{what you've done}open

[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i44.tinypic.com/14kjhxf.jpg] [scrolly:h(486),w(215),sy] IT was just before dawn when a small dark brown bird was startled from her nest. In a fright, the avian creature took flight with a hasty rattle of wings and startling chirp of panic. It scrambled off toward the dusky blue-purple sky that hung low over the earth in the early hours of the morning but it did not take off without cause, or perhaps it did. Out, all alone on the wide open sprawling plains of CheetahClan was a single she-cheetah not far from the frightened bird's nest. With a jump as though the ground had exploded under her paws when the bird took off, the she-cat pressed her belly to the ground and looked fretfully at the sky, amber eyes warily tracking the startled bird's flight. For several minutes the pale gold cheetah didn't move a muscle, she didn't dare. She simply crouched in the pre-dawn gloom with her belly to the ground, eyes skimming across the cloudless sky and sweeping the tall grasses that sprung up all around. WHEN at long last no sinister cats leaped from the brush to kill her, the warrioress slowly straightened up. She wasn't as tall as some cheetahs, exceptionally small and narrow for her species. Her limbs spoke of delicate bones and her deep amber eyes harbored a constant haunted look as though she expected her own shadow to rear up and strike her down. There was a nervous twitch to the end of her long dappled tail and if you looked closely under the short gold and black fur of her body, you could find scars that not even a warrior should have when they were only twenty-seven moons old. Her rounded ears twitched almost constantly even though there wasn't so much as a breath of wind this early in the morning. She was totally alone on the plains and yet, from her posture and constantly wandering gaze, you would think she was being hunted by some foul demon of NightClan. AS she set off again across the shadowy plains, her steps had a distinctiveness to them. If you paid close attention, it was painfully obvious that her standing nervousness translated in her stride. She walked with such a delicate, light step that it seemed as if she believed the ground would split open under her feet if she dared keep her feet on the ground for too long or stood in any one spot longer than absolutely necessary. It resulted in a strangely graceful and alarmingly brisk pace for a cheetah as small as she. HER name was Dawnflower and she was the shame of CheetahClan. NO one would ever say it to her face of course, but they all thought it. She could see it. They cast strange glances at her, muttered when they thought she couldn't hear. The elders gossiped openly about her, but at least they didn't hide it. For some reason that took some of the pain out of it. Oh Dawnflower was beautiful even though it was obvious she was no powerful, sleek she-warrior, but in CheetahClan's eyes that seemed to only make her stranger. Add on top of that her unusual stride, her scars, her haunted eyes, her nightmares and her lack of vocal communication and you had one hot mess. Dawnflower simply was the way she was though. She'd tried, after a while, to talk more, but by then she'd gotten used to not speaking and in a way, the clan had too. They'd stopped listening for her, stopped paying attention. Dawnflower had taken it as punishment for letting her brother go bad and had accepted it with grace, fading into the background of clan life. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to laugh or not be afraid or even to sleep a full night without disturbing dreams and night terrors. THOSE night terrors, were actually why Dawnflower was currently trekking through the territory alone well before dawn. She'd woken with a scream locked in her throat as though she'd tried to swallow a stone. She'd left the warrior's den which she always had to enter early at night so that she was asleep before others otherwise she would get nervous of the group and not be able to sleep at all. Now she had nothing better to do except the only thing she was really good at, patrolling. She used to be a good huntress, one of the best, even, when she was an apprentice. That ship had sailed however, after her brother. She'd lost all aggression, all will to hurt something, anything, even prey. Oh, Dawnflower still ate, but she couldn't kill and she always sent a prayer to StarClan thanking them for the life of the thing she was about to eat. It helped her not feel sick enough to throw it back up later. DELICATE paws stilled and rounded ears twitched as sunlight flooded over the open plain. Dawn. Sunrise. Aurora. Golden eyes stared into the east, misery swimming in their depths. Misery and loneliness, a poisonous cocktail. As afraid as she was of those in her clan and what they thought of her, Dawnflower couldn't help but feeling all alone and faintly wishing for what she'd once had. As an apprentice she'd at least been acknowledged by the other apprentices. Now it was like she didn't even exist. She deserved it of course. She hadn't been able to stop her brother, but she still wished for what she couldn't have. A few times, Dawnflower had actually tried to interact with her clanmates only to run away moments later, nearly ill with fear and shaking from whiskers to tail tip. She didn't understand it, didn't like it, but she hated it. A deep world-weary sigh dragged itself from the she-cheetah's narrow chest. Deep amber orbs hid behind their lids as she closed her eyes. Neat head dipping a little, Dawnflower simply stood in the open and let the morning's first rays wash over her, as if it could wash away all her fear and inhibitions. Tagged;; open Words;; 1047 Singing;; "What You've Done" by Within Temptation Notes;; be aware, her first response to any male will be to run and most likely most females too [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] Early. Much too early. Just before dawn even, said the changing sky. Glistening dew drops coated the prairie grasses, the tree line far and few. Morning was upon the clans, and it would come right on time. The sun, a blinding crescent, poked up through the horizon as a small spotted she-cat loped lazily, yawning. The tall grass, coming up to her shoulders, cloaked her from view of outsiders. And, as per usual, Monarchpaw was indeed not supposed to be there. But what’s new? Technically, she was meant to be in camp. The reason, in few words, was a small expedition to uncharted lands… with all the other apprentices in tow. Now, while it had been her idea, she hadn’t forced her posse to follow her. Therefore it shouldn’t be her fault and that her punishment was faulty. At least, that’s what her mind had decided on. The elders could tend to themselves, they weren’t that old. So, at first light, Monarchpaw had quietly slunk from her downy nest, circled back, and squeezed through the weak spot in the camp border. Elementary. As to what she would do when she returned with no explanation- she had not an answer. Better to ask forgiveness then to ask permission. She flicked her dainty round ears, shrugging once. It wasn’t important now. Swiveling to face the sunshine, she halted, neatly coiling her tail around her paws. The sunrise warmed her, how beautiful it was, and she slitted her eyes and tilted up her muzzle, basking in the golden light. Perhaps she should hunt? At least it was half an excuse. Coincidentally, a slight rustling alerted the relaxed cheetess and she opened one deeply chocolate eye, suddenly bright with playfulness. As tedious as hunting was- it was a stupidly vicious cycle of catch, eat, and repeat- Monarchpaw enjoyed it. Not in morbid ways, because it involved killing the defenseless, but rather that she found pleasure in challenging herself to run faster, to pounce quicker, to kill swifter. It’s not like she had a mentor to teach her such things. Metaphorically speaking. How was she supposed to respect Dawnflower if she couldn’t respect herself? Crouching and slowly creeping forward, the huntress locked on to a target, just visible between the swaying foliage. Her keen eyes, in focus and sharpened to a point, recognized a small zebra. Likely a young foal, separated from its mother. Monarchpaw licked her