Second Time (Closed)

He wouldn't be here.
Dewshine's mind was adamant of it, though she carefully picked her way through the beech trees and around the training area. The soft, gentle tom she had met recently lingered in her mind. She was tempted to believe it was simply a dream that she had met him at all. She sighed softly. Life had been kinder lately. Mosspaw had been a delight to hunt with, though she worried over Flurrypaw. The poor she-cat didn't seem terribly keen to do anything if it would mess with her coat, even playing with kits seemed to be too much.

She shook her head before she lowered it to sniff the ground carefully.
Nothing.
Her tail lowered, as her ears flattened uncomfortably. Looking over the edge of the territory. This felt familiar, it felt almost the same as last time. Thoughts churned in her head as to where he might have walked, subconciously looking for, and finally finding a sign of him. His scent drifted over a ridge overlooking the way to the gorge. She padded up it confidently, her silver coat doing nothing to hide her this time as she reached the top of it. Relief filled her to see him again. Even as part of her demanded that she turn back. Don't get involved with a loner. She dismissed it fiercly as she padded towards him.
"Gingerstripe?" She called softly. Careful not to call too loud in case another RiverClan cat overheard. Her blue eyes filled with joy to see him again.

All week, as he'd hidden away in the barn and skirted around the edges of the territory and found enough prey to live on, Gingerstripe's thoughts had been stuck on the she-cat he'd met in RiverClan territory. Probably the one cat who'd ever forgiven him for his mistakes. Despite only knowing him for less than an hour, she'd already somehow managed to see the real him, the one who hadn't meant to kill Honeydrop and would like nothing more than to fix his horrible mistakes. Could it really be true? Were his wrongs really forgivable? Had he been deluding himself, hallucinating on a diet of stale hope and loneliness, imagining some perfect she-cat who would actually be willing to look past his flaws? Despite the disbelief he still felt at her instant acceptance, he found himself racing along the path he now knew so well on the off chance that she cared enough to actually see him again. At that moment, it was the only thing he wanted in the whole wide world just to see her face again.

There she was.

Her soft gray fur glowing silver in the sunlight, slim form as willowy as the trees she stood under, sparkling light blue eyes glowing as they found him. "Dewshine!" he exclaimed in response, a relieved purr rumbling through his thin body as his dark green eyes found hers. The loner ran over to where she stood, not even thinking about what he was doing. As glad at seeing her as he would be to see an old friend, Gingerstripe touched her nose with his, greeting her in the most intimate way cats could. He didn't even think about it, he just did it. It felt right. Only when he pulled back did he realize what he'd done, and began to feel slightly embarrassed about it. The orange tabby tom glanced down at his white paws, a little self-conscious. He hardly even knew her, as much as he felt like he'd known her for ages. Maybe she'd be angry at him using such a friendly greeting. "I, uh... sorry about that, I just..."

When he nuzzled her, Dewshine felt her pelt flush with warmth. Unease fluttered in her chest for a heartbeat, as she watched him apologise, then smiled and stepped forward to nuzzle him back. Going so far as to lick his cheek before stepping back and lowering her head in embarrasement.
"I-It's good to see you again." She said softly with obvious embarrasment as she sat down and curled her tail around her paws. She looked at him closely, he didn't seem too thin. That was good, then again, the leafbare had finally ended long ago. "How is it in the barn?" She asked, curiousity running through her mind. Was it scary? Were there other cats?

Why did he come back?

The last question struck her hard, and she tried not to think about it. It wasn't just for her. Despite his supposed 'crime' there must have been other cats more suitable for him. Yet that greeting... she wondered for a moment if it meant something, or if she was just being considered a friend because of her forgiveness. Hopefully that wasn't the case. She scuffed her paw against the ground, looking up at his bright eyes that reminded her of the forest leaves. Vibrant, colourful, full of life. Her smile returned as she looked at him, his ginger pelt bringing a warm comfort of ease in her chest. It didn't matter, she still got to see him at least one more time. That was worth getting in trouble over.

