Dancingwhisper's Replies

Here is an index of every scene chronologically that Dancingwhisper has been involved in. The writing belongs to the respective owners of each character, and there is no claim being taken over it, this is for documentation purposes only.
== Arc 1 ==
=== Meeting Windsear / Character Introduction ===
Setting: Wildflower Thicket 
Windsear:
The winding passage of Tourists leaving camp in a huddled mass of pelts left Windsear's mind reeling. So much to keep track of, so little interest... He decided the final part with a grunt as he bounded away from his assigned patrol, his tail tip flicking to and fro as he tread upon the rugged pathway created by embedded paws. He wasn't in the mood to train kittypets. While he didn't despise having them around, especially with Cleo joining him, he still felt his paws could be used elsewhere. With the feast taking more than half our prey, it may not be a bad idea to hunt once more.
Of course, that was his excuse. Windsear would give anything to not be cooped up in camp keeping eye over the kittypets who naively padded amongst them. He enjoyed their excitement, he loved providing for cats and having more of them compliment him, of course, but he'd give his tail for another moment running along the moors anyday. He wished he could run for moons and never stop, his thin fur plastering his muscles and the exhilarating breaths keeping him in an eager high. He lived for those moments, spending time slowing himself down for others to catch up wasn't his favorite thing. He rolled his paws on stones as he crept away, keeping quiet and twitching his ears in case any cat called his name. Cleo. He rose his head momentarily, almost daring himself to hare back to his patrol like a lost kit. He shook the thought from his mind, returning to the task at paw. Dawnstar wouldn't punish me for hunting. I'm sure my clanmates will be fine training them without me. With that decided in his head, he shook off the thought and moved on, forgetting about the patrol in almost an instant. It's a wonderful day, so hot. He flattened his ears as wind slashed across his muzzle, his whiskers flying as he headed in no particular direction, his tail churning excitedly.
It had been nice for several months, the weather. He'd spent most of his time hunting in preperation for the Tourists' arrival, the feast was of the upmost importance to his clan mates during this time, though more importantly, Dawnstar.
His claws flexed into the ground at the thought of her. His fur rippled along his spine at the idea of her. Her stunning pelt, her gorgeous eyes... He couldn't help but feel swayed by her. She's younger than me, too. The idea flashed in his mind and his chest puffed out. I'm older than the leader of my clan, even if its only by a moon. That's incredible. He rolled his shoulders, his muscles bunching together as he sprung forward, flying across the field with such speed that a cat could blink and lose him. He'd trained his entire life for that thrill. Green, yellow, and violet swam past him and various scents plastered over him as he rushed through the overgrowth, his paws making quick connection with the land as he rocketed onwards, his tail tip riding the wind as he moved. His body veered and swerved, his lungs pumping air out of him as he huffed and prepared to swallow more, the thrill making his paw steps feel as if he were carried by the air itself. It was a feeling to die for.
He rounded in a screeching halt, spraying grass blades and dust in his wake as he rounded his spine, his tail streaming out ahead of him as he slammed his paws into the ground, sliding a few tail lengths from his original point as he skittered to a stop. He'd found it, the Wildflower Thicket. He'd always found the spot challenging, ever since he'd been brought here to train as an apprentice. His ears buzzed with excitement. Overhead, the glistening sunlight shone on his russet pelt, creating a bright sheen over his spine and the base of his head, his eyes now shimmering a pale gold. His twitching tail tip looked brown in direct sunlight, his back revealing a paler sun-bleached pallete. The wind here was quiet and subtle, only hinting at itself as the fronds ahead of him swam and swayed. He rolled his shoulders in anticipation. A challenge is exactly what I've been missing.
He flattened his body low, his gaze scanning the overgrowth simply, searching for the first gap that would reveal his route. Though prey may be scarce here, he felt no different. He could always say he tried, afterall, not like he was lying or anything.
Dancingwhisper:
The large influx of tourists had been quite jarring to the young damsel, despite the fact she knew it was coming. So many cats shoved in one little camp. They would all be of varying emotions, some screaming and some whispering. The thought was too much for Dancingwhisper. Her own clanmates became too much at times. Though she seemed comfortable and full of humor around those she knew well, even their reactions and words could become too much, and the tourists would be much worse. Afterall, she knew nothing about them. They could be dangerous- full of intent to murder the cats and leave the clan empty. This thought terrified the young moor-runner, so she made a decision quite-quickly.
As soon as her fellow clanmates began speaking of the arrivals, Dancingwhisper had snuck away into the territory. Her paws had been quick and stealthy, creeping past those around her with ease. Her hunting and hiding skills only seemed to help her, allowing her to escape the camp with just a few minutes. Her careful nose was always twitching, searching for the possibility of a follower, but there had been none.
In the back of her mind, she expected to be criticized as soon as she returned. Eventually, even she knew her absence would be noticed, and Dawnstar would not be happy. The Clan Leader always seemed so close to the festival, though Dancingwhisper had never thought of why. She had simply shrugged it away, feeling too awkward to ever ask such a thing. So she had made a decision- what if she returned with some flowers? The clan looked quite deserted and unlived, after all. A few flowers tucked into nests and den walls would spruce up the place. Though not the greatest of liars, the molly assumed that if she brought back enough, it would be perfectly fine- no harm, no foul. So she settled on this idea, her paws leading her to the Wildflower Thicket, mind spinning through a written-script of what she would say when she returned.
As the area around her changed from a lush area to a flower-filled meadow, her thoughts became more audible then she realized as she continued.
“Hello Dawnstar, I brought these- no, no, too abrupt. What about- Hello Dawnstar, I apologize for my absence… Yes, that’s not bad…”
Her thoughts drilled on, staying at a low mumble, though she even began to semi-consciously act out how she would say it. Eventually, she had sat in the flower-filled thicket, fluffy tail curled around her paws in a graceful stance. Her head was tilted upwards slightly, allowing the bright sunlight to rest on her gaze, causing her eyes to glimmer slightly. A sort of calm settled on the she’s posture, allowing her previously-tensed muscles to relax.
That is, until a ginger-furred tom barreled through the meadow, causing Dancingwhisper to jump. Hearing the cat’s heavy pawsteps, Dancingwhisper had dropped down into a lower area, head barely peeking over the flowers to inspect the cat. Watching as the cat steered to a halt, she waited until the tom seemed relaxed and unprepared. In her haste and surprise, the moor-runner failed to search the air for scents, which could’ve easily identified the cat. Instead, she jumped out from her hiding spot, stepping up to the tom while his back was turned. 
“Who are you?”
Windsear:
The serene field grew mocking as the young molly approached, her pawsteps so light that Windsear hadn't even heard her coming, the maiden's scent diluted among the others that intermingled, leaving his nose flaring for answers. She could have been a badger for all he knew and he still wouldn't have noticed. He was at a disadvantage anyway, being downwind. His scent would wash the whiskers of any cat searching for it, so the question she poised caught him off guard worse than it may have with anything else. The field billowed and mused, as if the sudden fear that pricked and prodded at Windsear's pelt was something to gawk at. Sun lapped the petals and wind sent the pollen around them dancing, swirling and spinning with the rhythm of the churning breeze. The tom had been too distracted with his pondering to consider the event of a cat padding up behind him.
The tom spun around as if commanded, his eyes wide and his fur bushed out along his spine. He leapt at least a fox-length into the air when her voice boomed into his ears, his heart skipping a beat as he scattered across the moor floor, searching for his paws as he stumbled himself back together. In front of him stood a curious face, yet a stunning one, Windsear had to keep his jaw from dropping. His warm yellow eyes met her dazzling azure own, bringing the tom to his knees with relief. Yet the question still stung his mind- and his ego. He looked at her softly, taking a moment to lap the fur on his chest in his desperate attempt to hide his embarrassment for being scared so easily. Idiot, good luck repairing that. 
He blinked calmly at her, his jaw parting only slightly to let her warm scent bathe his tongue. She'd been here longer than him, that was clear. Her fur was strong with the scent of wildflowers and herbs, as well as her mingling regular aroma. He felt feint at the sight. Wait... I know you. He searched her gaze a moment longer, letting himself get lost in her beautiful orbs, before he realized he hadn't even answered her question. He cleared his throat and opened his maw to reply.
"Who am I? Your dear clanmate Windsear of course." His ears twitched with amusement. He'd never thought to speak to the molly outside of regular duties and patrols, yet as she stood infront of him, he felt like a stranger. Why wouldn't I talk to her before? The question got lost in his wandering mind. He curled his tail neatly around his paws as he sat back, allowing his fur to finally settle against his neck, his brow cocking upwards as he watched her eagerly, her feminine features driving the tom's mind up a tree. Her fur looks so soft. He almost wanted to purr, but the time for compliments could wait, he wanted to know more about her. "And you are... Dancingwhisper, correct? Such a lovely name for a lovely molly. May I ask what brought you to this stretch of territory today?" He blinked at her, hoping she'd understand his compliment was genuine. Suddenly, he lowered his voice, his gaze searching hers. "You're not with a patrol of Tourists so far out here, are you?"
Dancingwhisper:
The meadow of flowers seemed to wave around in the light breeze, brushing against the legs of the molly as she called out to the tom, tail bobbing about slightly. No scent had reached her at this point, her nose full of the lingering scent of the many flowers nearby. She truly believed this cat was a wondering tourist, or worse- a rogue. As such, the molly was light and prepared on her paws, believing that she needed to be ready for a fight, though she hated that idea. She was a moor-runner for a reason, after all. Dancingwhisper’s gaze was narrowed and full of suspicion, though her posture itself seemed to hold wariness. The afternoon sun shone down on her, illuminating the white fur as if it were pure snow. Her neck and back fur bristled slightly, waiting for the tom to respond.
Before long, the ginger-furred feline had spun to face her, stiff as if commanded. Dancingwhisper took a hesitant step back, though a bit of a laugh gleamed at the back of her gaze. The tom basically leapt into the air, his bushed up tail reminding the molly of a fox, though that was nowhere near a comforting thought. Her questioning-tone had been surprising, she assumed, but she had not expected the strange cat's reaction. As his gaze met hers, Dancingwhisper was surprised by an odd feeling. Her own heart skipped a beat, gaze widening slightly. The tom’s fur practically glowed in the sunlight, illuminated by the high afternoon-sun. His amber gaze, though seemingly stoic and harsh, seemed questioning. Lost in thought for a brief moment, it took a while for her to recognize the cat she had addressed, and her ears lowered in pure embarrassment.
Her head ducked slightly, almost hiding from the tom’s gaze. She knew this cat, what was she thinking? A clanmate, even one she had trained with. A flicker of familiarity shot through her mind at the amber pelt and yellow gaze. How had she not known before? Windsear, known earlier as Windpaw. Though she had trained with him, she never had the thought of speaking to him. He had always been confident, flirting with anyone he could. Though he treated some like playthings, he was heroic and able. After saving a young kitten during a moor fire, he was treated like the perfect trainee. In no way did Dancingwhisper feel shadowed at the time, but she had felt a severe twinge of jealousy. Never had she been able to speak to anyone, flaunting around her ability and skills. In a way, he was what she wanted to become. But the tom had grown into a less-flaunty individual, becoming a skilled moor-runner. Though Dancingwhisper had patrolled with him every one in a while, it never became a topic of huge conversation. She had only gone about her duty, distracted by the beautiful moors and challenging hunts. In no way did she dislike the tom, or not want to talk to him. She was like this with everyone, much more comfortable being around herself.
She snapped out of her thoughts hurriedly, head shaking just a bit as if forcing them away. She watched as the ginger-furred feline lapped at his chest fur, likely hiding something that Dancingwhisper didn’t quite pick up on. Then, a glimpse of recognition flashed across his eyes, and the molly felt loads better. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t used her nose. As she waited for his reply, she lowered her haunches into a sitting position, curling her tail around her paws. She waited like this for many moments as Windsear seemed to zone out, completely lost in something.
Finally, he spoke up, introducing himself in a way that returned the idiotic feeling to Dancingwhisper’s mind. She shook it away though, slightly comforted by the feline’s soft laugh and amused ear twitch. As he confirmed the molly’s identity, she nodded quickly, though taken off-guard by the compliments, her gaze turned back to him, head tilted slightly. Confusion glimmered in her eyes, a slight pinkness rising to her cheeks. She turned away again, lapping at her chest to hide the embarrassment. She was given few compliments, and didn’t quite know how to respond in the situation, though she attempted to flatten her fur. She didn’t want to make the tom feel guilty. As the tom’s volume lowered, she looked up, taken off-guard once again by his question, and feeling a defensive tone rise through her throat.
“No! I- “ She began to speak, eyes narrowed slightly, but her mouth hung open. She found herself at a loss of words. What was she supposed to say- that she ran away from camp to avoid the strange cats? Admitting her fear would get her nowhere, and only encourage the confident tom to mock and tease. At least, she believed that. Her ears lowered, and her mouth shut quickly. She didn’t respond, only looking at her paws. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he’d brush the topic away?
Windsear:
Windsear's head tipped as the molly looked away from him, his heart stinging lightly. Too strong, mouse-brain. He scolded himself, his ears flattening against his skull as he looked on at her guiltily. Her pretty face stared on at him, and he expected her to respond, though when she started looking at her paws he lapped a paw in shame. Sorry... He wanted to mutter, but perhaps a change in subject was in order. He didn't seem to catch what was bugging her, his mind instead still lost on how she'd managed to sneak up on him. Me of all cats? How embarrassing, I'm the greatest moor-runner, I shouldn't have been caught off-guard like that, especially not by Dancingwhisper. He had no grief with the molly, and no reason to dislike her or think little of her, but he imagined he'd never be able to miss such a pretty face and such a sweet scent. His heart throbbed as shame bubbled in his chest. He hadn't realized he'd just sat there staring at her after that, the silence was defeaning. Say something.
"I'll take that one as either a 'no,' or a 'i'm doing something I shouldn't be.'" He looked at her with pining amusement, his gaze glittering mischeviously. "Whatever it was you were up to, I'm sure you'd love to have my help with it." His tone was teasing, his expression open and playful. He wanted to be part of whatever scheme it was she could've been up to, anything was better than struggling to hunt with loud kittypets all day. Especially if my time is spent with her. His heart thudded in his chest as he awaited her response. Around him, small fuzzy bees flew from petal to petal, their small legs gripping and buds as they pollinated, before moving on. He watched on curiously, his ears twitching against his skull as his soft gaze fluttered to and fro. Suddenly he came to a realization. What could be done that's bad over here? That doesn't make any sense... He grasped for different reasons. Maybe she liked the flowers that grew here? He looked around, his mind blank. I doubt it, does any cat like plants enough to just lay in a field of them? He found them a little irritating. The idea of seeing them as anything more than an obstacle was too much for his feeble tom brain. He scanned the Earth before plucking a pretty blue flower with his maw. He didn't have a clue what it was or what it could be used for if it was an herb- to think of it, he didn't even know if it was an herb or a flower. His knowledge of plants was excruciatingly limited. Yet he was charming in nature and a lover at heart, he didn't want to scare her away. Even if they did nothing but sit here as she stared awkwardly at her paws he was still thrilled to have her company. It's an honor.
He bowed his head to her, his eyes staring directly into her own. His maw quivered as he attempted to keep the stem steady, the long plant brushing his tongue. He scrunched up his muzzle at the taste, his eyes sheepishly scanning for her reaction. His whiskers quivered as he leaned forward, setting the flower in her chest fur before retreating and blinking at her shyly. His heart quickened as he looked at her now, the blue petals a similar shade of blue to her own azure orbs, bringing out the striking snow-shade of her thick soft pelt. He blinked, his heart clogging his throat and constricting his lungs. You look beautiful. He wanted to meow, his dazzling gaze in a completely dreamy state as he settled into the grass, laying on his side with his tail strewn out beside him, the tip flicking gently as he watched her carefully, his paws kneading the ground. Though he was rather clueless when it came to cat's body language, he always would recognize when his advances were declined. While he wasn't outright denied and shooed away like had happened with Lavendersnow, he recognized he could be making her uncomfortable. I hope not. His heart tightened in his chest. I just want her to know.
Dancingwhisper:
A soft breeze blew through the meadow, blowing at the fur of both felines. The flowers waved and bent to the wind, brushing against their legs as the sun beamed down. Momentarily, as Dancingwhisper stared down at her paws, she was reminded of the territory’s beauty. Though she escaped the camp often to get a break, she rarely stopped at a place as beautiful as this. The vibrant wildflowers illuminated the area in a way that could never be replicated, and the moor-runner was oddly comforted by this thought. The reminder of nature’s beauty was like a comforting hug, holding her embarrassment until it seemed to fade away. Her posture and stance seemed to relax, and she looked up slightly, towards Windsear. Though she assumed the tom would be jeering and mocking, a part of her doubted that. Despite the assumptions some made about him, and the way he held himself with such confidence, few cats were truly that rude. This thought only seemed to relax the damsel further, and her ears jumped back to their original position, her gaze rising as she watched him.
It was at this moment that she noticed his gaze had changed. Being the observant feline she was, she noticed his ears flatten against his skull, and a twinge of regret seared through her wind. But it wasn’t long before the vulnerable expression disappeared completely, replaced by his regular amusing tone and assured smirk. His gaze even held a tint of mischief, which surprised Dancingwhisper. Her muzzle broke into a soft smile, his tone only continuing to hold a teasing remark as he invited himself to join her. Surprised by the question, her gaze widened a bit, her smile fading into a look of shock. But unlike the expression of surprise from many moments before, this was one of withheld excitement. However, for a moment, she processed the invitation. In no way did she want to assume the wrong, and waited until it seemed he wasn’t going to take it back. Still, after the moment of hesitation, she continued to watch as his gaze went to and fro, watching the little bees as they rested on the nearby flowers. Soon, his head dipped, his teeth snapping on the stem of a nearby flower. Dancingwhisper’s gaze continued in interest, waiting as the tom steadied the flower in his jaw. For a few moments, she believed he would stay there forever.
But soon, the tom’s gaze returned as he bowed his head, an intense gaze staring into her own. She felt her heart flutter, skipping a beat. Her body stilled, shocked by the eye contact, but not dismissing it. This moment of staring continued for a few moments as the molly smiled again, this time directly towards Windsear. She even let out a light laugh when the tom’s muzzle scrunched up in disgust, likely from the flower’s unsatisfactory taste. With quivering whiskers, the tom placed the flower in her chest fur, and her heart skipped another beat. She stared down at it, amazed by the flower’s vivid shade of blue, similar to that of her own eyes. Her gaze looked back to Windsear, watching as he lowered his haunches and lay in the meadow, tail flicking. His gaze seemed without focus, staring up at her. Dancingwhisper smiled again, similarly lowering herself, though a bit more curled up, tail near her paws. Her nose ducked again, taking in a deep breath of the flower’s scent, relishing in it for another moment or two.
“It’s beautiful, Windsear.” She purred, looking up at him again. “I love it. Thank you.”
She sat that way for many moments, bliss apparent in her expression. The worry in her posture and facial features had completely evaporated, replaced by that of peaceful delight. She watched him expectedly, hoping she hadn’t done or said something wrong, pleading that he understand how moved she was by his gift.
Windsear:
The dark pelted tom twitched his ears as she thanked him, yet not continuing on to add more. The tom felt another stab in his chest, like a jabbing claw poking his lungs. He rolled his paws through the grass, his whiskers quivering as he flicked his tail to and fro. If she wasn't interested in talking, he'd find a way to wiggle in. He was eager to learn about her, if she wanted to talk, that is. His claws dug into the ground as he leaned closer, his brow raising as he flipped his paw to reveal his pad, almost offering it to her. He blinked mischeviously at her before he got the idea. He could talk, if she wanted she could listen.