chops, suddenly aware of her lack of breakfast in her rush to escape from home. Unlike her, with her intricate spots, the striped creature stood out like a sore thumb in the prairie land, making him a sadly easy target. The cheetess dug her hind paws into the soft ground, unsheathing her claws, and prepared to spring. Like a gunshot, she exploded from her hiding spot. Tripping over new legs, the alerted zebra fled. There was never any chance. Down he went, with Monarchpaw sliding her teeth into his neck tissue on the way. She beamed with satisfaction, tucking in to her morning meal. Things always tasted best freshly caught and it was a clean kill. Shame no one was around to see it. Not far away, a bird, alarmed by something or rather, screamed, disappearing into the distance. She cocked her head, padding towards the sound. Halting, she raised her nose, testing the air. Clan cat. Cheetah. Who would be wandering so early? Dawnflower, her orbs recognized as the dainty, fine-boned cheetah came into view in the distance. The apprentice crept forward, suddenly curious. Odd, she wasn’t moving. Like, at all. A statue. Of course, the reason was obvious by her terror-struck eyes. A small, insignificant piece of prey had glued her to her spot, petrified. Monarchpaw rolled her eyes, miffed. As pathetic as a kit. She had only spoke to her mentor short words, only enough to learn what she had to. Never had she felt a connection to the nervous cat. In all honestly, it annoyed her. She could barely hunt, could be pinned in the first moment of their training together, and would flinch if any clan mate even brushed against her side. And she called herself a warrior. What a sad joke. Huffing, she refocused on her mentor, narrowing her eyes and staying down-wind. Dawnflower was such a beautiful she-cat, if only she could open up to the world. As infuriating as it was, Monarchpaw was also puzzled. Why was she so introverted? There had to be a solid reason. No soul would tell her, and she was heartedly considering asking the warrior herself. Perhaps she would. As Dawnflower trekked on, Monarchpaw watched her movement, shadowing her every step in utter silence. It seemed she was just wandering aimlessly, if but very quickly, troubled eyes darting back and forth. Without warning, she came to a halt, and simply closed her lovely orbs. Her stalker, still crouched in a neat little pile, observed her odd beauty. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it any longer, Monarchpaw murmured bluntly, stepping from her concealment. “Are you aware that I’ve been following you for nearly a half hour?” She didn’t wait for answer, squinting at Dawnflower. She spoke what she believed, with a tone just barely heated. “I’m learning nothing, you know. The apprentices make fun of you; they even joke that I’m more capable than you are. Is that what you want? I don’t understand, Dawnflower.”

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i44.tinypic.com/14kjhxf.jpg] [scrolly:h(486),w(215),sy] A voice shattered Dawnflower's solitude like a stone being dropped into a still pool of water. DARK amber orbs snapped open and it took an immense amount of willpower for Dawnflower not to spring right out of her fur in fright. Monarchpaw came striding out of the tall grass, for all the world looking like she owned everything in sight. 'I’m learning nothing, you know. The apprentices make fun of you; they even joke that I’m more capable than you are. Is that what you want? I don’t understand, Dawnflower.' The words cut deep but Dawnflower knew they were true. She'd never asked for an apprentice. Eaglestar had simply...informed her, one evening that she'd better attend the next clan meeting because it was of the utmost importance. When Dawnflower had, clinging to the fringes of the crowd, she'd been promptly given the headstrong newest apprentice. Raising her head now, Dawnflower looked over at her charge. MONARCHPAW was what the youth of CheetahClan was supposed to be. She was sleek and beautiful and powerful. Dawnflower also knew her apprentice to be headstrong, as stubborn as they came and sharp-tongued. It didn't take a genius to know the younger she-cat didn't respect Dawnflower but the older warrior accepted it. No one respected her. They shouldn't either. Still, Dawnflower tried, even though as her apprentice drew closer she wanted to scoot away. She forced herself to remain still though, muscles tense. "I hear them, Monarchpaw. I've been hearing them for a long, long time," Dawnflower said softly, curling her tail close to her paws and looking at the ground. Her voice was as soft as a sweet springtime breeze, quiet and calm but with a wary undertone. Dragging her dark amber eyes up to her apprentice, Dawnflower offered a smile as weak as a flower's petals, weak, easily broken. Maybe broken already. "I...I do have things to teach you. And yes, I did know you were there. I may not be strong or fast or smart but...I have my place." SHE tried not to flinch at the memory those last words brought to mind. Sting...back when he was her brother used to say that a lot. Everyone had their place. He had never thought much of her either. He'd push her around and snarl at her every chance he got. Dawnflower had long ago lost count of how many times her pelt had felt the sting of his claws. She'd tried so hard to save him from himself, from his own darkness only to watch it consume him and nearly kill her. One of her uglier scars, hidden on her underbelly, seemed to tingle at the memory of Sting trying to gut her open before she could tell the clan about his plans to invade. In the morning light with her apprentice not a tail length from her, Dawnflower swallowed the memory and shoved it down, praying it would say gone at least for now. FOCUSING instead on the other she-cheetah, Dawnflower smiled sadly, her gaze sweeping over Monarchpaw. One moon she'd been in charge of this headstrong youngling. She knew the way she treated Monarchpaw was something of unique, like an older sister in some ways. Dawnflower didn't rake Monarchpaw through the coals when she left camp. She followed instead. Monarchpaw was sneaky but she was young. Dawnflower had lots of practice at staying hidden. She was afraid something would happen to her apprentice, that Sting or someone else would come and whisk her away or kill her. Dawnflower wouldn't let that happen, no matter how scared she was. Monarchpaw didn't know anything though, about Dawnflower's demons. Dawnflower had asked Eaglestar but the leader had reassured her that the clan had more or less forgotten Dawnflower and her brother, that the kits of Monarchpaw's generation would never know unless told. SHE knew she should tell Monarchpaw, confess her weakness. Dawnflower knew all too well that Monarchpaw wanted to know. In a way, the young cheetah had a right to know but like everything else, Dawnflower was afraid. Subconsciously, she shifted away from Monarchpaw the way she did with everyone else, like two north ends of two magnets someone tried to force together. She simply polarized away from others. It was such an unconscious gesture... STANDING up, Dawnflower looked away from Monarchpaw and started walking, wading through the sea of tall grass. Her steps were light, ghosting over the ground, ears twitching and eyes roving. Monarchpaw would follow and Dawnflower knew better than to send her back to camp. She wanted to move though. Tendrils of the long grass brushed along her sides and made her shiver even as the sun's light began to warm the earth. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Words;; 812 Singing;; "Skin" by Sixx AM Notes;; kinda rambly.... [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] The breeze was picking up, steadily and suddenly, and Monarchpaw inwardly entertained the thought that Dawnflower could have been blown away, her fine frame and fragile life. It amazed Monarchpaw how little she, or anyone else in the clan for that matter- besides, perhaps, Eaglestar- knew about the warrioress standing in front of her. Everything she was- a mystery. And the clan warriors, in all their greatness, dodged from her questions. Perhaps she was dishonorable? Shunned for a shameful reason. As soon as the idea formed, it was shooed away. Living in fear, yes, but living in violence and deceit? It didn’t fit right with Dawnflower’s persona. Barely could the she-cat picture her harming a rabbit, little own a creature with a family and emotions. "I hear them, Monarchpaw. I've been hearing them for a long, long time," Her voice matched her body type, soft and song-like. It even rang unused. Surprising that she she-cat had responded so placidly to such accusing words. She’d probably accepted them weeks ago. It pulled at her that her mentor could not even look her in the eye. Her deep, soulful orbs, still slightly narrowed, took in her- what was it? Hopeful? Sad?