A/N: I was hoping to get this chapter up before January ended, but it didn't happen. Thanks to a nice snow day, I was able to finish it today. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors.
Chapter Eleven: Heart to Heart
Lionvoice's paw lashed out, forcing Flamepaw to duck to avoid getting his ears torn off. "You've got to be faster," the golden tom growled, taking another swipe. His apprentice leaped backward, his striped tail bushed out with alarm.
The pair were out in the forest training again. It seemed to Flamepaw that all they did was train these days. Instead of giving him some chore to do as punishment for sneaking off to Snakerocks, Lionvoice had decided to step up their battle practice, which, in Flamepaw's case, was a punishment in and of itself. The orange tabby hated his warrior training. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a warrior; it was just that he was terrible at it. When he sparred with his mentor, he always ended up bruised and tired by the end of the day.
"Come on, Flamepaw," Lionvoice sighed. When they had started what seemed like a lifetime ago, the golden warrior had been eager to practice. Over the course of the day, his enthusiasm had faded, first replaced with impatience, then with weariness. Now he seemed to want to get it over with as much as Flamepaw did. "Just knock me over once and we can head back to camp."
"I'm trying," Flamepaw protested, but he knew it would do him no good. Effort only got him so far in Lionvoice's eyes. Eventually it always came to a point when his mentor got frustrated and gave up. But he hated disappointing Lionvoice almost as much as he hated doing the stupid training sessions in the first place.
"I know you're trying," his mentor said, sounding as though he were barely suppressing another sigh. "But you've got to try harder. We have to prove to Falconstar that we're strong enough to go into battle against ShadowClan on our own. Then he'll see that we don't have to make that alliance with RiverClan."
Flamepaw suspected this was the reason Lionvoice had decided to train him harder instead of giving him an official punishment. He didn't know why exactly, but Lionvoice had always hated the other Clans with a burning passion. So it was no surprise that he strongly opposed the idea of making any alliances. And Lionvoice happened to be a rather impatient cat, so it also made sense that he didn't want to waste any potential training time making Flamepaw do chores that Vixenpaw already had covered.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" Lionvoice meowed. He backed up a few paces, leaving about a foxlength between his apprentice and himself. He dropped into a battle crouch, narrowing his amber eyes until they looked like slits of fire. "Come at me when you're ready. But don't take too long, mind you," he added.
Flamepaw took a deep breath, then mirrored his mentor's position. He said to knock him over… how do I do that? It made the most sense to go for his paws or his legs. The apprentice breathed in slowly, then launched himself at the warrior.
Lionvoice whirled out of the way, then turned and pounced. Flamepaw just managed to avoid his mentor's lunge. But couldn't think of anything to do next, and Lionvoice took advantage of his hesitation, sweeping him off his paws with another pounce.
"Think, Flamepaw," the warrior growled. "I've taught you over a dozen moves. Surely you can remember one of them?"
"I-I," Flamepaw stammered. Not only had his ability to think clearly deserted him, but now he couldn't speak either.
"Forget it," Lionvoice sighed, shaking his head. "It's clear that this isn't doing either of us any good." He leaned back on his haunches and tipped his head up to look at the sky, which was beginning to turn yellow and orange with the light of sunset. Clouds tinged with pink streaked across the fiery backdrop. "There's no point in continuing now. It's getting late, anyway. We'll head back to camp."
Flamepaw couldn't hold back a sigh of relief as he stretched his aching legs. He was looking forward to curling up in his nest and sleeping for a long, long time.
"But first, go catch something for me," his mentor meowed, making Flamepaw's heart sink like a leaf abandoned by a breeze. The warrior angled his ears at the trees behind his apprentice. "That seems like a good place to start. I'll keep an eye on you from above." He crouched at the base of one of the trees, then sprang, scrabbling his way up into the lowest branches and disappearing into the colorful foliage.
Flamepaw sighed, then turned and set off into the trees. If he hadn't had any success all day in battle practice, he doubted he'd be able to hunt well either, now that he was getting tired. But he had to at least try, to please his mentor.
The first animal he detected was a robin, which, to his dismay, flew away before he got within pouncing range. This annoyed him, because he'd been stalking it very carefully, and hadn't made a single sound the entire time. He guessed it was just bad luck. At least Lionvoice can't say it was my fault it escaped.