"Have you ever heard the story about that apprentice that tried to light our territory on fire because he was jealous of me?" He leaned forward, his whiskers extending out to almost reach her. He kicked out his hindlegs, the strength ebbing onto the ground as he relaxed, allowing his initial task to fade. The tall grass around them brushed against his spine, tickling his back as he stretched out infront of Dancingwind, rolling onto his back and revealing to her his soft belly, a sign of complete trust. He rolled in the dust, a light purr rising in his throat as he stretched out, his tail curling behind him. It wasn't uncommon for cats to roll around in the dust, but it certainly wasn't something he'd do for just any cat. If she so desired she could take advantage of the misplaced trust and swipe him open, yet he had a feeling this was highly unlikely. Why would any cat want to hurt me? His whiskers twitched at the proposition. They don't. 
Light sunlight dappled his pelt with varying patterns, brightening his gaze where his eyes hit the sun just right. The sun was setting now, forcing the sun to draw into a much darker, more colorful makeup than during the midday. The sunset was usually the tom's favorite time to run, as fireflies began to fly around him, the bright sun streaming it's last mouse-lengths of warmth onto his pelt. The dimmed lighting brought out the most stunning, deep, complex red from within his pelt, darkening his darker ticked markings. His thin back was lightened with a soft outline from the pale sunlight, his body now veiled by deep shadows. He beamed at Dancingwhisper as he reset his positioning. 
Dancingwhisper:
The fluffy, snow-white molly’s gaze began to glow in the evening sun. In her sitting position, her fur blew in the light breeze that ran through the meadow, causing the flowers around her to bend and sway. Her tail twitched as it curled around her paws, resting there in a peaceful way. She blinked carefully, watching the amber tom for a response. Her nerves sparked in the quick silence, worried she had said the wrong thing. In no way did she mean to dismiss the tom, or even seem disinterested. In truth, she was quite intrigued and shocked by the tom’s sudden interest in her, and couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. Part of her worried he simply wanted to play around and tease, though his actions seemed genuine. Despite these worrying thoughts, she tried her best to seem pleased. She was, but worry continued to gnaw at the back of her mind. Dancingwhisper let out a dismissing sigh, before her soft smile returned to her muzzle. As Windsear offered her a paw, leaning closer, Dancingwhisper stayed where she was, though her eyes widened in shock and interest.
As he stayed there for a few short seconds, and began to speak, he leaned forward further, before lowering to the ground. Dancingwhisper watched silently as the tom stretched onto his back, soft belly exposed. Her thoughts spun momentarily. Trust. What an odd thing… I’ve done nothing for him to trust me. As the tom let out a light purr, she couldn’t help but smile a bit further. His purr was like a whispered melody, spinning over her ears and comforting her in an odd way. Her own tensed muscles seemed to relax, and she lowered down onto her belly, meeting the tom’s intense gaze. Resting her head onto her paws, her tail tip began twitching behind her, swaying in the low-lying grass. As the evening sun fell lower on the horizon, she watched as the tom’s pelt practically came alive. The warm rays of light gave a beautiful color to the moor that only accentuated the tom’s ginger-furred pelt.
Her thoughts snapped back to the tom’s question, and she couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. Who hasn’t heard it? She rolled her eyes in a dramatic and sassy fashion, though she nodded quite eagerly. “I’ve heard of it, yes. But I wouldn’t mind hearing it from the one and only.” She purred, smiling again. Despite her previous caution earlier in the afternoon, she seemed completely relaxed towards the tom now. It seemed as though a switch had been flicked, completely changing her attitude towards him. As she lay in the grass, she let out a pleased sigh. Grateful for getting away from the chaotic camp clearing, she waited for the tom to respond once again.
Windsear:
The whispering breeze brushed the fur along Windsear's cheeks as the sky above them seemed to darken, the moon only visible briefly before being covered by thick, dark clouds. An ominous wave washed over the tom, his whiskers vibrating at the sight. It's been clear all day. Starclan must be upset about something. He fought the urge to excuse himself and rush back to camp with his tail streaming behind him. He shrugged lazily, his mind wandering back to the pretty molly ahead of him. I'm sure they're fine, whatever happened. Starclan's disapproval is enough to scare them into stopping whatever was happening anyway. He flicked an ear, as if desperately attempting to force the thought to keep his pelt calm. He leaned back, his whiskers twitching as he allowed the warmth of the molly to ease him back into reality. Her soft features were refreshing to the tom, her azure orbs danced with an emotion that Windsear didn't quite get. The deepened hues of the territory seemed to enchant it, with little lightning bugs giving them pale, small inches of light. The scent of flowers was overwhelming to him, though he recognized only now that mollies seemed to be a lot more tolerant of heavy scents.
He envied her for that. I wish, I'd never be able to hunt here if I wanted to, all the scents would have me stumbling into the overgrowth. 
The thought amused and irritated the tom at the same time. He didn't like having weaknesses that were visible to him, at least one as clear as that. He realized just then that he was staring once more, still not speaking. He nodded quickly, reaching for the words. 
"Ah, yeah. I don't think many cats know the full story of that." Windsear felt his breath wavering. What was there really to say other than just to get into the story? Disclaim that by no means Persimmonpaw was a bad cat? Surely no cat believed that anymore. He glanced down at his paws sheepishly, his fur bristling. "Well, where should I start? The beginning? Yeah, that'll do." He fidgeted his paws, suddenly anxious. He didn't want Dancingwhisper to feel any different about him if she knew the full story. But, he felt it was important to be completely honest and open. Especially with her. His heart buzzed as he rode the high he got off of having her near him. Her beauty was intoxicating to the tom, the idea of wowing her hot on his mind. He flicked his tail, taking in a deep breath. "I was just an apprentice at the time, I'm sure you know that I was apprenticed early. Well, Persimmonpaw was incredibly upset by this, and so was his mentor, Carrionsaunter. He envied my skill and intelligence, but we were nothing more than healthy rivals, or so I thought."
He took in a heavy breath before continuing, his gaze no longer fixated directly at her, he seemed to be scanning the area as if searching for some cat to tell the story for him.
"We'd race, we'd hunt, we'd fight- but only in training. No claws, that sort of thing. Sometimes he got a bit aggressive, but it was fine for a while, especially since my father, Perchlichen, was so strict with my training. He was always asking questions, always making sure I wasn't falling behind or losing to the other apprentices. I don't think he liked all the attention I got." He paused briefly, searching for her reaction before continuing. "Well, he liked this Tourist we met named Puma. I wish I'd known he had the hots for her before I started training with her one Festival." His voice shook with effort, but he swallowed and tried to move on. "He ended up cornering me and yowling at me for spending so much time with her. Just to spite him I continued. He ended up attacking me when he found us together, and after that things just got... worse. I regret that I was too naive to see it at the time- so many cats could've been injured or worse, especially poor Cleo." His russet head lowered as he winced at his own words, the guilt stabbing him like sharp claws directly in his chest. "I was spending all my time with Puma at that point, I think she liked my company and I liked to watch Persimmonpaw bristle at me from across the camp. It was fun until one day he discovered the two-leg place, he'd crept in there with a small branch and lit it with a fire the two-legs started. He took it and swung it around the moors like he was mad. He didn't manage to scorch much, but it was the territory I'd been hunting in at the time. I remember the flames trapping me, and the sound of a horrified kit." He dug his claws deeper into the Earth, tearing at it and spreading dirt between the two, his claws hooking into it with ease.
He shook off the debris, his insistence on moving when he spoke was impossible to miss. 
"I just wanted to make sure all my clanmates got out safe. But of course, this was the Festival. There were Tourists to look after as well. I found Cleo- as a small kit- struggling to climb a fence as the fire licked up the bark. I just remember soaring through the air and rushing away with her in my jaws. Once I was home I realized I'd been burnt, but the adreanaline kept it from being sore, something like that. Cleo was overly thankful, Puma vanished, and Persimmonpaw seemed to go with her. I heard the mouse-brain went back to light another branch when the two-legs captured him." He finished with a hard sigh, his expression mixed. Pain seared through his blood, but guild darkened his gaze, as if he still wasn't over the trauma. "The only reason we knew what happened was because Cleo told us everything. She saw him with the burning stick, and she'd tried to escape but wasn't able to get back over the fence. I'm just glad he didn't do anything more drastic or stupid." His conclusion was short, his breath heavy as he fixed his sight back on the pretty snowshoe ahead. Her soft fluffy fur that tucked into her rounded ears seemed to bristle with his breeze, though he saw it as his words entering her mind. He held his breath, awaiting her response.
Dancingwhisper:
Before long, the glowing-warm evening sun had vanished below the horizon, and was swiftly replaced by the rising moon. The cool rays of moonlight that were briefly emitted across the flowery meadow were soft and relaxed, nothing like those of the sun moments before. They created a sort of grey haze that enveloped the territory in its grasp, illuminating any creatures of light with faint glimmers of moonlight. As the sky darkened and the ancestors of silverpelt began to shine through the fading sunlight, thick clouds also rose their way out of the darkness. The clouds moved to cover the moon as the valley darkened further. For a few brief moments, Dancingwhisper was taken off-guard by the sudden disappearance of light, but it did not take long for her vision to adjust. Her pupils grew in size as her eyes began to search and grasp for any light she could get a hold of. The lightning bugs and fireflies soon began illuminating the meadow as the natural light vanished, creating little dots of glowing warmth. The bugs flew under, around, and over the various wildflowers that covered this section of territory, becoming uninvited guests to the peaceful quiet of the night. The light breeze also made its welcome, dragging at the whiskers of the white-furred molly as her gaze focused back on the amber-furred feline who was beginning to open his mouth to speak. Shaking her fur out hurriedly, her posture snapped to attention, tail flicking with a lightened ease as she watched him. For a quick moment, she noticed the tom’s brow furrow in hidden worry, and wondered what could be bothering the confident moor-runner. Dancingwhisper had always known him to be assured of his ability and character, and despite the fact she knew everyone had fears, it was quite out-of-the-ordinary to see him with such an expression.
It was now that she once again realized how different the two moor-runners were. Windsear was a proud and character-built tom, with a heroic backstory and almost chaotic nature. He was popular and well-known around his clanmates, likely being a social-butterfly and always knowing what to say. Dancingwhisper, on the other hand, was more of a gentle feline. With more anti-social tendencies and reserved communication, it was more likely to find her running through the prairies and frolicking in flowers and shallow streams. She didn’t necessarily find discomfort in socialization, but she found it to be stressful. Most conversations felt so awkward, as if they needed to be planned before hand. In a way, the damsel wondered how Windsear could do it so easily. He made talking seem so second-nature, as if it just flowed out of the mouth of any cat like fresh rain off a leaf. But eventually, she silenced her thoughts as words began pouring out of the tom-cat.ㅤ
Windsear began ranting and rambling on about his heoric story, starting off with what seemed to be a slipped-in brag. Dancingwhisper was only reminded of the “senority” that seemed to thrive within the amber-furred tom, as if he had the mind of a much-older cat. Before long, he began describing his interactions with the well-known Persimmonpaw. The white-furred feline briefly remembered the young tom’s fiesty nature and grumpy personality. It always seemed as though everyone rubbed him the wrong way, as if the very existence of the world bothered the brown tabby tom. His sleek and skinny tail was always lashing, whipping around like a vine in harsh winds. As the Festival of Spring Tides had arrived during their apprenticeship, his anger only seemed to increase. But as Windsear began to explain what had angered the young apprentice so much, a flicker of understanding flashed through the thoughts of the moor-runner. Dancingwhisper was not one to judge a cat, even if they had done terrible things. Persimmonpaw was one of these cases. Though the young apprentice’s actions had been uncalled for, aggressive, and quite exaggerated, the Dancingpaw (at the time), had felt the tom must felt a strong enough emotion to cause such a strong reaction. Though it made a bit more sense now, the reason wasn’t strong enough to warrant such a risk.
Even as Windsear continued on with his story, Dancingwhisper couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance. Throughout the beginning of the story, it only seemed as though the amber-furred feline was a bratty and and show-off tom who only cared for himself and the spite of others. It was quite selfish, and Dancingwhisper felt a hint of betrayal. Many other cats who had shared her apprenticeship admired the flirty tom, calling him a hero or speaking of his bravery even moons after the issue was solved and the Persimmonpaw had been long gone. It seemed nobody spoke of the cause of the harsh disagreement, and Windpaw’s selfish actions. Dancingwhisper felt her ears lower slightly as her focus drifted away, towards the shimmering silverpelt. It shone down like rocks peaking through the waves of a shallow stream, becoming more and more dramatic as the night darkned further. Her thoughts zoned off completely, momentarily thinking of many things. Some of these included the current condition of the camp, as she wished a silent hope that all of her clanmates were safe, and that no tourist had become aggressive or rude. She even thought of her own parents, deciding she would visit their resting place later that night. It had been a while, and she missed communcating with them in the late hours of night, where nobody could see or judge her. Her expression lowered into one of reserved grief as she thought of them, and she let out a hushed sigh, before she noticed Windsear’s topic had shifted slightly.
The assured tom-cat was now speaking of the safety of his clanmates, his gaze shining with hidden worry. He also spoke of Cleo, the tourist kitten he had saved during the moor fire. After a few moments of Dancingwhisper’s heightened awareness and focus on the young moor-runner, her expression relaxed into one of confusion, but also one of relief. Despite the moments where it seemed the tom only cared about spite, it now seemed that he was quite the selfless cat. She watched as he cut his story short quickly, his gaze flying up to meet hers, as if painfully waiting for her response. Though she was taken off guard by the sudden intensity of his gaze, she held it, an unreadable expression shining through her pupils. She took a few tentative steps forward, still holding the tom’s gaze. Eventually, she could feel the tom’s breath land on her muzzle, and it was now she took a little step back, the space in between the two felines a bit smaller. After another moment, she seemed to break out of her trance. Smiling softly, she nodded curtly.
“Quite a story. One that makes you quite popular.” She purred, dipping her head respectfully towards her fellow moor-runner. Her nose twitched as she thought of her next words, blinking. She lowered her head again, gaze looking down in slight embarrassment. “I’m nothing special, quite ordinary actually. I’m afraid I have no interesting tales or special qualities. I am just me.” She looked up again, forcing another smile. In truth, she felt small compared to her fellow clanmate. He seemed so powerful and able, and though she didn’t believe herself to be incapable by any means, ordinary just seemed so small to her now.
Windsear:
The vast, wandering field had grown deep with twilight flavor hues, each deep crevice deepened to the point of total shrouding, the black shadows dancing and spinning with the wavering fronds. The deep, rust-colored tom did not stand out much in the night, his deep reds shining brightest among the rest of his pelt colors, each tuft of fur spiked with black was nearly invisible now. His yellow eyes glimmered with many tracing emotions, the showing of which was only viable when the tom briefly rose his muzzle to her. Her bright, snowy pelt stood out like a beam of moonlight, striking the tom as a filtered light bathed their pelts, enhancing his muscular features and detailing her pretty own. He could stay here for the rest of his moons on these moors, his heart thumped steadily as he blinked up at her earnestly. His heart throbbed at the movement of her fur, the sound of her voice birthing butterflies into his belly. They implanted onto him and fluttered against his insides, making him curl his claws into the soft dirt to make them stop. She was gorgeous.
The maiden's azure eyes had captivated him.
The depth of which swam with clustered hues, spiraling and swirling together until they reached her midnight-shade pupils, the bright moon light accenting her orbs with fierce intensity. Her soft cheeks were brightened against the light, the mask that tucked into her soft snow accenting her bowline wonderfully, giving her the appearance of a small, dainty face. Her body was glorious, an absolutely stunning display to the tom, each tuft of her silky fur driving the tom mad more and more where he lay. It wasn't like beauty was all she had to offer, either. Her silence made her feel mysterious, intriguing the tom genuinely and giving him a warm glow. He liked cats who were different from him. He could be one to chatter until the moon set once more, it just made the words that came out of Dancingwhisper's maw that much more valuable to the tom. His tail tip curled as she spoke, as if visibly pleased to hear her soft voice once more. His whiskers flicked at the idea of his "popularity." He knew that he was a skilled cat, and he was well aware many cats spoke highly of his skill, but he'd never really seen the point in thriving off this. It usually just meant he won the attention of whichever molly had caught his eye. Well, most mollies. He recognized with a twinge. Lavendersnow and Dawnstar have already made it very clear to keep my paws off. He remembered Lavendersnow's brutal rejection and Dawnstar's apologetic own. Both pretty mollies had come on his radar from the moment he'd met both of them, though no matter how hard he worked it seemed impossible to truly impress either of them. He let out a loose sigh before returning his gaze to nature, his lunga flooding with the cool air around them, the silence defeaning to him as he thought on her words. Ordinary, he pondered.
"I guess I'm a huge fan of ordinary, then." He winked at her before returning to a more friendly, conversative tone. "I'm sure you're plenty special, Dancingwhisper.
How'd you score such a gorgeous name, anyway?" The tom offered her a friendly, encouraging smile, his eyes twinkling like dancing fireflies in the deepened light, his chest flaring as he readjusted his potion, his hind legs kicked out and his front paws curled underneath him. The darkened sky loomed over them, haunting the tom as he noticed thick, dark clouds hovering in the distance, quickly casting shade over the moon as it passed. His ears felt cool as a light breeze brushed between them, making the fur on top of his head stand up in almost a perfect tuft of fur. His brow furrowed as he studied the sky, as if scanning his sights across it may give him the answers he sought. Yet of course, nothing came. The agile tom leaned back, hesitant yet engaged, as he returned his sights to the striking maiden ahead of him.
Dancingwhisper:
Despite the continuing dark that was spreading further and further across the valley, the wildflower thicket lost none of its beauty. Instead, the dips of the land were enhanced by the night as shadows creeped in further. The flowers themselves received a misty-gray aura as the moon rose, casting pale moonlight across the land. Fireflies danced about, drifting from flower to flower, like lily pads on a lake. The light reminded the damsel of a starry night, shifting slowly as if it circled around them. The moonlight faded as the thick clouds once again meandered towards the circle in the sky, greatly affecting the light that traveled down and met the two felines. Dancingwhisper blinked quite furiously, re-focusing her gaze as the light changed. As her eyes opened again, she caught a gasp in her throat. Across from her, the russet-furred tom-cat seemed frozen in place, not moving a muscle, but his eyes. They seemed to dance with the life of the fireflies around him, twirling and spinning with emotions she couldn’t quite pick-out. Their golden-glow cast a light so similar to the stars above, she couldn’t help but blink again. Even now, after a decent conversation, she couldn’t decide if this was truly happening. Was it all a dream? A wandering illusion of her lonely mind, inspired to create some interactions she had secretly longed for many moons ago? It seemed unrealistic. For so long, she had spoken with such care and fear, afraid to spit out the wrong word and offend a clanmate’s soul. And now, with someone she believed to be a truly well-known cat of stature, she spoke with such ease. Words had flown off her tongue, with a few tumbles along the way. She couldn’t help but worry this was only a fragment of her imagination, affecting the conversation in a way that could never truly happen. And then, her thoughts shifted, silently reminded of how easily her thoughts drifted away. She shook her head, gaze focused as she noticed the tom beginning to speak.
