It would've been so easy. Swanmist, in her gentle way, would have said "goodbye" in that soft, hoarse voice that reeked of death and Whitefang would have taken it as claws to her heart; however, the spark would never have ignited the flame of revenge deep in the pit of her stomach. Those summer sky-blue eyes might have haunted her dreams for moons, but would soon fade and be replaced by warm emerald green. It would have been easy, to grieve and move along. To fall slowly, irreparably, irrevocably in love with green and brown and pale tabby stripes and have them swim across her vision instead of rain and bloody haze and ginger and blue. It would have been easy to share his nest and be lulled by the rhythm of his apologies. It would have been harder to forgive, but easier to love. The river would not tempt her to abandon the warm of her nest or the throbbing heartbeats of their kits. It would've been so easy to stay.
Inspired by the delicate and emotional drabbles of Swyfte