange accents reverberating throughout the cave. He started as Brook glanced up, drawn by the feeling of someone's eyes on her, and ducked his head just as her amber eyes roved over his area.
"What…?" Confused, Squirrelpaw followed where Stormfur's gaze had previously hovered.
Oh, mouse dung… Stormfur crouched lower, his ears heating in embarrassment; it intensified when he heard low chuckling coming from just next to him.
"Looks like somebody's got a crush," she teased, butting his shoulder.
"Do not!" Stormfur instinctively hissed. The kit-like remark only made her smirk widen.
"You totally like Brook," she sang. "I can't blame you; she seems like a pretty she-cat under all that mud."
"We're just friends," the RiverClan tom insisted, his voice becoming strained with the effort of putting his fervent protests in a whisper. StarClan, this was embarrassing…
A string of snickering served as her only response, as though amusement controlled her voice too completely to let her reply. Frowning, Stormfur lifted his head. "It's not funny, Squirrel –"
And then he cut himself off abruptly, because somehow they'd gotten so close he could see every stray speck of amber in her eyes and feel her breath against his cheek even as her laughter faded. The scent of honey threatened to overwhelm him at that moment.
Abruptly, Squirrelpaw moved away. "I'm full," she murmured, picking up the half-eaten hare in her mouth. "Gonna go talk to Brambleclaw."
"Right," Stormfur muttered bitterly, feeling that disappointment trace its cold claws throughout his body again.
As he watched her pad across the cave floor and settle down beside the dark brown tabby, Stormfur heard a voice gently say his name. He turned to the source and saw Brook.
"Are you all right?" she asked, looking at him with those amber (green) eyes (just like she had just minutes earlier) and tilting her mud-furred (ginger) head to the side. "Your friend just walked past us in a huff."
Stormfur shook his head and made an honest attempt at a smile, at the same time thinking in a huff, what reason could Squirrelpaw have to be huffy after she just randomly tried to blackmail me? "I'm fine," he replied perfunctorily.
As Brook tentatively nodded and smiled back, he wished he could believe his own lie.
Now, as he reflected on that day, he knew it was true. He still wasn't all right, wasn't fine – but for entirely different reasons from before, a reason he wished didn't exist.
He wished it didn't exist so fervently it should have reached StarClan. Should have reached Feathertail.
"Stormfur."
He stared at the ground in front of him, registering the voice that had just called him but not really paying attention. The last thing he wanted was to talk to Squirrelpaw.
"Stormfur," she whispered again, and then he was nearly leaping out of his fur in surprise as something soft and warm brushed against his flank and that honey pushed its way into his senses.
Squirrelpaw said nothing as she sat with him, something she very rarely did, but that Stormfur felt a flicker of gratefulness within the fog of grief around his emotions for. The sound of the waterfall crashing and roaring around them was all that could be heard; not even the murmurs of Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt and Crowpaw (and Feathertail; and then Stormfur had to take a mental step back, because Feathertail was gone) pierced the veil of noise, and yet also silence, that had descended upon the two of them.
Painfully, he let himself remember all that had happened since he had woken up this morning, searched for Feathertail's warmth, didn't find it, and came to sit next to her grave with Crowpaw at his side. Brook had come by and given Stormfur her condolences; she had murmured sweet nothings into his ear, and had even rubbed her muzzle along his jaw just before leaving. Under any other circumstances, he would have been delighted to be so close to the prey-hunter, but as it was, he hated the fact that it had only happened due to her own need to comfort him.
In the end, even Crowpaw had, after some hours of sitting here like a lean black statue, forced himself to get up and go plan for the journey back home. Only Stormfur and Squirrelpaw remained here, grieving for her fallen comrade, his sister.
The only ones not chosen by StarClan in the first place.
That realization made Stormfur dully lift his head and angle it toward Squirrelpaw. And maybe it was the grief talking, maybe it was that thought of the reason why he had felt such a strong bond toward her in the first place. Maybe it was both.
But he found himself speaking despite his self-imposed vigil.
"I'm sort of in love with you."
Those green eyes looked toward his. And in the half second it took to absorb the growing shock and dismay and dread of telling him what he didn't want to hear on her features, his world came crashing down with all the force of the waterfall that had condemned Feathertail.
Oh no.
"Stormfur –"
"Leave me alone."