- smile, and they softened a touch. Her next words did not pacify the hot-headed apprentice, fueled her fire even, and she retorted back, colder and harsher a tone than should have been used. “And what is that place? And what are those things you plan on teaching me? To be scared of my own shadow? To hide from the things that matter? That’s stupid.” Monarchpaw immediately felt guilty, sighing and looking down at her paws. “Sorry.” Quietly, a fraction of her previous tone, she murmured. Each and every cat had scars. They had pain and they knew sorrow. Their past left carnage, they had demons and didn’t want to remember something. She was no exception to this rule- with her sorrowful crippled brother and dead mother. If she hadn’t been reckless, she could have been still breathing. It wasn’t fair, no, but she had come past it. Accepted that what is done is done. Dawnflower seemed to dwell on it, let every part of herself be ruled by it. It, of course, being whatever it was that caused such a shattered shell. How was such polar opposites supposed to learn from each other? Terrible frustration stroked tendrils over her mind. The young cat swept her spotted tail over her rosebud paws and, for some reason, when Dawnflower gazed at her, finally looked at her, she chilled. Felt self-conscious. It was such an odd feeling, a rarity that so scarcely passed over her, that it felt unknown and foreign. She had always been aware of the wire-like scars spider webbing across her mentor’s body, but in this moment examined them, head tilted just slightly to the side. For a few seconds, both cats were entrapped in their own thoughts. Monarchpaw deserved an answer, if only to understand her fear. When Monarchkit, excited and jubilant at beginning her first step to becoming a warrior, had been summoned to the Highrock she’d been given, superbly out of the blue, Dawnflower. It was so odd a pair that, at first, she was only dumbstruck. As her co-apprentices ran to greet their new teachers, she had only fixedly peered at Dawnflower. Her mentor had had an equal expression, in flabbergasted shock. She was painfully conscious of the fact that she had never wanted an apprentice. It was something of a mystery. As to which, bitter and envious of other mentors, she had smoothly taken up with Eaglestar. He hadn’t given her a straight answer, either. So here she was, escaping her duties just after the brink of dawn, a brilliant sun showering over her pelt. Without warning, Dawnflower abruptly stood, turned away from her apprentice, and began to pad into the tall greenery. Frustrated, Monarchpaw flicked her tail irritably before rushing to catch up. “You won’t tell me. That’s fine, someone will eventually.” Not a question, merely a blunt statement. She muttered hotly, “but I’m not padding aimlessly after you unless you give me a reason to.” Wind whistled through the grass, ruffled the short fur on Monarchpaw’s teddy-bear ears. Compared to Dawnflower’s dainty, almost non-existent steps, she was an elephant. Her paws were sure, planting themselves into the mossy floor. “I’m going to be a great warrior. I will become a great warrior.” Resolutely now- strong. Not cocky, just sure. “I need to be. And I am well aware of your- what’s the word?- distaste to having an apprentice. But it’s your duty to teach me.” The cheetah focused her sharp gaze on the older she-cat, leaning her head to the side. Her eyes brightened, became more like herself. They held challenge, but eagerness. Spunk but calm readiness. “So, teach me.” Notes- Blaaaah, I apologize for its sad quality. ._.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i44.tinypic.com/14kjhxf.jpg] [scrolly:h(486),w(215),sy] ONLY moments into her relationship with Monarchpaw, Dawnflower had become painfully aware of the fact that her unexpected apprentice had no brain to mouth filter. A lot of cats didn't have it at her age and Dawnflower was patient and understanding when not terrified. Still, when Monarchpaw spoke, more often than not Dawnflower felt like someone was branding her with fire. Each word burned and the fires of shame in her heart would kindle up to blaze bright and hot and painful in her narrow chest. Dawnflower knew she was not the mentor Monarchpaw wanted and she was a far cry from the one the young warrioress deserved. The problem was, Eaglestar apparently didn't see it that way. What the leader saw, neither of them knew but it was something. Dawnflower could only hope she wasn't wrong. STILL, Monarchpaw always spoke with venom when it was in reference to Dawnflower, damning her for her lack of openness, for her fear, for her physical weakness. Seven moons old and already spouting what most of CheetahClan thought of her mentor and she didn't even know why! It was sad really, that such a young cat, not knowing anything, could leave deeper wounds than Sting ever had. 'YOU won’t tell me. That’s fine, someone will eventually, but I’m not padding aimlessly after you unless you give me a reason to. I’m going to be a great warrior. I will become a great warrior. I need to be. And I am well aware of your- what’s the word?- distaste to having an apprentice. But it’s your duty to teach me. So, teach me.' PAUSING, one delicate paw raised to take another step, Dawnflower froze as if someone had turned her to stone or ice. Her gaze, dark and conflicted, stared at the ground. Morning sunlight danced along her supple, soft frame. There were many ways this conversation could go. There were things, that Dawnflower knew that Monarchpaw didn't know and probably would never learn from another warrior. Other warriors were bold and strong and fast, tall and lean, all hard muscle and long claws. Dawnflower was none of that. She was soft and small and delicate. More than once it had been said a good strong wind would blow her away, even before she'd become the shell she was today. That was why she'd learned from Tallpoppy, a slender and tall but sleek she-cheetah, so many moons ago. Tallpoppy had been a master at the more subtle arts of being a warrior. She had been the finest tracker in the clan and so stealthy she could catch a mouse by sneaking up behind it and stepping on its tail. GIVEN time and lots of patience, Dawnflower had learned a lot from Tallpoppy. She had been the one cat not to belittle Dawnflower as an apprentice for constantly letting her brother walk all over her. She hadn't asked why Dawnflower went out of her way to talk to and interact with her abusive brother. She'd nodded approvingly because Tallpoppy had known tragedy in her family, had felt it and didn't want Dawnflower to feel it by losing her brother. Dawnflower may have felt it anyway but at least Tallpoppy had stood beside her, up until her death from a cobra bite. No cat in the clan was better at teaching the brash, loud, stubborn Monarchpaw subtly than Dawnflower. She knew more things than the clan liked to think simply because she was good at disappearing. THEN, there was Monarchpaw's questions. Her apprentice was insistent that eventually someone would tell Dawnflower's story. Honestly, the warrioress had no fear of such a thing. The cats that remembered her story guarded it close. Slittedwing and Eaglestar being the primary keepers of the tale, purely out of necessity. Older warriors would know, the ones alive and fighting and injured during her brother's rebellion. Elders had long since gossiped out Dawnflower's tale and most warriors honestly forgot Dawnflower was still in the clan at all. It was funny how she was so good at disappearing that she could vanish but still be in plain sight. Still, Monarchpaw was stubborn. Bribed just right an elder might dredge up the old