Why Do I Follow You? [c]

Thistle was too smart for his own good. Falconkit met the stare with a harmless little grin. He even had the nerve to look sheepish when he waved his tail. ”Aw, c’mon,” he sniffed. ”You don’t think I can appreciate the sunset, Thistle? Give me a little credit.” Falconkit wiggled his shoulders like he was threatening to pounce, though he left his good brother undisturbed. ”Buuuut… maybe you’re onto something.” His grin got sharper. Falconkit jerked his head toward where the rocks crawled toward the gorse wall, making for an easy exit.

Thistle was going to say no. Thistle might even threaten to tell Dad what he was planning. They were both risks Falconkit was comfortable taking.

”You’re the smart one out of us, you know that?” He said warmly. He pivoted on his pads to face the walls rather than facing Thistlekit. ”You think I could jump from here to there? Over the gorse wall, I mean. I’m just sayingggg… it looks pretty close to me. Whaddaya say, Thistle, ol’ boy?”

”Listen? Now why would I do a silly thing like that?” Falconkit’s incorrigible grin got even wider. His tail curled round and round through the air. ”What’s out there? Thistle! Stars above, I can’t believe you asked.” His smile fell into a look of horrible affront to back up the offense in his voice, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face for very long before it was fighting back to resurface. ”The whole world is out there, Thistle. There’s all of WindClan’s territory, not to mention the other four Clans… Highstones… and boy, Thistle, is it ever beautiful. You’ll like it. Just trust me.”

Falconkit turned back around to face the tangle of gorse and bracken. He lowered his body and looked hard at the distance between him and freedom. His muscles wound themself tightly while he sized up the jump. Then, after a series of rump-wiggles, he sprang. Falconkit felt like he was soaring, as if he’d grown wings like his namesake for the express purpose of escaping. He was certain, so certain, that he would make it. It felt like he could fly through the air forever.

But he couldn’t. Quite unceremoniously, he dove clear into the gorse. Little thorns and sharp edges from the bracken woven in poked and tore at his fur--a familiar feeling, from various prior attempts at escape--but painful nonetheless. Falconkit gave a small yelp before beginning to wiggle, eventually managing to extract himself from the wall and tumble to the ground with a little thud. He shook out his head and frowned. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, hot and uncomfortable, but that didn’t keep him from turning back around with his grin still in place. His eyes sought Thistlekit, still on the ledge above, and he called, ”Well, looks like it’s your turn to try. Show me how it’s done, aye?”