coming back home } reedfoot

[⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r]]

his eyes looked downward
the graceful sweep of his brow

[/color][/font][/size][/center]OOC:

[nickname] :skye, falleh, skyluff, etc.
[other characters] : Fallenstar, Moonkit, Lightfall, Airpaw, Lockrush, Grasspaw, Astralpaw, etc.
: n/a

and the color, coal-black
which fell across a lovely tan

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BIC:

[name] -- Reedfoot
[age] -- 37 moons
[gender] -- Tom
[clan] -- TrunkClan
[rank] -- Warrior

his slim frame held him high
and the light shown behind his eyes -- was sad

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[personality] --

fact can be fantasy when we dream
actuality doesn't need to be grim
reality was chastened to be unjust
never any flowers or buds of illusion

» coolheaded, calm, honey-tongue
» charming, loose, laughing, humor
» skilled, strong, confident
» smooth-talker, sways she-cats without meaning too -- sometimes observative, often oblivious to emotional situations

it is rather - how to phrase it? - difficult to describe reedfoot; now, such a thing cannot be taken in the most common, easiest understanding of the word. as many cats have seen him, reedfoot is flat and simple with colors like black and white enveloping his every character. he is good, truthful, charming, respected, skilled. he is not cocky, arrogant, a pathological liar, distrustful, bad or by any means a traitor to the clan. everyone sees his world as black and white, perhaps one of the easiest toms to read.

however, in the most non-female way possible, he seems to wear his emotions on his sleeve; you can read this tom like an open book, it seems. when he's happy, his eyes are wide and bright, his cheeks flushed, and his mouth chattering away happily, consistently, at something or another. when he's angry, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes sparkle dangerously, the smooth honey-tongue he's famous for working effortlessly to infect others, to make them understand. when he's sorry, the toms lips twitches into a heartfelt, forgive-me smile that very few cats can resist and his gaze smolders in a way that you can't look away. when he's sad his face is somewhat pale and his eyes grow big, in a puppy-dog kind of stare except its washed over with anguished emotions that make hearts wrench and insides twist.

he doesn't cry. rarely, maybe.

and then there's that look -- the very same look he gives Flightstar, the look that can't be explained by mere gestures or words, that can only be seen first-hand. if you were to ask him about this part of his expressions, he would either wave his tail offhandedly and deny any such existence or simply look away, lips pressed together tightly, and say nothing. the prior is more common with normal folk, while cats close to him - like his mother, father, larkspur, flightstar - get the latter. it is this look, precisely, which throws cats off their feet, distorts their view of him and makes him the enigma that very few cats realize he is.

cats have said many things about his stare - some have said it's just a gaze, an expression - and although most of them contrast with each other - ' sweet! '[/color] or 'creepy!' - they all agree that it's entirely different. his face contorts into something half-pain, half-pleasure, his smile lifting up to a half-smirk, half-smile and his eyes both darken and lighten, depending on how you look at them. cats have sworn his cheeks are tinged a paler hue, that he stumbles, that he murmurs under his breath, that he becomes an entirely different cat in her presence. the only two cats who can confirm these rumors haven't -- or, it seems, ever will.

and there is also something else about him, impossible to miss at whatever angle you see him -- it is this light, like a golden halo surrounding his very soul, that does not make him seem so utterly pure and innocent, nor have a heart darkened with black malice and evil either; it is the perfect mixture of good and bad, a pinch of sugar and a touch of salt, that draws - or calls - others to him as if was some starclan cat come down to meet them -- only them.

reedfoot's smile is special. it makes you feel like you are the center of his world - the perfect world that many cats wish they could bask under, with the golden sun and sandy beaches, with honey poured in every crevice and crack, perfection spilling in between. however, if his smile is "special" then his laugh is glorious -- it is the product of his odd humor. the young warrior loves making the crowd laugh, even though sometimes he's not very good at it, and it is in this laugh of his that often makes others feel as if they are laughing, when they are not laughing at all, or even cracking a smile. it is light, it is warm, it is a tingly sensation that touches you from your shoulders to your toes. it is wonderful.