gossip and weave the tale for her. If Monarchpaw heard it from a third party, she would hear it wrong. Dawnflower knew how the 'clan version' of her tale went. That a tom went crazy and tried to lead a band of rogues to attack the clan and that Dawnflower had gotten caught in the crossfire after finding them during a patrol. Oh the tom's name had been Sting-something or another and he'd been her no good brother. She was probably helping him all along and just wanted to look innocent so she could stay in the clan and be his spy. THE first time she'd heard their version, she'd gone to a corner of camp and been ill. MONARCHPAW had to hear it from her or the apprentice would never stop asking. Dawflower's ears roved restlessly atop her head as indecision warred within her. Tell her own story or...or hope no one else would. It was too risky to hope no one else would but Dawnflower hadn't told her story in moons, not since she repeatedly begged for forgiveness from Eaglestar after her naming, begging to not be thrown out of the clan because she hadn't been strong enough to fight her way free to warn the clan. What would Monarchpaw do when she knew? Be more ashamed than ever? Probably. A sigh dragged itself from the fine cheetah as she made her choice. She seemed to deflate inward on herself, as though her very bones would collapse in on one another until she simply fell flat or the wind took her away. RAISING her head at last and looking over her shoulder, the warrioress fixed Monarchpaw with her dark gaze. "Catch me, and I'll tell you my tale, if you really want to know it. You have until sunhigh." WITHOUT waiting for an answer, Dawnflower vanished. Not literally of course, that was impossible. She slid into the tall grass and with a whisper of dancing feet, was gone. She lost herself in a world of grasses that grew taller than she, paws dancing so lightly over the ground she made not a sound at all. Now, a normal warrior would say they could just follow her motions or her scent. Dawnflower was better than that. She moved without a sound and in moments the fine wheat color of her pelt blended perfectly with the tall grasses swaying in the breeze. Her feet weren't planted heavily enough to leave defined pawprints and she passed closely by plants that grew among the grasses that had strong, pungent scents. In this endless field of identical waving grass, it wasn't hard to confuse another cat when they lost sight of you, and it only took a moment to do so. DAWNFLOWER roved in circles and winding paths through the grass, sliding soundlessly through it on her ever-light feet. Her ears kept alert for signs of Monarchpaw approaching, eyes as keen as any hawk's in this regard. After moons of constantly looking over her shoulder, she was well used to looking for danger in every shadow and swaying plant. Her heart pounded hard and fast in her rib cage, like a bird trying to escape a tangle of thorns but Dawnflower tried to swallow the fear. It lodged itself like a sharp jagged rock in her throat. Fear of being hunted. Why had she let herself do this? She felt like a rabbit, trembling in fright while a wolf stood barely a breath away, fangs bared. She felt like...like her brother would launch himself at her at any moment and throw her to the rogues again. Her skin crawled as if a million ants were under it and in her fear, her gaze grew keener and her sense of smell clearer. She could hear every whisper of movement. MONARCHPAW thought Dawnflower had nothing to teach her. As far as aggression and the like, that was a more or less true statement. Every cat had their place though. Dawnflower wasn't much for fighting but she could disappear. Anywhere, even as you watched. SHE kept moving, though she lost track of time. She doubled back over her own path and crisscrossed it, passing pungent plants, stepping in puddles as though by accident. She broke stalks of tall grass on purpose, all the while on the move. Standing still or hunkering down in a 'safe' place was the mistake most cats made when on the run or when they sought to lose someone. Always move. If you're enemy can't catch you, they can't hurt you. GLANCING skyward, she tracked the sun but never stopped. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Words;; 1507 Singing;; "Galaxies" by Owl City Notes;; muse explosion.... [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] Trailing behind Dawnflower, Monarchpaw took a quick glance at the sun. Await the coming light, as the saying went. Dawn was nearly over, the sky losing it’s beautiful pinky and orange hues and reverting to a, dull in comparison, deep blue. Early morning patrols would be setting out soon and cats would be realizing she was not dozing peacefully in the apprentice’s den. Internally, she groaned. Too much to be bothered with, really. So suddenly that Dawnflower stopped, Monarchpaw nearly collided with her rear end. The cheetah had a paw raised and she seemed to be staring at nothingness. Coming up beside Dawnflower, she could see the deep thought passing over her vivid eyes. Perhaps her words had sparked something. A warm glow passed over her spots, making her groomed pelt alight with orange. Indeed, Monarchpaw was confident in her ability to discover the lost story of this sad past. Cats would know, they would remember. The elders would let loose a tale, when buttered up just so, perhaps deep in their memory. Older warriors hardly acknowledged Dawnflower’s presence, so that was unlikely. Slittedwing, with all her moons, would be less willing of them all to give it up. She wasn’t exactly a fan of the naughty apprentice. Then again, the medicine cat wasn’t exactly a fan of anyone. Something or rather about destroying half of her herb supplies in the busiest sickness season in a ‘stupid, immature, mouse-brained bloody game’, as the wiry cheetah had put it. In any case, Monarchpaw was quite blessed that she had yet to injure herself and been taken to the enclosed, dark space she called her den. Slittedwing tended to hold grudges. Now, as to if the stories she would gain knowledge of were true- that was the question. Doubtful. Often, the elders could barely remember where the camp entrance was, little own a piece of history. Her mind chased the idea, planning her moves. Her pure determination would find it for her, if nothing else. Monarchpaw did not distrust her mentor; think she would bring her harm, she was just horribly curious. A part of her, the soft part, told her that, just maybe, if she knew the truth, she could help. Fearless could balance the terrified, and vice-versa. If anything, she could stop the constant questions, and therefore reminders, of Dawnflower’s old memories. Because, as you know, she would continue to until she found an answer. When she wanted something, it always worked like that. She would pester and prod, until either their snapping point was found, or they would be so sick of her unwavering bothering, they gave her her prize. After being cloaked in her thoughts, Dawnflower’s deep gaze nearly made her flinch. The fine-boned head swiveled to look over her shoulder at her apprentice. "Catch me, and I'll tell you my tale, if you really want to know it. You have until sunhigh." And with that, she slipped, molded, into the tall, tall grass. And was gone. Monarchpaw stood there, mouth agape. Here was a challenge, set out right in front of her. Find the unfindable. Her prize this time around? Exactly what she’d been looking for. Without thinking of strategy, the younger cat plunged headfirst into the deeper greenery, following her nose and her eyes. With a confidence that she would find Dawnflower, she silently went through the steps to tracking a creature. Seeing paw prints, she sped after them, testing the air. As quickly as they begun, they ended. She narrowed her eyes in confusion, perking up her ears for sounds. All she heard was the gusts of wind dancing through the foliage, sending shivers down her spine. Nothing else. A waft of cheetah scent turned Monarchpaw in a different direction and she heartedly chased after it, never looking over her shoulder. This continued on for what felt like ages. She pushed headlong into a new trail or scent, a crushed plant or footprint. The sun was rising quickly, and panic started to set in. If