Disclaimer: Warriors belongs to Erin Hunter. The characters do not belong to me.

Two Types of Black

Morning glories were so black. Sure, they had purple and pink hearts, and even sometimes they would have lovely blue throats that copied the twilight, but they were still so black. Most certainly they weren't vibrant; they were dark. They were nothing like the rain drops that beaded their petals and slid down their stems. They did not replicate the alabaster clouds and pallid sunshine on a foggy day. They held no other look than of gloomy mourning.

They were born in the morning to only wilt and curl by midday. Then all the flowers would die just to be reincarnated once more in another bud. It was a constant cycle of rebirth; it was a symbol of death, not of life, for no matter what the flowers always died, even though they did come back. Surely they were sad? The flowers seemed to be so. To look one in the mouth is to look upon weeping nature.

So, even though they could be as blue as the sky or as purple as the trees at dusk, they were still dull. Pale forever would they be, stuck with their black color.

This is what most thought of them. They considered their cropped petals and simple bosoms to be rather depressing. They only remained for so short a time that it seemed like they were always spending their days looking malnourished. Maybe they were ashamed of their lack of beauty? Maybe they were cursed with dismal looking hearts and so kill themselves?

Did morning glories commit suicide? Was this their own fault, this black look? Perhaps it was true. By chance, persay, they hated their existence. Most did not blame them if so. They were boring, short-lived, cowardly, and too dark for their liking. After all, the world didn't need more black.

Nothing ever needed more black. Absolutely nothing, that was for certain. Black was obsolete, for it held no purpose. The shade was harbored tentatively in the cadaver of the flower. It was nurtured in the chrysalis of her body, and for that they were both terrible.

Maybe that was it. The darkness had killed the morning glory. It was a murder, but the damage was done. One could care less, though. To them, the petals would always remain a dull sight to him; black tips, black hearts, black bosoms, black roots. They were irrevocably dead, even though they came back to life. They were lifeless, and there was nothing an alabaster morning could do to cure that.

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Sol's brown pelt barely stood out amongst the dark folds of the forest. The only thing really distinguishable were his eyes. They shined with the brilliance of the sun. Although, maybe that was just their viewer being fanciful.

Hollyleaf dug her claws into the soil, something possessing her to stay, even though she wanted to run. Her green eyes glared viciously at the tom; she felt cornered, even though she was in an open place. The other seemed unaffected, his stance the same and his expression so unbearably placid.

"Hollyleaf, you have found me," Sol meowed in his usual timber.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she retorted. She wished to have sounded harsh, but she only sounded empty. The black she-cat managed to take a step back, her tail twitching as if urging to lash.

"Where are the other two?" he continued, and he sounded vaguely interested. Hollyleaf supposed that their interaction, to Sol, was just a waste of time, or at least extremely boring.

"They aren't here."

Sol's ears perked up slightly at that, his angular head tilting to the side. Remaining where he was while Hollyleaf took yet another paw step back, the tom gave her a quizzical look.

"They are usually with you," the cat meowed simply. It sounded like a statement, and for that reason she found herself angered. The ThunderClan cat thought it kind of strange to be so though. She decided that she just didn't like it when Sol went around acting like he knew everything about her and her brothers.

"Not always. Only when we try to find you," she replied, trying to sound smart.

"That would explain things," Sol countered without a trace of emotion. He seemed so calm just standing there. Compared to Hollyleaf, he was the master of being composed. She was bristling, her teeth half bared, and her eyes showing disgust and anxiety. Sol was just there.

There was a long moment of silence. Neither tried to speak. One could say they were basically staring each other down, although that was more Hollyleaf than Sol. In the quiet, she attempted a few more steps back, her black fur blending into the darkness of the night. She really had only bumped into the tortoiseshell accidentally, his earthy scent and dark pelt hiding him from her senses until it was too late.

It was then that his amber eyes seemed to catch what she was doing. Tail beginning to curl, Sol padded toward Hollyleaf; she was planted yet again to the spot, her mind racing as the space between them closed. It was like one of those dreams where one can't move. Even though danger is nearing one at full speed, they still cannot even get their limbs to cooperate with their yelling senses.

Run away!

"It is so dark out tonight," Sol drawled, his voice cool as he neared. It got to the point where he was only a mouselength away from Hollyleaf, and he was still talking as he stopped padding forward.

As if only making casual conversation, he continued, "The nights have gotten considerably blacker, if you ask me." Pausing, he then finished, "I do not like it. What is your take on it?"

Hollyleaf swallowed, her ears pressing against her skull. She kept on trying to be defiant and glare murder at the aloof tom, but found she couldn't keep her expression straight. Sol's eyes were trained on her; his deadly, amber gaze was digging into her pupils, it seemed. The green-eyed cat loathed it when he did that. It was as if he knew that she could not look him in the eye without faltering.

"They are the same," she answered in an annoyed way, as if dealing with a dull-witted kit that wouldn't stop asking questions. Averting her gaze to the ground, she stiffened when she felt warm breath tickle her whiskers. Sol was so close that Hollyleaf could lean forward only a little bit and bump noses with him.

"Are you content with that?" he meowed.

"Yeah. Sure," Hollyleaf replied quickly, fearing the loss of her self-control. She was most certainly not being tempted by his proximity. Not at all. Feeling confused and uncomfortable, she still kept her eyes on the forest floor. Desperately wanting to duck her head, she suppressed the want, knowing it wouldn't help her.

"I don't think you are. But..." he apparently was anaylzing her, his breath short and subdued. He also seemed unaffected by the she-cat's nervousness; he probably didn't even care.

"You are black. You are like the night." Sol motioned toward her fur with his nose, touching it briefly before withdrawing only a hairsbreadth. "You are the color, not the essense."

Hollyleaf could feel his amber eyes staring at her. It was like they were tearing her apart, and she couldn't take it. Her legs were burning with the desire to bolt, but her heart wouldn't allow her to.

"Don't be the essense," Sol told her, and Hollyleaf could swear that he was begging her, but it could easily have been her imagination. "You are so close..."

The last part sounded like a half-finished thought, trailing off almost appropriately on Sol's tongue. Wishing to question him, she was dismayed to find her voice gone and her throat feeling hoarse. After another moment's silence, Hollyleaf broke it.

"The essense is bad," she meowed softly, not wanting her mew to crack. Also, she had originally meant it as a question, but had found it more suitable to only state it.

"Yes."

Paws finally acting on their own, she backed away carefully. Something compelled her to leave now more than ever, and she couldn't fight it. Green eyes rose to meet amber ones, but Hollyleaf broke the gaze with a jerk of her head.

"I can't stop you, though," Sol meowed. For the first time, he sounded defeated, although it was barely noticeable in his serious voice. The cat opposite him stared at him, confused.

Not really knowing what to say in response, Hollyleaf awkwardly turned around to go home. As she slowly slipped back into the protective darkness of the forest where no moonlight could reach, she remained fully aware of the gaze that stayed locked on her disappearing form.

"Goodbye, Hollyleaf."

A/N: For the small amount actually waiting for an update on Rehabilitation, I AM SORRY.

I am working on it, don't worry. It's just that muse has been escaping me lately for that thing, along with my other stories.

I hope this will suffice as compensation for y'all's waiting and patience.

But anyway, this was just a random thing I typed up. A drabble if you will. I was humoring the idea of this maybe being a collection of drabbles. SolxHolly of course, because there needs to be more of it. (IT IS TOTALLY POSSIBLE. YOU DON'T KNOOOWWW.)

It will be like a little fanfiction dump to pick up my muse for Rehab. ;D