A chuckle spilled out of her muzzle, though it shocked herself. Such an easy response, she hadn’t even given a moment of thought towards it, how odd. After many sleepless nights of practicing social interaction, she would’ve never expected such a simple reply. But once again, she forced herself to push away her thoughts, and focus on now: the present. The present where this feline seemed to be complimenting her, oddly enough. But that didn’t last long, thankfully, though what came after didn’t excite her in any particular way. The story of her name, lovely. Such an easy question. She sneered to herself, though her expression itself betrayed nothing. She inhaled a deep breath through her nostrils, tail flicking as her thoughts raced. Was the whole truth the best answer in this situation? Doubt flickered in her mind, and she silently decided against that. She had no interest in spilling her backstory, and she didn’t feel any importance in truly telling of her own parents. And the half truth, would that be enough? The damsel hoped so, because despite her curiosity in the tom, and the wanting to tell the truth, she knew she couldn’t. Taking a final breath, she forced a smile.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
“ My parents were- erm- busy during the moon following my birth. Simply put, they disagreed on my name often. They couldn’t settle on anything they tried, so they gave up with the topic altogether until I was moving around on my own. It was then they started inspecting me further, attempting to find some compromise for my name. My mother wanted something beautiful and calm, nothing too harsh on the tongue. My father, on the other hand, wanted something that showed ability and promise. To them, there wasn’t a good middle ground anywhere. But soon after I began tottling about the nursery, a fellow queen mentioned something. When I was told this story, I was never told exactly what she said. I guess that secret will never be unfolded. But it inspired my father, who offered the idea of naming me Dancingkit. My mother agreed, though reluctant, and I was named. As if secretly planned, I was then made the apprentice of a moor-runner. I was trained well. Strict teaching, lots of training, constant busy-work: but I guess it worked. Here I am, a moor-runner. “
Dancingwhisper sucked in a breath as a memory flashed across her mind, burning a sour taste in her mouth. Tears began pricking at her vision, and she blinked furiously, trying to force them away. In hopes of ignoring it, she continued on, though her attempts were quite fruitless. Her gaze bore into the ground as her claws unsheathed, digging in the damp ground as she began containing herself.
“Valleystar gave me my name a few moons ago. Dancingwhisper. That’s it.” She took a final breath, looking up with another forced smile. “ I don’t know why I was given the suffix.”
A final tear drifted down her cheek, though it disappeared into her thick fur, and embarrassment flashed across her gaze. She had ruined it. Social interaction ruined for good. The one time she was doing decent for once, and she blew it. Good job, Dancingwhisper. Good luck fixing this. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎
Windsear:
The coolest lick of a breeze was the only thing that seemed to stir in that moment. Windsear tingled as the soft lapping brushed his ears, enveloping and pluming the fur against his cheeks, sending the threaded auburns curling against his structured jaw. His throat tensed as he sucked in the cold air, his amber eyes glittering along with dancing stars of the night. He hadn't taken notice of the swelling clouds that departed by uncurling its puffy claws, dissipating nearly as quickly as they appeared, showing a seemless globe of dappled starlight once shielded from them beneath the thick wall. Now the stars twinkled freely, showing upon the ferals with their soft moondust-shade light. The stretch of land was now painted alongside the sky, the endless fields draped with midnight-hues, shadows cloaked the territory harshly, creating an immeasurable ease for moor-runners to hunt within.
His thin tail trickled as his muscles eased into the ground, his tire now shown upon his expression. He flopped onto his side, landing with a soft huff. Bright flowers tickled his pelt where he brushed against them, tufts of his amber pelt clinging to sharp thorns, holding his strong, masculine scent to later ward off prey. 
His deep gaze searched her own, watching her expression as she seemingly blinked away various swarming thoughts. The deep red tom furrowed his brow, his shoulders shifting as he leaned towards her, his stretched out haunches curling against his belly as he swivelled his ears curiously. It took her a while to answer, but when she did he held her gaze with a vigor, his interest clear from the peaking of swirls as they swam within his orbs. His wide muzzle twitched into a smile as she finished, her gaze only wetting for a moment before she blinked it away. A hard pang stung his chest as he slowly stitched together exactly what she'd said.
He searched her expression, before sitting up and taking a seat directly beside her, his tail tip only slightly touching her flank, a kind offer for her to entwine her tail with his if she so wished.
"They knew you well then, to give you such a pretty prefix." His meow was soft, his brow lifting his expression into one that held a genuine warmth. "It makes me imagine a graceful doe scaling a moor like this." He purred, blinking at her genuinely. He hoped he could reinforce his words with his expression. He was a commonly very touchy tom, so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to offer her his tail, though his immediate sense of care and longing to comfort was rather unlike him. He'd never had a cat comfort him like this, he just felt like it was right. "I reckon you were given 'whisper due to how soft-spoken you are. Do you get that often?" He tipped his head to the side, his gaze glittering with the praise he showered her with. "Would you care to hunt? We could head over towards another part of the territory... I definitely wouldn't mind sharing a hare." He meowed, his voice inviting and friendly in nature. He blinked at her sweetly, his cheeks curved against the edges of his deep gaze with his cheeky, boyish smile.
Dancingwhisper:
The true midnight had come upon the territory, it seemed. Even the once bright moon could do little to lighten the darkness that hung in the air. The clouds mingled throughout the sky, as if sharing words and then moving on quickly. As the soft breeze picked up, it pushed away some clouds and brought ones a new, covering silverpelt and some of the warrior ancestors above. But below, down on the ground, fireflies continued to dance from flower to flower. It seemed that a cat had dragged down silverpelt itself, shattering it and distributing throughout the field, giving the little pieces of the sky their own life. The fireflies only gave little amounts of light, ones that flickered and popped with varying levels of light. Some were most definitely brighter than others, as if their light signified some sort of emotion that didn’t accompany every firefly. Perhaps it was fear or worry, gladness or joy? Who knows, only the twinkling thoughts of Dancingwhisper gave the slightest of answers. Her own worries had seemed to fade slightly, but a weight still hung over her shoulders. This weight was only made heavier as she thought, feeling almost betrayed by announcing her story to this tom. Was he going to spread gossip and rumors? Perhaps not. Safeguarding the personal sections of her story had been a good idea, but part of her still worried what Windsear would do with his newfound information.
That was, until Windsear spoke up, immediately casting a warm-felt compliment Dancingwhisper’s way. Comfort flashed against her gaze, though she turned her head away as a flush came to her cheeks. Even though they had exchanged a few compliments throughout their conversation, it still came as odd to speak so freely about how amazing each other were, instead of focusing on flaws, as she normally seemed to do. But it was refreshing, invigorating even, to find a cat with such a positive-seeming outlook to him. It only brought gladness to her heart, and she blinked at the tom, sending a silent overflow of thanks to him. Though she wasn’t the greatest at showing it, Dancingwhisper truly hoped he understood her gratitude. It was genuine.
As she was invited to hunt with the tom, eagerness flashed across her gaze. Before even thinking, she nodded, a small giggle escaped her muzzle. Giddiness enveloped her. It was nothing more than a friendly invite, but she couldn’t help but feel special from the invitation. She was truly still a child, a hushed one, but a child all the same. She blinked as her soft-hearted giggle now morphed into a light chuckle. “My apologies, I would love to! It sounds like a lovely idea, and a lovely night to do so. You can lead the way.” 
She smiled, her tail curling around her paws. Sitting so close to this cat made her feel seen and welcomed in a way she had missed with her parents gone. She wanted to remember this feeling forever. Perhaps, she could continue to hangout with this moor-runner, and keep the feeling permanent.
Windsear:
Windsear smiled a bright, welcoming beam of shimmering glee upon the sweet molly as she let out soft giggles and purrs, the mere sound of which sending the amber tom spiraling madly. He could hardly contain his own giddy excitement as he lurched upwards harshly, flicking his tail tip towards the stretch of woodland territory barely in sight where they stood, his whiskers fizzling with his sweet excitement. He'd never felt so ecstatic about hunting with anyone before, but this was definitely different.
He felt a strong desire to impress her, if nothing else. He was known for his immeasurable talent and skill, it made him only faintly aware of the awe she must be feeling within his presence. Yet he felt like nothing but a common tom, pining for the admiration of a cat he'd trained  alongside. Cats like him had attention fed to him from the gruffest of paws, there was nothing reasonably wrong with him, afterall. Even with all the hype he tried to flood his muscles with, he still felt the light flutter of butterflies against the edges of his belly, and a hypothetical stone in his throat that prevented his usual egotistical speech about how she'd need to follow his paw steps perfectly to cooperate in any sort of activity with him. Instead he felt a strange sensation of comfort and faith in Dancingwhisper, he figured she'd handle fine without his input. He flicked his tail towards her, indicating her to follow.
"I know a nice spot." He meowed after a few heartbeats of dreamily staring at the pretty molly. "I think we could bring back a whole prey pile's worth together." He smiled at her earnestly, his tone warm and friendly. He trotted ahead of her, only stopping to check and confirm she'd followed him, before picking up the pace until he was sprinting across the moor, the heat that came off his pelt enveloping his wake. His heart thrummed alongside his pelting paw-steps, hardly making contact with the Earth before he slammed his body forward, rocketing towards the territory with violent speed. His thin tail streamed out behind him, his muscles clearly outlined against the deepening shadows of the growing night.
The land around him seemed to spin, hazy from the corners of his vision as he kicked up various herbs, sending them spraying out behind him. His whiskers plastered against his face, he clung to the wind and gulped it down as he rushed on. 
Before long he began to slow his pace until he was moving with little more than a gallop. His tail tip swished behind him, tapping against his haunches and causing the fur on his shoulders to peak with the thrill. Once Dancingwhisper had caught up, he gleamed at her eagerly, his warm gaze crisp in the twilight night, glittering with approval. The void pupils in his face grew sharp as he scanned the beautiful territory, finally giving himself a chance to breathe. The grass grew tall upon entrance of a massive structure, the colors of which were dull, showing even darker in hue due to the casting shadows. Fireflies swirled around the massive den, giving soft orange shards of light where they flew. The ivory wall was tattered, washed with violent winds and furious rain. The color oozed off of it where it was torn, and pieces seemed to have been broken off and laid alongside the structure rather than an attempt being made to repair it. Massive stone two-legs peered at them overhead, with varying poses of silent intention, their color as well bleached to oblivion and weathered out of reasonable condition. To a two-leg, this territory may be a depressing eye-sore, though to the clan cats it was nothing short of glorious. Massive, waving leaves lapped up the edge of the structure, with moss enveloping the edges, as well as licking the limbs of each two-leg stature. Moonlight danced where it was sliced by the large structure, beaming upon a grassy slope that lead straight inside. The thin trees grew denser deep inside the territory, a very different territory than the Moor-Runner was used to.
Windsear opened his jaws, allowing each scent to collect on his tongue, hanging in the roof of his maw and swimming in his head as he sought to identify them. Mold, overgrowth... Mice! He stiffened at the recognizable musky warmth. He thrust his muzzle towards Dancingwhisper, swishing his tail in an order for her to make the first decision.
=== 2nd Meeting with Windsear ===
Setting: Hinterland Coast
Windsear:
The shiny russet-palette pelt clung tight to a muscular, yet lean frame as a quick tom padded restlessly from camp. He'd returned from a morning hunt with Smokestone, a clanmate he tried and failed to learn more about. It was on that expedition he'd learned she was mute, and he'd spent the rest of the time dwelling on everything wrong he'd said throughout the morning. His chest still tight with embarrassment, he'd skipped back home with his hare, leaving Smokestone in camp and hurriedly padding away. I asked her so many questions... I thought maybe she was just shy around me. He'd stopped and began communicating to her in a way that she could express herself through her physical movements, but the time had already long since past for that. He felt every minute spent out of camp with her wretching within his own pelt, the awkwardness and shame caused entirely by him had spoiled the outting. How was I meant to know? He asked himself genuinely. He felt terrible for how he'd acted, he wondered if she would hold it against him- thinking she could speak, and all. I didn't even know cats could be mute! That's the most shocking thing I've learned in moons!
He'd already brushed it all aside when he returned to camp, however.
He'd proudly offered his hare to the nearest apprentice, who complimented him, but her voice was short and curt, as if not genuine. He'd barely cared to stop and fester on it though- he had somewhere very important to be. He'd practically leapt over his own paws as he trotted from camp, nosing through the entrance with his tail high, he felt like he couldn't leave camp fast enough. Dancingwhisper agreed to hunt with me, he recalled the conversation he'd shared with her, planning for this moment for the better part of a day. He'd spent each heartbeat pacing and tapping his paws impatiently, he'd hardly been able to contain himself. I like her a lot, she's so pretty and her fur is as soft as silk. He couldn't help but gush over her- there was just so much about her he just... Liked. She's mysterious, too, but intelligent. She strikes me as the cunning kind, the cat that would plan out hunts for me and expect me to follow with perfect accuracy- that's if she knew she could use her voice to boss me around. He smiled to himself at the idea. As confident as he was, he still found it soothing to have another cat at his side, especially when that cat was the stunning, smart, perfect Dancingwhisper.
He'd padded after many mollies in his lifetime, that's just what he was known for. He loved the attention they gave him, and he found it difficult to pick favorites, so he had his share with any cat who agreed to nuzzle him. He'd curl up in one molly's nest, then the next another night, without labels for that whole thing, he was free to do whatever he wanted.
Afterall, I don't think any of the cats I've met recently would suffice. I need a cat who thinks like me, and they'd have to be a Moor-Runner. Sure, the clan was filled with faces to pick from, but being the lovesick tom he was he found it difficult to be seperate from a cat he was fond of for long. He'd do anything to scrap together time for them to spend together, and that would be a million whiskers easier with a Moor-Runner mate. No worries about who's den to pick, and I'd always be out either on patrol or hunting alongside them. He found himself daydreaming about it, a common occurrence as of late.
By the time he'd come into the sights of the agreed upon territory, he felt his ears well up with warmth. He shuffled his paws as he stared over the moors that overlooked the beach, slanting down a rocky cliff-face where sand collected below, a far stretch of land that was lapped up by hungry waves. By the speed of them, the violence in the way it curled its fangs and sunk them into the sand, sending particles swirling, he could tell that a storm was near. The water was gnashing angrily, foaming at the edges while it's hue shifted gradually, before farther off the bank of the beach it grew pitch black, shielded from all light. It was chilly still, and the clouds that stalked above him dispersed briefly, though they collected hungrily over the sea, the thick clouds bunched and soft over it. Due to the lack of lighting the moors were darkened, as was the waves, but sun was striking along the upper side of the cliff, fronds were dancing with the breeze that ran through them.
Taking a deep breath, the tom began to pad his way down. On the way while thinking viciously he'd plucked a sweet-scented flower.
He hadn't a lick of a clue what type it was, he only knew them as the umbrella term used, but it was pretty. It smelled nice too, at least to him. It was white with a yellow bulb, and he'd made sure to sniff every one to find not only the youngest, but also the most pristine flower he could find, careful when nipping the stem as to not hurt it. He'd held it in his maw, and only now did he lock his lips tight around it, the wind was quite violent here. He felt like he'd be carried off his paws by his namesake, thrown tumbling down the crumbled cliff and landing harshly in the sandy beach far below. He eyed the edge nervously, pressing his body farther and farther back from it until he was no longer fearful of a stumble. Once he'd spotted the perfect spot to wait he hurried over to it, his dark red pelt shining bright against the yellow landscape.
The handsome tom rose his head, the petals that lay delicate against his muzzle tickled him playfully, and he suppressed a purr. Golden orbs scanned the landscape, his eyes piercing and round with anticipation for the arrival of the Starclan-graced molly. He puffed out his chest, yet he couldn't suppress the feeling of what felt like a hawk being tackled by a cat in his belly. Will I have to wait here long? What if she doesn't come? He had a brief ping of doubt clog his throat. He hardly ever doubted himself, what reason does he have to?
I'm the model cat. I'm literally what loners think of when they imagine a clan cat- strong, handsome, brave- everything a cat could ever want to be. He swallowed hard, but a lump still clung in his throat. So why do I feel like a shy apprentice again? He slumped his neck briefly, before forcing it back up. He forced his anxiety away, his thin tail draping delicately over his round paws, his long ears turned towards the moors as he waited, just as patiently as if he were stalking prey. However long she takes will be worth the wait, but Starclan, every second is agonizing! He wished they'd left together so he at least had the company. He felt lonely and vulnerable where he sat in the midst of tall grass, his back facing towards the sandy beach.
Dancingwhisper:
The effects of early morning drowsiness still hung on the mind of a soft-furred damsel as she padded from her den, long tail waving behind her in a rhythmic fashion. Her head was raised towards the dawning light, a smile gleaming in her eyes. Her muzzle was upturned, only slightly, in the calmest of smiles. But it was real all the same. The young damsel couldn’t hide her glee, excitement emitting from her in waves, though it wasn’t totally visible. The morning had been quite uneventful for the moor-runner, only consisting of an early morning awakening and quick visit to the fresh-kill pile. Although, upon arriving at the pile, she had noted its close-to-emptiness and immediately decided against eating. The pile was in good need of replenishing, and she wasn’t hungry enough to truly worry. Instead, she had found a smooth and ‘comfortable’ rock to lay on, taking some of the dawn to bask in the sun. However, the thick clouds above made the basking quite ineffective, and the fog appeared quickly as well. During this bask, though, she had been reminded of Windsear’s invitation from their previous conversation, and her mood had brightened immediately. Pure bliss had enveloped all of her actions, and she had spent the rest of the early morning imagining what would happen. Mostly, she hoped she would be able to truly prove herself to her clanmate, and pleaded that the fog wouldn’t impair her hunting skills too much. The fellow moon-runner had already proved himself to the clan, and she hoped she could at least seem competent and able to him. Upon the thought, she had also begun to groom her ruffled fur, which had become quite messy during her sleep. After many moments of cleaning, and quite frankly losing track of time, she had noticed the sun nearing closer and closer to its highest position. She had also noticed that many of her fellow moor-runners seemed to be out of their dens, including Windsear. 
ㅤQuite frantically, the soft-furred damsel had basically leapt to her feet, propelling her long legs in the direction of their agreed upon location. As she traveled, she leaped over branches, stones, and stray twigs, attempting to avoid injury. However, she was traveling quite fast, and couldn’t help but get nicked on a few sharper branches that protruded from the tall trees of the forest. The journey was quite prolonged, though she was not aware of any time passing, too worried about being late and wasting Windsear’s precious time. This only caused her to push harder, willing her legs to go faster. Dancingwhisper as a moor-runner, was used to running at high speeds for long periods of time, but not in such dense territory. In a normal circumstance, she would’ve been much more fretful over this fact, but this wasn’t quite the ‘normal’ circumstance. 
A thought flashed across the damsel’s mind, and she slowed to a stop abruptly. Her paws dug into the dirt, uprooting some budding plants across the forest floor. Her tail lowered to the floor, almost like an additional brake, though it did nothing. Luck had blessed her this morning, as she had slowed down into the perfect place. Out of a random thought, the damsel felt quite compassionate. After all, this almost-random clanmate of hers had been quite kind, and had given her a flower in their previous conversation. To her, it only seemed to be the perfect way to repay him. And here she was, in the Wildflower Thicket, of all places. Ending her head down to the ground, she nipped the stem of a flower, one with pale-golden coloration. The flower’s petal’s reminded her a lot of the tom’s yellow gaze, and she smiled to herself. Ensuring that the flower was supported and not going to fall from her muzzle, she crouched, and leapt back into a run. 
The rest of the travel was much shorter than the first, already more than halfway to her destination. Her ears were shifted in each direction, trying to keep steady listening towards the environment around her. She hoped that eventually, she would pickup on light paw steps, though she failed. As the trees began to fade, and the damp grass gave way to flat moors, Dancingwhisper slowed, claws digging into the dirt to slow herself. She continued the rest of the way on a light, slow pace, catching her breath on the way down. As she padded towards the beach, she was transfixed by the beauty and intensity of the waves below. They curled over the rocks and sprang out at the rocky cliff, like an animal knashing its teeth at a coming danger. The damsel’s azure gaze searched for the golden-furred tomcat for many moments, and they felt truly long. It was only after looking down to the tall grass did she see him. His back was to her, and he seemed to be searching for her as well. Padding up towards him, a smile broke her muzzle, and she loosened her grip on the golden flower. 
