Frost resting on cold sand. (Closed)

The morning sun rose gently from above the golden field. The shadows of the night vanquished into hiding from the rays that brought joy and light into the world. That flooded it into a new day, full of experiences ahead. It reminded him of her. Buried in the nursery, in the comfort of a warm nest, his mate still lay sleeping.

The silver tom, did not sleep. His blue eyes watched in silence as the stars vanished from the dawn sky. As the sun brightened into a fierce white orb that shone above everything. The center of the world. He breathed deeply, chest expanding with air as his mind steadied on it’s course. Letting it out in a gust as he stood. Bugs and grass falling from his pelt as he padded into camp from the ridge. His wounds ached, the stinging claw marks on his back an unmistakable reminder. Yet he still sought out the sandy pelt of his litter mate.

Sandpaw. Pain lanced through his chest and left his heart aching as he recalled speaking out against her. It had only been the day before, and he hadn’t rested easily over it. He padded to her and tapped the she-cat with his tail gently.
“Sandpaw… come.” He ordered, then turned to walk away before pausing only a couple steps later. “We need to talk. Alone.” He turned to gaze at Silentgust from where he saw a flash of her pelt emerge. He huffed, then began to lead the way up the camp entrance.

Sandpaw hadn't forgiven Grousefrost yet. How could she? He had stood in front of the entire clan and denounced her place among them as warriors. Her heart ached. It wasn't fair of him to do that. Did he not know what being an apprentice at their age felt like? She was about to be an aunt, for StarClan's sake, and she didn't even have a warrior name. But she had almost received one. Minutes away from one, in fact, until he made her feel guilty in accepting it.

The pale tan colored she-cat sat in front of the wall, back to it. Her pelt was uncharacteristically clean, indicating she had not tunneled since her warrior ceremony. Eyes downcast, Silentgust slept a few tail lengths away. The white warrior with a single black back foot refused to let her out of his sight. When Grousefrost approached, he raised his head.

Go with him? Why would he do that. Silentgust stood up anyway, about to leave with them. "Talk? You seem to know how to do that a lot." she growled, turning her back on her brother and facing her new 'mentor'. "Aren't you scared I am going to attract all of the foxes of the entire forest to find you and ruin your precious little family? Wouldn't that be horribly inefficient?" Her voice was cutting and snide. Good. Let him feel the verbal lashing for once.

His silver ears flattened in disapproval at her tone. His gaze lifted to the white tom’s as he blinked slowly. Chest rising and falling with a steadying breath. It’d be a waste of energy to haul her out by the scruff of her neck. It would also be pointless. Sandpaw was as stubborn as a well wedged rock.

“Very well. Pout like a kit if you want. You can find me when you’re ready to face warriorhood.” He responded calmly, then turned and padded out of the camp. He didn’t bother waiting for her, if she wanted to know, she would follow or find him as he made his way to the old tree stump.

Sandpaw huffed... But found herself standing slowly anyway and prodding after her brother. The two- were so different. He was so serious, and before this, she was so goofy. Even their pelts shared so many differences. He took after their father, and she after their mother. He was tall and lean, she was small and scrawny.

The forever apprentice followed her brother, and soon, they were and Lone Stump... Lion Skull was buried near here. She sat by the rotting wood in silence, waiting for him to speak.

His blue gaze watched the sun’s rays as it covered the field. Sitting on top of a stump that held dear memories… he wished Goldengale was at his side, but… this was something he needed to do. He didn’t want Sandpaw to feel threatened. His tail twitched as he blinked at the sight of a rabbit emerging from its burrow, little nose wiggling in the air as it tried to sense if danger loomed. Grousefrost made no motion towards it.

The tall tom’s head turned to Sandpaw instead. A slow and steady blink holding back a torrent of words he wanted to say. His chest and throat tight with them, emotions… it was strange. Before Vinepaw he had never been an emotional cat. Before Goldengale… his emotions were rare. True emotion, felt off for him.

