I. EROS
Onewhisker has always been reckless—too reckless. It's something he had constantly been scolded for as an apprentice. He'd figure out a way to do something, and he'd keep doing it, no matter the cost.
Maybe that's why he spends his nights sneaking into Twolegplace to meet Smoke.
The stones of the path are cold against the pads of his feet, the sun-heat long gone. He turns right, then takes two lefts, and one right again.
He waits in front of a little blue house—the only one there of its kind. Onewhisker has always thought it matches the eyes of his lover—a lovely shade he thinks matches the green-leaf sky.
He isn't alone long. Soon enough, Smoke emerges from the window of her Twoleg-nest.
"You'll never guess what happened today," Onewhisker says, puffing out his chest in a false bravado.
Smoke purrs, looking instantly enthralled. "Oh?" she asks. "Tell me, my strong warrior."
His mind briefly wanders to Whitetail, his WindClan mate, who is faithful and beautiful and everything he could ever wish for. But he shakes away all thought of her; she has no place here, in the forbidden Twolegplace.
Smoke is bold and intoxicating and she draws him in like a moth to her flame.
He, the moth, gives himself up to burn.
EROS
Smoke grooms his ruffled pelt with shaky movements, her sides still heaving with every breath. "That was a good story," she says between each rasp of her tongue.
Onewhisker gives a mumbled agreement before turning his face towards the sky, narrowing his eyes against the darkness. "I have to go soon," he sighs regretfully. "I've got dawn patrol, and I must be off to fulfill my warrior duties." He stretches his paws out, twists to clean her scent off every fur of his pelt.
She nods, though she makes little effort to conceal the disappointment on her face. "Again in two nights' time, my warrior?"
He inclines his head towards her in a show of sincerity. "I'm afraid I won't be able to return again," he says.
They both know that is a lie.
EROS
One night, staring into Smoke's blue eyes, he cries out Whitetail in lieu of Smoke. She doesn't know who Whitetail is, and he doesn't tell her. Afterwards, neither of them speak of her or the incident. Saying her name is an unspoken boundary neither of them dare cross.
Smoke falls asleep quickly, but he is tense and flushed with embarrassment and fear. What if she found out I had a mate already? What if she asks too many questions?
Onewhisker doesn't want to sleep in any place but besides Whitetail, all of a sudden. He disentangles himself from Smoke, who doesn't stir, and shakes out his pelt resolutely.
He goes back to WindClan that night, and there is a small pang in his chest as he sees Whitetail sleeping alone in their shared nest. Her tail rests over her swollen belly.
He curls in beside her, and she raises her head sleepily. "Where'd you go?" she murmurs, blue eyes half-open.
Onewhisker strokes his tail over her spine until she relaxes more, and he reassures her with, "Just to the dirtplace. Don't worry, my love."
The lie slips easily through his teeth, and for a one hot, fleeting moment, he resents everything about his double life.
He doesn't deserve Whitetail in the slightest, not really—but he's too selfish to let her go.
His mate shifts slightly. "Onewhisker?" she mumbles. He's worried for a moment, until she follows up the beat of silence with, "Stay with me, this time?"
It would ruin everything if she knew, he thinks immediately. Whitetail would never trust me again—she'd never let me near the kits. But a heartbeat later, he realizes, It's already ruined… I'm just waiting on borrowed time for her to find out.
Whitetail is smart—he knows that. She's one of the most brilliant warriors in WindClan, after all. She'll catch on to his nightly activities soon enough, and if he keeps meeting Smoke…
That is the moment Onewhisker decides he must stop fanning Smoke's flame. If only, he tells himself, to save his future with Whitetail.
EROS
It's nearly two moons later, and Onewhisker has nearly put Smoke out of his mind completely. He dips his head to Mudclaw; tells him that he is going out hunting on his own.
He's chasing a rabbit, and it's disappeared behind the sprigs of a heather bush when a small shadow falls over him.
Smoke stands there behind the heather, and looks him over, eyes narrowed slightly. His stomach drops into his paws. "I'm expecting your kits," she tells him bluntly, with no prologue. He looks over her overly-plump body; acknowledges the statement with a flick of his ear, and says,
"What does that have to do with me?"
He's a fairly respected warrior, now, and he thinks, for a moment, of Whitetail and their young daughter resting in the nursery. Kits with Smoke were never part of the plan, he tells himself, as a way to soften the blow of his own words. Whitetail can't know about this. Heatherkit can't know about this.
His excuse makes his skin itch uncomfortably. Maybe—maybe he's just trying to settle the uncomfortable feeling lodged in the pit of his stomach. This doesn't matter. It was just a fling.
"I want to join WindClan." It's a bold statement—even from Smoke, and Onewhisker works to keep his face as neutral as he can.
He looks at her—really looks at her—and realizes the only things she knows about Clan life are from the stories he's told her. Onewhisker avoids her expectant gaze. I should have known this would come back to hurt me. She doesn't know about the cold leaf-bares, or greencough, or battle, or the lack of prey.
The uncomfortable feeling grows even stronger. He wants to squirm, but finds his paws frozen to the ground.
Smoke is plump and well taken care of, even for a kittypet. He doubts that she or whatever kittens she had could survive for long in WindClan. They would never be able to survive out here. They would resent me for it, for the rest of their lives.
He straightens up, and without any sugar-coating, tells her to go back to her Twolegs. He says that they will be able to take care of her better than he can. He doesn't elaborate further. There's a twinge of doubt in the back of his mind, but Onewhisker shoves it away.
Smoke glares at him, but turns anyways, lashing her tail behind her. "I hope you're happy with yourself, Onewhisker," she tells him, voice suddenly ice-sharp. "I won't forget this, and neither will my kits."
It stings, in a way he doesn't think he should get to feel. I've done too much for me to feel hurt. I deserve it. She's never been angry at him before—only adoring. Onewhisker tells himself to put it out of his mind. It was only that she was upset, and this would be the end of it.
I choose Whitetail and Heatherkit.
Onewhisker tells himself he is saving her from a harsh life, instead of protecting his own interests.
They both know it is a lie.