As she came closer, she cleared her throat, dropping the flower at her paws. Lowering her haunches, she curled her fluffy tail around her forepaws, ears shifted towards him. Cautious of the wind, she lifted one paw, setting it on the stem of the flower to keep it from rushing away in the wind. Her eyes gleamed with the reflection of the early morning sun, the harsh wind pulling at her fur. One particular gust of wind blew a feather onto her nose, and she lifted her head to sneeze, a faint and delicate sound that seemed to disappear into the crashing waves of sound. She let out a slight giggle of embarrassment, and dropped her head to her chest, giving it a few licks.
“ I’m sorry for my tardiness, Windsear. I hope I didn’t upset you. “ Her smile faded as she spoke, true apology apparent in her body language. Her posture was slouched only slightly, and a paranoid thought appeared in her mind. I hope I haven’t stressed him… I would hate to loose a friend so quickly. She cleared her throat once more, attempting to straighten her posture and smile once again. “ I hope that this is enough of an apology. “ She gestured to the golden flower with her muzzle, though it was only a slight dip. Her nose pointed to the blossom, and she stayed in that position, awaiting his response, ears tilted towards him.
Windsear:
The tom had sat patiently waiting, his back cooled by the breeze carried from the lapping waves, the frosted tips of which foamed and bubbled eagerly to meet it, cascading all over him until he'd started to tremble. He'd been sitting there for quite some time, and he felt it in every hair on his pelt. He was quivering from a mixture of the chill, excitement, and even a bit of annoyance, his paws tapped impatiently. I could be hunting right now. What if she never shows up? Was this a bad idea? He had begun to bow his head when, like she'd been called upon, a soft sneeze was audible behind him, and his ears swivelled backwards in an instant. His head jerked up and he spun around, the first sight she'd lock eyes with when he turned his head being the vibrant white flower he held. It curled delicately with the movement, and held up when the tom scrambled to his paws, standing now, his pelt plastered to his sides as wind rushed towards him.
The first thing he'd caught upon gazing at the source of the noise was her long, lush set of whiskers, as well as the delicate snowy tufts of fur that sprang parted from her cheeks and behind her ears. His heart skipped a beat, and he found his own eyes widening upon coming face to face with hers.
The sight had him breathless, he wasn't even sure he was breathing. I'm in Starclan... I must be. The flower hung loose as his jaws parted, his expression memerized. 
There, right in front of him lay the most delicate pelt he'd ever laid his eyes upon, his face meeting hers in an instant as if he'd already been used to craning his neck to look down to meet her gaze. Her eyes were stunning- delicate waves of blue clashed to meet pearl, while pale sky-blue deepened the richness of her gaze like a delicate petal, crafted solely from Silkstar's paw. Her eyes were alike gemstones, their beauty truly unique and starkly trumping any other he'd happened to see. The way the sun reflected off them looked as bright as a dazzling star, as if she were merely nothing more than an angel that had happened upon him of all cats. He found his gaze tracing her masked face, relishing in the opportunity to gaze at her features. Her fur plumed like snow, the grey hints on her face like pale stone, her cream undertones alike to the perfect accented feather of a beautiful bird. 
When she'd bowed her head he felt he might have just about been ready to lose consciousness. Her head bows so delicately that he was astonished she was even a cat- she moved smoothly like a cloud, and her pelt accented her frame perfectly. Just when he thought he'd be satisfied with just her mere presence he found himself gaping again. Just beneath a small white paw was a flower, bright gold in coloration, pinned delicately down under her weight.
Her eyes met his, and he felt his heart drop into his chest. Say something! 
He'd waited for several heartbeats, his gaze entranced. All he wished to do was sink in to her soft, pristine fur and pull her close to sink into his flank, he'd breathe in her scent and find himself in such ease that he may as well be dreaming. Am I dreaming? He couldn't be sure, he slapped his flank with his tail just to make sure. No, she really is just that perfect. Dancingwhisper, he rolled her name around in his maw as he searched for words, but he was utterly starstruck. He was still staring at her with wide eyes, his expression unreadable. He quickly snapped his maw shut before he melted, his maw twisting into a deep, genuine smile.
"Great minds think alike." He mewed, his voice sounded like he'd just run across the stretch of the territory. He graced his gaze with her beauty once more, his heart thudding painfully in his chest so loud he believed she could hear it. He felt his pads grow hot and wet beneath him, his ears twitching. Oh Silkstar, I've never been this nervous in my life! I feel like I've lost my voice! He tried it again, as if he truly believed it was gone. "You look gorgeous," he managed, his eyes quickly darting away as his pelt bushed out in horror. I said that... I actually said that, didn't I? He flexed his claws into the ground before he'd quickly made up his mind. He jerked his head to face her again, before he lowered his head, allowing the flower to fall delicately just at her paws. Suddenly, it didn't look as beautiful as it had when he first picked it, now that Dancingwhisper was less than a whisker away.
He was looking up at her again, his muzzle still bowed low for a moment, before he stretched his neck back to his full height.
He was still averting his gaze when he heard her soft mew, and he turned to face her once more, his eyes rounding against his cheeks, which were curved up in his deep smile. He nodded intently as she spoke, his brows raising in surprise. "What, apologize? What do you have to apologize to me about? It's your delicate time that you're gracing onto me- don't mention it." His words were full and genuine, and his was purring in the depths of his throat while his cheeks warmed. Just the sight of her made him feel like a nervous kit again, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was staring down at the flower once more, and suddenly he wanted to grab his back, hide it under his flanks and laugh it off as if he'd never brought it. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to purr again. "More than enough, honestly. Thank you so much, Dancingwhisper." He was staring at his flower next, his tail tip twitching. What do I say next? He found his paws shuffling the grass. "I don't know if I've ever been given a gift before, I'm sorry if that's not the reaction you wanted." He bowed his head to her, and he was almost certain she could hear his heartbeat now. He blinked up at her hopefully, his body yearning to calm itself, somehow, someway.
"I brought you one because... Well, it reminded me of you, really." He placed a paw upon the stem, his eyes warm like honey, dripping and collecting at the edges of his vision. "I thought maybe you'd like it." It's perfect, like you. He wanted to add, but he swallowed it back. He needed to act cool, like the cat she knew him to be. Not this random nervous tom-kit who's just been out of the nursery for the first time.
Dancingwhisper:
The damsel sat in the tall grass, waiting for the tom ahead of her to respond. The harsh wind yanked at her fur, blowing it in many directions, into her face and away. Over and over, and she let out a puff of air through her nose. She imagined that running in this condition would be quite exhilarating indeed, her speed only enhanced by the blowing winds of the beach, but at the moment, it was quite aggravating. Her tail flicked behind her, close to lashing, and she attempted to calm herself. In the back of her mind, she was aware that nerves were accelerating her emotional response, and that she was more annoyed with her current surroundings than she should be. However, this didn’t stop her from feeling them by any means. The crashing waves that once seemed so loud faded into a comfortable background, simply ambiance to her thoughts. Fear coarsed through her veins like poison, enhancing her annoyance until she was simply a mess of emotion. She worried that the tom would simply look down at the flower and scoff, tossing it into the howling waves behind, throwing it away. His personality revealed none of that sort of reaction, only that Dancingwhisper was simply a worrier. An irrational warrior, to be more exact.
But her soft smile never faded, attempting to push her hope to the front of her emotions, like a barrier.
When the tom recognized her presence, he turned hurriedly, beginning to face her. HIs eyes widened slightly, and he stilled. Worry flashed across the damsel’s mind, and she worried she had offended him. Perhaps something she had said was more rude than she meant, had she really already hurt him? Her ears lowered, and her tail fell to the ground. That was quick… why can’t I say the right thing? She hummed to herself, a wince growing in her eyes. She ducked her head only slightly, but looked back at the tom in hopes whatever was enveloping him had passed. To her luck, it had not. His muzzle had fallen open slightly, and a white-petaled flower hung loose in his jaw. His eyes were wide, mesmerized, and locked on her. His chest seemed still, as if he had forgotten to breathe. Her own eyes grew wide as she registered the flower, and she looked down at her own. Perhaps they were quite alike, though she didn’t know why he had come with a flower. He had done nothing wrong, and she assumed flowers were only for apologies. The sole fact that he had one stunned her. She shook her head, attempting to clear her mind, and looked back at the feline.
It just so happened that in this moment, the early morning light was released from the captivity of the clouds, given freedom to shine down on the cliffed coast. The light landed on the golden-furred tom’s pelt, and illuminated it in a bright shine. Dancingwhisper’s heart skipped a beat, and her ears perked up. The tom’s auburn fur had truly come alive, more resembling a star than a cat. It seemed to be pulsing, throwing its own light into the air around him. Perhaps a star wasn’t accurate enough, more like a firefly, illuminating the dark sky around it and making the entire area seem brighter, happier. His eyes were only brighter, resembling the fires of the deepest pits, throwing sparks above and ever-burning. They bore into her own, and despite the wonder she felt from the simple sight of them, the slightest bit of fear emmeraged. He seems so powerful, godly even, as if he was the reincarnation of the great leader Silkstar. The way he held himself with such pride and power, made Dancingwhisper feel small, only for a moment. And though it was such a brief thought, her worries caught on it, ripping and tearing at the hole to grow it. She began to worry that perhaps she wasn't good enough for his presence, maybe this was only a hunting trip out of pity. Afterall, she was a simple moor-runner, and nothing compared to this hero of the clan. Her thoughts were only shattered by his voice.
“ Great minds think alike. “ His voice no longer had his common smirk, instead, he seemed exhausted, his voice caught on words he didn’t say. In fact, it sounded as if he had run straight from camp to here, like her, and humor began to pull away at her previous thoughts. Her expression was lightening slightly, as if simply hearing his voice helped her feel better. She exchanged a smile towards the tom, and looked down at the flower, held under the light weight of her paw. It seemed much more blissful to her now, more important. It seemed it may the only thing to save her from being ‘out of his league’. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by Windsear, his muzzle spreading into a genuine smile. His tone was the same as before, as he spoke. ” You look gorgeous.”
Dancingwhisper froze, and she looked at Windsear with wide eys. Did he really say that, to me? She looked down at her wind-rushed pelt, and she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Nothing about her was special, nothing to qualify her as receiving such a compliment. She had never gotten more than a pitiful smile from another cat, let alone such a blatant compliment. She was frozen, her mind rushing and searching to find a response. She didn’t know what to say, Never in her life had she ever imagined a clanmate, let alone such a heroic one, would give her any sort of attention. Now that she was given such a commendation, she simply couldn’t respond. She opened her mouth to respond, but it only hung open. There was nothing to say, nothing to match up to what he had given her. It was worth more than anything she had ever received, even though it was only three words. Part of her wanted to rush to him and smile, laying next to him and enveloping herself in his scent, and just him. But another part wanted to hide, to pretend that he hadn’t said anything, and move on. What would her clanmates think? She had no right.
She saw how the other mollies danced and hoped for his attention, how would she be treated? She had never once even dreamed of him looking in her direction. What should she do? She simply didn’t respond.
But he only continued, stating her apology was unnecessary, that her time was a blessing, and Dancingwhisper couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. Was this real? Was she dreaming, unsheathing her claws in one paw, she brushed it lightly against her other paw, just to be sure. The slightest of pain was emitted from her nerves. This is real. What do I do? What can I say that is worth his ears? What can I say that won’t sound fake, forced, or wrong? What if I offend him again? Her thoughts spun infinetely, branching off into a million different circumstances, situations. She felt herself collapsing into her thoughts, and the sounds around her faded into silence. Her thoughts became louder, overwhelming, and worry coarsed through her. It started from every limb of her body, traveling through her blood stream and to her heart. Once it reached its destination, it rang out, an invisible pain that traveled to her brain, adding more worries, thoughts, and insults into the ever-growing mass of anxiety. She couldn’t stop it. Though she seemed calm on the outside, her brain was giving away to the thoughts. Though it was only a moment, it seemed like moons of chaos enveloping itself in her brain.
She was only released when he spoke for the last time.
"I brought you one because... Well, it reminded me of you, really. I thought maybe you'd like it."
His paw had rested on the stem, mirroring her own paw, and he smiled once again at her. His eyes were dripping like honey, sweet and genuine. The thoughts went quiet, shushing themselves as they waited, waited for her. For Dancingwhisper. They waited for her response, so that they could punish her for it, and drag her back into the depths of worries. Drag her down into the place of pain, and anxiety, and worry. Though her mind did not register what she would say, the words spilled out, a waterfall of coursing waters.
“It’s beautiful, Windsear. It really is. I- I can’t explain how much it means to me.” She felt the smallest of tears begin to brim in her vision, and she blinked to push them away. The thoughts stayed silent, they did not respond. They only whispered amongst themselves, preparing themselves for her to make a mistake, a mistake they could feed upon. Her pause was momentary, before words spilled out that she couldn’t stop.
“You are breathtaking. You look like a star of the silverpelt itself.” She winced internally, but she didn’t punish herself. They didn’t punish her. They only watched and waited as she continued. “I truly can’t explain how I feel right now, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been given a gift, and I’ve never been complimented like that. I’m sorry if my reaction is not enough for you. I know you have much for experience with this than I do.”
She let out a disappointed sigh. She wished she could respond better, but she was only voicing her true and honest thoughts. She couldn’t think of the right thing to say, and she couldn’t imagine anything that was more honest. She was only speaking her truth, and though it may not be good enough, she begged that it would be at least partially accepted.
Windsear:
The red pelted tom felt his chest pounding heavily, as if his heart was attempting to break from his ribcage and erupt. His heart-beat was quick in his ears, and his pelt was washed with waves of heat as if he'd just been on a sprint. His lungs swelled as he took a breath of air after what had felt like a moon of holding his breath- it's like he hadn't even remembered to breathe. He was still watching her eagerly, his ears heated with his anticipation, as well as just how shy and nervous he felt. He felt dread clawing his belly and constricting his organs until his entire internal structute felt tied in knots, his eyes shone in the soft diluted light to be wide with worry, it seemed to worm between his pelt and his skin, crawling under it and irritating him immeasurably. Why was his belly full of butterflies? This wasn't the first cat he'd swooned over, he had so much experience getting his way that he'd learned he no longer needed to feel shy or overly anxious. So why did complimenting Dancingwhisper make him so afraid?
He felt it could have something to do with his opinion on her. He felt his heart sinking as she froze, staring at him as if he'd just told her he was pregnant.
The look on her face, contorted with emotion was indescribable, and the tom wasn't sure what was making her so quiet, but each heartbeat he sat waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. He'd visibly sunk into his pelt, shrinking his frame until his posture was loosened, his whiskers drooping. Please, say something. He willed her. Each second they sat in awkward silence only made the pang in his heart grow sharper. He tried to catch her gaze, but she was averting it, lowering her head. He felt a stab in his chest as if she'd clawed him. Why do I always manage to make a fool out of myself everytime I speak to her? I need to learn when to shut my muzzle. He ached to apologize for the compliment. It seemed to him that his attraction towards the other Moor-Runner was not reciprocated, and he was only digging himself a deeper grave to lie in once she had finally gotten it out. He shifted his weight in his haunches. I don't want to make her upset, I thought mollies liked compliments. It seemed to work on every other molly he'd met.
Then he reminded himself of something, something he should've kept in mind from the start. This is Dancingwhisper, she's not just another molly.
He felt his heart throbbing again, and he forced it down, his eyes rounding as he looked upon her. She's special, and I've never met another cat like her. Looking upon her now brought a sense of duty, a sense of purpose to the tom. As much as he desired her to immediately give in to him, he found himself yearning more for her the more he learned about her. It was almost an overwhelming feeling, the thing that rinsed through his veins, flooding his body with strength. He wanted nothing more but to protect her, to shield her from the wind, prying eyes, even criticisms. He was understanding many mollies didn't like that, and he reluctantly agreed to respect their boundaries, but the desire was like a nest of fire ants in his chest, stinging him and filling him with little wounds. It was almost overwhelming to a degree, and he noted just how much he'd love that. Just given the opportunity once, I'd treat her like the royalty I see her as. He was watching her again, his gaze as soft as down feathers. He could picture himself hunting with her, specifically working to perfect the trip especially for her. He could see himself standing up for anything she were to say, no matter the consequences brought upon him. He even saw himself protecting her, using his body as a barrier from outside threats, ready to lay his life down on the line at her command. He felt like she was entitled to it, he knew she deserved it. He wanted nothing but to make her happy, and if he could live out his dreams that had her present alongside him, he felt like he'd be the happiest tom alive. Patience was important when picking a forever mate, and the love-sick tom was never one for waiting around while the molly made that decision, no cat had come remotely close to grasping his attention like Dancingwhisper did.
His sleek pelt fluffed out against the frigid breeze, and the tom found himself staring at his paws, his mind completely torn to pieces.
One part of him wanted to confess right away, while another was desperately hoping for that positive reply he'd been waiting for. Another part was egging him on to speak more, while the next hushed the former. His mind was a whirling cascade of messy thoughts, all tangled like matted fur until he felt like he wouldn't be able to take listening to them anymore. As if on request yet again, Dancingwhisper spoke, her soft voice had his heart in clutches once more. He faced her with wide eyes, ears pricked, expectant.
"It's beautiful, Windsear. It really is. I-I can't explain how much this means to me."
His heart skipped a beat. You don't have too. He was gitty with relief, and he found himself easing back from his stiffened frame until he was practically swaying on his paws, her words had his attention laced onto her, tackling him with an overwhelming sense of affection for his denmate. It just... Warms me, to know that it matters to you. He found himself grasping for answers to questions he felt he couldn't ask, his voice lost. I want to know about everything else that matters to you. He ached to mew, his heart splitting. Because it matters to me, too. 
As she'd paused in brief intermission, he had taken another breath, holding it as he saw her chest expand, her lips parting with more that she had to say. He froze completely while she spoke, his attention locked on to her. "You are breathtaking. You look like a star of the silverpelt itself."
His heart thrummed in his chest, a whole conclave of emotions searing his fur until he felt his entire body raise in temperature significantly. The flattery he felt, it warmed his heart until he could hardly breathe. He was staring at her in amazement, the words that danced off her lips were welcome to the tom, he lapped each one up eagerly. He felt as if his paws had frozen stiff, but at the same time he felt weightless, as if he could pad on clouds. 
"I truly can't explain how I feel right now, I don't know what to say. I've never been given a gift, and I've never been complimented like that. I'm sorry if my reaction is not enough for you. I know you have much more experience with this than I do."
He was staring at her, his breath baited while he felt he needed to rouse himself once more from a sudden, unexpected slumber. He was staring at her, his eyes wide and bewildered. Once his thoughts had finally rested and he stopped celebrating after hearing her first sentence, he found himself lost for words at the second part, his eyes wide and dismayed. Not good enough? He thought he'd snorted aloud for a moment, but the only sound was coming from the waves... As well as his heartbeat. It strummed along coolly in his chest now, completely warmed by her compliment. He found his thoughts to be scrambled, and he back tracked, taking several moments of silence to collect them.
"'Not good enough?'" He echoed, his expression stunned with shock. He hesitantly lifted his tail, draping it ever so lightly against her tail-tip, before he rested it against his flank, he didn't want her to flinch away from him, but he also didn't know whether or not she'd welcome an encouraging brush of her fur, so he decided on something in between.