most of all, out of his personality, the trait that shines through is his utter confidence of all things good. as much as he is faithful, the tom is loose -- he is the "go-with-the-flow" type of cat, and perhaps it is with this ease that she-cats find themselves drawn to the dark tom with sparkling eyes and a honey-tongue.

although there are a few cats in the clan that doubt his position as a warrior, there are many others that would dare not argue that he is any less of the warrior he claims to be. the tom is not the bragging type, not arrogant or ambitious, and so when he claims to have gained intelligence - often joking by saying, well, my head's not so empty anymore, you know? when others ask him how he feels now that he's home - after he's done some "amazing" feat. he is not overly modest or humble, but will take and give praise when it is deserved.

the reedfoot everyone sees is easy to see. it is a comfort to know that not everyone is complex -- but then again, he could also be, as equally, one of the most complicated characters to ever exist. there seems to be a dark deep emotion harbored deep in his heart, abhorred by the unknown, and that no one has ever seen -- yet.
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[short description] -- a rich-brown tom with black swirls and deep silver-green eyes.

[appearance] --

beauty can be just as real
perceptions fade when poverty rules
realism isn't always injustice
the phantom truth can live on

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if there was such a tom that was both beautiful and handsome, enrapturing all on his own, but not quite feminine and soft - a cat that was so brilliantly beautiful to simple look at that it might blind others, and perhaps strike them by lightning - it would perhaps be a cat of reedfoot's standards. of course, the rich-brown tom cat is not completely, as if outlandishly, hypnotizing in matters of looks. actually, to be honest, he may be considered average-looking from a glance.

with broad shoulders that are as much wide as they are tall - but completely in proportion with the rest of him at that - and strong muscles rippling beneath his honey-touched, chocolate encrusted coating, there is no question that Reedfoot is much more good-looking close up than from afar. At a distance, the dark tom is reasonably appealing, with a quirky smile and sparkling eyes that can even be seen from quite a few mouselengths away, but he is not beautiful. No, he is instead very charming and handsome, with a warm silver laugh.

the first color that makes up the base of his coat is a deep, auburn paint that shimmers across his muscular structure like ocean ripples, stretching smoothly across the length of it. it is, perhaps, mos similar to the bark of a tree, dark and deep with a certain rough edge to it that seems to attract she-cats from all over. the color is a mix of an aging tree trunk, charcoal-gray in hue, and deliciously sweet caramel -- an impossible combination that is sure to please the eye.

in some areas, however, the color lightens and pales to reveal a second color: a softer, gentler shade of both earth and soil mixed in with creamy chocolate grains. where as the deep auburn color is present on the majority of his body, this lighter hue is most dominant on his chest, neck and forelegs; however, it also fills in the places where the deep caramel fades and where the shadowed lines of ebony skip over. his pawpads are also a very light variation of this hue -- a warm brown, like a cup of fresh expresso.

in truth, reedfoot looks very much like a bengal cat. however, this is impossible because bengal cat are manmade creations and there is no ounce of kittypet blood flowing in this tom; therefore, the dark, inky black lines that strip across his charcoal coloring must be because of careful breeding among his ancestors, and the product of the thick warrior blood that runs through his veins. it was once said that his great grandfather, sparrowshot, had a very similar tabby pattern -- a collection of beautiful swirls that ran smoothly across his coat in a correlation of dark silver-black lines.

perhaps it is not his unique coloring more than his sparkling eyes that seem to draw in souls at a mere glance. in the center of his angular face are two pools of deep, smoldering green - flecked with silver touches - that seem to stare deeply into a cat, as if reading their every thought. at the very same time, they are bright and full of laughter -- not quite a mocking tone, but a charming, quirky touch to them that will undoubtedly be able to make most cats smile once captured in those forest shadows.