His eyes were stuck open wide as Dewshine returned his greeting, nuzzling him and then licking him on the cheek. No one had gotten this close to him since... since.... Well, not even Copperfang had been that intimate with him. They had gotten together, and then hadn't seen much of each other for a while until she finally disappeared. He'd liked her, and respected her, but he didn't feel the same bright warmth and uncertain happiness that swelled in his chest whenever Dewshine was around. And as she stepped back, cheeks flushed, but still happy as she looked into his eyes with hers, and he saw her kind, beautiful, perfect soul staring through them.... He realized that he felt something with her that he'd never felt before.

Despite the fact that he was floating somewhere up in the clouds, hearing her song-like voice brought him back down to earth. He blinked self-consciously, realizing belatedly that he'd just been staring, stunned, into her eyes. Yeah... not awkward at all. Some tom he was. Swallowing, the ginger tabby tom dug his head out of his thoughts and started paying attention. "I... It's good to see you too," he murmured quietly, corners of his mouth brought up into a crooked smile at the thought that someone, anyone- but especially an amazing she-cat like Dewshine- actually liked being around him.

Her other question wasn't so simply answered. "The barn? Well..." Gingerstripe racked his brain, trying to think of anything interesting to say about the place where he "lived". Though he did occasionally sleep and eat there, he spent more time on the outskirts of the territories, trying desperately to find his family and get their forgiveness. Though lately, he'd been doing that a lot less, and instead spent time wishing he was, well... here. And now he was. "Not much goes on there," he admitted finally, paws shuffling on the ground. "Rogues and kittypets stop by occasionally, and I think there are a few who live there permanently, but they generally just ignore me. I got some strange looks the first time I came in, but... I don't smell like ShadowClan anymore, so they assume I'm just another rogue or loner, with no place else to go. And, they're right." The thought was depressing... just as his home didn't claim him anymore, he was truly a Clan-less cat. Just another tom outside the boundaries of the code... away from any feeling of family or belonging. Except here.

Realizing the depressing turn the conversation had taken, and not wanting Dewshine to worry, the thin loner hastened to change the subject. "It's not much inside there. Just some large piles of hay- like long, dead grass- and a few colonies of mice that you can catch if you wait around long enough. They're what I've been eating, mostly, but the cats already there don't take kindly to me eating very many. So I get by with whatever I can catch around the territories when they don't let me take any more." Admitting that he let some scrawny rogues push him around was belittling, but... it was the truth. "I guess I could fight them if I wanted to," he pointed out quietly, almost to himself, "with my training they'd be no match. But... ever since I lost control of my temper that once, I've been afraid. Afraid of my claws. I don't- I don't want to fight any more. I don't want to hurt more cats. I've caused enough pain in my life.... What if I lose control again? What if I kill someone else? Then I'll really be a murderer."

Gingerstripe's weary face was set with misery, shoulders slumped, completely beaten-down. Then he remembered he was talking to someone. His eyes widened as he realized he'd been subjecting Dewshine to this monologue. Again? Oh, I am such a mouse-brain. This is what happens when you don't have any normal conversations for more than a week. The tom's ears laid back in self-consciousness, angry at himself for messing it up again. Dewshine wouldn't want to deal with him anymore, would she? "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to be all depressed again. I didn't come here to bring you down, you have enough problems." He cast his thoughts around, trying to find a good change of subject. What they'd talked about the last time he came seemed a good bet... "Um, how is Flamepaw doing?" the tom asked abruptly, a little too eager to have a normal conversation not injected with his problems. But it would be nice to hear about someone else making it around their own issues, especially because he felt like the little she-cat would probably be a kindred spirit if they ever got to know each other.

A soft purr rumbled in her chest at his response. It brought with it a flood of comfort that he did, truly, want to see her again. She listened in silence to his explanation of the barn. It sounded interesting, though terrible. Confined, just eating mice. What about fish or water voles? That he felt alone... had to skulk around and hunt on the fringes of territory. Once again she felt a pang of sorrow for the ginger tom. His life was hard, and it was being made harder by unnessecary persecution. Without thinking, she padded forward. His apologies were hollow in her ears as she reached up and placed a delicate silver paw on his chest. Her blue eyes filled with forgiving sadness.

