So, awesomely enough, I got to work more on Wilting Thyme than I thought I would! I wrote a lot of chapters in advance for that story so I just need to find time to release them one at a time just to make you hate me. Still doing freelancing, but I'm starting to get a hang of it.

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-Lilith

The next few days seemed to go in clockwork: wake up early in the morning, force down food, sunbathe outside until sunhigh, then go walk around for most of the afternoon before coming home, telling some story about how I had been over talking to some random cat down the street when really I had been missing RiverClan. After nibbling through dinner, I would curl up in my nest, claiming that I was exhausted, and catch a few hours of sleep before sneaking out to go walk again.

And, to be honest, I was doing a pretty good job. The other day I heard Jack and Smoke talking about how well I was blending in with the other cats. "Violet really seems to like her," Jack said earnestly. "And Hazel thinks she's a good influence on her new kittens."

Silence followed, and I suspected that Smoke was thinking over what he said. But then again, Smoke is the quiet one, so that could be his reply.

"What do you think?" Jack asked after a moment.

"I think she is bored and missing her old home, Jack." His friend said in a surprisingly soft voice. "I think she's putting on a show."

Well, almost a good job.

Something about Smoke makes me feel weird. While Jack is an open book (an arrogantly cocky open book), Smoke is a complete puzzle, and the whole silence thing doesn't help either. No matter how hard I try, he always seems to see right through my lies and guess correctly on everything.

One time, he caught me walking around. I remember creeping up one of the Thunderpaths –streets- on one hot day, the sun baking the filthy concrete and roasting me through my fur, but that didn't distract me from thinking about the things I had left behind. Thymepaw, Twigpaw, Firepaw, my mother's grave.

My mother had been a great, loyal she-cat to the very end. My father, Flintheart, is still alive, but I can still see the echoing pain in his eyes whenever somebody mentions Leopardnose. Her story was a bittersweet one: Leopardnose's mother and father were both killed before she could even officially become a warrior. Her mother, Snowberry, had died just a few days after giving birth to her one and only kit, killed by greencough. Snowberry's mate, Ospreywing, followed shortly in a fight against ShadowClan. Leopardnose carried on through most of her life, eventually falling in love with Flintheart and giving birth to me. I was only a kit when Flintheart decided to spend some time with my mother and took her out of the camp, leaving Birdsong, who was a warrior at the time, to watch over me. Next thing I know I saw Flintheart rushing to Raincloud, claiming that his mate had been attacked by foxes. Raincloud and Daisyleaf, who had been an apprentice at the time, rushed to go see her, but by the time they got there, she was too close to death to do anything. Herbs didn't work, neither did Flintheart's pleading and begging, and eventually Leopardnose rasped that she was too close to StarClan to do anything and to let her die in peace. Redsong, who had been Firepaw's mother, had been best friends with my mother, and named her only daughter Firekit after the way Leopardnose seemed to make others around her happy, like a fire burning through the forest.

Ever since her death, I would try to visit her grave at least once every five days. She was buried by the shore, her body submerged underneath the grey pebbles that lined the shore of the lake. It had been her favorite place to think, I was told, and every time I walk past the shore I remember her.

The sadness that clouded my mind thickened. Today was the day when I would try to go visit her, go sit by her grave and weep for her soul and pray she was in StarClan. I wanted to at least pray for her here, but I didn't know whether or not StarClan reached this far away from the forest. Probably not.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me, and I whirled around to see Smoke. His brown eyes were concerned, curious but mostly worried for me. "Do you mind if I join you?" He said quietly, and I gestured for him to go ahead.

We walked for a couple of blocks, our paws burning from the concrete, when he spoke. "I know that you're still scared and are trying to understand," he said slowly, as if he had learned a different language and was trying to speak it for the first time. "And I get that. But I want you to know that even though I may be quiet, I still listen."

I stared at him for a moment. That was practically a speech for Smoke. "Uh, yeah. Okay." I said awkwardly.

Slipping back into silence, we walked on for another few blocks before he spoke again. "So, Petal. What's your favorite color?"

"Amber." The color of my mother's eyes. "What about you?"

"Pale yellow."

"Like the color of those things that the owners eat? The long curved thingies?"

"Those are bananas, and no." He chuckled in a low voice. "Softer, a weaker color."

Then I realized he had been looking right at my eyes, as if inspecting them. "Are you hinting that I'm weak?" I growled.

"No." His voice was solemn. "Just saying I like the color of your eyes."

I immediately felt stupid for accusing him of that, but I shoved it down. Surprising both him and me, I was the one to ask the next question. "What's your favorite place to take a nap?"

We went on like that for hours, talking, learning things about each other and engaging in playful arguments. I learned that he liked to sleep in the late afternoon; his favorite place to stay was on top of the nest so he could watch the world go by; he secretly liked it when someone pressed their nose to his forehead, even if it was in a friendly way. We laughed over how annoying it was when the girl kittypets talked extremely fast, and we walked in silence when we uncovered something sad about the other. I told him that my mother had been killed when I was young and in turn he told me about his family.

