They Call It a Conversation {Closed}

The fresh-kill pile had definitely seen better days. With a soft huff, Scorchclaw deposited his recent catch—a rather scrawny squirrel and what seemed like a bream to him. One would think that he would be able tell fish apart as a RiverClan cat, but he was a strange one who would be satisfied as long as they were edible. As such, he was not well-versed in their names. The hunt that morning had taken considerable effort. Leaf bare was trouble enough, but the transition to new leaf brought its own annoyances. While there was likely no cat who was not looking forward to the next season, the melting snow filled the wetlands with mud and slush. Swimming in the river was one thing; getting your paws all sticky from trudging through sludge was something else. Even after he had waded through the stream that surrounded RiverClan camp, some of the mud still clung stubbornly to his thick fur. Retreating to a corner of the clearing, the large tabby began to groom himself in an attempt to feel a little more clean. Just as the state of his pelt was beginning to look satisfactory again, the sound of approaching pawsteps caused his ears to prick. Pale-green eyes narrowing just slightly, he lifted his head. The mild irritation that had been building within him was immediately stifled at the sight of the clan leader. "Jaystar." He mewed, in startled greeting. Hastily getting to his paws, he continued warily, "Is anything the matter?"

Had something happened while he had been absent? Had the dogs shown signs of encroaching further into RiverClan territory? Had Icepaw's condition worsened? Of course, there was also the possibility that Jaystar simply wanted to discuss an issue. There were quite a few possibilities, and he waited soberly for an answer.

Leaf-bare was leaving his mark on Jaystar as he pushed himself to stand up every day. Prey was scarce, barely enough for the whole clan and to make things worse, the plague of dogs that now lurked in the Gorge didn't let them hunt in peace anymore. With Icepaw and Sparkfrost stuck in the medicine cat den, Goldeneye and Fallowlight were starting to have troubles with the herbs storage. And Silverfang's death... had left him hopeless. Even if the snow was slowly melting, leaving muddy lands and thinner ice that announces the arrival of better days, the ribs of the exhausted leader were visible thanks to the nights of eating nothing at all. But physical pain was nothing compared to his emotional one, which was just a mess. If his clan didn't need him to be their guide, then he would simply break down to pieces but being a leader took that privilege away.

Jaystar walked through the camp checking his clanmates, the wounded and the patrols that were about to go. Maybe he could join one later, the feline thought to himself as he scratched his ear with one paw. He looked around and his eyes met the patrol that his deputy led. The fluffy tom was covered in mud and dirt, which mixed well with his already brown fur. Scorchclaw looked a bit annoyed by this fact as he started grooming himself after leaving his catch on the smaller than usual fresh-kill pile. The tall, skinny leader looked at him for a while, thinking about how much Starclan had blessed him with such a constant and strong deputy. Not only was he one of the best warriors in force and skill but he was smart. He knew when to be more subtle and when stronger words and decisions were needed, he was there to make them with him. The silver tabby had no doubts about his choice back then and with time, Scorchclaw had just reinforced his idea of how great of a leader he would make one day when his time comes. However, even if they had been working together for moons to keep Riverclan safe and strong, even after fighting together side by side against adversities, Jaystar found himself knowing little to nothing about him apart of his job as a deputy. How much was he affected by the death of his clanmates? Was he interested in a family? Did he even want to be a leader? Many questions that could be simply answered if they only talked more in casual ways and not only to make reports of the daily activities. Maybe today that was going to change a little. The tom had to talk with him anyways about the next Gathering and what topics would be brought there. There was a chance they could get closer beyond the deputy/leader bond they already shared. The large warrior made his way to the Scorchclaw, who quickly turned his face to see him, calling his name as a greeting. "Scorchclaw, I see you have not returned with empty paws. I'm glad..." He purred, trying to make things less formal than usual. "Nothing much has happened in your absence, thanks to Starclan. How did the patrol go? Is prey still hard to find?"

As Scorchclaw met Jaystar's gaze, he could not help but notice that the silver tabby seemed worn out. Perhaps the RiverClan leader tried his best to put up a strong front for his clanmates, but weariness lurked within the depths of his green eyes. It was evident that he had lost weight as well. All these details the deputy noted silently in the back of his mind. For the past few days, he had been observing Jaystar. These changes had not taken place overnight. "Yes, Jaystar." He affirmed, with a small nod. The realization that his return had been noticed came with some surprise. Then again, it was hardly anything strange. "The patrol was an uneventful one. Prey is still scarce, but the snow has started to thaw. If we are fortunate, new leaf is finally on its way." His sentences were succinct, given in the fashion of a report. After all, that was what he assumed Jaystar wanted to hear. Was that really all the leader wanted to know, however? He found it difficult to believe that the other tom would approach him only for such a reason. If it had merely been a matter of finding out how the prey ran, Jaystar could have waited for the end of the day, when Scorchclaw would give his all-encompassing report. Thus, he correctly deduced that Jaystar had some other motive in mind. He simply did not expect it to be a leisurely conversation.

Casting a glance towards the fresh-kill pile, the fluffy brown tabby added solemnly, "At the very least, the queens and elders will have enough to eat." His tone, accompanied by the unwavering green gaze as he turned back to Jaystar, implied the unspoken words. You should eat something as well. As the deputy, he was responsible for bearing half the weight of leadership. If Jaystar found him unworthy of that half, even a quarter was fine. He knew what the RiverClan leader was doing for the sake of their clan, and his respect for the older tom only grew stronger in such times. As noble as self-sacrifice seemed, it was not easy to carry out. The deputy himself had not yet eaten that day, but there was no need for Jaystar to know that fact.