The Language of Flowers (Closed)

Hmm...

Ashpaw sat in the middle of the apprentice's den studying a group of three nests all pushed quite close together, though they weren't combined.  He knew that Quailpaw sometimes kicked out his legs in the night, and both he and Irispaw would prefer not to wake up with unexplained bruises, so still being at a slight distance would be nice.  However, since his two siblings had recently started their training, he wanted to once again share a sleeping space for as long as they desired.  Seeing the way his trio of moms slept made him both happy and amused; piled on top of each other, snoring away, the only warmth they needed being the fur of the other.  He wondered if, someday, he would share a nest with someone in the same manner, or perhaps one of his siblings would.  For now though, they were still closest friends he had, and he would cherish it.

After a long moment of serious examination, Ashpaw deemed the new nests satisfactory (though a bit drab-looking) and purred, the tom's soft green eyes lighting up like the morning sun.  "There, finished!"  I hope they like it...actually, they better!  I've been working since sun-high!  Chuckling, the long-furred apprentice turned to trot back out into the clearing and see what needed to be done, but something caught his eye.  Blinking, the former rogue paused with one forepaw in the air, gaze trained onto an old unused nest near the center of the den.  Are those...what I think they are?  Crossing the distance slowly, trying not to trod on any currently claimed bedding, Ashpaw reached out and gently touched the petals of a dried purple flower weaved into the reeds and moss with the very tip of his toe.  A violet...  Not just one, but many disintegrating blossoms embellished the nest.  Violets, wildflowers, marigold, daisies and dandelions, lavender, poppies...like a beautiful springtime valley brought into the comfort of their home.

"Whose nest was this?"  His murmured question to nobody went unanswered but echoed back and forth in the apprentice's brain until, with a small 'oh!', it came to him.  Snowflight!  How did I not notice this before while he was still in here, it's amazing!  The older tom's pure-white fur and strangely unique multi-colored eyes had become quite familiar over the moons, and yet, he and Ashpaw really haven't had a proper conversation.  He wasn't intimidated by him, nor disliked him, they had even shared the same mentor; in reality, there had just been no time.  Until now.  As a bonus, he wouldn't have to fish for a conversation topic!  An excited smile slowly crept onto the gray tom's face, and after giving the violet a deep sniff and letting the nostalgically familiar aroma overtake him for a moment, he padded out of the den into midday sunlight and looked around, blinking rapidly to help his eyes adjust.  Is he here?  Or is he out on patrol?  Nope, there he is!  The snowy warrior was by the fresh-kill pile and didn't seem busy.  Ashpaw quickly approached him before somecat else did, waving his fluffy tail as a greeting.  "Hey, Snowflight!  Could I ask you something?  If you're not busy, that is."

Since his warrior ceremony, Snowflight’s life had been…different. In the obvious ways, of course: he got to lead patrols, he had to pay attention to apprentice ceremonies in case his name was called, and if Ivystar or Stormbringer didn’t have any orders for him, he could (and quite often did) leave camp by himself. The other changes weren’t so universal. He’d wanted his warrior name so badly for so long, to the exclusion of almost everything else. Now that he’d gotten it—and his father’s respect, something he’d never imagined earning, as well—he felt almost aimless. Leadership didn’t interest him (as if he’d want to take it from Ivystar or his old mentor, anyway), and though he enjoyed Spiderquill’s company, white fur and herbs really didn’t go together. There were no stars left to reach for. He didn’t mind having so little to do; it was just…weird, after spending his whole apprenticeship stuck between training and the Righteous Few’s threats, to wake up every morning and realize he could decide for himself what the day became.

Today, he’d decided on sunbathing. Newleaf’s second-best thing, after the flowers. No spot could beat Sunningrocks; however, Snowflight wasn’t in the mood to tangle with ThunderClan, so after grooming his pretty pelt flat, he’d settled near the fresh-kill pile. The feeling that he should be doing something gnawed at him. He stretched out his front legs and tried to focus on enjoying the midday sun’s heat against his back. He’d gotten used to Stormbringer’s training schedule; he’d get used to this. It was only a matter of time.

Fortunately, some part of him was still paying attention to the rest of the world. A voice reached his ear. He raised his muzzle to see a gray tom hurrying toward him. ”Ashpaw?” Sure, Ashpaw had been an outsider—the kind of outsider who stole prey, at that—but Snowflight had come to trust Stormbringer’s judgment even more than Ivystar’s, and Ashpaw had wormed his way into both of their hearts. They treated him like any other Clanmate, so Snowflight did too. Besides, he’d fought the Righteous Few with the rest of RiverClan. If that wasn’t proof of his loyalty, what was? Rolling onto his back with a mrrp of acknowledgement, Snowflight peered up at the younger tom with bright, curious eyes. ”Go right ahead, I’m just sunbathing.” At this point, any interruption that didn't involve the Righteous Few would've been welcome.