AN: As I did my homework one fine spring day, the word shivers popped into my head. Just like that.
Russetfur gave him the shivers. This is not to say that Dustpelt found her incredibly frightening to the point where he may or may not consider vomiting. He'd leave that to kits. No, Russetfur was demanding, in attitude, in personality, in character. And that gave Dustpelt the shivers.
Because Russetfur was his idea of the perfect she-cat. The ShadowClan deputy, who was supposed to be cold and heartless and cruel, was his idea of a perfect she-cat. It was not that Dustpelt no longer loved Ferncloud. To him, the gray she-cat was his sun, his moon, his stars. But Russetfur's ambition and charm, wit and bitterness, that made her everything Ferncloud was not. And, not that he would ever say this aloud, but Ferncloud could lack personality sometimes.
Every Gathering, when he saw Russetfur's pelt under the light of the full moon, he would curse Brambleclaw, curse Tawnypelt, curse every other cat who forced them on the Great Journey. Mostly, he cursed himself for walking beside her all those moons ago. When the accursed hero became deputy, Dustpelt was shattered. It was his last chance to have a connection with Russetfur. He was not seeking to betray his mate and Clan. He just wanted to talk to her again.
"This mountain," he said to her as they walked along, "It sounds tall."
"Perhaps we will see StarClan up there at last," she replied.
He stopped dead in his tracks then, and as he replied, he had run to catch up with her.
"Perhaps we will see many things."
AN: They flirted in Starlight. Not my fault.