Adi SAgestar requested that I do a completely unexpected pairing. Well, here it is. I happen to like this pairing, and it even appears in a story I am planning on writing. Here it is.

WEAK

RUSSETFUR x HAWKFROST

Coldness fills my limbs, dragging me down into its deathly embrace. Ice tugs at my pelt, urging me to fall into its paws, to linger here forever.

I let out a deep snarl, tearing away from the invisible claws, jerking away from the blue pools that tempted me so.

I won't give in.

The deep voice of the wind whispers in my ear, its honey-coated words enticing me. Would it truly be so wrong to stay?

Yes.

I twist my head away, hating myself for my weakness, hating myself for my strength. I want to stay, I want to go. I am being torn in two. I let out a sharp hiss as I feel a hot tear slip down my pelt.

How did I fall this far? How could I change from Russetfur, the ruthless warrior to… to a pathetic she-cat?

My claws sink into the ground and I close my eyes tight, feeling my heart race as I feel the warmth of fur brushes my flank. Hot air caresses my neck as the wind returns; breathing words I never thought I'd hear in my ears.

"Stay," it beckons, twining a lithe tail around my own.

"No," I mew, trying to pull away. But my paws are my enemies, and will not move from the ground where I placed them. If I had known then how they would grow roots here, I would have turned tail and ran, ever moving to keep myself from standing still.

"Stay," it whispers again.

I open my jaws, begging my heart to lift its claws from my mind, to set me free and let me escape. But I find my heart has allied itself with my paws. Why is my own body turning against me?

I know this is wrong.

How can anything that feels this right truly be wrong? My heart coaxes.

Slowly I lift my head and stare up into the face that has haunted my steps for so long, the freezing eyes that follow me in my dreams. My breath stops coming, and my heart stops beating. How can a single tom-cat make me feel so weak? How can one warrior make me contemplate becoming what I detest most – a traitor?

"Stay," he purrs silkily, drawing his tongue over my ears.

I close my eyes, and rest my head on his strong chest.

"Stay?" I mew. The word sounds strange on my tongue, but there is something about it that makes my fur tingle. Forbidden prey is always sweetest.

"Stay," I whisper, nodding my head slowly.

I hear his deep purr; it ripples through him like water through a riverbed. My higher voice joins his, a melody of satisfaction floating up, up, up into the star-spangled sky.

Can our ancestors hear us?

I lie on the ground, the first orange rays of the sun staining the sky, my tears staining my pelt.

He is gone.

That night of perfection is fading fast from reality, falling back to settle in my memories. His words so filled with passion linger in my ears, his scent still drifts around my pelt. I can still see his rippling tabby coat sliding over hard muscle, and his ice-blue eyes are burned forever into my mind.

Was it worth it? Was that single instant of euphoria worth the pain? Was it worth what I have done. I sacrificed my honour, my loyalty, I gave up everything I have followed since kit-hood. And for what? For the passion of a weak heart, and the weakness of a shattered mind.

I truly know now what it is to be weak. Weakness is lying on the frozen earth, tears sliding from your eyes, your heart trying to gather the pieces of itself together; weakness is your mind still reveling in him, still blessing his name while your heart curses it. Weakness is smiling when you think of him, while your heart longs to tear him apart.

Weakness is our trivial, fleeting emotions. Weakness is the longing for perfection.

Slowly I rise to my paws, my eyes staring across to where I know he is. Is he looking here? Is he thinking of the words he said? The questions he asked? Of the answers I gave him? Or have his eyes already turned to another lithe form?

I don't know. Maybe I never will.

I turn away, and then slowly begin the long journey back to myself. I will forget the Russetfur of the night. She will see the light of day again, maybe even not in my memories. With every pawstep I take I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders. I know it will never truly leave, but I can make it fade away, make it rest only in the dark shadows of my heart.

To the world I am Russetfur, the ruthless deputy of ShadowClan. And that is who I will always be.

But somewhere, somewhere hidden deep inside of me I am Russetfur, the warrior who has fallen. I am Russetfur, the she-cat who cries as my heart is torn. I am Russetfur, the cat who still longs for him, who still feels adrenaline in my veins when I see him, who still finds perfection in his eyes.

So many identities hidden within this single pelt, so many different cats striving to get out, to have their face be the one the world sees. Which one is truley me? Which one am I?

Maybe there is no answer.

I really like this one. Do I say that after every one of these I write? Oh well, I think that they get better each time. This is definatly one of my favorites so far.