"Dancingwhisper, you are perfect." He meowed, he took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "You are a Starclan cat that has somehow managed to tread on Earth once more. You are an inspiration to not just me but I'm sure many others as well. You are more than enough, I need you not ever think anything you do won't be enough for me." He was blinking at her now, his heart pounding. He found himself struggling against spilling his heart out to her, the effort of keeping his thoughts contained like a vicious battle entirely in his head. "The only way to get more experience is to experience it more, right?" He was smiling again, his cheeks so hot he thought his pads would begin to sweat. "Do you like when I compliment you, and bring you gifts?" His mew was curt and genuine, he blinked golden rays of light in the shape of eyes at her, his ears twitching. "Because I think you're more than worthy of all the gifts ten toms could provide, let alone some fuzz-brain like me." He lowered his head to lap at his chest, his head sinking. "If they can bring you even just the smallest sliver of joy, I will bring you an entire meadow of flowers. I will plant each seed by paw and raise them myself. Because you are worth that effort. You're so worth that effort that it stings to hear you're not used to this... Sort of thing." He found his voice faltering and he looked away, his dark rust-colored pelt flaring like coal burnt, his pelt radiant where it lay glossy over his back, his black-tipped tufts of fur turned almost white against the sunlight that bathed them now.
Suddenly, it seemed like he'd finally came to a decision. He jerked his gaze away from where he was lost in his own mind, bowing to pluck the flower he'd brought her into his jaws. He was looking at her like a kit begging for milk now, his eyes rounded. "Will you wear it?" He mewed hesitantly, his voice small. "It would me a lot to me to see you wearing it."
Dancingwhisper:
Misty blue waves crashed against the rocks that lined the sandy shores, splintering droplets of water in all directions. Some of these droplets were carried by the harsh winds of the coast, which only increased their field of effectiveness. Even fewer of these came close to the feline sitting side-by-side, but the ones that did dropped in their pelts, bringing salty and frigid cooling to them. The snow-white damsel’s azul gaze drifted to the sea as one droplet landed near her nose. She watched as waves folded and joined each other, some small, some towering above. They glistened with the shine of clean water and salt. The sunlight, filtered by the hazy clouds above, reflected off the shimmering blue-and-white waters, only making them seem to glow. The soft-furred molly watched for many moments, transfixed by the shining beauty. One particularly large wave crashed over the shoreline rocks, landing and drowning some of the beach sand. The sand fizzled as it made contact with the salty water, and some was dragged right back in to the ocean as the wave repelled itself. Odd rocks and seashells were exposed as the first layers of the sand were dragged back, and Dancingwhisper smiled. Though her fur was long and  heavy, she had always been a fan of the water. Unfortunately, she ahd been told from a young age that cats with her fur couldn’t dare swim, as they would be ‘dragged into the depths’. Though these were simply kit stories, she was still wary, and had such never attempted to swim.
Moons ago, when she was still young, she would dream and ponder for any possibility of her being able to swim, but she never found one. Even if she was lucky enough to find the strength, her fur would be soaked for moons after. So she had simply given up on that dream. Though it was quite an old one, Dancingwhisper was still quite fond of the daydreams from her kithood, splashing into the river’s bay and swimming her heart out. Of course this beach seemed much more dangerous than a simple river. She laughed to herself. Swimming was not a question here. It seemed to be a feat for advanced paddlers, not a never-swimmer like her. While these thoughts were quite racing, they were the only thing distracting her from her worries and nerves. She was almost petrified, worried how the young tom would respond to her words. Would he yell, exclaim that she just wasn’t good enough? It didn’t seem in his nature, truthfully, but that did not silence the worries. 
She waited quite impatiently, watching him. She noticed him stiffen as she spoke. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell what his emotions truly were. The unknown sprialed in his eyes, mixing and seperatign with emotions she couldn’t recognize. Bewilderment was apparent, but that was all she could pick out. They were wide… but with what thoughts? Was he conflicted, appalled? Or quite unaffected, or if she was lucky,  intrigued? She shook her head only slightly, and tried to focus on his body language instead. She was receiving no knowledge from his eyes alone. She winced slightly, almost as if in preparation for what he would say next. It worried her, and what if it was something she could not retreat with? Perhaps they had come to a spot where she would be unable to fix this. Perhaps she had hit him to the core, and whatever she said could do nothing? No matter his emotions, no matter how kind he appeared to be while here, it still terrified her. To a point where they began to creep in, threatening to overwhelm her once again, as they had only moments before. In quite the indescribable moment, Dancignwhisper was able to force them into silence. She wanted to truly hear what he had to say. Negative or positive, she wanted to hear the truth of it, and not just what they told her it was. They lied, and though not the most observant feline, she was aware of that much.
His voice held such similar emotions ti his eyes that it was hard to discern for a moment, though it soon came through. ” Not good enough “? He echoed her last statement, eyes narrowing in what seemed to be concern. His emotions seemed to settle in Dancingwhisper’s mind, and she breathed them in. He’s… surprised. But what about? Did I say something odd? Her mind flustered for an answer, but she reduced those thoughts to a background hum as she waited, patiently, for the tom to respond. He had taken a momentary pause, and lifted his tail ever so slightly, to drape it lightly over her tail tip. Her own eyes widened only slightly. The tail moved to her flank, and she watched his face. Hesitation, perhaps in means to not hurt her. But she was not hurt, and neither did she flinch or pull away. Though such a small action, it comfortedher. Perhaps she hadn’t said something wrong, and that everything was just fine. She couldn’t be sure, but her thoughts settled significantl.y Her mind was hushed, silent even, the most peace she had felt in her moments here.
” Dancingwhisper, you’re perfect. “ The white-furred damsel stiffened in shock, her eyes went wide. Her jaw fell open only slightly, speechless. Her heart began to thrum in her chest, becoming a pounding in her ears. Her eyes were bewildered, astonished… but behind that was flattery. Her paws feel weightless, as if she was going to float away from the very conversation and ascend into the embrace of Silverpelt. Her mind felt separated from her body, as if she was in a whole other world. She couldn’t describe it, not even in her head. But he didn’t stop. He kept speaking.
“ You are a StarClan cat that has somehow managed to tread on Earth once more. You are an inspiration to not just me but I’m sure many others as well. You are more then enough, I need you not ever think you won’t be enough for me. “
She couldn’t respond, but the flattery and amazement was clear on her face. Her cheeks began to heat, and she ducked her head and lifted a paw to cover her face. Her ears warmed, and she spat a curse internally. Mouse dung!- She raised her head after a moment, and blinked her gratitude towards him. She opened her mouth to begin a response, but he kept going. She shut her mouth, though it was not with remorse. Instead, a flicker of humor flashed across her gaze.
* “Do you like when I compliment you, and bring you gifts? Because I think you’re more than worthy of all the gifts ten toms could provide, let alone some fuzz-brain like me.” The amber-furred feline ducked his head, lapping at his chest. Dancingwhisper felt an ounce of pity for tom. Whether it was her presence, or another factor, he seemed quite nervous around her, or embarrassed, perhaps. She chuckled to herself at the thought, and a wonder immersed. Perhaps we are more the same than I thought. She smiled at the idea, though it was quite a stretch. 
” If they can bring you even just the smallest sliver of joy, I will bring you an entire meadow of flowers. I will plant each seed by paw and raise them myself. Because you are worth that effort. You’re so worth that effort that it stings you’re not used to this… Sort of thing.”
With each word that came from the tom’s mouth, her flush grew deeper, though a smile accompanied it. Her heart thrummed inside her chest, making its way to her ears and spreading like a hug, a comforting warmth that enveloped her from every side. Her paws felt stiff and frozen, but weightless. She felt glued to the earthy floor, but flying in the clouds. It was truly indescribable, but an amazing sensation she didn’t want to forget. Flattery, perhaps? That was its name. 
Before the feline launched into his next words, Dancingwhisper took a quick moment to speak. “I love them, I truly do, but I don’t need all that. You’re more than enough for me.” She kept her tone as simple as she could, not needing Windsear to respond. She only wanted to quickly respond to his question. She exchanged a genuine smile with the tom, azul orbs swirling with positive emotions. She watched him, his eyes unfocused and off in the distance, thinking, she assumed. But quite suddenly, the tom’s gaze averted from the place, bowing his head as he lifted the flower gently by the stem. His eyes round, and confusion littered the damsel’s mind. He seemed such the opposite of normal, the once proud-seeming tom was now bowed, his gaze spinning with hope and pleading. His muzzle opened to speak, his mew hesitant.ㅤ
” Will you wear it? It would mean a lot to me to see you wear it. “
Dancingwhisper’s response was quick, just as hopeful as his had been. A bigger smile crossed her muzzle. Her ears lowered slightly, her head ducking towards him. “Of course I will, Windsear. It’s beautiful.” She looked down at her own flower, still resting under her dainty paw. A glimmer of regret crossed her mind, but she pushed it aside momentarily. It wasn’t quite a big deal anyway.
Windsear:
The wind was plastering the tom from various angles now, lapping his dark-tipped fur against his muscular frame like a lick from a cat. Windsear's dark red-hued pelt was rippling from the frosty chill it seemed to bite him with, the fur along his haunches prickled. Around the two ferals the Earth seemed to prickle like a pelt as well. The fronds that spun around him, laced and criss-crossed with sharp blades of overgrown grass parted with the breeze, and he embraced it as it struck his chest with a ferocity that was hard to find elsewhere. Well, that and he had Dancingwhisper here with him.
He felt ashamed that he felt so comfortable around her. It stung to remember all the mollies who came before her, and how he could've been so blind as to not see her until now.
She wasn't like any other molly he'd ever met before. She didn't have the same energy or hesitance as some, or the fierce edges of others, she was nothing like he'd ever seen before. I don't think I could have even dreamt up such a gorgeous cat. Despite everything, he genuinely did respect Dancingwhisper for who she was- he'd be a mouse-heart not too. He wanted to get to know more about her, but he couldn't help but flirt.. It just happened. He was blinking wearily at his paws since he'd lowered his head, a strange form of submission from such a bold and courageous cat. I want her to know I care about more than just how soft her fur looks, or how glossy her pelt was in the sunlight... He had to force the beating thoughts in his head away. Dancingwhisper is a gorgeous soul. He told himself crossly. He wanted to do things right this time, and he didn't want to flatter another molly until they'd collapsed in his paws. He felt like he should make sure things can last.
He slicked his pelt, forcing away the chill that crept over his entire structure, his shoulders seared by the frigid lick. He looked up hopefully once more towards Dancingwhisper, his paws shifting ever so slightly. He awaited her reply, and once he'd recieved his ears twitched up excitedly. He found his face flushing with heat and his chest clenching. Great Starclan, I feel like an apprentice again! His heart was clutched by the sharp talons of nerves, his pelt slightly rippling. Externally, he looked slightly shocked, his eyes rounded as if he wasn't sure what to do. Do I...? She hadn't flinched when he offered her his comfort, right? He hadn't felt her tense, more like she'd eased at his touch. 
He swallowed hard and decided suddenly.
He rose his head slowly, and giving her a soft smile, he bowed his head and leaned forward. His breath caught in his throat until he felt like he was choking on something, his eyes closing against the soft fur that draped over his face, he placed placed the flower behind her ear, angled outwards like the plume of the fur that tucked from behind her ears. The tom was tense, he began to feel his pads grow wet as anxiety welled in his chest. His face was flushed so much he thought she could see his face turn berry-red. He pulled away slowly, his whiskers brushing hers as he leaned back to give her space once more. He gave her a soft purr, it rumbled deep in his throat.
"It matches you perfectly." He breathed, his breath fluttering from his paw. He felt like he was swaying on his paws, he was absolutely swooning. The tom appeared completely infatuated, but he was struggling to take hold of himself again. I'm not an apprentice with a crush anymore. He tried to reason with his own conscious. I respect Dancingwhisper as my clanmate. She's a smart and capable cat, and I want to make her happy no matter what she tells me. He almost wanted the molly to bat him on the muzzle for his bold move, despite the touch being for barely a few heart-beats at best. It felt massive to him, and it clawed at him internally, like a fire that singed his fur. Oh no, what if she's upset? He was scanning her gaze, but he couldn't tell based on her expression, and the tom wasn't great at reading eyes. He felt dread cling to him like a spiky burr. I'm sorry. 
He was aching to fill the silence, and he was trying to grapple with his mind, spiraling in a miserable fight that would end in loss for either side each time. He ached to run, to move past this and get on with the hunt so he could be alone with his thoughts, but each moment that passed in silence he felt his ears ringing. It was defeaning.
He tucked his tail under his flank and began to shuffle forward until he was practically sitting on his paws. The rust color fur that ran along his frame was sleek and firm, but a spot just behind his shoulders was twitching. The sun was bathing him despite the frosted winds that lapsed from the waves, but it didn't warm him. He was neay shivering again, and once the clouds had draped over the sky once more he found himself wavering. He was staring at his paws, occasionally scanning the area or peering at the waves below the cliff.
His ears twitched at the sound of the crashing waves below. It echoed out forward and up the lip, just loud enough for the two Moor-Runners to catch. Stone met fluid and destroyed it instantaneously, he found himself tracing the droplets that rose towards the sky to catch the wind. That one had lapped him, leaving a damp space on his cheek. His fur rose along his face to meet it, spiking out at the shock. He'd barely reacted to it, but the wet feeling was now freezing him to the skin as the final puffs buffeted towards him. He twitched his ears back, peering at the sky.
Grey fogged the horizon as he peered up- prey would be harder to find then, and he had a dreadful feeling rain was coming.
He could taste it on the wind. Leaf-fall rain was miserable for the tom. With such thin fur he'd freeze from the temperature alone, and that wasn't counting the humidity. Leaf-fall had wrapped it's claws into the Earth once more, singeing the grass into a deep, almost deep orange. Leaves from the forest beyond had already begun to turn a deep sunset palette, of which would only deepen into the depths of them with the mixing blend of color. The tom only seemed to care for the leaf-litter he'd be dealing with on a regular basis. 
On such long moors came harsh wind, especially considering where their territory was positioned. Windsear could only dream of what others had seen, memories from his childhood about all the stories he'd been told by his father, Perchlichen. He'd loved that tom with ever fiber of his being. He had respected him so much that he aspired to become deputy just like he had been. He had been an adventurous cat in his youth, and he could recall fondly just how he'd described the territory far beyond the borders.
"Hinterland Coast is just a peek at an endless expanse of water, it stretches as far as the eye can see."
It was almost like hearing his voice again, he felt a rush, his whiskers pricking slightly at how nostalgic it made him feel. He always remembered him like this, and each time remembering his voice brought about a genuinely pleased reaction, despite it never being new. He missed the tom dearly.
"There's islands beyond it too, you know. But no cat has ever tried to swim to them, as it's said that by the time you'd gotten close enough you'd die."
The thought had scared him tremendously. A leader had finally tried it, sacrificing a life to return to her clan to report the finding.
Though the leader had been stripped of multiple- causing a rather short reign. She'd washed up on shore, where her clanmates had been waiting for her- she'd lost another on the way back. That water is seriously dangerous, and Windsear could never picture himself trying. It made him sick to his core. He could recall stories of the endless border that seemed to wrap around, where cliffs rose in distant territories and mountains climbed to brush the clouds. The territory they were in was open on all sides despite this, like a large strip of land untouched. He felt himself little in such a large portion of space.
Dancingwhisper:
he morning light, a struggling traveler of the sky, was both filtered and allowed passage by the clouds. They stood as watchmen of the sky, guarding the territory that lay far below. The clouds towered high above, with tall plumes of white and gray, resembling a collection of sea foam across the seashore, much like the mist sprayed from the crashing waves nearby. Though originally an overwhelming loud sound at first arrival, it had now faded into the back of the feline’s minds, becoming a simple ambience to their conversation and thoughts. It had faded into the background so quickly that it wasn’t of immediate notice, and Dancingwhisper in particular was only reminded of it when her thoughts caused her gaze to wander. Here it would land, on the unknowing blue of the waves, opposite in location from the cloudy sky above. In fact, at this moment, the ocean and the sky seemed very alike. Both were a mix of a shimmering blue and a stormy white, the colors crashing and mixing in beautiful and strange ways. Their only difference was the golden orb that lay high in the sky, protruding rays of sunflower-yellow that warmed every inch of the territory that lay under the claim of the Clan of Sunlit Prairies. With its spanning fields of wildflowers, tendril-like rivers of glistening water, and tree canopies of large, meadow green leaves, StarClan looked down at the territory’s beauty through the eyes of the sun. At least, Dancingwhisper believed that to be the case. While the damsel wasn’t overly religious, she was an avid be;ieve in the watchful sense of StarClan. Since she was a young kitten, she had been overly cautious of her actions, especially while under the open sky. In her kit-mind, she believed that without the barrier of den walls and the canopy of trees, her celestial ancestors could inspect her every word and action. While it may seem quite paranoid, it made her a hard and honest worker, without needing words of affirmation or encouragement.
The soft-furred damsel was then reminded of a story that had been told to her by her mother while she was still a young kit in the nursery. It was one of the very few moments when the distant mother had shown affection or any sort of attention towards her young child. To say the least, the older damsel had been unfocused often, eyes becoming glazy with thought during most, if not all of their interactions. Most of the time, she never seemed to be on this land, instead drifting away to another world. Daydreamer, said most, but those who may have been closer would’ve seen it as much more than that. The only happiness her mother had gotten from life was her thoughts, her fantasies that must’ve been so much nicer than the real world. Perhaps she imagined a life where she had no children, no mate, and no responsibilities. Perhaps, even, she thought of a world where she didn’t survive in general. Perhaps she wished she had joined StarClan much sooner than she had. Or, a more hopeful belief, was that the mother was only daydreaming, and no wishes for her life to be different. Of course, these were fantasies and theories that Dancingwhisper never proved.
Her face had so often been bare of remorse, thought, love… bare of anything that would allow her kit to grow any sort of attachment or connection, so, when Dancingwhisper’s mother was killed, she felt nothing. There was no emotional reaction, no tears, no exclamation of gratitude. It was simply nothing. In fact, after hearing of the event, she had only nodded. Was she emotionless? No. Did she hate her mother? No. But there was simply nothing to feel. There was no string of connection that they had shared to full upon. There was so little she couldn’t even fake a reaction. So she didn’t pretend. She welcomed the non-emotional reaction with ‘open arms’, continuing her work as a young apprentice and instead blossomed. Her dedication skyrocketed, as she now had nothing to stop her from reaching her goals. She was promoted, given her full name. It was only now did she feel the slightest sliver of emotion, after her suffix was given, whisper; specifically because she continued her training without so much of a whisper of complaint, grief, or inability to perform her given tasks. She simply moved on. In fact, memories that the two shared began to slip, leaving only a few remaining. She just focused on other things, and those spots of memory were filled with moves, strategies, and thoughts of other importance. There were few she kept, one of which being the story.
Returning to the remembrance of her mother’s story, the scene began to play in her head.
” Kit, come close. I would like to speak to you. ” The older damsel, muzzle tinged with gray fur that came not with age, held herself in a different way then normal. Instead of slouched in thought, her back was straight, posture tall and proud. Her eyes were clear as the cleanest waters, ears tilted towards her child in a way Dancingkit had never seen. She held such focus in her body language that it made her kitten nervous, as if she had done something wrong. Was this truly her mother? Even as the damsel spoke, her tone was smooth with the calm of a wind-free day, blinking in surety. Dancingwhisper’s young self had creeped close to her mother, paws slow and cautious in hesitancy. She refrained from becoming overly excited, timid to scare her mother from her oddly-focused state, though eagerness crept behind her vision. As the kitten lay at her mother’s paws, and felt the dame only stiffen slightly, her tinged muzzle opened and she began to speak.
” Today, I have a story for you. A story of StarClan, the great rulers of death. They guide our every pawstep, observe every word we speak, and judge our every wrong doing. They watch from the sky as hawks, with wings of justice and feathers of invisibility. Their eyes are all-seeing, their minds are knowing, and their beak can release a storm of true judgment. “‎ 
Now, she knew this was imagining, a metaphor- perhaps a vision of her mother’s overactive imagination. But to Dancingwhisper, it was a recollection of the truth. She would believe this for many moons, and it would eventually severely contribute to her constant thoughts and worries of being watched and judged, and perhaps even her self esteem issues.
