Live A Lie [Wrenspring]

The sun had finally made it past the tops of the trees as Beechface exited her den with a huff. Most of her morning had been spent sorting herbs and making notes of what needed to be gathered, and now that that was done Beechface had no desire to spend another second in the closed-off confines of the den. Wind ruffled her long fur and the heat wasn't unbearable, but if last greenleaf had been anything to go by, Beechface wasn't going to count on it staying that way. She'd gather what herbs she could, and maybe she could sneak in a bit of hunting after.

Knowing Skyclan, there would be some sort of emergency before she managed to get even half of what she wanted to do done today. That was just how things worked, it seemed. Beechface let her gaze drift across camp for a moment, noting Birdsong and Shadepaw dropping prey onto the fresh-kill pile. She couldn't help a soft smile at that, the two siblings were close and she was glad of it. Smokefeather was curled up in a pool of sunlight just outside the elder's den, and Beechface hesitated. Maybe one day she would ask her to accompany her finding herbs like she used to, but Smokefeather didn't seem like she'd be happy to do so. She'd become withdrawn and bitter, even more bitter than Beechface had been after becoming medicine cat apprentice. Smokefeather had reason to, she guessed, but it was still disconcerting.

Beechface tore her gaze away, and instead turned towards the camp entrance with a sigh. With Dawnhawk still out and about Stars knew where, she wasn't exactly thrilled to be dragging another warrior along, but she understood why it was necessary. Didn't mean she had to like it. Now, who to burden with the duty of following her?

Wrenspring's gray and white pelt caught her gaze, and Beechface felt her smile return, albeit now tempered with guilt. The clan believed that he was mates with Ravenclaw, not her. They believed that Ravenclaw was the mother of Birdsong and Shadepaw, not her. They didn't think she'd broken the code, and they couldn't know. Beechface would have liked to think of herself as honest, but every moment perpetuating that belief proved that to be a lie.

"Hey, Wrenspring!" She called, "Care to play 'follow the medicine cat'?" Bloodstrike would have given her an annoyed look for the snark, she was sure, Wolfstar too probably. But neither were here, and Beechface wasn't about to seek either of the two featherbrains out for their approval.

The warrior had already managed a patrol that morning, an early one, chilled by the crisp dawn breeze. Despite the fact that time had passed and the sun now graced his pelt with it's warm rays, Wrenspring swore he could still feel the bitter winds from earlier. His gaze was abnormally hallow. Recent events had left the time a bit of a husk, one that already dragged around a burden of guilt underneath the loss. It was a difficult thing to reconcile and the tom was beginning to think that he never would. A recent discussion with Smokefeather had brought about some thin measures of reassurance. But company to his misery did little to replace what had been lost. Time, just as it did with all things, would be better suited to mend the fractured strands of his being.

'Hey, Wrenspring!'

In spite of it all, regardless of the circumstances that weighed across his shoulders, the white and gray tom perked up. A genuine smile crossed his maw, drawn from the depths by a voice that had become the sweetest and most treasured sound to him. It was distinct from the unyielding love he possessed from his kits; this was a bond forged through meaningful connection, one that bound him to another cat in a way that Wrenspring was certain would never fade. Each moment with Beechface felt better than the last. He had come to crave the tiniest fleeting second at her side. Such unabashed intimacy had hardly been squashed by the looming shadow of his own mistakes, or the broken code that was nearly etched into his scarred pelt.

Wrenspring turned towards her and thrust away the urge to indulge himself in the warm fur underneath her chin. A sinful urge for a warrior but one drawn from the purest fondness possible. Instead, he turned, waving his fractured tail. The grin that was plastered to his maw hardly left as he replied in a lightly rasped meow, "I would love nothing more, Beechface. Lead the way."

Wrenspring at least seemed happy to see her. He always did, and Beechface was grateful for that. His presence was solid and warm, a constant in the ever-tumultuous clan. Lately even he seemed to be worn down by everything that had happened recently, though. Guilt? Probably, how could he not feel guilt, with what they had done? Wrenspring had been a loyal cat who wouldn't break the code, and then they'd become more than friends and things had happened. Beechface didn't regret any of that, of course, but even she wasn't immune to the feeling of guilt that prickled at her fur with each lie they upheld. Yet she knew it wasn't only guilt he had to be feeling. The clan had lost so much recently. Graybird and Copperfox had both died in their sleep within a moon of each other.

Resisting the urge to twine her tail with his in the middle of camp, Beechface turned and led the way into the territory with a quiet sigh. The signs of the fire last greenleaf were almost hard to miss if one didn't look too closely, and the trees were lush with new growth. She led the pair towards the great ridge, keeping an eye out for herbs along the way, but at the moment her attention was more focused on Wrenspring. It seemed as though they were the only ones out in this section of territory, and while Beechface wanted to collect herbs, she was glad to be able to spend more time with Wrenspring. The moons since Asylum's defeat had been crushingly busy with a string of injured and sick clanmates, but it felt like she finally had a moment to breathe. To not have the weight of responsibility that she'd never wanted on her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" She asked, tail lightly brushing his. Grief-stricken and exhausted they might be, but at least they could steal a few moments of peace amidst it all with each other.

For once, he found himself not overwhelmed with the desire to talk and chatter with his companion. Something stalled the tom's tongue and froze it in place. The gentle breeze that stirred the great ridge also tousled his fur; the way it chilled his spine ever so slightly was almost soothing. Wrenspring shook his coat as he drew closer to the medicine cat, feeling the radiant warmth of her side. This was the best that he had felt in quite some time. It was because of this that he had taken a moment to realize that his breath was being held in his lungs, as if even the most minute of actions would fracture the tentative tranquility.

When they neared the familiar spot, her question stopped him. The warrior stalled and contemplated for a moment. His whiskers started to tremble ever so slightly and before he knew it, Wrenspring let out a sharp laugh. For once, in so many season, he was able to genuinely recognize that the feelings that churned about in his chest were wholly abnormal and condemning. Slowly, his head shook ever so slightly in a silent answer. Something akin to honey coated his tongue; it wasn't sweet. After a moment, the tom settled back onto his haunches and allowed his gaze to drift across the scene before them. The breath he had been unintentionally holding was released into the air with an abrupt sigh.

"Do you remember when we were here last?" Wrenspring finally asked, eyes trained forward instead of meeting hers.

"I know." Gently bumping her head against his shoulder, the medicine cat sat next to her mate with a sigh. Watching Wrenspring's reaction to her question sent an aching pang through Beechface's chest. He looked so very worn down, and once more Beechface felt like there was nothing she could do to help. Neither of them were okay, and how could they be with everything that had happened?

"That feels like a lifetime ago." She said softly, a flicker of a smile crossing her expression before fading. In a way, it had been. That had been before Dawnhawk and Featherkit and Bloodstrike... Before leafbare had set its' fangs to the clan's throat by way of Asylum.

Before the lie they perpetuated even now. Guilt prickled beneath the surface, ever-present. Beechface glanced up at Wrenspring, before allowing her gaze to wander over the rocky terrain in front of them. "I'm sorry. I wish things hadn't turned out this way." The lies and deceit, loss after loss... And she could do nothing to stop it. Any of it. Claws flexed into the soil beneath, but even that frustrated act seemed more tired than anything.