The next thing Flamepaw found was a fluffy gray squirrel, which he pursued for a dozen foxlengths before he finally stepped on a twig and scared it off. He tried to chase it, but it scurried up a tree, leaving him out of breath and frustrated at the bottom.
At long last, he cornered a chipmunk among the roots of massive tree and killed it with a neat blow.
"Good enough, I suppose," Lionvoice meowed, sliding down the trunk and coming up behind him. A few dry leaves clung to his fur. "Now let's get going."
As they made their way back to the clearing where they had been training, Flamepaw tried not to feel like the entire day had been a waste. But it was hard, especially when he thought about how tiny his prey was.
They met up with Wolftail, who had been waiting nearby as backup while they trained. The gray tom looked exceedingly bored, his tail flicking idly. When he noticed them, his eyes hardened slightly. "There you are," he meowed. "What took you so long? I thought we were aiming to be home before the time for sharing tongues."
Flamepaw flinched. He hoped Lionvoice wasn't about to tell the other warrior how badly he'd done in training.
But Lionvoice merely glanced at his apprentice and said, "Plans changed. Sorry to have made you wait."
"It's fine," Wolftail meowed, but it was clear he was only saying that to be polite. There was still a hint of annoyance in his stiff posture as he strode off.
Lionvoice set out after him, and Flamepaw trailed only a few pawsteps behind. As he walked, the apprentice let his mind wander, taking in the sounds of the forest. The rustling of the wind in the leaves soothed him, as did the hum of the crickets in the bushes. The forest was such a beautiful place, even in leaf-fall, when everything was slowly dying. He supposed there was a certain beauty in the way everything perished and was reborn, after a season of darkness and cold. It wouldn't be the same without the cycle of life. The light and hope of new-leaf couldn't exist without the quiet sorrow of leaf-fall, and the joyous abundance of green-leaf couldn't be real without the cold emptiness of leaf-bare.
We might not appreciate any of the good things in life if there were no bad things to compare them with, Flamepaw thought. We'd just take them for granted.
Something suddenly barreled into the apprentice, ripping him from his thoughts and sending him stumbling to the side. Flamepaw gasped in surprise, barely managing to regain his balance. He whirled to face the threat, only to realize that it was Lionvoice who had tackled him.
"Watch where you're going!" the warrior snapped, hackles bristling. "You almost walked into a tree!"
Flamepaw blinked, realizing he was right. How hadn't he noticed the oak in front of him at all?
"Pay attention, Flamepaw," Lionvoice snarled. "That's what I'm always telling you. Unless you'd rather crash into trees and get attacked by foxes."
His ears burned with embarrassment. "Sorry, Lionvoice," he mumbled, unable to meet his mentor's eyes.
"You'd better be," the warrior growled. "Don't let it happen again."
Flamepaw ducked his head sheepishly. Wolftail eyed the apprentice, half-disapproving and half-amused. But he didn't say anything as the two of them followed Lionvoice the rest of the way back to camp.
"Go to sleep early," Lionvoice reminded Flamepaw as they climbed down the slope into the ravine. "We're going training again tomorrow morning, starting at dawn."
"Right," Flamepaw sighed.
Lionvoice gave him a look of rare sympathy. "We won't be out all day," he meowed. "Don't worry."
That was much easier said than done, but the orange tabby acknowledged his mentor's words with a nod. The golden tom nodded back, then padded away to join Honeyflame and Pineclaw near the warrior's den. Wolftail glanced briefly at Flamepaw, his expression unreadable, then strolled off after Lionvoice.
"Hey," Icepaw meowed, bounding up to the other apprentice and startling him with her greeting. "Did you catch that chipmunk?"
Flamepaw nodded.
"It looks really tasty," she purred. "Can I have it?"
Flamepaw blinked in surprise; he hadn't expected anyone to want his pitiful catch. The tabby hesitated, wanting more than anything to give it to her. But he wasn't sure if Lionvoice would approve of him eating anything else today, when he hadn't contributed much to the Clan.
"Unless you were going to eat it," Icepaw meowed quickly, misinterpreting his indecision. "I can go get something else."
"No, it's okay," Flamepaw replied, dropping the chipmunk at her paws. "You can definitely have it."
Now it was Icepaw's turn to look surprised. "Oh, okay," she mewed. An odd mixture of confusion and amusement flickered in her eyes as she bent to pick up the small rodent. "You're sure you don't want to share?" she asked, her voice muffled slightly.
