For Rubyheart481
- It Was Never You-

Nightcloud pressed her sleek black pelt close to his, her eyes shining as she watched their son practice his hunting crouch with Heatherpaw and Harepaw. Crowfeather shifted uncomfortably, his ears twitching.

"I'm so proud of him," meowed Nightcloud. "He's done so well, don't you think? He's his father's son!"

Crowfeather found it hard to think of Breezepaw as his son, even though they had the same built and the same short, choppy pelts. Breezepaw even had his blue eyes. But Crowfeather regarded Breezepaw with a detachment that bordered on dislike.

"Crowfeather?" prompted Nightcloud.

"Oh, yes," Crowfeather replied, "he's done...well."

"You haven't even been watching, have you?"

Here we go. Every couple of days Nightcloud flared up, throwing some accusation or another at him, and they all had one commonality - Leafpool. This one intimated that Crowfeather wished Breezepaw had never been born.

"You just hate him, don't you?" Nightcloud whispered furiously. "Why did you even mate with me if you knew I might get pregnant? That I might have kits?"

Crowfeather blinked liquidly at her. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's a lie," snapped Nightcloud.

Crowfeathe meowed, "I don't hate Breezepaw. He's my son," though these last words were forced.

"Not in your mind. He'd be more your son if he was that filthy ThunderClan medicine cat's, wouldn't he?" she hurled at him, unsheathing her claws.

Crowfeather hesitated. Of course she was right. Watching Breezepaw grow up had been agonizing, knowing that Leafpool was watching, too. He hated himself for what he had done, and hated himself because he still was head-over-heels in love with Leafpool.

"Your hesitation," hissed Nightcloud coldly, "speaks volumes."

"What? No. I was just trying to think of a way to get it through to you that I'm over Leafpool. Why else would I have had a kit with you?" Crowfeather said, speaking slowly, his lie many-a-time rehearsed; he knew if he spoke too fast it would be obvious he was just trying to placate her.

She stared at him with hateful eyes, but eventually the fury receded from them, and she licked very slowly and possessively along his neck. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know I overreacted."

"It's okay," said Crowfeather, breathing an inward sigh of relief. Never would she know how he fantasized about Leafpool, or how when he saw her, he could barely restrain himself from leaping upon her with joy.

Never would she know that Crowfeather was, indeed, in love. Just not with her.