do not be alarmed however at the perfection that reedfoot often falsely portrays at first glance, because he is - in fact - not perfect -- far from it. however, we will not delve deeper into personal issues and instead - although this may sound vain - focus on his outside appearance. his ears are quite normal-shaped, standing tall atop a carefully-crafted cranium, and his winning smile is perfectly wonderful too, but look downwards and cats often notice the large paws that are pivoted along his seemingly skinny forelegs. though reedfoot is lean, his paws are still huge and cumbersome, often the subject of flightstar's teasing. he hates these paws of his; however a part of him seems convinced that perhaps flightstar would not have talked to him way back when if not for them. perhaps they would not even be friends and he would have never been let back into the clan.

furthermore, there is an abundance of scars that play across his seemingly perfect coat. the first mark seams through his coat as thread would with silk -- lightly touching the underside of his jaw, the old scar is a memory of the time in which he was fighting off a pretend badger in the nursery and had accidentally fallen into some prickly bushes. a bruise presses into his back hind leg, from a run-in with a real badger, lacking some fur there, and a much more visible wound wraps around his back, twisting to form a pattern of sorts. it is the perfect image of two claws embedded deeply into his frame. a fox.

surprisingly, reedfoot blushes easily -- however, it is hard to tell with the lack of emotion on his face - no such shy smile, awkward stumble that other cats portray - and completely passive expression, through his incredibly dark coloring. the sparkle in his eyes rarely falters at these points, which makes cats curious as if really does ever get embarrassed -- however, he does and if any cat really knew him, they would also know this was quite often.

despite being just welcome back into the clan, most she-cats are already enraptured with him again and no doubt, has he already captured more than half of their hearts with no honest intention of giving them back, or returning that special love. because of this, reedfoot is doubted by more than half of the toms, but because of his quirky smile and sparkling eyes, it is hard to confront him about his loyalties in a totally serious fashion.

it seems as if, in matters of looks, reedfoot has everything going for him.

something in him was missing
and he knew it

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[history] --

How can you explain that
you need to know that the trees are still there,
and the hills and the sky?

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» born to whitefeather and sparrowcrest
» brother, smallkit -- stillborn
» cousin, larkspur -- harsh, arrogant, confident, lazy
» grandmother, softcherry -- pale she-cat, golden eyes
» grandfather, blueflame -- dark blue tom, silver eyes

they had never been perfect, whitefeather and sparrowcrest -- for one thing, it had been a coupling of convenience. as two aging, but still healthy and fit, warriors of trunkclan nearing their thirty-fifth moon, both softcherry and blueflame wanted grandchildren but they knew that with their son's arrogant, reckless nature, he would never commit himself to it.

with his wide, almost girlish lips that was offset by a strong masculine jaw and beautiful golden fur, sparrowcrest was the heart of many cat's desires. however, there had not been yet a cat that could capture his own heart, hold it tight to their chest and not let go. the reason was this: for any cat, she-cat or not, it seemed impossible to bind yourself to someone such as him, someone who was painfully loyal to a fault. although sparrowcrest rarely took relationships seriously, when he did he was awfully passionate about them and took great consideration in choosing his real "dates."

which was why, when he found out that he was betrothed to some she-cat he barely knew, the young golden-pelted tom was outright enraged. he was a young, strong warrior who someday aspired to be deputy and he had many moons ahead of him to make kits -- yet his parents insisted the time was now and he couldn't have hated that more.

whitefeather, who was much more conservative but not any less beautiful than he, took this information with an aggravating silence. named for the pale streaks in her fur and the blinding white of her paws, the young she-cat was soft and pretty and she was well-liked among the clan. she rarely spoke and when she did, her words were strong and influential, with a sort of tone that freezes cats in their places. her parents - shycloud and mud-drift - told her of the news on a warm new-leaf day, their faces beaming, and she had given them a single look, eyebrow raised and face lightly flushed. no, she mewed in a clipping sort of tone and without waiting for a reaction walked away.

