Heathertail had never seen this big of a gathering. Perhaps it was because she never wanted to be there in the first place. This place held too many memories; meeting with Lionpaw for the first time, scheduling times they could be together...
No, Heathertail reminded herself. A trip down memory lane would be bad, at least in public.
At home, no one can see you cry.
Her mind was going through a play by play of everything they'd done together. She didn't want to think of it, though.
Still, her mind could've been thinking about anything else. Absolutely anything. But no. He was on her mind now, like a broken record recorded by her heart.
The horrible thing is that she knew. She knew that she still cared about the too perfect tom too much. She thought about him, but her doubts and the rumors she'd heard were answered when she saw him.
Well, it wasn't just him. He was surrounded by cats of all clans, famous after the great battle. Still, Heathertail saw red when she noticed Cinderheart, who was draped over Lionblaze like his own fur. No, not red. Red was docile compared to this feral urge to injure the innocent she-cat. With a huff, she turned away with masked indifference. Her clanmates would suspect if she looked odd.
Still, she hated this. She hated the feeling. She hated that she herself knew it was one sided.
"Life isn't fair," everyone always said. But why her?
It could've been different. She knew that much. Maybe it was never supposed to be?
Heathertail wasn't a pathetic she-cat. She didn't need a tom, and she knew it. Still, there was times she fantasied about what would've happened if things had changed. Would she be nursing their kits? Would they be raising a family, all happy together? Well, he was definitely happy without her. It was clear that he held affection for Cinderheart.
It's sickening to Heathertail.
However, none of the ideas were ever acted on. Once again, she wasn't pathetic. She knew that times had changed. She'd surely be rejected. Lionblaze may be kind enough to spare her scorn, but her clanmates would have a buffet with that new piece of information.
It would have been a perfect storm. Him, her fire. Her, his lighter.
Now, as the leaders started to ramble about things that Heathertail could care less about, she remembered how they'd play together. Chases through the corridors of the cave and tunnel system. Pretending to create a clan together. Promising to never leave each other.
All that work just to get her heart shoved into a doggy bag and shipped away.
He wasn't just a play mate to her. He was a friend, maybe something more than a friend. Someone who cared.
Note the past tense.
They were perfect together. They understood each other. They should've been the ones flaunting their love in everyone else's faces.
It should've been them.
"It... it should've been us."