she didn’t find her mentor, then she had failed. Monarchpaw never failed. She was even scared of the word. It made her cringe when anyone used her name and fail in the same sentence. She breathed heavier, quicker, turning in a full circle, feeling suddenly trapped. Claustrophobia. She tried to look and find the sun, but suddenly she couldn’t. Her brown-hued eyes grew wider, more alarmed. It felt as if the grass was closing over her head. It was a maze. A sad, terrible mind game of a maze. As her mind raced, the panic became more desperate. What was that hidden in the shadows? Eyes, she swore she could see eyes. Peering at her, malicious and glowing. In a flurry, she took off running. Full-on speed, tearing away at the grass, adrenaline pumping. Her paws thudded on the prairie ground, frantic and erratic. She ran and ran and ran, never glancing back. When she finally did stop, it wasn’t because her mind had calmed, it was because her body made her. Collapsing on the floor, she knew she wouldn’t find her mentor. Thoughts of the challenges she had bestowed on her brother came to mind, for some reason, and she flipped through them stoically. Her brain clicked, and she jumped to her feet, and idea forming so rapidly she could barely hold onto it. It evolved from a certain memory, perfectly clear now… She was somewhere deep within CheetahClan territory. Leaf-fall. As a young kit, Monarchpaw had left camp, alone and looking for trouble. The river had looked like an interesting adventure until she set a tiny paw in it, slipping with the rushing waters. In she went, head over heels, flailing and choking as fluids invaded her lungs. It carried her downstream, far from where she was, and dumped her on a random bank. Coughing out the river, Monarchkit weakly looked around, suddenly painfully aware of her lack of direction. Never had she seen this place, right in front of a field of tall, tall grass. Deliriously, she had wandered for hours. In the towering stalks, no cat could find her. After night though, a predator definitely could. As the day wore on, Monarchkit grew terrified. As sunset put its greedy fingers over the skies, she could no longer go on. Shivering and wailing, she simply stopped moving, fell to the earth. In a quarter of an hour, a patrol came across her, the cold little being. They had been looking, and she had been right where they came to. Monarchpaw may not have had the advantage of experience, nor did she have the advantage of knowledge, but she was quick and nimble. She had an easily blendable pelt and a good head on her shoulders. If she couldn’t beat the hidden depths with speed and strength, she would with simplicity. So she would do the complete opposite of what Dawnflower would think she would do. Instead of being brash and jumping to conclusions by headfirst hunting her down, she would stop looking. She would be still and conceal herself. It was logical reasoning. Too timid to stalk Monarchpaw, Dawnflower would be running. The tall grass offered its confusing patterns and perfect concealment; therefore her mentor would likely not leave the field. At some point, she would come across this exact spot again and again, no matter how random she tried to be. With renewed confidence, Monarchpaw hunted out a strong-smelling plant, able to hide her telltale scent. She was mad with her plan, scooting back carefully into the densest of grasses. Looking skyward, the foliage completely covered her frame, arching over her head and closing in on her pelt. Without a single sound, she waited. Just waited, for the exact moment when she would spring on her prey. She wouldn't catch the dissapearing female, she would wait for her. Her steel willpower kept her completely immobile, unmoving as a statue. How do you beat the unbeatable? You do the complete unexpected. Notes- yeah, me too o.o

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[atrb=background,http://i44.tinypic.com/14kjhxf.jpg] [scrolly:h(486),w(215),sy] WHEN Dawnflower had been given Monarchpaw to train, the clan had burst out in gossip, as was their nature. No one had ever expected someone like her to get an apprentice like that. A lot of older cats wondered if Eaglestar had gone mad and for a while, Dawnflower had questioned it as well. Sometimes she still did. The thing was though, Dawnflower wasn't as useless as the clan liked to think she was. She was timid and she was fragile, yes, but not useless. Everyone had a use. That had been her belief since the day she was born. Even when Stingkit used to make fun of her or gloat over beating her in some wrestling game, Dawnkit had always known she had a place. After Sting had left, she'd found it. Right here, in the places the mesmerized the mind so that no one else would go there. THE field's mesmerizing effect was what Dawnflower had been banking on when she first led her apprentice on her little chase. Her false clues, fake starts, all of it. All designed to confuse. Give Dawnflower any enemy and she could lose them with ease. It was her one skill. The only skill she would probably ever have. It had only ever failed her once, when she'd been hunted by her own brother. Her one failure had always been Sting. Even though no one had ever said it, she'd always taken responsibility for him. When the warriors were mad at him, she'd talk them down. When apprentices wanted to beat the mousedung out of him, she'd talked them down. When he got into rages, she took the brunt of it so no one else had to. When he turned on the clan, she tried to stand in his way and nearly died for it. She wasn't even the oldest in their litter and she had taken responsibility for every mistake he'd ever made. Perhaps the most hurtful part of that whole scenario was that he hadn't cared. He'd tossed her aside, tossed her to the wolves so to speak when she had so dearly wished he'd turn and say it was just a joke, a cruel sick joke but a joke none the less. SHOVING the thoughts away as far as she could, Dawnflower began sliding through the tall grasses. She had to find Monarchpaw. It was nearly sunhigh and she wanted to see if maybe she could see how her apprentice was handling this challenge. Normally she'd expect Monarchpaw to do just as she'd started out, rushing headlong without a second thought. That was what Eaglestar wanted to stop. Monarchpaw was renowned for her stubbornness and tendency to rush into things without thinking her moves through. True warriors got killed doing that. Eaglestar had confided that her point in putting Monarchpaw with Dawnflower was so that Dawnflower could save her life before she rushed in over her head and got killed. Dawnflower didn't quite see how she'd manage but maybe this could be a start? Swallowing the lump in her throat, Dawnflower stopped and stood still for a moment, just listening and looking. ALL around her the golden brown tall grass waved, almost in a happy fashion. The wind bending the stalks was like a gentle caress along her sleek sides like a kind lover. The sun, rising higher and higher by the moment, dripped warm rays of light over the open plain, soothing and comfortable and familiar. Rounded auds turned and roved as Dawnflower stood and listened for sounds of Monarchpaw moving. Normally Monarchpaw was horrible at subtly and even Dawnflower could hear her coming a mile off. The silence was rattling to the nervous warrioress. Dropping low, belly brushing the ground, she hunkered down and listened harder. The field wasn't really that big, at least, not with the invisible perimeters Dawnflower had set for herself so she wouldn't accidentally lose her apprentice. If Monarchpaw was moving around looking for Dawnflower, she probably wouldn't be thinking about keeping quiet so the silence made Dawnflower nervous. THOUGHTS of Sting flooded into her mind. What if he'd gotten her? Were there loners in the territory? An invading clan perhaps? Her heartbeat picked up, pounding in her chest as if determined to break her ribs with the force. Dawnflower could hear her own blood rushing in her ears. Her claws dug into the warm earth and her tail twitched nervously behind her. She couldn't smell blood, and that was a pungent smell Dawnflower could never miss. Under her short spotted coat, her muscles tensed as her fear climbed. Had her