"No, I'm not really hungry," he lied. "Besides, it's too small to share."
Icepaw shrugged. "Okay, then. Thanks, Flamepaw," she chirped, skipping away with her prize.
The older apprentice watched her go, warmed by her enthusiasm. He liked the way Icepaw was always talking; it meant he barely had to say anything to keep up a conversation with her. Besides, she never expected anything from him except that he listen, which was much easier to do than speaking. It was nice for a change to be able to make someone happy without even trying.
Shaking his head to bring himself back to reality, Flamepaw made his way over to the fresh-kill pile. To his disappointment, there were no other small pieces of prey that he could take without feeling guilty. I guess I won't eat tonight, he thought. Although his stomach rumbled in protest, he forced himself to turn away.
"Flamepaw," Cloudfur called, coming toward him. "Will you do me a favor?"
Flamepaw hesitated. More than anything, he wanted to go to his nest and curl up for the rest of the evening, but Cloudfur had always been kind to him. It wouldn't feel right to say no to her.
"Sure," he mumbled.
"Can you take a piece of prey to the medicine den for Blackpaw?" the warrior-queen asked. "I'd do it myself, but I already promised to bring some to Nightwatcher, and it's difficult to carry two things at once, even if they're both going to the same place."
Flamepaw tilted his head to the side. It was unusual for a warrior to do chores like this, but he supposed Cloudfur wasn't the sort of cat who would let that get in the way of doing something nice for others. "Of course," he meowed.
"Thank you, dear," Cloudfur purred. She picked up a starling from the fresh-kill pile and set off for the medicine clearing. Flamepaw carefully clamped his jaws around a vole, the only thing left, and padded after her. He tried to ignore the twisting pain in his belly and the way his mouth watered temptingly as the salty tang of the rodent reached the scent glands on the roof of his mouth.
In the later part of the evening, when the sun was half-hidden by the mountains on the horizon, it was already dark in the medicine clearing, and even darker in the den. Cloudfur sat down beside Nightwatcher and gently nudged the slumbering medicine cat awake. "I'm sorry to bother you, but brought you something," she murmured.
The black tomcat lifted his head and yawned. "Don't worry about it," he meowed. "I was planning to get up soon anyway."
Although no one said anything about it, Flamepaw knew he meant for his vigil. Not for the first time, the apprentice wondered why Nightwatcher spent all his nights awake. It didn't seem like he had anything to gain from it, but there must be a reason he did it. Maybe he's searching for something, Flamepaw thought. Thinking over some question that he hasn't found an answer to yet. But what could it be?
As the medicine cat noticed the prey Cloudfur had brought him, Flamepaw suddenly remembered why he had come here in the first place. He turned and entered the den behind him, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. He quickly realized that Blackpaw, too, was asleep. The apprentice's thin sides rose and fell slowly, his eyes firmly closed.
Flamepaw couldn't help but feel relieved. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, even if he could actually muster up the courage to speak to them in the first place, but he was a little bit afraid of Blackpaw. The older apprentice had never bullied him, but he'd seen how Blackpaw treated his littermates. The dark tom had a sort of rivalry with Branchpaw, and there was rarely a conversation where he and Vixenpaw could actually agree on anything without making a single snide remark. And he was always surrounded by a threatening aura. Even while Blackpaw was asleep, Flamepaw got the sense that he would get his ears torn off if he looked too closely at him.
Blackpaw had always been extremely defensive. Is he prickly because he thinks no one likes him? Flamepaw wondered. If that was the case, it seemed strange that he always went out of his way to antagonize others. Or is it because he doesn't like himself?
It was impossible to tell. Once again, Flamepaw found himself frustrated with his inability to understand his Clanmates. It didn't matter how many useless observations he made if he couldn't piece them together and solve the puzzle.
The tabby placed the vole beside the sleeping apprentice, then backed away carefully. When he reached the mouth of the den, he turned around and left.
He made his way toward his den, hoping that he would finally be able to go to sleep. But just as he reached it and was about to go inside, he heard pawsteps behind him. Sighing inwardly, he reluctantly turned around. His stomach plummeted when he saw that it was his sister.