but then shycloud and mud-drift had admitted themselves early to the elders den - due to some injuries, a shattered paw (on her part) and a blind eye (on his part). shycloud was in her early fourties when she died unexpectedly and distraught, her mate followed her to starclan -- whitefeather and a patrol of warrior found his body crushed under a tree trunk. in his dying breath, he made her promise. yes, yes i'll bear his kits, she murmured brokenly and he smiled at her, relieved.

sparrowcrest was not exactly happy with the arrangement; he had been dating a "much prettier", he claimed, she-cat named birdwing when she had come up to him. now, whitefeather - with her pale silver fur and tabby white stripes, adorned by soft blue eyes - was strong-willed and stubborn too, disregarding her seemingly soft demeanor. she stalked up to him and looked him in the eye. we're mates now, she mewed, but walked away before noticing the blank - then angry - look in his eye.

and for some strange, unseen reason, he didn't argue. perhaps it was her radiance, her positive glow -- or simply the fact that a cat such as her - that was fiery and brilliant but also simple and warm - a cat that could not be touched by anyone else but him. perhaps he fell in love with the fact that sooner rather than later, she would be carrying his kits. sparrowcrest had always been slightly arrogant in that way.

on an unusually hot leaf-fall morning, with the sun beating against their pelts and the dry, cracked air filling their lungs, a healthy litter was born under a golden willow. two kits huddled at whitefeather's side, one fidgety and the other unmoving. the first was a brilliant silver tom - the spitting image of his mother - with a set chin and faltering smile. named smallkit for his soft, smaller body, the young tom was still-born and with the help of his mother, was buried under the very same willow, a retched silence surrounding his burial.

the second and last kit was a dark-pelted tom with pale blue eyes that would - they knew - fade to the same brilliant blue-green-gold mix that mud-drift, his grandfather, had. his coat, of a rich dark brown hue with unique black swirls, was that of his father's while his body - lean, but not particularly strong, a jaw that was sharply-lined and almost perfect, a glimmer to his eyes - was easily got from his mother. they named him reedkit, for his pale blue eyes and swaying step.

he was the apple of his mother's eye and with very little effort on his part, reedkit became the object of affection for many cat's in the clan. they would not stop staring at him, as though in envy, and his unique childish voice - a voice that was warm and deep, yet sparkling and full - that seemed not really kit-like, simply enraptured everyone. by his third moon, cats were already clamoring to mentor him. of course, the young tom was blissfully unaware of any such conflicts outside of the nursery -- all he knew was lark-kit (his best-friend, but rival, cousin), mommy, daddy and he preferred to keep it that way.

one day, under a cool breeze, reedkit spotted a cat -- a she-cat who's name he thought was batkit. something was different about her, though, and it seemed to be something that he could not quite pinpoint. as he did with everyone else, the tom tried befriending her -- but she was quiet and confusing and would have nothing to do with him. so he would watch, awed, as she was carried away by either froststar or lowjump and out of his grasp again.

lark-kit and reedkit, no matter how contrasting they were, soon became best friends. however, the first tom could not understand reedkit's interest in the strange white-gray she-cat neither of them knew or understood. he often yelled at reedkit about this and arguments escalated. reedkit was never sure why he defended the "weird" kit, but something inside him said he was supposed to and he could not argue. so he didn't.