apprentice gotten lost? Was she even sure Monarchpaw had followed her? What if Monarchpaw had given up and gone back to camp? No, Monarchpaw didn't give up. Not when Dawnflower was holding something like this over her head. LAYING her ears back nervously, Dawnflower slowly began to stalk through the grass. Every instinct she had screamed at her to proceed with caution and that she did. After each step she would pause and listen hard, tasting the air for signs of danger. The fur along her shoulder blades was raised and her skin practically crackled with tension, as if someone had struck her with lightning. The grasses felt too close, too confining, hiding her enemies, hiding the one thing Dawnflower would rear up to protect. She'd never expected to have an apprentice after her big screw up, she'd be damned if she let some loner hurt Monarchpaw just because she wasn't a good enough mentor to protect her. That thought pushing to the forefront of Dawnflower's mind, she warily continued on seeking out her apprentice as the sun rose higher and higher. FINALLY, the pungent scent of herbs interrupted the monotony of smells. Dawnflower's auds perked up and stilled. Dark amber eyes peered through the close-growing stalks, nose tingling with the sharp scent of the plant. Carefully tasting the fragrant air, Dawnflower was surprised to find Monarchpaw's scent. It was nearly smothered by the plant smell but Dawnflower was an overly cautious she-cat to say the least and analyzed a lot more than her apprentice apparently thought. It surprised Dawnflower, that Monarchpaw had decided to hunker down and wait. At least she had chosen to hide her scent. If Dawnflower hadn't been so cautious, she wouldn't have noticed and probably trodden on her own apprentice without realizing she was there. Glancing skyward, Dawnflower smiled a little. Nearly sunhigh. Her gaze went back to where Monarchpaw was no doubt waiting. DAWNFLOWER could easily avoid her apprentice now that she knew where Monarchpaw was. Strangely though, she didn't move. Half of her wanted to let the younger cheetah catch her. The other wanted to run, if only to keep her secret safe from the next generation. Finally, Dawnflower made her choice. Doubling back, she put some distance between herself an Monarchpaw before sitting back on her narrow haunches. A fun fact about cheetahs that they didn't roar or chuff like lions and tigers did. They gave short yips to call clanmates and loved ones and cubs. It wasn't a sound Dawnflower had made often, especially since Sting but now she opened her mouth and emitted three yipping chirps. It was before sunhigh but if Monarchpaw came and paid attention to that little fact, Dawnflower would tell her tale. If Monarchpaw didn't realize Dawnflower had given herself away or stubbornly stayed put, Dawnflower would wait her out until after sunhigh and then go to her, secret safe for now. That thought in mind, Dawnflower called again, the sound very similar to a bird call. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Words;; 1305 Singing;; "For the First Time" by The Script Notes;; :3 [/scrolly]

[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] For such a terribly active cat, being utterly and completely still for this long was one of the hardest things she’s ever done. Never could she remember being so devoid of movement for this long. Even after her adopted mother’s death, as Harepaw had mourned in quiet hush and turned motionless, Monarchpaw had been soothed by being active. By forgetting things in exercise and in play. She saw things in vivid colors, harsh and lit. She saw the world as exciting and with such potential; drunk on it all. But when she was still, she grew sober. The sun continued skywards, Monarchpaw watched it, always watching, and knew her time was running out. But there was no way she could continue on searching. Never would she be as stealthy and soundless as her mentor. That, of all things, she could be one hundred percent positive of. She just didn’t have the life experience. And looking at the broken creature, didn’t want it to begin with. As much as Monarchpaw could imagine herself as subtle and as hidden, it would never really happen. It was against who she was. Even now, with determination of steel, she couldn’t help shifting slightly now and again. Desperately, she wanted to be running, to be using her assets to bag a triumph. But, instead, her eyes alit with fire; she calmed her racing heartbeat to a slow thump and hunkered down. Sheer willpower to win kept her in place. Occupying time, memories flooded her mind. She dug through them rapidly, searching for something of interest. The images halted, freezing at a picture of a young cheetah, standing with the gusts of wind, looking regally over the plains. This kit, of course, was she. It had been a crescendo of joy, that day. She had felt powerful, unstoppable. Her spotted coat was cooed and coddled by the sweet breath, and she took a moment to close her fawn-colored eyes. The world was so big for such a little thing. It was filled with deceit and pain and anger, but, just then, as she took it all in so high on a cliff top, she saw only the good. And in all her naiveness, Monarchpaw still saw things as such. Just as suddenly the memory was yanked from under her paws, and she reverted to present life, ears perking in alertness. The sound that came next startled the cheetess to such a degree that she fell sideways, onto her flank. Was that...yipping? Huffing, she glanced through the long strands of green, closing her in, and found the sun not quite at sun-high. Her mentor hadn’t believed time was up- oh no, she was much too observant. Nor had she simply stopped trying to hide. No, she must have located her apprentice. And what was this? Calling to her like she was a young cub! Her mother had done that when she was misbehaving, straying too far from the nest. It was supposed to be with some sort of affection. Dawnflower was treating her like a lost kit. Her plan had failed, no matter how hard she had tried to be successful. And instead of letting her lose with some sort of dignity, by noticing her younger counter-part and then continuing on with her mission to stay hidden, she had summoned Monarchpaw. Frustration was only the beginning of her feelings. She was angry, she was ashamed, she was bitter, and she was horribly enraged. Dawnflower had given her an impossible task as to which she knew her apprentice, whom she had hardly begun to teach, would never accomplish! And yet here she was, seemingly prepared to tell Monarchpaw her tale. A prize. The prize that she had pined for dearly but now found irrelevant. It was unfair, a pointless waste of hours of hiding. With a hard, cold look in her slitted eyes, she picked herself up, legs stiff and smelling strongly of the plant she had been residing in, and stalked to where the sound was coming from, fully prepared to speak daggers to her mentor. Vaguely, she considered circling around, giving it one last go. But if she could find a cloaked, camouflaged cheetah amidst a repetitive field, she would be fully capable of hearing an approaching apprentice, still partially lacking the skills to stay silent. So, with sharp breaths, she continued. And there she was, in Monarchpaw’s eyes looking proud. Dawnflower was sitting back on her haunches, eyes focused to where she knew Monarchpaw would appear. Lashing her speckled tail, she growled. “And what was that supposed to teach me, Dawnflower?” She spat her name. “That I’m incapable? Don’t give me a lesson in being humble, in losing graciously. I swear to StarClan, I’ll-” She cut herself off, took a sharp breath in but didn’t sit. “That was impossible, and you know it. I didn’t find you. You purposefully gave yourself away. Save your story, I’m not listening to it. You never wanted to spell out your history, and now you don’t have to. Are you satisfied with yourself?” Her words were outwardly biting, bitter to the very core. Her paws itched to lash out. In her own way, her willowy build and now icy, flint-like eyes were looming, capable of snapping in a heartbeat. Was she being unreasonable? Of course. Would she regret it? Likely. She just couldn't contain it. Notes- omg, that was so rambly and weak sounding. I apologize .-.