"You're not a murderer." She said seriously. "I don't see a murderer in your eyes, but you are a clan born cat. Fighting, as cruel and vicious as it can be, it's in our blood." She paused, then took her paw off of his chest and moved in closer to him, sitting with her pelt brushing his. Embarrasment flooding her cheeks as she realised what the action meant, but at the same time not sorry about it at all. "You won't lose control again, because that's not who you are. You are a brave tom, who is willing to survive even after recieving the harshest blow any warrior could ever suffer. You, are a warrior Gingerstripe, and I hope you get to live as one once more." She looked away shyly as she concluded her words. They felt right, but with how close she sat... well. She felt a purr in her chest at the closeness. She could enjoy this for awhile. Finally, she decided to answer his earlier question.

"Flamepaw is doing well. She's finally being accepted." She smiled softly at the memory of Flickerpaw's ceremony. Finally, the she-cat had a chance to prove her worth. "I have an apprentice now, a young she-cat named Flurrypaw." Dewshine sighed softly, "So far... it's been an experience. She hates getting dirty, so teaching her to fish or even swim takes some persuasion." She shook her head with a soft chuckle. "She'll get there eventually, but teaching her to hunt in bushes is going to be fun."

Gingerstripe's rambling was effectively cut short as Dewshine put a paw on the scruffy cream-colored fur of his chest. Her sincere words warmed his heart, sending a shiver down his pelt as the kind, understanding blue eyes looked deeply into his, seeing through into his damaged soul. Hearing the word "warrior" applied to him again, acknowledging his former status as a cat of ShadowClan and that it really wasn't something you could take away... it helped. He had even been starting to forget his heritage, that was how far gone he had been drifting off. But her words instilled a... something into him that he hadn't felt since he'd truly been a part of ShadowClan. Before his estrangement from his family, before his punishment from Magpiestar, before Nettlesting revealed his mistakes. Though he wasn't technically a warrior of ShadowClan, he was a warrior from ShadowClan, and that would never change- no matter what labels, like "rogue" and "loner" and "murderer," applied to him. A tiny spark of courage, rekindled from the extinguished flame he'd once had, began to burn once again in his heart. He was a warrior.

A purr ran through his body, deepening slightly in tone as the she-cat leaned into him, their different-colored furs brushing and mingling together. Though he should have been embarrassed to be sitting so closely to a she-cat, the position and the closeness felt natural, felt right. "Thank you, Dewshine," the tabby tom meowed sincerely, a smile touching his lips again. "I'd almost forgotten that I was a Clan cat once... that's how far gone the separation has driven me. It's good to know that at least one cat, somewhere, doesn't believe that I'm a codeless murderer. I'd even been starting to believe it. But now that I have someone who believes in me, I think I'll be okay." The lines of his face softened, relaxed, as the acceptance of the fact that he wasn't a horrible cat seeped into his veins. He nuzzled the side of Dewshine's face softly, thanking her in actions as well as words. "As long as I don't believe that I truly deserve it... I can deal with the pain and the sorrow."