"Hey," Vixenpaw meowed after a heartbeat, sounding so uncertain that for a moment he thought she might actually be someone else who he had just mistaken for his littermate. But no, when he scented the air, it was definitely her. Besides, he knew with utter certainty what his siblings looked like. There was no way that he could ever make that kind of mistake, no matter how distracted he was.
"Hey," Flamepaw replied, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He'd been avoiding Vixenpaw for a few days now. Every time he looked at her face, he remembered the pity in her eyes as she told him he was being overly philosophical in thinking that StarClan might be real. He knew Vixenpaw didn't understand why he always kept to himself, and he knew she thought he should open up to Branchpaw a little bit more, but he'd never realized until that moment how much she looked down on him.
Even now, thinking about it made a pit of despair open up in his stomach. He'd thought, out of all the cats in the Clan, that he was closest to his sister. True, there were some things he couldn't say to her without her giving him weird looks, but she'd always looked out for him, protecting him with fierce sisterly love. She was a much better fighter and hunter than he was, and they didn't have much in common, but she always went out of her way to talk to him every night. He never got the overwhelming feeling that he would never be as good as she was, because despite all the effort she put into her training, she wouldn't ever be the perfect apprentice; she was too much of a troublemaker for that. They'd never grown apart like he and Branchpaw had. Or, at least, that was what he'd thought. Now it was painfully clear that sometime after they'd left the nursery, she had grown condescending toward him, and he'd never seen it.
"Flamepaw," she meowed now, sounding strained. "Can we talk?"
Flamepaw shrugged, not sure what to say.
"Look, I was thinking about this yesterday morning," Vixenpaw began, her tone unusually serious. "And… I wanted to say that I'm sorry."
Flamepaw was astonished. He couldn't remember a single time in his entire life that he had ever heard Vixenpaw apologize and really mean it. But her sincerity was clear in her wide, green eyes and her solemn voice. He twitched his ears, not entirely sure he wasn't dreaming. He felt detached from the world, like his mind was floating while his paws kept him standing of their own accord. He could barely feel the rock beneath his pads, or the chill of the evening air against his skin.
"What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for treating you like an idiot," Vixenpaw clarified. "I didn't take you seriously when you said you believed in StarClan, and when I realized you meant it, I thought you were being a mouse-brain. But the truth is, I was the mouse-brain in that situation. I refused to listen to you because you believed in something that I didn't. I still don't really agree with you, but that's okay. You can believe in whatever you want, and I shouldn't criticize you for having some faith. I shouldn't have tried to force you to be practical, when being a dreamer is who you are. I'm really, really sorry."
Flamepaw was speechless. He sort of wanted to say something, anything, but his mind was still worlds away from his mouth, which couldn't seem to open.
Vixenpaw scuffed at the ground with one paw. "Oh, I suck at apologies," she meowed. "Say something, Flamepaw. I know that was terrible, but I tried my best."
Flamepaw was silent for a few more moments. He wasn't sure what to do. The discomfort and shame he could sense coming from Vixenpaw made him want to forgive her instantly. But there was still a thorn poking at his heart, piercing him with its sharp point. He felt as though he couldn't let it all go until he got rid of that thorn. And saying the words I forgive you wouldn't mean anything right now, not when his tongue wasn't attached to his brain.
What are my other options? He could just stay silent, which right now seemed like the easiest thing to do. But Vixenpaw's eyes were begging him to speak, and despite the wound in his heart, he couldn't force himself to turn away from her.
He could say he needed more time to think about it, which he kind of did. He wasn't sure he was ready to make a decision yet.
But there was one last option. One that was going to be very uncomfortable, but was probably the best choice. They could talk it out.
Flamepaw took a deep breath. "Vixenpaw," he began. "I want to forgive you. I really do. But… I can't do that yet."
His sister's face fell.
"Wait," he interrupted, before she could say anything. "Hear me out. I can't forgive you yet because that might make it seem like everything's okay, when it really isn't. I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, but that doesn't change the fact that you did. It doesn't… it doesn't change the fact that you don't respect me." The words felt strange in his mouth, and he stumbled over them a little. He'd never tried to talk about these kinds of things before.
