At her abrupt apology, Darkpaw looked confused.
He tilted his head to one side, then brought his face close to hers, peering at her with those bright blue eyes of his.
"What are you saying sorry for, Featherpaw?" he asked, and before she could stop herself, she grimaced- mostly due to the fact that Darkpaw's voice was just so kind. "You haven't done anything wrong."
"But I have!" Featherpaw blurted out, her eyes wide.
Darkpaw seemed stunned at her protest, but his face quickly smoothed out, fading into a somewhat neutral expression. His shoulders drooped, and he murmured, "Alright then, Featherpaw, tell me all about it. Why are you apologising so much?"
Featherpaw blinked, then looked down at her paws. "I was prying into things that don't concern me," she whispered. She looked up then, piercing him with huge, beseeching amber eyes. "Please don't hate me."
Darkpaw surprised her when he suddenly scoffed, but he didn't look away as she'd feared. "As if I could ever hate you, mouse-brain," he mewed fondly. "Now, tell me what it was you were apologising about."
Featherpaw didn't even hesitate. "I asked something I shouldn't have," she blurted, and, before she could stop herself, she added, "About your mother."
Darkpaw froze at her words, and she swore she felt her heart bleed when an unsure expression crossed his face.
He opened his mouth, and she instinctively tensed, though her shoulders slumped when he sent her a beseeching stare.
As if he had no problem with her.
"Don't close up," he begged, and when he spoke again, his voice was a whisper: "Don't be like my brother."
Darkpaw truly was kind, Featherpaw noticed.
So, when she said nothing in response, his lovely eyes became imploring, as if begging for her to answer.
Featherpaw licked her lips and finally looked up. "What happened to her?" she whispered.
Darkpaw looked unsure again, but then, a sad smile pulled at his lips. "I trust you," he murmured. "I trust you, Featherpaw."
And that was a bigger declaration than Featherpaw had ever known.
Someone actually trusted her enough to spout their feelings.
It was a feeling that she had never experienced herself, and she smiled up at him gratefully.
"My mother was called Emberwing," Darkpaw began, and his voice was far away as he murmured, "She was kind and gentle, though I don't think many cats suspected that as she had such a fierce name. She had a beautiful soul, and when Scorchfoot met her, it was like love at first sight. Scorchfoot was gruffer and rougher than most toms, and some cats thought that he never truly loved her, but I know in his heart that he did. They were mates for a few moons before she announced that she was expecting kits," here, Darkpaw swallowed, but he ploughed on, ignoring the confused glance that Featherpaw shot his way, "Naturally, Scorchfoot was happy. They made preparations before announcing the prospect of kits to the Clan. WindClan accepted the news with happiness, as there were so few kits in the nursery already. About three moons later, Emberwing gave birth."
"To you and Sootpaw," Featherpaw said quietly.
Darkpaw nodded in confirmation. "Yes," he mewed. "She did. But there were complications."
"Like what?"
"When I was born, I wasn't breathing," Darkpaw mewed, his voice seeming to echo around the empty apprentices' den. "The medicine cat- that's Cloudstorm's brother, Whitefur- managed to get me breathing a minutes later. But the damage was done, I guess. It took me seven moons to become an apprentice, as I was sickly often, and that seemed to be the final straw for my mother."
Featherpaw stared at him, trying to imagine a thinner, sicklier version of the Darkpaw she knew today. But she found that she couldn't, and so, she let him continue his tale.
"When I became an apprentice," Darkpaw breathed. "I was behind on everything. Sootpaw was always the star- the prodigy," his voice was somewhat bitter as he said this, "But, in spite of everything I went through, he still supported me. He loves me, and I love him. But my mother couldn't seem to accept that. To her, I was always the weaker son, the runt, but I knew that she loved me. She couldn't hate me, so she tried to train me- to better me." Darkpaw ended his sentence with a sniffle, and his eyes were suspiciously misty.
"What happened to her?" Featherpaw murmured. "Scorchfoot said she died."
"She did," and with that, Darkpaw's voice became progressively sadder than it already was. "It was about a moon and a half after I was apprenticed. She had taken me to hunt in the territory, and we about an hour in, we came across a fox. It attacked us, of course, but as I was weaker than the average apprentice, I couldn't dodge in time. Emberwing took the hit for me," his voice ended in a sob, and Featherpaw felt her heart go out to him.
"My mother's name is Snowfall," she said suddenly, and she felt his surprise at her words. But she knew it was the least she could do when he was practically offering out his entire life story. "And I have a brother named Cinderkit- though, I guess he'd be Cinderpaw now, since I'm an apprentice." Her voice turned bashful at the end, and when Darkpaw smiled at her- not that horrible, empty sad smile, but a full blown happy smile- she felt something inside her flutter.
Featherpaw grinned back, and she finished by saying, "And I have a father called Flamestreak, but you already know that."
Darkpaw's smile turned soft. "She would have liked you, you know," he said out of nowhere, and at her somewhat confused look, he added, "Emberwing, I mean."
"She sounds like she was a very kind cat," Featherpaw responded.
Darkpaw nodded, though his smile turned shy. "She was," he paused, then said, "And if she was still alive today, then I think she would showered you with love and attention."
Featherpaw paused, too, and in her mind's eye, she pictured a pretty grey she-cat with the same eyes as Darkpaw. Her eyes were glowing with love.
It seemed bittersweet.
But Featherpaw knew that Emberwing would live on in Sootpaw and Darkpaw forever.