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/66xi60.jpg] [scrolly:h(630),w(266),sy] LISTENING to the wind through the grasses made Dawnflower jumpy. Anyone could creep out of the concealing undergrowth, friend or foe. Considering the delicate she-cheetah had few friends, her mind jumped straight to enemies every time a breath of wind stirred the stalks. Her tail twitched nervously but she forced herself to stay still until she heard pawsteps coming her way. Her muscles tensed until Dawnflower recognized the step as her apprentice's. WHEN Monarchpaw finally appeared, Dawnflower hadn't really been ready for anger. She should have been but she wouldn't. Monarchpaw lashed out with violent words and sharp glares that the older she-cat could practically feel pricking her skin. Blinking in surprise, momentarily caught off guard, Dawnflower could only stare in horror. Monarchpaw...had completely missed the point. The praise Dawnflower had been about to give for Monarchpaw's choosing to stay still died in her throat as if someone had squeezed her throat shut leaving her only to stare at the younger she-cat. Monarchpaw thought Dawnflower was trying to make a fool of her? Never in her life had Dawnflower been accused of something like that. Even when she'd been more outgoing as an apprentice she'd always been too soft to do anything so selfish and yet...here she was being accused of such a thing by a seven moon old apprentice. Her apprentice that had no respect for her and never would because she couldn't learn the one thing Dawnflower had to teach. "I...I...that..." Dawnflower stammered, rising to her feet and actually backing up from Monarchpaw a few steps. For a moment she swore it was her brother baring down on her, fangs bared, snarling insults about how she was incapable of doing anything right. 'You'll never be a warrior! You're too soft! You'll be lucky if you don't die in your first battle!' The words rang in Dawnflower's ears which flipped back to lay flat against her head. Her stomach writhed in knots as she looked all around, trying to find an answer but quickly losing her nerve. How could she placate her apprentice? This whole thing was pathetic, it really was. What decent mentor had to placate their own apprentice?! Dawnflower wanted to run, her limbs itched to flee. "That...that wasn't the point!" Dawnflower tried, flailing to string a sentence together, so thrown was she by Monarchpaw's reaction. SHE'D expected triumph from the younger cat, triumph at realizing Dawnflower's mistake. Most cats, especially her brother, enjoyed telling her when she was wrong so why wouldn't Monarchpaw? Dawnflower had been about to praise her apprentice for figuring out how best to catch Dawnflower. Honestly, any other cat would have tripped over the young apprentice before they noticed her! It was paranoia and paranoia alone that had saved Dawnflower that bit of dignity. Any invader not used to the monotony of the plains would have never seen her, even some cheetahs wouldn't have noticed if they'd been distracted or focusing on something else. Dawnflower had been actively seeking Monarchpaw and had known the younger cat well enough to know that silence was never a good sign with her. Movement was to be expected, silence and stillness induced wariness. OH StarClan, why couldn't she do anything right?! 'YOU'RE useless! The toms just think you're pretty, looks are all you're god for. You'll never be strong! Not like me! I'll have it all someday and you'll have nothing!' TROUBLED amber eyes flitted here and there as Dawnflower's mind raced. She felt pathetic and weak and wrong. She was afraid of her own apprentice! How wrong was that?! Oh her parents and mentor must be turning in their graves with shame! Dawnflower's claws dug into the earth, her ears pinned to her head and nervous gaze constantly on the move. Finally she swallowed the stone in her throat and looked away from her apprentice. Dragging in a deep unsteady breath, the delicate she-cheetah let it out slowly. She couldn't do this. Couldn't teach an apprentice. Not one like Monarchpaw or one kinder. Never. It wasn't meant to be. She'd walk a million miles, do thousands of patrols if that was what it took. She couldn't help a cat like Monarchpaw or any cat. Sting was right. She was useless. A pretty face, nothing else. Something to look at, not to hear or talk to or understand. All she did was get in the way. She couldn't even teach a single lesson right! MONARCHPAW needed a faster, smarter, braver, stronger mentor. Maybe Duskfeather. They're personalities were similar enough. Anyone. Anyone else. She couldn't do this. Dawnflower wanted to scream but knew she'd never be able to make the sound. Every time she tried, Monarchpaw missed the point of her lessons and got mad to the point where Dawnflower was too flustered to think straight. Monarchpaw needed someone with a stronger will to lead her, not a weak shell to try and hold her back. Not that she ever could, hold Monarchpaw back that was. The young she-cat practically blasted Dawnflower apart or breezed right through her every time they were close to each other. This was all a mistake, a horrible horrible mistake that needed to be fixed. TURNING away, Dawnflower closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. Closing her eyes for a moment, she gathered her will, weak as it was. Finally she started walking away from Monarchpaw, toward camp. She had to find Eaglestar and fix this before it got worse. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Word Count;; 957 Background Song;; "Blow Me Away" by Breaking Benjamin Notes;; </3

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[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] While Monarchpaw fumed, Dawnflower fought for words. Her frustration always carried out to anger and tension. It had been that way since birth. It was just a common-known fact that she was in pure hatred of failing. The sun, now just reaching its peak, succeeded in bringing her misused bitterness to a greater level. It washed over her, pushing her eyes to a warmer color, border-lining scarlet. The wind, growing warmer as the day wore on, brought shivers to her spine. She had been proud of her spur-of-the-moment choice to be unexpected. Now, it felt foolish. Why had she tried such a thing, she asked herself sullenly. It wasn’t who she was- wasn’t what she was meant to do. She was direct and, by many standards, foolish in her mindset, simple as that. Her rant was complete and she finally planted herself to the floor, muscles tense and watching coldly as Dawnflower stammered. She looked caught off guard, flabbergasted. And so she should be! The next emotion however, to pass over her delicate, sweet face, was something Monarchpaw wasn’t expecting. It was fear, raw and pure. She saw such a haunted look, housed in her flitting eyes and pinned down ears, obviously dredged up from past experiences. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, that reminiscent glaze of horror, but she had never been the cause of such panic. It was a feeling of sudden self-hatred, of knowing what she done couldn’t be removed. Never had she enjoyed causing pain. It just seemed to follow her, trail her like a roaming hawk. As Dawnflower took steps backwards, as did Monarchpaw, expression becoming slightly indecisive; slightly less accusing. Her tail stopped lashing, hanging still and limp. The look in her eyes stabbed needles into her heart, as much as she tried to fight it, squeezing it, constricting it. After a deep, world-weary sigh, her mentor simply stood, with not a word, and begun to pad away. Her lean, breakable frame faded into the golden-rod stalks, disappearing like a paw print in the tide. She was done. Gone. With no doubt back to camp to end this train-wreck of an apprenticeship once and for all. You’d think the young cat would be at ease with this idea. Excited, even, that she would be getting a second chance at a mentor more suited to her needs. Instead, miraculously, she felt torn. Stupidly, completely, and utterly torn. Another thing she was mad at. As soon as she lost sight of Dawnflower in the tangle of grass, she clenched her eyes shut so tightly she saw stars dancing on her eyelids. Why had she done that? Couldn’t she have simply