"But I –"
"I said leave me alone!" he snarled, whirling on his heel and glaring at her. To her credit, Squirrelpaw's body trembled for only an instant before she straightened and met his glower with one of her own. In the early days of their journey (even now, if he wanted to be honest with himself), he would smile almost indulgently at the typical petulant indignance in her gaze.
Now, though, he wanted to cry and scream and claw her all at once for having ever felt that way.
He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe against the lump in his throat, his eyes suddenly growing blurry. Oh, this was just fantastic; now he could fall apart in front of her more than he already had in the past couple of days. "It's not enough I've lost my sister," he gasped out. "Now I have to lose you too?"
Squirrelpaw rolled her eyes. "Stormfur, you're not losing me just because you said something stupid and I didn't say it back –"
The condescending tone to her voice only served as a catalyst for the anger and sorrow burning inside him. "That's just it!" he cried. "It wasn't just… wasn't just something stupid I said to fill the silence, Squirrelpaw. It…" He fumbled for words, suddenly feeling like an awkward apprentice with his first crush (the second half is true, at least). "I do care about you, and I guess I thought… I thought 'hey, life is short, Feathertail just proved that; I might as well say how I feel while I still can!'"
"That's the most moronic thing I've ever heard." In contrast to her previous words, the causticity dripping from Squirrelpaw's words effectively hit him like a blow to the throat, with much the same effect on his emotions: near immobilizing him both physically and mentally. Stormfur stared at her, struck dumb with the sight of the anger in her eyes, suddenly aware of the coldness of the stone in the Tribe's cave against his paw pads and of the air against his thick fur.
"You don't just up and confess to someone because you think you're gonna die tomorrow," she continued. "Yeah, I get 'live in the moment' and all that – but you tell someone how you feel because you think you're ready." The fire in her eyes died down very slightly, in favor of a tenderness Stormfur never would have imagined her to feel toward him. "Stormfur, you're a great friend, and I'll always care about you. But, well… you can't spend all your time chasing a dream that you can never realize."
Stormfur knew she was letting him down as gently as she knew how, and felt his heart clench at the clumsy way she was going about it. The fact that she was echoing all the doubts he had ever felt about possibly confessing to her didn't help.
"Brambleclaw, right?" he managed.
At that, Squirrelpaw blinked, leaning back a bit on her haunches. Then a smirk quirked her lips upward. "What do you know, you're smarter than you look," she commented.
Stormfur didn't know whether to feel offended or not at the insult. Then he realized she was just trying to get the atmosphere back, a fact that was reinforced by the almost pleading look on her face. "I resent that," he said, grinning despite himself.
"As you should." Squirrelpaw's amusement faltered, and she eyed him more seriously. "Seriously, though. Yeah, I guess I do like Brambleclaw a little. Okay, a lot," she added irritably at Stormfur's skeptical look. "Shut up!"
"Didn't say anything," Stormfur pointed out, and felt smug when she only spluttered for a few moments in lieu of a coherent reply.
And at that moment, standing there with the cat he loved, something in his heart relented – the competitiveness with Brambleclaw, the desire to win Squirrelpaw for himself, the anger that had driven him to get up and run as far away from her as possible when she failed to reciprocate his confession. Everything that had marred his motives up until now calmed themselves then, and he had the distinctive notion of the sun rising after a night's vigil.
Yes, the scar in his heart from Feathertail's death would remain; he doubted it would ever leave. It would remain there, along with the pain of having loved and lost, and the lack of acceptance among his own family members.
But being with her – Squirrelpaw, Firestar's daughter, the best friend he'd ever had, the she-cat who was insecure and naïve and sure of herself and overconfident all rolled into one – and allowing time to apply its healing medicine could dull those scars.
For now, it would have to be enough.
"You ready to go?" Stormfur asked her, as he and his Clan stood with ThunderClan waiting for WindClan and ShadowClan.
In response, she grinned and flicked her tail against his flank. "What do you think?"
On the way to their new home, the Tribe took the Clans in for a few days, to help the travel-weary cats rest and ready themselves for the twilight of their journey. Brook moved to greet him almost at once, nuzzling him unashamedly, and amid the shocked murmurs of scorn amongst his Clan members (we should have expected this from the half-Clan cat, this is why they wanted to go back through the mountains, isn't it?), Stormfur realized he couldn't care less.
And suddenly, he knew what he had to do.
"I've decided to stay with the Tribe," he told Squirrelpaw, and that expression that had overtaken her on that day when grief had decided to speak for him returned with a vengeance.