one day, when lark-kit was sleeping and batkit was out with froststar, reedkit sneaked out of camp and came upon a figure -- and as the figure stepped out of the shadows, the dark-pelted tom realized it was a she-cat. his nose wrinkled - because, like lark-kit, he did not really like she-cats, with the exception of batkit who - he thought - could not really be considered a she-cat because she was too interesting- and he stared at the gold-pelted she-cat in front of him. the bright orange of her coat made his eyes hurt - unlike the soft gray-white color of batkit's - and while her golden-gray eyes were interesting at best, he thought his was much better. deciding to be polite, the tom gave his best grin and tilted his head cutely to the side, extending a paw. "my name's reedkit! my mum's whitefeather and my dad's sparrowcrest. i've never seen you before," he babbled, suddenly excited to have met someone new. she flushed prettily, offset by the tom's wide smile and sparkling eyes. feeling tingly, she murmured back, "i'm sunkit. my mom died early and my dad's been long gone. i sleep in nest next to yours, by appledrop." she smiled shyly at him while he blinked, as if stunned, and whispered a soft "oh" before stumbling off to find batkit. he liked looking at her, it made him feel warm and tingly, but now - with no batkit in sight - his head was whirling - no parents?! - and he was fairly sure batkit would be able to fix that. she always did.

even if she pretty much ignored him.

later,when he and lark-kit were together and staring at the sun (or in reedkit's case, batkit), a comfortable silence enveloping them both, reedkit twirled a leaf absentmindedly beneath his paws. he pressed his lips together, eyebrows furrowed, and then turned to his cousin, eyes wide. "did you know cats die?" he blurted so suddenly that it made lark-kit cast a bewildered glare at him. "could you imagine your mum and dad dying? no -- so it can't happen, right? right?" he continued, not stopping. he babbled on and on about useless things, feeling it a relief just to talk to someone even if was the same lark-kit who was always mean and always insulting everyone. after a while both toms stumbled back into the nursery, falling into whitefeather's silver downy fur. like clouds.

On a chilly leaf-fall evening, two toms stood before Froststar at twilight, their fur slick from their mother's washing. Lark-kit was smirking, his lips so wide that he almost smiled, and glanced at his cousin, eyes sparkling. Reedkit's eyes sparkled right back, but there was that strange tug in his heart that made him feel as if something was missing. He looked back, saw Batkit, and then smiled, reassured. He grinned when Froststar deemed Greatbird his mentor and felt excitement surge through his wiry frame, fighting the urge to laugh as Larkpaw got an intelligent, stern but soft, she-cat named Littlering -- named for the white circles along her orange-burned tail. Larkpaw hated she-cats.

much to his excitement, batpaw began talking to him soon after becoming apprentices and reedpaw often babbled on and on about all the adventures she'd missed because she wouldn't talk to either of them. it became somewhat awkard after this and he amended by spluttering, "b-but you're here now! and that's what matters!" he was right.

He was in his eighth moon - and Batpaw was in the middle of her seventh - when they (meaning Larkpaw, Batpaw and himself) met a pretty she-cat named Coldpaw. Her eyes were amber instead of blue and for some reason, it gave him the chills, but she was pretty and smart - but had LeafClan blood, even if she was now in TrunkClan - so the young tom flirted with her -- not consciously of course. Because Littlering and Quickriver both had bouts of whitecought, Greatbird had taken the three and newly named Coldpaw out for a training session. Not at all unusual, Reedpaw made fast friends with the amber-eyed she-cat and unknowingly to him, by the end of the day she was absolutely smitten with him -- as Larkpaw was with her.

Batpaw seemed unusually quiet, Reedpaw thought, and confronted her about the unusual behavior as they got their bedding before the night ended. He could never read her well, even if they got along increasingly well -- she was his best she-cat friend, and cats often said they must be twins for everything they did seemed to be perfectly in tune with each other.

But she said nothing, her lips sealed, and when Coldpaw invited him to sleep next to her, he couldn't say no - he never did - and simply cast a lingering glance at her before trudging towards the tabby she-cat with frosty amber eyes nothing like his own. It felt wrong, somehow, to be sleeping next to her -- her fur, plated in silver-white and a blinding orange that reminded him of someone he could not remember, did not feel soft (nothing like batpaw) and her breathing (soft and breathless) was nothing like the gentle snores of someone he could not remember. Coldpaw did not move either - something he was certainly not used to - and instead stayed silent as a corpse, a perfect sleeping beauty. Because of this, in the middle of the night, Reedpaw whispered a "I'm sorry" before shuffling back to Batpaw and taking the place he knew would always be his. . The dark-pelted tom pressed his muzzle against Batpaw's - happy to hear her soft snores - and sighed softly to himself, his heart at ease.