"Yes, I–" Vixenpaw began, then stopped herself with a sigh. "No, you're right," she meowed. "It's not that I don't want to respect you, or that I don't love you. It's just… you're so different from everyone else in the Clan that it's hard to take you seriously." The ginger she-cat winced. "Oh, ouch. That came out wrong. I'm sorry. I–"
"No, stop," Flamepaw interrupted. His brain seemed to be on autopilot now; the words were coming out in a rush, and he meant every one of them, but he had no control over them and he knew deep inside that they wouldn't stop until he said everything that had been bottled up over the last three days. "I want you to tell me everything you think about me, no matter how harsh it seems. I want to know. I thought you were being straightforward with me, but obviously you weren't. It seems that there was a lot you never told me, and that hurts, because I thought that if there was anything I knew for sure about you, it was that you were honest. Blunt, maybe, but honest. Now I know that isn't entirely true."
Misery welled in Vixenpaw's eyes. "I was trying to protect you," she whispered.
"I know, but you're doing it the wrong way," Flamepaw argued. "You can't just hold back every negative thought. How am I supposed to fix any of these things that you think are wrong with me if I don't even know about them?"
His sister flinched. "I'm sorry."
"If you're really sorry, tell me everything," he meowed. "Right now."
Vixenpaw took a deep breath. "I love you, Flamepaw. But sometimes I think you're too unaware of things. You're always off in our own world, and you believe too much in your dreams. Imagination is a beautiful thing, but you need to know what's real and what's not."
"You think I don't?" he asked. "I do, honestly, Vixenpaw. I spend so much time thinking about the world around me. That's almost all I think about. I spend time watching the forest changing around me, wondering why it works the way it does, what makes it die and come to life again. I watch our Clanmates, wondering what each little thing they do means, how to tell the difference between a mrrow of amusement and a purr of sympathy, why sometimes they treat each other with kindness and other times they snarl at each other like they couldn't hate each other more. I wonder why Tigerfang avoids us, why Gingerpelt thinks Branchpaw is the one among us who needs the most guidance when everyone else in the Clan loves him, why Blackpaw picks on Branchpaw most of all, why Ravenflight spends so much time looking sad, why Nightwatcher spends his nights staring at the sky, why Stormpaw tries so hard to be nice to me when he doesn't even know me, why Icepaw keeps glancing at Branchpaw when he looks the other way, why Rainwater keeps looking out into the trees with a troubled expression on her face, why Falconstar looks so weary whenever he sits on the Highrock and looks down at the Clan, why Hazelclaw frowns whenever she's lost in thought, and most of all, why you judge all of us so harshly, even though I know you care about us."
Vixenpaw looked stunned. "You notice all of that?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"Yes," Flamepaw meowed. "Doesn't everyone?"
"No," his sister replied. "I didn't even notice half of those things."
Flamepaw frowned. "Really? Then why do you look down on me so much?"
"I don't mean to look down on you," Vixenpaw meowed. "I just thought… that you were spending all your time contemplating stuff like how to live your life, and what makes shooting stars fall, and what the birds are arguing about when they make those angry twittering noises. I didn't realize that you were just… watching."
"I do those things, too," Flamepaw admitted. "But that's not all I do. I even think about my training, sometimes, and where to find the best moss, and where the best pools of water form after it rains so I can go there to collect some."
"Wow," Vixenpaw meowed faintly.
"I take it you don't think about those things?" Flamepaw asked.
"Sometimes I do," she meowed. "Just very, very rarely. And probably not in so much detail. Wow," she repeated, shaking her head. "That's a lot to think about. I guess Branchpaw was right."
"Whoa, hold on a moment," he interrupted. "You've talked to Branchpaw about me?"
"Maybe," his sister meowed, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Wait a moment. That's not one of those things you absolutely need me to tell you, right?"
"It depends what you said about me," he meowed warily.
"Pretty much the same stuff I just said to you," she told him. "A little more about how you're going to get yourself in trouble one day. I even admitted that I'm not sure you're cut out to be a Clan cat, not only because you're, um, still trying to find your talents, but because you're so different. It was actually Branchpaw who told me that you were upset because I didn't listen to you. Without him, I probably would have gone on being a complete mouse-brain and never realized what I was doing wrong." She looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
Flamepaw looked away from her, too, swallowing hard. "I may notice all these things," he meowed quietly. "But that doesn't mean I understand them."
Vixenpaw's eyes returned to his face. He wasn't looking at her, but he could feel her gaze on him. "I could try to help you with that. You can tell me what you see, and I can tell you what I think it means. I might not always be right, but I think I'd know a lot more about others if only I noticed the little things."