“I don’t care if you hate me.” He began, body turning slightly to face Sandpaw more directly as he spoke. “I won’t take back what I said… I don’t think you’re ready.” His ears flattened uncomfortably. “I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something else… that made me speak out.”

Memories flashed in his mind. The flood that swept him away, the return of his sister grieving over her own lost kit, and a flash of dark tunnel and a bright pelt. He swallowed, claws scraping against the rock beneath him.
“What you did… it was as if you didn’t care about yourself. As if your own life was something you could risk blindly.” He looked away from her. “... Sometimes… I get scared. I’ve seen you go tunnelling alone, it’s like you think your life has no value.” He turned back to her, padding off the rock as the words rushed out.

“You’re my sister Sandpaw. I know you can be a great warrior someday… but to be great, you need to care about your life as well. You’re part of my family, and I don’t want it broken because you chose to ignore the smarter options.” He paused, stood in front of her for a moment, let his words sink in. Then, his shoulders dropped slightly. Posture relaxed, though his ears still laid flat in his uncertainty.

“I’m sure mother, and Lionskull, would agree.” He added, his head turned to the direction the kit lay buried. He wondered briefly if he would ever see Brindlestar in the stars. If his sister would be willing to listen.

Sandpaw flattened her ears at her brother, his tall silver frame standing in front of her. Head held high, always looking for something to pick her on. Something to make more efficient. Something to point out that he was better than her. Grousefrost. Good, efficient, respected Grousefrost. "Did any of you even look for me? Did you all just resign yourself to calling me dead without a body? You have up on me so easily." She began to face, her spotted and sandy pelt weaving between the grass, blending in like the perfect WindClan cat she was. "Are you sure I am family, Grousefrost? Goldengale, Barleytuft- they're the only ones you seem to care about. When was the last time you treated me like family? When I came back?" Her tail whipped from side to side, as her large paws carefully avoided her adopted son's grave like the plague, not wanting to disturb the kit's peace. "You think you're so special Grousefrost. StarClan chosen to lead the clan to tunneling greatness. You know your name will be remembered, but mine will be forgotten just because StarClan doesn't guide me and I learned my skills the hard way." Finally, she rounded her way back to the tom so she was standing nose to nose with him. "It doesn't matter if I live or die, Grousefrost, I'll be forgotten no matter what I do." Her blue eyes shown with emotion. Hurt, anger. Fear. Frustration. Desperation.

Blue eyes narrowed at blue for a moment as he allowed his sister to ramble. Padding away from him, then back. Her words raked his ears as they flattened in distaste at what he was hearing. The fearful vision that she could be killed still echoed in his mind. His head tilted at her accusation of him claiming to be special, and he padded to her side in silence for a moment. His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

“I don’t think I’m special Sandpaw.” He meowed firmly. “I’m just efficient, being chosen to see StarClan was a decision by Finchstar, because I fought for the tunnels when he wanted to close them forever.” He frowned, expression twisted slightly as he warred with grief and concern. “...and perhaps I have been a little too efficient. I haven’t made time for you, like I should have.” He turned his head towards her, the pupils slitted in anger.

“I never want to hear you meow that mousedung again.” He hissed, the idea that she was nothing… the notion that she’d just be forgotten… it stung deeper than any wasp or ant bite. His claws bit into the ground in his frustration at being unable to convey what he felt. His heart felt like it was wrenching itself from his chest, but his mouth spoke words he wasn’t convinced were enough.

“If you don’t want to be forgotten, then do it right! Think before you act, but most importantly, think of something only you can contribute. Build your own tunnel, have some kits, or become deputy. Anything that doesn’t involve yourself being used as a nursery tale for why apprentices shouldn’t run blindly into tunnels!” He snarled the last part as he turned away from Sandpaw. “If you really don’t understand… then you really aren’t fit to be a warrior. I made the right choice.” He glanced back for a moment, before he began to pad back towards camp. His heart lurching in pain at leaving her behind.

He wanted them to return together, for her to understand his fear… but he could never go that far. Would never be able to make her understand.