As for his training with Greatbird, Reedpaw tried to keep up with his strict, fast-paced mentor as best he could. Although the large tom rarely praised his apprentice to his face, he did so often in gatherings and when he did, the charming tom would feel his cheeks flush with happiness. He would stand their beside his mentor, chest puffed out proudly, and listen to all the compliments given boastfully to cats of other clans, happy to see admiring glances. Of course, Batpaw - being Greatbird's daughter - gained a handful of compliments too and sometimes, when the attention was diverted to her, Reedpaw would feel a twinge of envy -- it soon vanished, however, when he thought of her and all the times she had eased his heart when he didn't understand. So he smiled and laughed and agreed along with Greatbird whenever he could, eyes twinkling.

Everyone in the clan knew that Larkpaw had been padding after Coldpaw, whom had turned him down with the harsh, cold manner that was characteristically hers -- the ironic part was this: "you're not nice like Reedpaw. you give me the chills," she had mumbled when he demanded an answer. for moons Larkpaw did not speak to his cousin -- and when Reedpaw asked why in their tenth moon, hurt, Larkpaw simply blinked and meowed, "what? I'm not mad at you. I never was." Reedpaw, confused, asked Batpaw about this strange behavior later, and she laughed at him, saying Larkpaw was a "stupid mouse-brain". Then Reedpaw laughed too, because his heart suddenly felt lighter and it was nice to see her smile.

It was not soon after that they - Batpaw and Reedpaw since Larkpaw had already seen it in his seventh moon - saw their first battle. The dark-colored tom, Reedpaw, was not sure what the sharp barb the BranchClan apprentice made and he was not even sure who it was directed toward - whether it was for Batpaw or himself - that made him lunge forward, eyes sparkling with an anger that seemed foreign. Being Greatbird's apprentice, the young tom quickly beat the younger tom but soon found himself face-to-face with a larger tom with wide paws named Hawkslash. The wide-shouldered cat easily attacked Reedpaw and the younger tom soon found himself denfenseless, unable to deny Froststar's help. However, the battle soon turned and as Reedpaw whipped his head around, he noticed Batpaw losing conciousness. Alarmed, the tom went to save her but Froststar was quicker, throwing the larger cat off of his granddaughter, and Reedpaw rushed over, eyes shadowed with worry.

For moons Batpaw spent her days in the medicine cat's den and Reedpaw's training was often switched between Greatbird and Lowjump. It was not this that troubled Reedpaw, but the fact that his best friend was injured - Larkpaw had a bruised paw, yes, but his cousin wasn't what bothered him - and the tom, for once, felt a sudden ache in his heart that he hadn't known. He spent as many days as he could watching her sleep, listening to her breathe and hoping she would stay with him. He needed her.

It was easy to see how angry Froststar was when Quickriver started chasing after some she-cat and neglecting Batpaw's training -- after all, he had yelled at the poor tom in front of the whole clan. Reedpaw didn't blame the leader, however, no matter how sympathetic he felt -- because even if Reedpaw himself had not experienced love, he had seen how it shaped and changed his cousin - who used to be harsh and sharp and always angry - to a cat that was witty and charming and horribly fake. Reedpaw never wanted to fall in love.

But as he heard of all the things Froststar accused Quickriver of, the young tom felt his blood boil and his throat tighten. It took both Larkpaw and Batpaw to restrain him, to keep him from leaping at the toms, paws outstretched and claws unsheathed. He had neglected Batpaw and anyone charged with that sin, it seemed, deserved to die -- well not die, just be severely punished. Reedpaw, however, was not sure why he thought this but he just did and like always, let his thoughts control his actions.