” There was a feline, long ago, whose name I do not recall. He was a lazy cat, with no dedication to his Clan. He lazed about like a mouse, basking in the sun of luck. But after many moons, he began to turn from lazy to harmful. He made his clanmate's lives difficult. He gossiped, bullied, and stole. One day, this shameful mouse was caught by the talons of the sky hawk, StarClan’s, grasp. Death came to him hastily, and he was punished for his actions. When questioned, he had only excuses. He assumed they didn’t watch him. Perhaps he even thought he was exempt from all the rules of life.”
As she spoke, the dame’s gaze had become fiery with anger, though her tone had stayed even. At the time, it terrified the poor kitten, though now, Dancingwhisper only looked back at it with curiosity. As she had grown up, she had recollected the story often, attempting to figure out who she had been talking about. Though she had said his name was not recalled, Dancingwhisper couldn’t help but feel the sneaking suspicion that her mother knew the cat she was talking about. Soon after her mother and father’s death, she even believed her to be talking about her mate. But she had spoken about his death, many moons before he truly died. But it was only a theory she would never prove, and still thought of to this day.
Her mother had finished, her tone darkening, and her eyes returning to their foggy normal. With a voice laced with poison, she stared down at her daughter, hackles raised and fur bristling.
*” They are always watching, kitten. They are always judging. Do not be the mouse.” 
The dame had then stood, pushing Dancingkit away with one strong paw. She had stalked out of the nursery, tail lashing behind her. At this moment of random thought, the damsel laughed to herself. Perhaps her mother was the source of all of her problems. Would she blame it on her mother? Most definitely, even if it wasn’t her fault. She deserved it after all. And further, she hoped her mother was a hawk in the sky, watching her and judging her for every ‘little mistake.’
And of course, she was snapped back to reality, and noticed that Windsear was staring her in the eyes, with a worried and hopeful gaze that was quite overwhelming to look at immediately after returning to reality. She chuckled to herself once again. She was becoming her mother, becoming gone in visions of imagination and thought. Though this thought only brought a cold wince of regret flashing across her mind. In no way did she want to give another cat the thoughts she had dealt with so many moons.
She exchanged a genuine smile with the sire, in hopes that it would make up for her severe distraction. She sucked in a breath at his simple sight, and attempted to relax herself. She couldn’t distract herself from the fact that his pelt seemed to be on fire, lit with twinges of amber, gold, and mahogany from the morning light. Though filtered, it drifted down so strongly towards his fur that it seemed focused on him and only him. She saw her own form in his amber eyes, those also alight with the flames of emotion, though she could not pick out every one. This was one main reason he was different from the others. In a way she couldn;t describe, he was so much harder to read. She couldn’t read his emotions with a simple glance, they seemed so much more complex. They were rooted deep in the dirt, with branches going off in a million directions. She couldn’t follow them all, they seemed infinite. She wondered if she would ever truly understand him.
“ Well, Windsear, we came here for a reason, did we not? “ She took a deep, stabilizing breath, attempting to seem confident, though her eyes shook with nerves. She raised her haunches, getting to her paws. She stabilized herself in her standing position with her back paws, rooting them slightly into the ground. Her head ducked slightly towards him, as if in apology, with ears lowered and tilted towards him. Her tail was light and bouncy as she stood, hung from her torso in a relaxed way. With chest lifted, she raised her chin and looked off towards possible hunting grounds. She turned away from the tom, but as she turned her chest towards the forest, she brushed her tail tip across the sire’s shoulder for a moment. It was much like Windsear’s tail brush from moments before, hesitant and for only moments. She worried he would reject the touch, or shy away from it. 
“ Should we get to hunting, or would you like to chit-chat a little longer? “ Her eyes glimmered with humor, and from the looks of it, she didn’t mind either option. In fact she would love to do either, as long as she got to sit and stand in his company for longer. He was truly an entertaining cat, and he brought her a comfort she could not explain. She felt like she could be relaxed around him, though she didn’t know what that meant yet. This feeling was so odd to her, as if she wasn’t being judged at every turn. Perhaps her mother had exaggerated, perhaps it was alright to let loose and live a little. Her gaze turned sour momentarily as she hoped for that, her eyes darkening with pleading and grief. She only hoped she could stay in this mental state, with comfort surrounding her like a mother’s embrace, which she wished she had felt so many more times.
Windsear:
As the overcast sky loomed further overhead, the only light that seemed to flicker from between masked shadows was brief, and did not create any amount of impact for the tom to bask within it. He felt frigid settling where he was now, and as the cool wind lapped his limbs his structure hardened, fluffing out his fur, he braced hard for each incoming swath, his ears spinning along with the breeze as it brushed and licked at every inch of his pelt, slashing it to and fro as he forced his paws steady. His coat made it much more difficult for him to keep comfortable during the cooler moons, and he never was one to look forward to them. He spent most patrols running off his paws as fast as he could manage, his burning energy the only thing to warm his blood. At times like this where he'd prefer to sit and chat on and on as long as he could find the words, he almost didn't want to pad off. He'd give anything for an ounce of warmth in his pelt as he felt frozen to his core, though his own emotions attempted to help, they weren't the same as burning off a full night's worth of rest as well as a full belly.
He felt bad for wanting to suggest it, but that was the whole purpose of their mission, right? He'd invited her out for a hunt, but instead he'd spent the better part of the morning staring at her like a star-struck rabbit.
I don't regret an ounce of it, though. He was sure he'd give his whiskers to do it again, too. He felt embarrassed at his own general excitement, much like a young kit thrilled to escape the nursery, he couldn't help it, though. Dancingwhisper was a cat that he was sure wouldn't pressure him to be different, to change his words or leave him feeling stranded with his own thoughts. He felt so comfortable with her that he almost welcomed the failures and awkward tension- it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The aura that radiated from her made his claws tuck into his pads and his fur tie in nots, and just the sight of her hit him like the force of a swinging paw. He felt breathless upon her appearances, and he couldn't manage not to share this with her. With every repetitive relationship he was glad to have a friend like Dancingwhisper to shake things up a little bit, he was starting to feel as if most mollies were the same. Of course they're not, though. Lavendersnow and Dawnstar are prime examples of that. I can't say the same about some of the other mollies, though. They'd been the only cats to ever withstand his flirtations, and send him padding away with his tail collecting dust. He'd never even felt like this around them, it was something entirely unique.
But what is it? What makes her stand out from a sea of similar patterns? That statement would hold for both personality wise as well as pelt patterns, though he was more thinking on the patterns of interaction. He'd begin with his sights on a molly, or the other way around most of the time- and a lot of the time he was the one initiating it. He was used to planning event after event, he'd groom before each interaction, though it barely made a difference. With his charm and his own ego keeping his head bobbing above water, he was easily able to make just about any molly swoon with merely a wink, a smile, even a brush of his tail against their flank. He'd always gotten his way with this, it was foreign to think of anything else.
But what is it about Dancingwhisper that makes me so nervous? By this point he'd have had any molly's heart trapped between his claws and twined around them until the roots of their desire met with his own. He didn't need to plan much if at all, and usually all it took was a conversation or two. But Dancingwhisper? There was something so obscure about her, she was like a gemstone cut from the eyes of Starclan, each smooth surface as beautiful as the last, the edges sharp where they met in peaks- similar to how she had a great head on her shoulders despite it all, and her claws were sharpened and ready to flay for the sake of her clan.
Everything she strived to work for was for the better of every cat, and her paws turned aching with her tireless strife for success. He admired that, as he did most things about her. He was looking forward to padding alongside her, even if his admiration was not reciprocated, he'd still just be proud to know a molly as driven as Dancingwhisper.
Every fault she carried only deepened her grip on his heart, each little thing only made her feel more real instead of the Starclan image of her he'd captured. Upon their first meeting, he was unsure it any cat could possibly be so perfect- he knew he'd need to learn more. He respected her deeply, and he'd be sure to show that through his actions around her, though he believed it wouldn't hurt to tug the fur on her haunches for a bit to learn all he could about her. I don't think she's very disinterested, either. If she had been from the start, sweeping her gorgeous silky tail over his muzzle and refusing to humor his admiration, he'd have respected it of course, but he wouldn't be shattered. If she'd ran from him when he stroked her soft fur with his tail, he wouldn't bother running after her and begging for an explanation. She wouldn't owe me one, and it would be entirely her decision. I don't have the power or the right to want to change her mind.
He blinked up at her now, his eyes glassy with thought. I can still hold firm in my heart though that it is not something I wish to see. He tensed as the molly stood, as if answering his silent pleas. He was ready to bow his head in apology, only to feel a fire brighten his resolve from deep within his chest at her touch.
She's not running away, she's flirting back. Up to that point he hadn't been sure. He guessed her compliments towards him were more repeated responses to the ones he'd laid on her, but at the soft brush of her tail against his shoulder he'd practically melted under the touch. It made his ears stand straight up on his head, and his face rushed with so much heat he was almost sure she could feel the difference. Her tail tip, though the touch was short-lived and hesitant, had been one of the softest things he'd ever felt touch his pelt. Am I dreaming? Have I hit my head and I'll wake in the medicine den? He almost wanted to trace his claws over his forearm to see, but he didn't have the strength to move. He'd had it leeched right from his muscles, all prior complaints were now silenced and muffled in his head in comparison with the song of Starclan as they hummed on their approval. The rush he felt from something as simple as her tail had convinced him what he dreaded to admit, it made him feel weak, vulnerable.
I'm in love with her. He could see it clearly as if it were written in the sky. He wished for nothing more but this moment to linger, for the two to stay in this position for as long as he still had the energy to stand. Once she'd pulled it away, he felt as if all that was sturdy about him had vanished, he felt himself swaying while he swooned.
He'd barely noticed she'd spoken until it was nearly too late to begin listening. His wide eyes rounded as if she'd struck him, and the tom stared dumbly at her until her words had finally sunk into his head, and he processed them slowly. Hunting? Right, the clan... He'd nearly let the entire point of their visit to this side of the territory slip his mind entirely. It practically had for a moment once he'd finally found words to put his feelings onto. His heart was thrumming in his chest, and as much as he wished to recall her, to ask for the soft molly to help warm him, he seemingly thought better of it. I want this to last, so I'll need to do it right. He had to swallow back his meow, and it felt like trying to force down stale prey, but he'd managed. Ears twitching, he found his voice once more and pin-pointed the right way to speak again, the tongue in his mouth felt lost, his lips tracing sentences as he tried to find which one was appropriate.
He'd sat there like an idiotic apprentice for many many heartbeats before he'd finally figured it out again, his voice sounded off to him, as if it was his first time hearing it again.
"I-I yeah. We can hunt, of course." He forced himself to his paws despite how weak he felt, his tail was curling up with delight despite him making no effort to move it, his gaze was fixed and his mind was numbed. He slowly padded towards her, his fur just a whisker-length from her own pelt where he stood, his tail tip twitching as he scanned the horizon. Who am I kidding? What hunting can I do when I'm as distracted as an apprentice? He couldn't help it, but he wished he could. He wanted nothing more but to continue living in the moment that had passed, forgetting his duty to his clan and selfishly capturing all her time for himself. But that's not the kind of cat she is. He reminded himself, it wasn't the one he was, either. He needed to be true to himself and true to his clan- he'd took an oath to put his clanmates before his own selfish desires no matter what he may lose out on in the process. He felt himself wavering, he wasn't sure if he really had it in him to set his feelings aside.
How can I? She's perfect, her voice alone is enough to keep me occupied for moons if she wanted to. But that is her duty too, and what's important to her is important to me, too. He'd gladly skip one hunting mission if it meant he could selfishly hold on to this moment, but he couldn't picture her agreeing or doing the same. As far as I know about her, she takes great pride in her place in the clan. She could even become a council members if she so wished- I'd support her every heartbeat of that journey. He'd support her through anything, really. Forcing his gaze away from her once more, he opened his maw to taste the air, but all he could sense was his own nerves. I'm going to make such a hare-brain of myself, I've never been this scared of hunting. It came naturally to him, it had since he first began training. But now? His emotions roared up so loud and hot inside him that he could hardly keep his paws from trembling. He'd need more time to think before he was ready, but he was well aware he'd put himself in a position to force that time from under his pads.
Jerking his head, he blinked at her, his eyes warm.
"Care to take the lead? I'll be happy to support any catch you make." In reality he wasn't sure he was capable of catching a half-dead baby mouse at the moment, much less come up with a distinct plan. He could only smell his own tension, his face so hot it dried his tongue, making tasting for scents like trying to find a white pelt over a meadow of snow. He twitched his whiskers, settling back beside her as he awaited her command.
Dancingwhisper:
The cool morning air was peaceful, comforting, steadied by the moisture thrown into the air from the crashing waves nearby. The misty fog that hung over the territory like a looming cloud settled in Dancingwhisper’s fur, cooling her down significantly. Her azure gaze drifted to the sea, and she took a deep breath through her nose, eyes shutting. This may become a favorite spot of hers, with the peaceful ambiance and cooler temperatures, it checked off all her boxes. And soon enough, she would find if it was a good spot to hunt. Though it didn’t have quite a lot of space to ‘run’ in, it seemed more of a basking spot than anything. She imagined laying next to the shoreline rocks and getting sprayed with the mist of the sea, feeling the droplets settle through her thick fur and evaporate into her pelt, a cooling sensation spreading through her body until she felt true relaxation. The wam sand was comforting in her paws, despite her love for cooler temperatures. In fact, it was quite the confusing temperature difference, yet it felt like a hug. Her breath was relaxed, even, and she felt truly at peace here. She wasn’t sure if it was the time of day, the territory, or being in the presence of such a wonderful soul… she wasn’t sure. All she knew was she wanted to continue feeling this. She wanted to stay in this bliss of a peaceful mind, surrounded by so many things that comforted her so. Her tail brushed against the warm sand, and her head lifted upwards slightly, enveloping herself in the misty air. This is perfect. Her thoughts were a whisper, and all that filled her mind was peace, and it was beautiful.
Instead of being snapped from her thoughts, they faded peacefully on their own, diminishing themselves to the back of her mind. As she waited for Windsear to respond, she allowed her gaze to drift upwards, towards the top of the slope where they would be hunting. She allowed her senses to open, and her nose twitched as scents surrounded her. The first thing that hit her nose, of course, was the salty mist down below, sprayed from the ocean waves. She felt her senses pull at every resource they had, and her mind sharpened as she focused. It was almost as if her eyesight changed completely as her focus and determination heightened. Her nose and eyes became one as she inspected the slope, delving deeper to find the scents, sounds, and sights from above. It took a few moments, as she had to refine her focus. Pushing away the shore and sand, she took in the thoughts of what lay ahead. The scent of prey tickled her nose, and she smiled. Moorlands… somewhere to run. Despite her goal, she felt the urge to grab Windsear by the tail and run, run as far as her legs could take her. She wanted to feel that burning sensation that she loved so much, and feel the wind tickle her senses. She chuckled to herself silently, and attempted to push the urge down. Perhaps later, after we hunt. The Clan must be fed.
It was now that Windsear finally spoke up, his voice hitched on the first syllable. Despite her focus being elsewhere, Dancingwhisper couldn’t help but perk an ear. He was acting so differently… she had never seen him act in such a way. All the times she had seen him around camp, his chin had been held high, voice proud and confident. His voice never shook, and he was never so hesitant with his replies. It perplexed her, and curiosity sparked inside her gaze. Was it something I did? Though the thought was common for her, she was surprised when the guilty feeling didn’t pain her as it normally did. It felt like a genuine question inside her mind, and she welcomed the painless thought with open paws. She couldn’t be affecting him in such a way, could she? Perhaps he just slept on the wrong side of the nest, or was being overly cautious. Despite the fact that her mind searched for another answer, it lingered on it being a ‘fault’ of hers. She chuckled slightly, and shook her head only slightly. 
It was only now that she realized something. She was acting differently as well. She was quite aware of her own personality and tendencies, and typically, she didn’t have such prolonged social interactions with others, especially someone so out of her league as Windsear, the hero apprentice, the top moor-runner, son of a past deputy. What was she thinking? She suddenly felt a pang of nerves, and realized how much more intimidating this hunt was going to be. She suddenly felt as if she needed to prove herself to him, show him why she was a moor-runner. Something inside Dancingwhisper needed to be seen, which was just so odd. The normally shadowed damsel felt the need to be noticed, instead of hiding in the shadows, and she didn’t really know how to react to this information. Even as she thought it, she felt like she needed to dismiss this feeling. She closed her eyes and imagined Windsear, with his strong legs and lean, muscled form. Just by looking at him, you could see his superiority over her. She had no chance! But still, she felt a competitive flare awaken inside her. She wouldn’t do better than him, of course, but she could make herself at least seem capable. 
As her thoughts branched in a million directions, she became aware once again of just how odd she was acting. She felt so different, so much calmer. But it wasn’t just that. She felt freed, as if she could do, think, or be anything. She could be confident in her ability, she could try her best at this hunt, and she could show him just how capable she was.
This time, her thoughts did not fade. They attempted to overwhelm her senses, and she only pushed them away as slow pawsteps reached her. Windsear had come to his own senses, and was walking up to her, slowing as he aligned with her. Their pelts were a mouse-tail-lengths away, and she couldn’t help but feel the urge to give him a playful bump. It was so odd, this freedom she felt. It made her want to act in such a different way. Instead, she smiled at him, a genuine smile that spread her muzzle and sparked her eyes. He blinked back, his eyes warm and comforting. She wanted to sink into the sight of them, alight with the fire that his pupils brought. Her tail bounced back and forth, drifting closer and closer to his.
"Care to take the lead? I'll be happy to support any catch you make."
Dancingwhisper’s eyes widened slightly, shocked he trusted her to make the call. Let alone to take the lead. He knows he’s the top moor-runner, why is he asking me to do it? What if I screw up? Her past confidence faded almost immediately, and she felt herself falling from her higher state of mind, and back into the grasp of her thoughts; them. She shook the thoughts away with a burst of focus, and instead nodded, though her eyes were laced with hesitancy. She took a few cautious steps forward, creeping her way up the slope with silent paws. She wasn’t necessarily crouched, but her legs were bent slightly as she made her way up and towards the moorlands, nose twitching as she made her way up.ㅤ
She went still as a scent ran over her nose, and she searched it, distinguishing it within moments, though it felt like ages. Rabbit, ahead of me… perhaps a few tail lengths? As soon as she found the source of the smell, she fell into a hunter’s crouch, legs bent, tail lowered, head fallen down to her paws. She perked her ears forward, bending her head forward further. She took a few more cautious steps forward, beginning to make her war through the long grass. Before she came too close to the rabbit, she raised her tail slightly, pointed to Windsear, then the estimated location of the rabbit, then to the moors past the rabbit. Fear clung to the edges of her thoughts, and nerves gnawed at her fur. I haven’t hunted with another cat since my apprentice days… what if I signaled wrong? What if I did it too fast, what if he didn’t understand? She hoped that by running the rabbit into his paws, she could make it more of his catch then hers. After all, if she made a mistake, he could fix it in a heartbeat. He was Windsear after all.
She turned away from him and back towards where she estimated the rabbit to be. Taking a steadying breath, through her nose as to keep quiet, she imagined the rabbit in her head, using her senses to determine what it was doing. Her ears perked, and her nose twitched as she closed her eyes.
An image leapt into her mind, one that her imagination created through the information her senses took in. Her ears twitched, and the image adjusted. The rabbit was likely bent over, nibbling on something on the ground. A root or herb, perhaps? She did not know. The rabbit’s scent washed over her nostrils again as the wind pushed it towards her. She waited many moments to ensure that Windsear had gotten into a position, whether it was the one she had hoped for or not. A final breath went through her nose, and she began to creep forward again. The longer she could be unknown to the rabbit, the more likely they were to catch it. She took a few more steps, then slowed. She was perhaps a tail-length, maybe two, away from the rabbit. She could see it now, peering through the tall grass. It was bent over, back to her, nibbling on some sort of plant. A smile crept across her muzzle, and she was about to take another step forward when the rabbit’s head snapped up, tall ears extending upwards. Mouse dung! The damsel cursed inwardly, and prepped her legs to give chase. The rabbit turned towards her, beady eyes widening, before it bolted in the other direction.