"My mother, Ember, was a beautiful light grey she-cat with long, feathery fur, tabby stripes, and the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. My father was the opposite though: he had muscles and long legs and was a mixture of many shades of brown, splotches here and there. His eyes were dark brown, and his name suited him well. We all called him Bear, since the way he looked when his fur grew out reminded us of bears that we saw on these devices that show moving images but in a box. Despite his name and his appearance, he was a real softy at heart, and loved my mother very much.

"I was born with two other kittens, and I was the youngest. My older sister, who was the oldest out of all of us, looked like Ember. My older brother, who is the second oldest in the family, looked like Bear. I was a mixture of the two of them, gifted with my father's eyes and my mother's fur. Kind of the oddball in the group, since Shell and Ember were beautiful, and Bear and Sam were strong, while I was a weird mix of both. I got a lot of weird looks because of my appearance.

"Anyway, when I was only a couple months old" -what's a month? Is that like a moon? – "I was given away by my owners to live with Jack. I don't know where the others went, but I remember seeing Ember's face when I was carried away. She looked so cold, like she didn't care, and it scared me. She knew it was going to happen and didn't care anyway."

Tense silence ensued, until he finished his story. "Ever since then I've been kind of closed off and quiet. I don't let anybody in just so they can wreck me like she did."

In a way, I understood. He was being careful, cautious, trying to protect himself and the ones he loved. Something that a clan cat would do. But in another way, it didn't make any sense at all. Kittypets were supposed to have lovely, easy lives, right? Not supposed to twist a claw or stretch a muscle too far, not have to worry about who not to trust.

I guess I was wrong about him.

Smoke opened his mouth, and I realized he wasn't done yet. "But then you came along. I remember the day that Jack found you, walking around, looking so hungry and tired and full of fear and worry. How quiet and guarded you were, how even Jack couldn't crack your barriers. Somehow though, you managed, without saying anything at all, to crack mine."

His eyes were full of something, some emotion. I didn't know what it was, but it seemed to match the fluttering of my heart and the sweatiness in my fur that I was feeling. I felt slightly at unease, like I was talking to an oddly attractive stranger. And there was something about the way that he looked at me that made me feel like I was the only cat in the world besides him.

"I-I feel as if I know you somehow." Smoke said in a much quieter voice, leaning closer. "Is that too weird?"

I wanted to reply, to say that he was being ridiculous, but all I could manage was, "uh…" as I stared into his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, brimming with emotion and youth and wisdom that he had earned from years of experience and such beauty that even I couldn't comprehend. He was staring at me in a way that made the rest of the world fuzzy, that made the sun seem to dim, because he was my focus. He was my light. He was everything I needed to survive and everything I could possibly imagine.

But then I managed to speak again. "Yeah, I guess," I said, laughing softly and weakly. His intense gaze made me feel like my bones were turning to jelly and my voice hoarse.

He then looked away and backed up some. "Erm, yeah." He repeated shyly, awkwardly. Then he looked up at the setting sun and murmured something under his breath. "We ought to start heading back if we want to make it by nightfall."

"Oh yeah. You're right," I said, mentally cursing the time. Of course, right when we were about to have a moment, the sun just had to start sinking. Thank you daylight savings time! (Being sarcastic here)
We walked the rest of the way in awkward silence, save only the soft scratching of our paws against the concrete and noises of the life around us. As we approached the fence, Jack bet us there, hopping up to face us both. "Whoa, are you two okay?" He asked, sounding only slightly arrogant. "'Cause you two look like Smoke just offered to let you run away with him out of love when everybody knows you've got your eyes on me." He grinned, but I ignored him and leaped up the fence in a single stroke.

"I'm not in the mood, Jack." Why must he make everything worse than it seems? It had only been a weird staring contest, right? Or at least that's how I saw it. I hope Smoke saw it that way too.

As I headed inside, I heard Jack talking to Smoke. "What happened, man? You look like you've seen better days."

I didn't wait to hear his reply, but instead vanished inside to eat before walking over to my nest and curling up, resting my tail across my nose as I stared blankly at the fur along my back. What did happen today? Was I right about what occurred between us? That it was just a fluke and nothing more?

No matter how much I wanted to believe it, I knew that even if I tried to lie to myself, it wouldn't work. And if it did, it would work temporarily.

Because no matter how much I wanted it to not be true, I was falling in love with a kittypet.

Petalpaw/Petal and Smoke! Possible couple!

So what does this have to do with Petalpaw and the three kits? Why did one of them have tortoiseshell fur if Petalpaw doesn't like Jack? And don't let your imagination run that wild, since this is a K+ story.

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-Lilith