On a bitter leaf-fall evening, with the sun still shining and the breeze still biting, Froststar called two apprentices to him. Larkspur, who had long given up she-cats, had been made a warrior two moons before; he hadn't lost time watching Batpaw sleep and eat and wonder if she would live or die. Reedpaw, praised for bravery and quick wit, was named Reedfoot. The young tom licked Froststar's shoulder and glanced proudly at Batflight, eyes twinkling with secret laughter. He grinned.

Not much of a surprise to Larkspur, Reedfoot started spending less time with his cousin who's sour attitude and angry stare - he had turned back into the old him - often made Reedfoot feel depressed. So he spent time with Batflight who's sunsplashed eyes and soft fur always eased his heart. Batflight took Larkspur's place beside Reedfoot in the den, his head on her shoulder and his dark coat melting into her softened grays.

When Batflight recieved her first apprentice, moons before Reedfoot would, the young tom felt slightly jealous of his friend but didn't let it overwhelm him. Instead, he spent more time with Larkspur - much to his cousin's pleasant surprise - and learned, finally, what had actually conspired between Larkpaw and Coldpaw. Reedfoot murmured something sympathetic and Larkspur grunted, insisting that there were no hard feelings.

By now, Reedfoot was accurate aware of the effect he had on she-cats even if most of the time, while it was happening, while he made them swoon, he seemed blissfully ignorant. The tom spent time with Batflight, making it seem as if nothing happened, but every time he looked at her, he felt his heart ache -- not because she had an apprentice and he didn't, but because she was stumbling and he couldn't help her. If he did, Froststar might have killed him. So instead he smiled at her every day and hoped their leader was right, that Batflight was strong enough to stand on her own.

Plus, she also scared him. Some days he felt as if he couldn't - was physically unable - be without her and that need horrified him. When Reedfoot asked Larkspur about this, his cousin shrugged and answered easily, "that's what happens when you're in love." The warrior argued, that he couldn't be in love with a friend so impossibly close, and shook his head. Before they could have a real conversation about this - before Reedfoot had gathered up his courage to bring it forth again - Larkspur had vanished. Maybe even died.

No one knew.

This made Reedfoot stagger. His first experience at death and suddenly the tom was unsure of what to do with himself. So confused and distraught, he wasn't aware of how he acted to the next cat he talked to -- at a gathering, he saw a she-cat with gray-white fur like Batflight's and orange-yellow eyes like the sun. He blurted everything out to her, despite her being BranchClan, and she sympathized with him, cheeks flushing prettily at the handsome tom who leaned on her. Ravenshine fell in love with him.

Too bad he was already in love and too bad he didn't know it yet.

He ended the night meowing goodbye to her, with relieved eyes, and meowing, "thanks for being a nice friend." he padded off to a random trunkclan cat, chatting happily. his insides burned, though .what had he done?

the following days his mind burned. ravenshine had told him that it was okay that he was confused, that he didn't understand, but his insides still ached and his throat still burned. she couldn't do what batflight could. his heart hurt even more than before.

not knowing what else to do, he finally decided that he did not know enough and the only way to do that was to go out and experience -- experience; such a thing could only be accomplished without the aid of his best friend because if she ever did tag along, like they used to do, then wouldn't it be her getting the experience and not him? would he learn anything from that?

the sun had already dipped far below the horizon when reedfoot called batflight -- or perhaps she had called him (he didn't know, it was impossible to tell with them). the young tom stared at his friend, took in her ragged experience and pained - though somehow anxious - face, and swallowed thickly, trying to forget all the feelings of regret and anguish that very suddenly flooded him. he had to do this. it was written the skies.

reedfoot tried not to look at her. he glanced sideways and mumbled, "I'm leaving."

How can you say it is time your pulse responded
to another rhythm, the rhythm of the day
and the season instead of the hour and the minute?

[role-playing example] -- look at fallenstar's bio, please. <3

but he just didn't know what

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_{[missing by ayven]}

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[⋆ -- fALLEN __ [s t a r]]

it's done, flighteh. :3

[!! FLI]