She tried to dissuade him, but he'd made his decision. Everything, he told her now, is here. His family may be gone, but he felt he had found a new family here. In Brook, in the Tribe, in the mountain air, in the roar of the waterfall. He couldn't explain how he felt to her, and knew his attempt to do so was woefully inadequate (if, of course, the bemused look on her face was any indication), but knew he at least had to try.
For her sake, if nothing else.
She hesitated then, making Stormfur stop in his tracks. "What's the matter?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. Seeing her like that made him think of the day they had shared prey together in the Tribe's cave, a feeling he didn't enjoy resurrecting.
"Nothing," she responded after a moment. "I just… we're okay, right?"
It did not take him long to realize what she was referring to. He risked a look into her eyes (one last time, if only for clarification) and saw pleading there, a desire for the right answer to her question. For some reason, Stormfur thought of the fateful day he had confessed and sent everything in his life tumbling upside down like a leaf in a gale: the day he had wanted the right answer from Squirrelpaw and she had failed to give it.
When it was a lie, the right answer was never best.
"Of course we are," he said. "Why wouldn't we be?"
And for perhaps the thousandth time since the day he had met her, he felt his breath catch in his throat, but for an entirely different reason than all those times before. The breathlessness in her smile struck a chord within him; it was infectious, and he found himself grinning back.
"Good," she said in a mock-threatening voice. "'Cause if we weren't, I was planning on using your fur to line my nest."
"Haven't I already told you?" Stormfur laughed as they began walking back to the Tribe's cavern: the waterfall and Brook and everything that came with it. He thought of everything that awaited him in his new life with the Tribe, of how Squirrelpaw had accepted it, and felt a sudden sense of freedom overtake his tread. "Empty threats do not a warrior make! Didn't Dustpelt tell you all this?"
"Slow down, you big furball; I can't keep up!" Squirrelpaw called after him, racing up the trail just behind him.
The wind howled around the two cats, the rocks were wavering precariously beneath them, he barely had enough room against the rock face as it was without her being near him…
And Stormfur had never felt so safe.
He watches Squirrelpaw (of course she has a different name now; things have changed so much in the past few moons he knows she's become a warrior) press herself into Brambleclaw's pelt and murmur something only the tabby can hear, and can't hold back a tiny smile. Because even though the ThunderClan camp lies in ruin around them, even though the clearing reeks of death and blood and terror, something good came out of everything.
You can't spend all your time chasing a dream you'll never realize.
Clearly, she had realized her dream.
"Stormfur?" Brook asks beside him. "We should help them out."
Stormfur forces the smile off his face; it's the least he can do for the Clanmates of his friends, after all. "Yeah," he says.
He flops down next to Squirrelpaw – Squirrelflight now, he reminds himself – and breathes in the scent of the new ThunderClan camp's warriors den. Beside him, Squirrelflight looks over and narrows one eye. "What?"
"Long day," he sighs.
"Mm." Squirrelflight stares out at the camp. Stormfur follows her gaze and sees Firestar and Leafpool crouched over Cinderpelt's body. His heart clenches in sympathy; he had not known the former ThunderClan medicine cat particularly well, but he can imagine the pain that her friend and apprentice must be going through.
Unbidden, the memory of the day of his vigil for Feathertail comes into his mind. In the past, thinking about the impulsive thing he had said that day made him wince in shame, but now he only uses it as a reminder – a reminder that something good can come out of even the sun vanishing. Squirrelflight had been his sunlight, yet when she was gone, life had resumed as always. He'd had Brook, and the knowledge that his untimely confession hadn't destroyed the bonds of one of the best friendships he'd ever had.
Stormfur used to think moving on from grief was total fox dung. And yet now he could safely say he spoke from experience by agreeing with that sentiment.
Even Cinderpelt's death, even this tragedy, can bring new beginnings.
He feels something brush against his flank then, distracting him from the scene of grief and sorrow just outside. And as he breathes in the scent of honey, he lets himself relax fully.
"I missed you."
"Missed you too," he answers, and knows he means it.
Bah, I hate the latter parts of this fic. Way too angsty. At least the ending didn't TOTALLY suck.
Don't mind the random tense swap near the end. I kept nearly switching over in the middle of the fic, too; I'm just so used to writing in present tense at this point. Just... pretend he's remembering all this near the beginning of Sunset, okay?
Reviews are love!