[lone]

Originally Posted by NoireRose

‘’Suite yourself,’’ the she-cat called to him. Her voice oddly sounded too sweet, as if she ate entire pot of honey. As she put her catch in her mouth, she turned her body, so that she would carefully watch Martenthorn in action. She wouldn’t had mind sharing the prey with him, but once she detected that change in his attitude. That nervousness coming back, she didn’t make another comment. However she wondered if he would had said it differently if she were...what’s the she-cat name?...R--River? No...Ryder?..Ryver. Clearly, if she were Ryver, would he had said something differently? Would he had wanted to share this piece of prey with her...if she had the same name, the same looks, the same personality as the unmentioned she-cat? After all, she was his love. Deep down he probably still loved her, and wanted to be with her. If she made a sudden appearance, he wouldn’t think twice about running back into her paws--kits or not.

Was she jealous? Featherspeckle shook her head. Clearly not, her jealousy days been over. Ever since she was an apprentice they’ve been over. Ever since she got rid of that lousy Moose, they’ve been over. And, she vowed they would never come back.

Yet, Martenthorn’s words pierced into her mind--into her heart--into her soul. She felt warmth complete her body from inside and out just thinking about what he said. It was sweet. Something she was afraid to thank him on. She could tell Martenthorn was being generous with his words while Moose only played her at first. But, it was love when it first begun? Until Viola came along and brushed her bushy tail alongside him, making him fall in love.

‘’One day, we’ll run away together..and we’ll be together. We’ll find us a nice home, raise a lot of kittens, and we’ll be happy.’’ Moose nuzzled her, lovingly. This was before Viola came into the picture. This was when Featherspeckle wasn’t afraid to express her desires, and she always purred at the mention of the dark brown cat.

‘’I’m holding you to your word.’’ Featherspeckle was young at that age. She was quite naive. As if she were a she-cat who had a first crush, and would do anything to be with them.

‘’Would I ever lie to you, love?’’ And, he did. ‘’It’s a promise.’’ That was broken.

Featherspeckle shrugged, and she tore into the meat. She kept her eyes fixated on the abyssinian, an encouraging smile was placed on her maw. He was a good friend of hers. She couldn’t be jealous of another cat from his past. Yet, she did like him. And, she feared that he would choose this, this--Ryver when the time came.

Why come she was not used to this? Being second place. Second best. It was better than not placing at all at least. Featherspeckle felt offended, but she didn’t voice out the thought. She lashed her tail in agitation at her annoyance. Why was she annoyed now? She had nothing to be annoyed about. Yet, this Ryver steady played in her mind. Was that where her annoyance was? She never even met the she-cat, and yet this stupid she-cat was constantly plaguing her thoughts!

Featherspeckle closed her eyes for a bit, and slightly turned her head. She wasn’t even hungry at anymore. She was feeding off her misery, and when she took a couple breaths to calm down. She allowed her mind to relax. She opened her yellow hues feeling a sense of serenity once more.

The Abyssinian cocked his head to the side at her words. They were so sweet...and for a moment, he wanted to hear them again. Though sincerity had not been the most obvious thing there, Martenthorn had relished those two words because they had been so sweet. What was it about the multi-colored she cat that was so intriguing? Martenthorn had always loved mysteries-- but she was a mystery wrapped up in a hundred other layers of hurt and defensiveness. She had defended herself against cats for so long that he had the feeling it would be a while before she would fully trust him not to hurt her. Or did she already? He couldn't be sure.
　
And it wasn't that he hadn't wanted to share with her. He had. But something had happened to change his mind. Martenthorn could hear a rustling in the bushes, a constant, annoying sound. His hues narrowed and he pounced, claws unsheathed, and instantly killed a small mouse. It always made him feel bad, killing the smaller animals who had no way of defending themselves...but it was for the Clan. They needed to take these things back to the Clan first, then they could eat. Would Ryver ever return? He doubted it. He sincerely hoped not, at least. And then, in a flash of light-- well, not exactly a flash of light, but he caught sight of a familiar pelt through the trees and almost dropped the mouse.
　
Was that who he thought it was? He glanced back to where Featherspeckle was sitting, smiling at him encouragingly and a warm feeling spread through him. But still...he couldn't just ignore the fact that there was this cat flitting through the trees. What if they weren't ThunderClan? What were they doing here? Martenthorn's hues narrowed and he padded back protectively towards the she cat, dropping the mouse. "I'll...be right back." He mewed, blurring the words more then he meant to before he darted into the trees after the figure. He could see the pelt always bobbing and weaving ahead of him, though it was clean and neat as it always had been. What are you doing out here? Playin'. Wanna play? Of course! Fast foward to another time, when they had been much older. What are you doing out here? Leaving. What? You heard me, Martenthorn. I'm leaving. And that had been a horrible day. Fast foward again, to the third time the conversation had started that way. What are you doing out here? Please, Martenthorn...give me a chance. And he hadn't.
　
If this was who he thought it was, he knew that he would have to get them out of here as fast as possible. He didn't want them messing up his life again. Martenthorn sprang, pinning the figure to the ground and staring into her own forever-soft, light green hues. "R-Ry-Ryver?" He stammered. Her eyes had held terror, and now held a surprised warmth that could never be replaced...that he had been thinking of, whether conciously or unconciously, for quite a long time now. That warmth had haunted his dreams...that face had haunted his dreams. "Hello, Martenthorn."