Please StarClan, tell me I told him the right thing! She pleaded, before leaping after the rabbit, beginning to give chase.
Windsear:
The dark tom had settled only a few mouse-tails away once Dancingwhisper had set off, her maw parted to catch any roaming scents before she trotted off. The tom knew he likely should follow her lead and help her search, but he found his thoughts tying his paws to the floor. What a graceful cat! He found himself praising as her strides slowed until she was wriggling herself into a crouched position. The way her fur moved and each paw-step landing with a soft patter had the tom entranced so much so that he was left far behind before he'd realized and came back to his senses. His whiskers were twitching as his thoughts swarmed, his tail fidgeting to the point it swept along the tall-grass, rattling the fronds and likely scaring off whatever chance of prey may have settled in wait nearby him.
He cursed himself once he realized, forcing his tail away and slapping it against his flank, before he forced his paws to move.
He galloped up, slowing his pace as he neared Dancingwhisper. Throwing his body into a sloppy crouch he slowed, his tail tucked and untwitching against the overgrowth as he steadied himself in position. Windsear risked a glance back at his companion, his gold-shade eyes growing warm like the sun at her appearance. Focus, hare-brain! He forced his gaze back over the stretch. He wasn't even sure what she was stalking. I'm like a distracted feather-brained apprentice! He found his claws slipping from their sheaths and kneading the floor he crouched upon, his narrow eyes growing into sharp slits once he'd finally managed to peer upon the prey. He waited silently for her command, his eyes fixed on her haunches as he awaited a signal. Truthfully he wasn't sure if she was the type of cat to use signals, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. What do I know? I'm just the tom drooling over her so much that I'm going to ruin this catch. He nodded, his head moving so faintly it might not have been evident he even acknowledged it to her.
She must be experienced with leading patrols if she was used to using her tail for orders, something even Windsear had only faint practice with. I hunt alone, usually. It might not hurt to take part in patrols from now on though- who knows what other cats I've been ignoring my whole life?
He didn't take much time wondering before he'd crept off in the opposite direction. His paws felt as if they touched cloud where he tread, his heart pattering against his ribs and rattling their song within his mind, and the tom found himself flattening his ears as if it would force his thoughts to silence. His paws felt clumsy and huge when he placed them, cringing inwardly at every move he made wrong, his failure singed every hair on his pelt. I'm like a badger hunting today! What's the matter with me? If he didn't manage to sort his thoughts soon he might blow this for both of them, and he couldn't imagine the embarrassment when all he wished to do was impress.
But how can I focus? I'm hunting with Dancingwhisper for Starclan's sake! He felt as if all his training had vanished in the blink of an eye, his paws lost and his mind foggy with doubt. What if I mess this up tremendously? He risked a glance back towards Dancingwhisper, who was beginning to slowly creep towards him. Will she be upset with me?
He didn't have time to think on it, as within seconds his worst fears were realized with the bursting wind that sprung at him as the rabbit seemed to notice Dancingwhisper just a heartbeat too soon. He'd been watching as she pounced, missing the hare by only a mouse-tail and swishing her tail furiously before giving chase, rocketing straight towards him. His wide eyes slid to the prey which jerked aside upon noticing him, rocketing off in the opposite direction. Forcing his paws to move, he leapt to action, though his pumping limbs felt slow and sloppy, his paws landing heavily on the ground and his breath failing to regulate. His tail bounced with his jerking movements, his breath catching in his throat and choking him. He could hear Dancingwhisper gaining on him, rising up to race side-by-side. He couldn't help but purr, his ears twitching with delight. This is so fun, her and I hunting together? We'd make the perfect couple.
His thoughts raced until he wasn't chasing a hare anymore, instead lost in whatever made up land the tom could manage to think up.
He was forced from his lovely dream-like state as his paws lost their structure under him, his right paw slipping beneath the Earth and breath coming in a sharp gasp as pain shot up his leg, his paw throbbing with pain as it crunched, buckling under him and slipping into a hollow hole of Earth, something the tom could've never seen coming. He landed heavily atop his paw, his teeth gnashing as pain roared in his ears. Great Silkstar's frigid grave! He couldn't imagine anything worse happening. As his body landed with a heavy thud on top of itself, he jerked his paw free from the burrow he'd stumbled in, shaking it out and wincing as he sheathed his claws. Great one, feather-brain. He snarled to himself. Why wasn't he able to pay attention? He'd never made such a stupid mistake before! Perchlichen would be so disappointed had he seen that, was he watching from Starclan now, his gaze darkened with disappointment? He glanced back towards Dancingwhisper, who had jerked in surprise, her eyes wide as she peered back at him.
"I'm fine!"
He meowed quickly. He offered her a warm smile, giggling at his own stupidity. "I wasn't paying attention. Keep going without me, you got this!" He swished his tail, his eyes bright with his amusement as he struggled to his paws. His twisted paw was wrenched painfully, and he struggled to put pressure on it, so he forced himself on his haunches so he could rest it. He hoped Dancingwhisper wouldn't pity him and let the hare get away just because he'd made a fool of himself. How did I even manage that? Glancing back at the burrow, he felt his fur prickling with irritation. It wasn't even a hare's burrow, it was the entrance to one of the tunnels, something he should have been well aware of the placement of. Haven't I leapt over this exact hole? He could scent Shallowshrine faintly from the walls. How had he missed something so obvious? He bit back a hiss directed at himself. What reason did he have to be upset, though? Cats made mistakes, it happened all the time. I've never hissed at a cat for messing something up, it's impossible to be perfect. But how had he of all cats managed to eat dirt? I haven't lost my footing to a burrow since I was six moons old. What had Dancingwhisper done to him to have him falling over his own paws? Surely a molly with power like that was a force to be reckoned with. His whiskers twitched playfully at the thought. That must've been funny to see.
Dancingwhisper:
Hunting had always inspired nerves in the young damsel, whether or not she was hunting alone. But now that she had the pressure of another in her watch, her nerves had skyrocketed quite high. Not to mention that the cat she was blessed to be in the presence of was Windsear, the most competent and skilled moor-runner in the clan. Heroic and capable, dedicated and intelligent- he seemed to have no wrongs. To Dancingwhisper, who was basically the clumsiest and stupidest of all her clanmates, (at least, she thought so), this was quite a terrifying situation she had found herself in. Although, no matter who she would’ve been around while hunting, she likely would’ve been quite frantic. It didn’t help that the amber-furred tom near her was quite interesting to her. He sparked her curiosity in a way that no cat had before. In fact, since she was old enough to even think about becoming the mate of another, it had never crossed her mind. She had been quite unimpressed by all possible suitors, and the thought never even came to her most of the time. She had been too busy worrying about her duties, and attempting to prove herself to the clan after her mother and father’s passing. As estimated, having one parent die and one parent run away was quite mysterious, and suspicious. Unfortunately, while this suspicion should be placed on the possible suspect, it occasionally got turned on her instead. For a few moons after she received her full name, she had noticed the looks, whispers, and ignorance she received from some. Thankfully, however, it faded quickly, and many forgot about her parent’s entirely, which was something she was truly grateful for. During the Clan’s short grieving period, she had been quite overwhelmed by many cats coming over and wishing her the best. It had been distracting, annoying even, especially while she was proving herself.
Not to mention the fact that she simply didn’t care about the passing of her mother and the disappearance of her father. It was not out of malicious intent, of course, she simply had no connection. She felt the amount of grief one would feel for the prey they slaughtered with their own paws- momentary grief, followed by a moment of silence for them, and gratitude. Unfortunately, the removal of her parent’s from her life was quite helpful. It hid away a layer of emotion, and in fact, Dancingwhisper had momentarily become more dedicated then ever- less reactive to anything. It was bliss, until the ‘grief’ faded and she returned to normal. Nowadays, even that was fading, and it scared her. The possibility of being her true self around everyone, especially those she had little interaction with, was terrifying. She hated the idea of someone giving her a dirty look for her laugh, or perhaps sigh in annoyance at a word that flew from her muzzle unexpectedly. 
But even so, this moment, the moment where she got to be around such a heroic cat, it felt amazing. She got to be herself, but instead of feeling terrifying, it felt comfortable. It felt like a bliss she had been forced away from for so long. Despite the fact that he felt so out of her league, she couldn’t ignore her attraction to him. The way his short fur rippled across his pelt, his amber eyes that gave way to fire as the sun hit them, his pleasant way of speaking that was both humorous and hesitant, and the sheer ability he had to make her smile. His scent was hypnotizing, the comforting and warm mixture of pinecones and rose wood, accompanied by the smell of a cool wind. It reminded her of running through the forest, leaping over logs and under tree branches. A smile spread across her muzzle as she let herself loose to her thoughts.
The ‘thought’ version of herself was bounding through the forest at an unimaginable speed, leaping swiftly over any obstacle in her. The tree branches hung low, threatening to slice at her ears and tear at her pelt. But she avoided them with ease, making it look so easy. Before long, loud pawsteps came thundering behind this version of her, and she turned her head back to see him, following and leaping in the same swift beauty she had. They ran together for many moments, muzzles wide with smiles and eyes gleaming with focus and unyield. Their ears were lowered to avoid getting caught, but the rest of their expressions were too excited to show any sort of unhappiness. Soon, the forest faded away to sunny, flower-filled moors, and their speed only increased, strides becoming long and paws hitting the earth in syncopated ‘booms’. Then the moors began to fall away, transforming into a grassy cliff, so much like the coast they were now on. The two slowed down, their sprint becoming a trot, before their speed faded into walking completely. For a moment, they stood, panting and catching their breath, before the two looked at each other. Smiles returning, they nuzzled up against each other, lowering until they were both laying together in the beautiful grass, watching as the sun set in the most brilliant tones of orange and yellow. Dancingwhisper rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his tail in hers. 
Dancingwhisper let out a soft sigh, comforted by the sheer thought. Though she hadn’t allowed herself to accept the attraction she felt to the tom somewhere out in the field, she gave herself permission to feel comforted at the thought of being his. 
It was only now she realized, once again, that her thoughts had consumed her, in the middle of a hunt. I’m such a mouse-brain, focus up! She spat to herself, rearing from her mind and focusing back on the hunt. Out of some sheer luck, she was still close to the rabbit, her strides long, focused, and powered with hope. A few tail lengths from the rabbit, she fought the urge to pounce. I could never, it would slip out of my grasp. I have to hope Windsear is in position. As she neared the spot she hoped he was at, she smiled as an amber-furred blur leapt into position beside her, catching gain on the rabbit and getting a bit closer. However, his pawsteps were messy, tail fumbling in the air, slowing him down. Attempting to focus on both her fellow hunter and the rabbit, confusion glimmered in her gaze. What is he doing-? She forced herself to focus on the prey, hoping that everything would be fine. He knew what he was doing after all, he was a top moor-runner. A strategy of his perhaps? As the tom slowed, she raised her speed in an attempt to make up for it. Catching up to him quite quickly, she let her pace get slower just a tad, enough for her to keep shoulder-to-shoulder with the tom. Giving a short, playful smile, she focused back on the rabbit, preparing herself to push the rest of the way, and catch the rabbit.
However, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Windsear fumble, his body twisting over itself and landing on his front paw. She winced, and slowed dramatically, jerking to the side in a reaction. What just happened?! Giving only a moment of thought to the now-injured feline, she noticed his paw was stuck in a tunnel entrance. After getting caught, his leg must’ve buckled underneath him.
Though it was only milliseconds of reaction time, the young damsel fought between the two sides of her mind. Should she ensure that he’s alright, and lose the rabbit? Or should she push as hard as she could, hoping that she could find some last minute speed and return to check on him later? Stuck in her mind, and unknowing of her next decision, she was relieved when Windsear spoke, ensuring he was fine. Dancingwhisper took that as an opportunity, and leapt back after the rabbit.
Fighting with her mind, she forced her legs to really run, using her long limbs to propel herself as hard as she possibly could. She could see the rabbit, though it was now many tail-lengths away. As she forced herself to even attempt and catch it, her mind spat at her, saying she couldn’t. How was she supposed to catch this rabbit? She could feel exhaustion creeping into her limbs, and her paws called out for mercy as they pounded across the earth like claps of thunder, a storm of speed and dust flown into the air. As she attempted to focus for the millionth time, she noticed something ahead, and thanked StarClan above.
A sloped rock lay ahead of her, quite a bit ahead of the rabbit. It was a low slope, not very steep whatsoever, and was close to being flat, but it had just enough of an incline that could give her some serious momentum. Her mind clicked to action, and raced through opportunities and situations. Calculating how long she had, she began to veer off the course of the rabbit and slightly to the side. It was quite the precarious action, as she didn’t want to push the rabbit too far to one side. If she did, the hunt would be lost, and she would return to Windsear with nothing. A true balancing act of slowly getting in line with the slope, and truly hoping the rabbit felt as tired as she did. 
Thankfully, as she came close to the slope, she saw the rabbit begin to slow, its ears lowering and strides becoming just a tad shorter, just enough that this might be possible.
For the last time, she forced herself to give everything she could, bolting towards the slope. As she powered over it, she slowed just enough to leap off the edge, and propel herself out and into the air. As she leaped, she felt her paws just about take flight in the air, and she felt weightless, though she wasn’t too far off the ground. Attempting to fling herself to the side, she came in line with the rabbit, and began to fall, extending her paws outwards.
Please, StarClan, don’t let me die! She pleaded, though it was quite dramatic. In reality, she was perhaps a few tail-lengths off the ground, and it was a short fall, but it was quite terrifying to the molly who had never attempted something such as this. Extending her claws, and shutting her eyes in fear, she heard the prey let out a short and cut-off squeak as her paws hit the earth. The air was taken from her chest almost immediately, and she let out a harsh exhale of breath as she rolled once, twice, and landed on her stomach, paws extended and head resting on the dusty earth.
She leaped up almost immediately, turning to inspect the rabbit. It was struggling quite a bit, though it couldn’t move. She was unaware of what exactly she had done to it, but her muzzle twisted into a wince. The poor thing looked like it was in quite a lot of pain, and for a moment, Dancingwhisper imagined how the rabbit felt. Reaching down as quickly as she could, she released the thing from it’s misery, watching as its twitching limbs went still. Wincing herself, and shaking out her paws momentarily, she grabbed the rabbit by the scruff and began to trot back to the tom. Her legs called out in pain, feeling as if they were on fire. She could tell she wasn’t necessarily ‘injured’, but she had definitely pushed faster than normal. Her tail bobbed behind her, drooping slightly, and her tongue was out, panting and attempting to catch her breath as she neared Windsear. She didn’t even want to imagine how disastrous she looked, and simply hoped the hunt wasn’t too embarrassing on her part. Dropping the rabbit at his paws, she lowered her haunches into a rough sitting position. Worry crossed her features, and she lowered into more of a crouch, matching his height.
“I’m sorry I left- I didn’t want to lose the rabbit.” She looked down on it, and a pitiful sigh escaped her muzzle. It was an average sized rabbit, but considering how much effort they both had put into catching it, it wasn’t quite worth it. She looked up at him, muzzle tilted in a slight frown. “I really am sorry. You can have most of it as my last apology.”
She looked genuinely sorry, though she hadn’t quite done anything wrong. Her muzzle was turned into a saddened expression, eyes having lost their normal gleam. She attempted to give him a weak smile, but guilt ate it up within seconds. She sighed again, looking down at her paws, and lapped her chest fur in embarrassment.
Windsear:
The russet tom hadn't moved a whisker from his fallen position as he watched Dancingwhisper take off once more. He was thankful she didn't stop, honestly. How would I feel if I'd ruined a good catch because I wasn't watching? He glanced down at his paw, which he could feel now was clearly sprained. Putting pressure on it wasn't even an option in the tom's mind, let alone trying to keep pace with his companion. Instead, despite all it took to force himself to do it, he settled. He curled his tail over his flank and was drowsily grooming his sore paw, his wide gold eyes still locked on her pelt. He could see her now, she was racing down the hill and her speed was near doubling. He felt his heart racing, soaring as she took the pounce, his maw grew dry with the anticipation. He couldn't see the hare now, and he craned his neck curiously, wondering if she'd managed. His heart stayed unpounding as she flew through the air, his breath baited. Her fur flew out against her, the length giving her pelt the appearance of sprouting wings encasing her, outstretching with flight.
The fur that draped from behind her ears was fluffed up now, giving her the appearance of a plumy, snow-white mane, and her long legs curled and outstretched, her thin, beautiful frame so delicately detailed by sunlight he felt his blood pulse hard.
Yes! He wanted to let out a yowl of triumphant once she landed, all four paws struck ground, but he could no longer see her. She got it, surely. He was just thrilled to see it, her catch. He lapped a long pink tongue over his rough, warm pad again before he made an effort to move himself, scooting up with his chest rather than making any effort to rise to his paws. He hadn't made it far by the time her ears reappeared, her gorgeous face following. His heart thrummed with excitement, soaring up his throat and out of his maw in a loud yowl of praise as the scent of prey matched the body she drug towards him. Ignoring the pain in his sprained paw, he forced himself to stand, his limp pad turned inwards in a scooped-like visual as he limped closer.
"That was incredible!" He breathed, his eyes bright and shining with admiration as she settled it at her paws. Ducking his head to sniff the catch, his brow rose. It's a healthy one, too. Must've taken a strong bite to get through all the muscle. His gaze slid towards Dancingwhisper, who's own muzzle was untouched, not a whisker curled ary or a tuft of fur out of place. No blood trickled from either- a merciful killing, fast and painless.
This will be splendid prey for the clan. He gave her a warm smile, offering up his praise once more. He swished his tail in dismissal at her apologies, his round ears twisting. "'Sorry?' Oh, no. I'm glad you didn't wait up on me." He purred, his voice full of genuine warmth, his eyes shimmered the same feeling, it brought warmth to his face once more. "That was such a great kill- has any cat ever told you how fast you are? And that pounce... I'd have never- I'm scared of heights, did I tell you that? That jump was..." He seemed lost for words, his gaze landing on her soft blue eyes. They brought a comfort to his pelt he couldn't find anywhere else, and he practically melted into it, his words coming out of his maw breathlessly. "Incredible." He finished, his belly fluttering once more with that common anxiety. He welcomed it now, though. She deserves to know she did good, she's a fantastic hunter... His gaze traced his own paw again, wincing at her next phrase.
"Err, thank you, but." His whiskers fizzled as he paused briefly, ducking his head. "I'm the cat that almost lost us this prey. And besides," he shot a glance back over his shoulder, he didn't want to see her scowl at his next phrase. No other cat has ever respected the Prairies' Promise like I do, will she give me the same cuffing over my ears for the reminder? He scrunched up his muzzle, taking in a breath before he took his chances. "Queens, kits, and Nurses must be fed first, remember? I believe it still might be a bit early to be positive each one of them has filled their bellies." The sentence came out awkward, and he braced himself to hear her groan, he didn't want to meet her gaze in case she rolled her eyes.
It's the whole reason Silkstar blesses us day by day with her strength! Without the Prairies Promise, what are we? What was the point in picking which rules to follow depending on the day, or how which cat felt about each rule? Silkstar didn't save them just for them to fall astray now, they've been at this whole "clan" thing for centuries at this point, the rules have always been preserved- there was nothing that needed changing. In my opinion, at least. He hadn't realized he'd been staring off into mist, quickly he returned his gaze to her. Forcing his injured paw down, he rolled it out, wincing visibly at the sharp pain that stabbed, but he forced the thought out of his mind.