The warrior leaned into the she-cat's slim frame, content to listen to her beautiful voice. Talking about regular things, like apprentices and teaching, almost made him forget that he wasn't part of a Clan anymore. "Good to hear that someone is at least able to rise above it," he smiled, thinking about how lucky Flamepaw was to have a second chance. Hopefully, she'd be able to find a place there in RiverClan. They were much more accepting than his Clan... Was it only ShadowClan and ThunderClan who were that strict on accidental murderers? At Dewshine's anecdotes about Flurrypaw, he laughed. "She sounds like quite the pawful. I did have an apprentice once, named Nightpaw. She was fierce, loyal, always alert- definitely a fighter, a strong she-cat who also had an excellent sense of humor when you got close to her. I enjoyed being her mentor... but I didn't have much of a chance to train her. After Honeydrop's code-breaking was announced, I lost my temper and... I hit her." His face dropped in shame as he recalled the moment, caught up in his anger and rage and disbelief of life as he knew it being torn apart. "For that, Magpiestar made me stay in camp and complete apprentice duties for a moon, which meant I couldn't very well train an apprentice of my own. Nightpaw's training was shifted to someone else, but she died of greencough soon afterwards." The tom sobered up slightly, then shook the darkened mood off. His green eyes began to shine a little again. "I can't help much with your apprentice woes. But, I can say that curing her of that dirt-hating might be pretty useful in the future. There's no way she'll be able to use camouflage to her advantage if she sticks out like a sore thumb in a group of muddy, leaf-colored cats. What color is her pelt? At least if she's a tabby she'll blend in a little bit."

She listened quietly as he told her of his old apprentice. Sympathy welled up in her heart once more, but she could think of little to say. The pain of losing an apprentice... it had to run deep. Instead, she pressed her head against his shoulder sympathetically as she listened. Barely registering his question. When she did, a small sigh left her and she looked up at him. His own red and white pelt seemed like it would stick out badly here in RiverClan, especially among the beech trees with their white bark. But then his coat could also darken in the shadows, his stripes could help him to hide. She shook her head lamentedly.

"She's fluffy, and pure white." She meowed softly, her gaze fell to her own pelt. "My silver color's not so bad... but her coat is far brighter than mine. She'll blend into the snow though." Dewshine added thoughtfully. That could be useful during leafbare, but only during leafbare... otherwise she'd stick out worse than a fallen beech tree in a patch of moss. "As long as I can teach her to swim, I think she'll be fine." Fish didn't know colors, or care really. They couldn't dodge a cat that could fish them out faster than they could see them in return.

Gingerstripe let out a small laugh as she told him what color her apprentice was. "There aren't many white cats in ShadowClan," he meowed, thinking back to his Clan. "Lots of browns, blacks and tabbies. The occasional gray or golden. My brother, father and I stood out because of our orange pelts- at least I was a tabby, which made me blend in a little more. My father was solid orange, and my brother is a darker red. Though, he is a gigantic tom, so I don't suppose his color matters because he can't hide well anyways."

As Dewshine mentioned swimming, the tom remembered abruptly that she was from RiverClan. He'd hardly ever been in the water, apart from trying to get mud off his pelt after falling into the deep marshes as an apprentice. Swiftclaw had laughed the whole time, he recalled. "What's it like in your Clan?" he asked curiously, interested. "I've never swam or eaten a fish before. How can you stand the water? What do fish taste like? What's your camp like?" He enjoyed the sound of her voice, and wanted her to talk more- hopefully he'd also get some information. RiverClan sounded like a nice place- it had to be, if cats like Dewshine and Flamepaw lived there.

Dewshine looked at Gingerstripe's orange pelt with an admiring smile. She liked his pelt, it reminded her of warmth, just like he did. Without much thought, she shifted to nuzzle her nose against his shoulder with a purr. Then abruptly pulled away in embarrasment as she realised what she had been doing. Her silver tail flicked by her paws, which shifted and gave her embarrasment away plainly. His questions helped to soothe it though as she began to think about her home.

"It's... nice, when the other cats want to be." She explained honestly. "Most other cats are fine... it's Silverfang who's mostly causing me issues." She shuddered at the thought of the grizzled she-cat. The mere thought of being caught out here made her worried, but she pushed on. Forcing herself to better thoughts. "I've been raised with the river, so I guess it's just natural for me. " She mewed, her voice becoming somehow gentler in her fondness. "Swimming is... it's a wonderful feeling. The water flowing and combing through your pelt. Fish are tender and oily." She gestured to her pelt, moving slightly so the sun caught the natural oils on it. "The oils coat our pelts so we can swim better... as for our camp. The reeds are comfortable, more than they look. You can hear the river from anywhere you sit on the islnad and it's comforting."