Flamepaw opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. He wasn't sure this was the wise thing to do, but for once he knew with utter certainty what he wanted to say. "All right," he agreed. He stepped forward, pressing his muzzle against Vixenpaw's side. "I forgive you."
He felt her shoulder move against his cheek as she let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she murmured, turning her head to touch her nose to his ear.
They stood like that for a few heartbeats. Flamepaw closed his eyes, glad that he and his sister were speaking again. He hoped that she really would see him in a new light now.
Then the tabby's stomach suddenly rumbled, ruining the moment. Flamepaw pulled away, his gaze dropping to his paws in embarrassment as Vixenpaw let out a mrrow of laughter.
"Sounds like someone's hungry," she meowed teasingly.
"Stop," Flamepaw protested, his belly growling again. "I was trying to ignore it, but you're making it worse."
"Sorry," Vixenpaw said, but she looked too amused for it to sound sincere. She twisted around, pulling a speckled gray pigeon out from behind her. "Here, you can share this with me," she meowed, pushing it toward him.
Flamepaw's ears twitched in surprise. He'd been so focused on his conversation with Vixenpaw that he hadn't even noticed the bird she'd brought with her. I really do need to pay a bit more attention.
"I can't," he meowed aloud. "I only caught a tiny chip–"
"Nonsense," Vixenpaw meowed briskly, cutting him off. For a moment, she sounded uncannily like her mentor. "You're hungry. Eat."
"I really shouldn't…"
"Well, if it's the warrior code you're worried about, look at it this way," she meowed. "I have this humungous pigeon." She shook it with one paw for emphasis. "It'll go to waste if nobody eats it. In times like these, it's especially important that every bit of prey goes to good use. Now, theoretically, I could probably stuff the whole thing down, but that would more than likely give me a really bad stomachache. So, technically," she added, eyes sparkling, "you'll be doing me, and the whole Clan, a favor by helping me finish it. So what do you say? Ready to take one for the team?"
Flamepaw couldn't hold back a mrrow of laughter. He loved it when Vixenpaw made her twisted logic make sense. "Okay," he relented, whiskers twitching with amusement.
Vixenpaw gave him a smug look. "Ha, couldn't beat that, could you?"
"Maybe, if I tried hard enough," Flamepaw meowed, taking a bite of the pigeon. "But my stomach couldn't help but agree with you, so my heart wasn't really in it."
Vixenpaw purred. "Your stomach is wise, then," she meowed. "It knows a practical argument when it hears one."
Flamepaw purred softly in return. "I guess it does."
The littermates ate in silence for a while. Flamepaw didn't know if it was because he was so hungry, or if it was just because he was in such a good mood, but he thought this pigeon might be the best thing he'd ever tasted. Flavor burst across his tongue with every bite, making his mouth water.
"So, can I ask you a question?" Vixenpaw asked, her voice muffled by feathers as she plucked part of the bird.
"Sure," Flamepaw meowed.
His sister glanced at him sideways, a sly gleam in her eye. "Is it true what you said earlier? That Icepaw looks at Branchpaw when he isn't paying attention?"
He thought he knew where this was going, and wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or amused. "Well, yeah."
"Ha!" Vixenpaw meowed delightedly. "Do you think she has a crush on him?"
"Maybe," Flamepaw meowed. "But it could be that she just admires him."
"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," she meowed, batting at him playfully with one paw. "She likes him. I'm sure of it."
"If you say so," he laughed.
"I do say so." Vixenpaw finished her half of the pigeon, then began to wash her paws and face. "But don't worry, I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're thinking," she added. "I know you're the type who believes in letting cats reveal their secrets when they chose to. Her secret's safe with me." The ginger apprentice closed one eye in a wink.
Flamepaw rolled his eyes, pretending to be offended, but deep down, he was glad that Vixenpaw wouldn't share her theories with anyone else. He wasn't sure that Icepaw really did have a crush on Branchpaw, and he wouldn't want to embarrass her. But what Vixenpaw had said was also true; he wouldn't ever reveal a cat's secrets for them. That was something they had to do on their own.
He glanced sideways at his sister. Choosing to swallow her pride and apologize was also something that a cat had to do on her own. And Vixenpaw had done that for him today. A warm feeling rose in his chest, so foreign that for a moment he didn't recognize it.
Then he realized what it was. Pride.
He was proud of his sister.