Chapter Two
Falcontalon P.O.V
"Get up, you lazy furball!"
Waking up with a start, I blink a few times to get used to the light before looking up at my best friend. "Seriously...? It's not even dawn..."
"No, it's midnight. I can hear something, Falcontalon. I don't like it."
Sensing the fear in her voice, I shoot up immediately. "Okay, Thymeflower. We'll go check, if it's really bothering you that much..."
"Yes! Thank you!" My heart starts pounding a mile a minute as she nuzzles me, her bright amber eyes glowing. "I asked Owlscreech, but he told me to leave him alone! Ugh! I hate sharp-tongued, full-of-themselves cats!"
Smirking as she rants on about how much she hates my brother, I can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.
She asked him first.
Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I clear my throat. "Are we going, or are we just going to stand around here all night?"
"Oh yeah! Follow me!" As she bounds out of the den, I can't help but panic as she gets swallowed by the darkness. "You coming?"
Sighing in relief at the sound of her voice, I follow more slowly. Once outside, my eyes widen in awe. The moonlight makes her beautiful white fur look almost silver, outlining every single hair on her soft pelt. Her fluffy, pale-red tail glows like a fire, with her eyes to match it.
She's truly beautiful.
But not mine.
She sees me as nothing more than a friend, which hurts more than any battle wound that can ever be inflicted on me.
Getting over my jealous thoughts, I follow her nervous gaze. "What is it?"
"I thought I saw something..." She mutters, her voice so soft I could barely hear it.
"Like what? A fox?" I inquire, squinting to try and see through the darkness.
"No, a cat."
"An intruder?"
"I don't..." She sighs in agitation. "I'll go check."
As she's about to step out into the tree-filled forest, I jump in front of her protectively. "I'll do it. You stay here, okay?"
She blinks in confusion, but doesn't argue. "Be careful."
Padding outside of the entrance, I cast one last look over my shoulder to check she's not following me.
She is.
"Thymeflower! I told you stay in camp!"
"What?! So you can get hurt! No way!" Barging in front of me, the stubborn she-cat sniffs the air, her plumey tail lashing.
Accepting the fact that she wouldn't turn around; I quietly ask: "Smell anything?"
Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she replies: "Yeah, crowfood."
"That's not very nice. I don't complain about what you smell like."
Whirling around, I'm met by a strong paw smashing into my face. Black dots begin dancing around my vision, and I close my eyes listening to Thymeflower's yowls of outrage. Finally, I'm swallowed by darkness.