Gingerstripe sat back, leaning into Dewshine's soft silver fur as she told him about her Clan. Hearing the loving detail and obvious fondness in her tone as she described the feeling of water on her fur and the quiet comfort of her camp made him miss his own Clan. No, his former Clan. His mind stole away to thoughts of marshy grass, tall pine trees, mossy nests and the musky scent of home. But it was no longer his home, and never would be. Even if they would take him back- and they wouldn't- there was no way he could ever return. His Clanmates would never trust him, and he wouldn't truly be a part of ShadowClan. And besides... there was at least one thing he'd be leaving behind. The tom's green eyes rested on Dewshine's gentle face, realizing that despite their small interactions, she was already one of the cats he cared for most. As he drew himself out of his reverie, he noticed a small discordancy from the beginning of her talking. "Silverfang? Who are they? Are they giving you any trouble?"

Dewshine looked away quietly. Her blue eyes focused on the ground as her ears flattened sadly. The memory of Silverfang yowling at her, then the rather effective and brutal cold shoulder ... she frowned. Visibly upset as she curled her tail around her paws.
"Silverfang... she's the one that was angry at me about trying to encourage Flamepaw." She explained, her voice soft despite her tense body. "I feel like she questions everything I do now." Her paw scuffed the ground slightly, as if such an action could just wash it downstream. "I think she's waiting for me to mess up... waiting to accuse me again, but all I can do is prove her wrong." For a moment, she paused, then looked up at Gingerstripe with a soft smile.

"I don't have to do that with you though." She purred softly, the tension leaving her body as she pressed her pelt against his once more. Barely a flicker of doubt passed her face. "Thank you, Gingerstripe."

Gingerstripe shook his head in disbelief at being reminded of the story Dewshine had told on their last visit- how most cats in her Clan took her amazing, loving, forgiving nature as a sign of disloyalty. Another sign of their broken world- how some murderers could be harbored safely and treated like any other Clanmate and accidental killers cast out and shunned by all Clans. Most kind cats these days had those attitudes squashed out of them by the harsh Clan life and unjust, impossible leaders. But somehow, he'd managed to find one of the few cats who still had love to give for those who received none of their own. And, somehow... he'd become her friend. Perhaps more. Taking note of the way his heart soared as she pressed against his pelt again with a purr, the loner responded with a happy purr of his own. His voice was soft and quiet as he responded. "I wish more cats in the Clans were like you, Dewshine. Honestly... any cat who could ever think anything bad of you has bees in their brain. RiverClan is blessed to have you in it." The orange tabby raised his head, and his deep green eyes met her soft blue ones. "It takes a special kind of cat to forgive a killer hated by all five Clans. There's no need to thank me for anything- thank you, Dewshine. I... I love you." His nose touched hers.

Dewshine felt flushed under her pelt. Her head ducked slightly in response to the compliment, but she still purred softly. Her blue eyes flickered towards the ground, then back to Gingerstripe's green ones before she pressed up against him and nuzzled him once more.
"Thank you." She murmured softly. Her soft tail wrapped around Gingerstripe's despite her own warnings in her mind. Despite that this was dangerous, could be a mistake... but how could it be? This tom was more supportive of her than most of her own clanmates. Compassionate, kind, what her clan needed more of, his mistake not-withstanding. She sighed as she noticed the sun, watched as the warm glow of it sent scattered redness throughout the beech copse and dyed some of the trees with a rich orange colour to their barks.

She loathed to leave him... but it was time. She sighed softly, tilted her head up and licked him on the chin, then slowly pulled away from where they had been sitting.
"I should get back to camp." She murmured softly, her eyes looked back to his. "...you should consider joining RiverClan... maybe... maybe we can talk to Jaystar about it sometime... together." She smiled, the looked back to her camp as an expression of wariness crossed her features. What if Silverfang saw her now? Oh that would not be good. "I'll see you here again." She invited, then after his response, padded away quietly into the growing shadows of the night. Her silver pelt flashing through the bushes until she was finally gone.