"I'll make up for almost losing this by catching something else. The sooner we get back to camp, the sooner we'll have our answer, right?" He curled his tail over his flank as he awkwardly hobbled forward, each stride bringing him more misery than the last. Forcing himself back down, he added again, his voice loud and confident to hide his anguish; "you did great again, by the way. I'd love to share it with you if the kits don't need it, if that's what you'd like- of course." He smiled boyishly over his shoulder at her before he forced himself back on, his body slipping into a crouch before his deep-hued pelt had vanished entirely from view within the Tall Grass, his black tipped tail the only give thar flickered between the expanse of land every few paw steps.
He was gritting his teeth against the pain, but it was easing now as he stretched it. He rolled each toe in turn, stretching the tendon and twisting at the wrist to ease the sharpness faster, his breath still and quiet as he slowly picked his way across the moors. He wanted Dancingwhisper to watch this one- he wanted to impress her this time.
Dancingwhisper:
Morning shifted to afternoon in the quick blink of an eye, the early light strengthening and beginning to grow. Though the harsh and thick clouds now hid mostly all of the light, it at least seemed a little bit later in the day. The wind had picked up now, racing through the territory and tearing at trees and bushes, even the strongest. Leaves and branches bent in submission to the beast of the breeze that had quite honestly come out of nowhere. Though the wind was strong, it left no dent in the fog that began to coat every inch of land miles in each direction. It left any cat fumbling for their sense of direction, and filled the eyes and ears of all. In all honesty, it was very annoying, especially to a hunter such as Dancingwhisper. It distracted her more than she already was, but thankfully, her own hunt may now be over.
As she padded back towards the auburn-furred tom, she felt a dull pain begin to creep into her legs, and instant aching-soreness that slithered through her muscles and stilled. It was obvious that her legs would be very unhappy for the next few days. A groan made its way out of her muzzle, in-between sharp pants and quick inhales of breath. Though a run like that should’ve left her unbelievably exhausted, she felt alive as she ever could be. Perhaps it was the idea that she had caught the rabbit after such a hesitation, or maybe it was simply the cool temperatures that gave her more energy than she ever expected. Or maybe it was even the tom she was now padding to now, whose face was coated in shock. A smirk grew on her muzzle as she felt proven to herself. After such a slow start, she really had caught that rabbit. It was shocking to even her. She was fully aware of her speed and leaping capabilities, but she had no idea she could hunt in such a way. Was it practical? Of course not. That hunt alone would leave her sore and aching for at least a quarter of the moon, which was hardly effective if she was to keep up on her abilities, but it was amazing. It had felt amazing. She felt so courageous, so confident in herself she couldn’t even explain it. Without a thought, her chin lifted, a hushed and prideful gesture. Her neck became lengthened, her fluffy white fur almost seemed to grow. Her smirk shifted to a gleeful smile, and her joy radiated off of her in waves. Almost immediately, her posture re-adjusted. Her tail was raised, ears tilted upwards, paws trotting high. Her excitement was contagious, as was her smile. 
But as she neared the tom, she was reminded that she had abandoned him and focused on the catch instead of the health of a clanmate, and embarrassment flooded her features within seconds. Any prideful posture vanished, and her tail drooped behind her. Soon enough, she was a mere tail’s length in front of him, and she dropped the prey, apologizing profusely. She hadn’t even let him speak before she was apologizing, and quite honestly begging for forgiveness. She lowered her haunches into a sitting position as her speaking slowed and faded off, allowing time for the tom to respond.
But he was beaming with admiration, his tone overflowing with surprise and glee. It shocked the fluff-furred molly, and she only watched him for many moments, eyes wide as a deer. Her enlargened eyes watched as he even dismissed her apology, and she couldn’t help but smile. If she hadn’t come out on this hunting trip with him, Dancingwhisper wouldn’t have noticed just how kind Windsear was. In passing, he had seemed overconfident, prideful, perhaps even cocky. But now, he seemed so empathetic and energetic, sharing praise and congratulations with her for something she felt she should be punished for. He shared the same amount of excitement at the catch she had, which was truly surprising. He ignored his pain, did not blame, and just celebrated with her. It was refreshing, and a beautiful thing to witness. It was nothing special, true, but it brought true joy to Dancingwhisper and she smiled.
Her smile only faltered when he mentioned they should bring the prey to camp instead. She winced, and embarrassment flooded her, again. Of course- why am I such a flee-brain right now?! She forced out a sigh, and let the thoughts escape her for the moment. When she was alone, she would likely go over the thought over and over, punishing herself for something that truly wasn’t a big deal. But for now, she would focus on the moment instead. Speaking of the moment, she looked down at Windsear’s injured paw, and worry coarsed through her. As he mentioned hunting himself, she stood abruptly, speaking with fretfully-laced tone.
“ Woah woah woah, shouldn’t you get back to camp? Maybe Peachpurr should take a look at your paw, it doesn’t look so good- and your fall was pretty bad.” Her eyes were narrowed, as if she was searching the tom for any other injuries. Other than his paw, though, his beautifully-golden fur seemed untouched, though a bit ruffled. 
She groaned as the tom kept going, quite obviously unworried by his quite severe injury. As he trotted off, she lifted her head towards the clouds, and was surprised as a single teardrop landed on the tip of her nose. She let out a hushed sneeze, and shook her fur out. Inhaling sharply, a smile grew across her muzzle. The scent of rain had accompanied the flaring wind. Perhaps we really should get going, this storm doesn’t seem like it’s going to be merciful.
“Be careful, Windsear! The storm is getting near, we really should get back to camp!” She called after him, and lowered her haunches into a sitting position. Hopefully, this hunt will be easy and quick. She had a patrol to be a part of after all, and this storm made her very nervous. Though she loved the rain, it seemed this storm was going to be much more than a light drizzle.
Windsear:
Windsear had felt a rush as she smiled, he could see the glee plastered on her face as clear as if she'd expressed it aloud. He felt his pelt craving her warmth as he forced himself away, and he hated to hear her fret over him, but he smiled reassuringly. I'll be fine! He wished he'd brushed his muzzle against her as he left, he felt like he should've as he turned away from her, but determination flared so hot in his chest he could hardly manage to feel over it, the throbbing in his paw felt eased. 
"I'll be quick, I promise!" He called to her through the parted glade, his eyes shined with affection momentarily before he tore it away, despite how hard it was to do so. She brought a new energy to him that he wasn't sure he could do without. As he crept through the moors, he felt passion welling inside him, and for a moment he thought he'd lose his composure and start leaping around like a kit. He forced his fur flat though, and he tensed his body into position, his red pelt burned like rust in the wavering light, and though mist grew wide beyond them, everything was clear and bright as far as Windsear saw, the extent of his joy knew no bounds.
He was giddy and on the verge of skipping in joy once he'd spotted something, he wasn't even entirely sure what it was as he crept towards it.
His maw parted to pick out the scent, golden eyes narrowing as he positioned himself comfortably with his injured paw, testing it and keeping weight off it if it stung. Tasting the air once more as he drew closer he recognized the scent of sparrow, and his eyes traced the long tail and sharpened beak as it pecked at something beneath it. The bird was small and not impressive on it's own, but the fact that he was downwind of it would make the catch that much harder. If he tried to move into position behind it it would see him, and he could only pray to Silkstar to keep it's beak busy so he had enough time to creep close. He was quick as he slowly advanced, his tail tucked so tight under him it may as well have fused into his body. He was slow and moved as silent as a shadow, his red pelt barely moving as he inched closer, his body so tight on itself that he barely moved. Despite it all, the sparrow blinked in sudden surprise and turned towards him.
He didn't waste a heartbeat as he started forward, the bird had looked directly at him. His determination carried him several yards forward before the bird had even been able to react, and as it lifted into the air Windsear leapt at the same time, using his speed to send him flying through the air at an intense speed.
The tom extended his body as far out as it could go, his pelt slicked against his fur as wind encapsulated him, his claws extended and grazed feathers as he'd grown closer, but he missed it by only a whisker. As soon as he'd fallen he kicked his hind legs into a bunched position, jumping straight upwards from the bird's original position and flying a ray of light through the air, his claws slapped one side of the bird and he dug claws into it's feather, just barely managing to force it down. Windsear landed on top of it, forcing it under him and breaking it's neck on impact as he slammed it into the ground, he landed unsteadily.
He rose his tail in excitement as he stared down at the catch, as sloppy as it had been to get it. If he had been any other cat, or if he had not been fueled by his determination to show off, he would've never even thought to attempt this catch. It was difficult in its own right, possibly dangerous due to the territory, and he'd been in the worst possible spot to catch it once he'd found it. Yet he'd done it, and he felt the moons of training like an honor, he wore it proud on his pelt. He turned back to where Dancingwhisper was seated a decent length in the distance, and he rose his tail higher, hoping she'd seen. He started back and dropped the prey at her paws once he'd made it, his whiskers twitched excitedly.
"This is specifically for you, if no other cat needs it." He rose his head pridefully, hoping the prize would not be denied. He pushed it towards her and, quickly turning to the hare, he crept over it and swished his tail. He knew she might not have room for the bird after they shared the rabbit, but he really wanted her to have it. I could pluck the feathers out for her nest. He thought hopefully, his eyes shone as he smiled with glee. I guess she doesn't need to eat it if she doesn't want to. He'd need to find out her favorite prey, he was hoping he might be lucky on his first try with the sparrow, though he'd have preferred to get the molly a juicy, plump, delicious one. He'd always keep an eye out for her favorite prey if he was hunting, perhaps she'd enjoy the gesture of always having her favorite meal to return to after a hard day.
Dancingwhisper:
The young, fluffy molly watched Windsear bound off, worry gnawing at her thoughts with a prickling ache. She watched him limp on the paw, though as he walked more and more, he seemed to become much more comfortable with using it. Her tail flicked behind her, and she lowered her haunches to sit. Attempting to distract herself in anyway possible, she looked up to the cloudy sky. She hoped that by looking at the coming rain, she would feel intrigued to fall into her thoughts, but it only worried her more. The clouds were becoming very stormy, and their anger came off of them as their color darkened. They were thick and heavy with rain, but the moor-runner suspected much more than rain would come from them when the storm finally arrived. The high afternoon sun gleamed from behind those clouds, though it was easily hidden by the harsh cover that threatened to snuff out their light completely. Only at this thought did her mind branch off in another direction, allowing her a break from her endless worry.
She was the kind of molly who often fell off into loops and loops of thought, enough entertainment to last her a moon. She got this from her mother, she suspected, and that trait alone had made her such a poor mother. This scared Dancingwhisper in a way, and she often feared she would become more like her parental. Nerinenose had been so absent in her life, a kind of ignorance and bad parenting that her daughter simply couldn’t explain. It didn’t seem to match up against any parents who truly treated their children horribly, so Dancingwhisper had never complained about it. Even if she had someone who she felt comfortable to speak with about it, she in no way wanted to seem like a gossiper. She was a people-pleaser at heart, and that was easy to see. The idea of hurting others' image of her, or hurting them themselves was petrifying. She could never shake away that fear, that freezing moment of terror during a conversation where she simply couldn;t speak, couldn’t respond, couldn’t let a real and original thought escape her mind in fear that it would hurt the cat across from her, or disgust them in a way she could never repair. Scare the relationship away, scar it where no herb could force it to disappear, open a wound that no prayer could heal.
Her train of thought stopped abruptly as she looked up, eyes focusing on Windsear once again, who was creeping close to a bird now. Windsear… She thought over his name for a few moments, rolling it over and over in her mind, searching through it to find meaning, to find a special reason for its existence. Perhaps there was something she could learn from it, a train she could unearth or an ability she could find. But even after searching for what felt like ages, but was really milliseconds, nothing spoke to her. She sighed, but let the name linger in her thoughts, stay fresh in her mind. She sat like that for a moment as Windsear got even closer… and then it hit her like a fallen tree. She had never felt that petrifying moment with him. Even in the beginning, when she had felt so paranoid when it came to coming up with a response, she had still felt freedom. Her thoughts and replies had come quickly, though they were a bit clumsy, and they rolled off her tongue like sap off a tree. She had never felt the true terror, the freezing up in a conversation. Only once had her negative thoughts enveloped her, but when she was with him, she had the strength to force that away. That was such a special thing, something she couldn’t replace. She couldn’t force it any other way. 
What was she supposed to do with that information? It was crucial to her, it held such a high stake in her mind… the true question was, why? Why was she like that with him? Why did she feel it was so easy, so simple to talk with him when that had never been the case with any other cat, not even her own mother and father. What was it that was just so special, so different, so unique and comforting that made her feel so comfortable around him. It by no means did she feel above him, neither in skill nor intelligence, it was quite the opposite. She felt beneath him in so many ways… so why was comfort so easy coming to her? It was mind-numbing, it was jarring, it was simply indescribable. 
She just gave up with that train of thought, quite blatantly. She didn’t allow any more energy to feed into that, and focused on him instead. Her eyes were trained on him fiercely. She was interested to see how he would hunt, and was excited to see his own success. Perhaps they could bring their catches to the feet of Dawnstar herself, and allow her to show her true pride. Perhaps for once, she could feel proud of herself. It had been a hard catch, afterall. For once, maybe she could feel well-trained and prepared for her role. Her heartbeat quickened as the sparrow caught site of the tom, and her mind flashed a silent alarm. But Windsear reacted within seconds, leaping to catch the sparrow. It was ambitious, for sure. Most hunters would’ve given up at that moment. As the amber-furred tom missed the sparrow by a mouse-whisker, the sparrow forced all of its ability into its wingbeats, gaining some air.
Surely he lost it, no hare could leap that high! But Dancingwhisper was quite wrong indeed. As the tom had fallen, he had immediately prepared his muscles and leaped higher into the air then Dancingwhisper had ever seen. He fell with unbelievable grace, landing on the bird with a quick blow. It was dead. He had caught it- it was incredible.
He’s incredible- how did he?! Her mind was stopped in it’s tracks, frozen like a deer in the blinding light of a monster. She couldn’t respond, she couldn’t even create a response. Ironic, this freezing moment. But it wasn’t of fear, it was of utter shock and admiration. He’s gotta teach me that- I wanna be as incredible as him. She melted into pure shock and disbelief. She wanted to run to the tom and go on and on about how talented he was… he was the top moor-runner for a reason.
But he trotted over, dropping the catch at her paws. It was a gesture she couldn’t even fathom, and she felt so absolutely blessed, it shone in her every being. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, allowing him to finish. Her gaze shone with pure admiration. It was so unlike the shy molly, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to be with this cat more often. It was so comforting, it was so exhilarating, it was so… enticing, like a spell. He was a spell of pure bliss and gleeful expression. She wanted to wrap herself in his short, beautifully-golden fur that had shone so brightly during their last meeting. But she didn’t allow herself to get too caught up in it.
Her response was all of a purr, her tail flicking as she got close to the tom, breathing out a shocked sigh. “My catch was incredible? That was kit’s play compared to yours… that leap?!” She sat absolutely breathless, and her ears lowered. “ Your leap was StarClan worthy… no wonder you are the top moor-runner. You’re unbeatable. “ She ran her tail tip down the tom’s side, a praiseful gesture that took such courage from the molly she was shocked she had done it. She looked up to him, and prayed he wouldn’t be made uncomfortable by it. It just felt so, natural.
“Should we head back? Or, would you like to chat some more?” Though she knew their duty was to hunt and return for her patrol, she secretly hoped they could talk more. Speaking with the tom was just so exhilarating. It was so enticing that she wanted to be around it for the rest of her life. She wanted to wake only to have a conversation with him for all of the day, then repeat it all again the next morning. If I had to choose one cat to be around forever, it might be him. She laughed to herself, she was getting way ahead. But it was true, it felt true. She even hoped and prayed he felt similar, though she knew it was unlikely. She was probably being dramatic anyway.
Windsear:
Windsear felt the weight of her joy as if she'd crashed into him and lathered him with laps, he felt warm and he glowed at her praise, his eyes shone from within and he puffed out his chest, his smile only deepening and his cheeks flushing with heat. He'd never felt so... Warmed by any cat's praise like this, her words felt like they meant everything to him. He fed off the joy he felt from them, feeling his ego swell and his pride in himself glisten. It was as if Silkstar herself had shown herself upon him, her light was radiant against him. The pure bliss he felt around Dancingwhisper was so intoxicating he felt like he'd melt, and melt he did. As she brushed her delicate, silky-soft tail against his flank, he felt as if he'd collapse. He realized only now he'd been purring the entire time from deep within his chest, it rumbled out in a chorus of reverberating sound and echoed as he flexed his vocals. How had he been so blind? He'd spent his apprenticeship alongside this beautiful molly, he'd shared a nursery with her. Had they played games together as kits, or was he too busy practicing battle moves to be apprenticed early, as Perchlichen had taught him?
Had following his father's guidance set his paws on a path of ambition to strive for greatness rather than his own happiness?
The tom swelled. He couldn't be sure, and he wasn't one to think on it. He'd filled his heart, hadn't he? He spent time with plenty of mollies, it had all been fun while it lasted, but the tom always felt that sense of longing, as if his purpose was lost somehow. But I'm the best moor-runner whose ever lived? Perhaps he was getting a big head, but it was because of Dancingwhisper. I've trained my whole life and have perfected most skills there is to know, what more should a tom ask for? Was he being spoiled for asking for more? He was seen so highly and respected, he could have anything he wanted with one twitch of his tail, and Dawnstar preferred him over any of his clanmates. He felt like it was unreasonable to add anything else onto that. Perhaps that was something engraved in him, afterall affection was so common for him he'd practically shared a nest with half the clan, was love something he needed? 
He flicked his ears of the thought, realizing self-consciously just how horrible he sounded. He hoped all those... "Good" qualities weren't why Dancingwhisper was being so kind to him. He liked her for who she was, or, how she presented herself to him, and he hoped that was reciprocated. He had a feeling it might be with the tail brush, and he cautiously twined his tail with hers in return, testing the gesture to see if or not she'd shy away. He liked her, and he knew he shouldn't be afraid to hide that.
He blushed and purred, his whiskers quivered excitedly.
"We can head home. Wouldn't want to miss that patrol." His eyes glimmered playfully, and he rose a brow. "Who says we can't talk on the way back, though?" Windsear tipped his head, as if she'd expected him to carry the rabblt home in his mouth. The tom uncurled his tail delicately from hers as he lowered himself beside the massive hare, nosing his muzzle underneath it and elevating it enough that he would squeeze his paws under. Using his head and forepaws, the tom managed to slip the rabbit over his head and neck, sliding it down carefully until it draped heavily over his shoulders. It was heavy and he struggled, but he didn't let it show. Instead he faced her and rose his tail, his whiskers twitched playfully. "Ever seen a cat carry a rabbit on their back before?" It shuffled as he walked, making it kind of difficult, to be fair. Windsear never did this because it was simply a show of strength, no cat in their right mind had ever tried it. But if we're walking slowly home... He didn't know why it might not work.
First thing, it was probably the most impressive thing he'd ever done, secondly, if his skill was the driving force of her affection, he'd milk it as long as she praised him. He loved hearing it so much from her, and if he could give in return it would be a great relationship.
"Just admit that it's a great rabbit! Honestly, this thing is like a feast for the Clan! Look at that sparrow, the move might've been cool but that prey is scrap." He flicked his ears towards the bird she had, his tail flicked playfully. Any prey was good prey, and if Dawnstar heard them now he was sure she'd claw their whiskers. They were providing for their clan, and at the end of the day that's all that mattered. He was partially thankful that Dancingwhisper was with him, his catch would he quite pathetic on it's own. He believed Dancingwhisper should give herself more credit, he thought she was fantastic, she'd done a great job and had brought down a sizely, impressive piece of prey. He just hoped eventually he could talk her into realizing it.