accepted a loss and moved on? It was cruel, how she could be so infuriated and in rage while, at the same time and at the same cat, also be guilty and ashamed. Monarchpaw knew for certain that her next mentor would be of an entirely different variety. They would be cunning, strong, capable. But wasn’t she already on her way to becoming those things? Did she need a spectrum of abilities? But how could she learn and grow when her mentor herself would never learn and grow? Her past held her at its will, her and her nervous eyes and jittery demeanour. Now, Monarchpaw was angry at herself, for being rash and harsh to someone only trying to help her. It fuelled her fire, creating a monster of confusion and indecisiveness. Her mind waged a war with itself; should she chase after her, accept her own mistakes? Should she stay with her initial reaction- allow things to happen as they did? In all sense of relationships, theirs was sadly dysfunctional. With a suddenly decisive growl, the guilt eating her up, she shook herself off and headed in the direction of camp. Her pace was overly brisk, knowing she had to reach Dawnflower before the camp entrance, taking into account her head start. Pride still made her head turn, telling her to stop and turn around. Never did she admit her wrongs to others. Spotting the she-cat, padding and looking defeated, was jeeringly simple after searching for her in the field all morning. Monarchpaw didn’t say anything as she came to stand in front of her, suddenly feeling shy and ashamed. This was what she always did. Pushed away and deteriorated relationships with her sharp tongue and quick reactions. Her unwillingness to just surrender control. Forcing herself to look into Dawnflower’s pretty amber eyes, she murmured, heartbreakingly soft, such a polar opposite from her cutting, blindly shot tone of the past. “I..I don’t want another mentor. I kept telling myself that it was your fault, that you weren’t right for me. But you’re doing your best, you’re trying to be patient. It’s my fault, I know it is. I can’t stop, I’m always going, and I know that one day I’ll die by my own lack of caution.” She allowed her gaze to slip to the dusty ground before returning to face Dawnflower. “I...have to be strong. I’ve always had to be. For my brother, after losing our mother.” She shuddered, again closing her eyes for a moment. “For what I feel like the clan deserves from me. I know I can learn from you, honestly, but it’s going to take a lot of patience. I’m a little bit pigheaded sometimes.” Her eyes lit up with something. Humour? Hopefullness? “What I’m really trying to say is,” Her pride had been swallowed, and there were only three more words that could have been said on the matter “I’m...sorry, Dawnflower.” sad little Dawnflower :C

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/66xi60.jpg] [scrolly:h(630),w(266),sy] WHEN this whole disaster started, Dawnflower had had no idea what Eaglestar hoped to achieve. Sure Monarchpaw was hot headed but she wasn't much worse than any other apprentice her age. A firm paw would be enough to snap her back into line so why did Eaglestar think it was a good idea to stick her with Dawnflower? Everyone knew the delicate she-cheetah couldn't ever do anything right. She couldn't stop her brother from going bad. Couldn't be strong or fast or smart or special in any way. She hadn't even been able to warn the clan that Sting was going to attack. The only thing she'd managed to do was survive nearly being disemboweled by StarClan knew how many cats. Surviving...that wasn't even a skill. It was luck. Torture. Dishonor. She had no real value, not to the clan or to anyone. She couldn't train an apprentice, couldn't go two pawsteps without glancing over her shoulder and jumped at every shadow or breath of wind. HEAD bowed in shame, the small she-cheetah slowly trekked back to camp, trying to figure out just what she was going to say to Eaglestar. WHEN Monarchpaw suddenly appeared like a whirlwind out of nowhere, Dawnflower very nearly shrieked in fright. Jumping in surprise, the warrioress backpedaled a few steps, simply to avoid running into the younger cheetah. Opening her mouth to spew out an apology just out of habit, Dawnflower was cut off by her wayward apprentice giving a long rant about it wasn't really Dawnflower's fault and how she lacked caution and all these other things. The words spun around and around in Dawnflower's mind, leaving her stunned to say the least. 'WHAT I’m really trying to say is...I’m...sorry, Dawnflower.' IT wasn't a hard concept, apologizing to someone. Dawnflower practically breathed apologies to the cats around her. Apologizing for her failure just by living and breathing. Really, it wasn't a new idea to her. It surprised her though, to hear it from Monarchpaw, left her thunderstruck in fact. The fact alone that it was proud, stubborn Monarchpaw apologizing was enough to achieve such a feat as effectively stunning Dawnflower but it was even more surprising because nobody apologized to Dawnflower. Never really had. Maybe a few times when someone bumped into her as an apprentice but that was a while ago. Usually...usually they just passed her by or let her apologize so that it went in one ear and out the other. Sting had never apologized even though as a younger cat she'd longed to hear it when she constantly took the brunt of his anger and had to break up his fights. It was like after his betrayal, she had gotten so used to trying to apologize for her brother that she had just never stopped and the clan wasn't listening anymore. They didn't care so they stopped seeing and hearing her. She faded to the background to the point where some of the very new warriors, barely knew that she was a clanmate and not an invading enemy. THE fact that Monarchpaw of all cats in the clan was standing in front of her, apologizing... DAWNFLOWER looked away from her apprentice, mind whirring. Had she been a human, she would have been anxiously biting her lip, but she was a cheetah so instead her tail twitched nervously, as was her habit. "You don't have to apologize," Dawnflower said at last, her voice as weak as thin ice. "Not to me." Her amber gaze flitted to Monarchpaw and away. "I should be apologizing to you. I'm no mentor. I can't fight and I'm not especially fast. StarClan knows I'm not smart and the entire clan knows I have poor judgment of character." Monarchapw had opened the floodgate and now Dawnflower just had to say it. Had to make Monarchpaw understand that she wasn't cut out to be a mentor, to her or anyone else. "You need...a strong cat as your mentor. Not me. I can't teach you how to protect the clan when I couldn't even do it the one time I had a chance to." AS soon as the words flew out of her mouth, the delicate warrior wanted to snatch them back and swallow them. Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. A white-hot burning sensation seared its way through Dawnflower, a sensation she couldn't name. Shame or fear at finally letting slip her fault, perhaps. She had no idea. Her amber gaze flew away from Monarchpaw and fixed on the ground under her paws, hard and dry from the harsh sun that beat down on her back. She wished the clan was right, that a good wind would blow her away so she wouldn't have to run. Monarchpaw was a keen apprentice, she would catch Dawnflower's slip. The thought of telling the tale made Dawnflower feel tired and worn, like an elder after moons and moons of serving the clan in battle after battle. It was the way Sting had always made her feel, tired and worn and used. Dark amber eyes hid behind closed lids as Dawnflower slowly sank back on her narrow haunches. After a moment they forced themselves open again, an air of great sorrow and tiredness hanging all around the young warrior as she looked up at her apprentice. "YOU found me before sunhigh," Dawnflower whispered, her voice weak and tired. "I think...that means I owe you a story. Then...then you can chose if you want to really stay as my apprentice." Tagged;; Monarchpaw Word Count;; 956 Background Song;; "Little Miss" by Sugarland Notes;; </3

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[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] The look Monarchpaw had in her deeply expressive peepers was so hopeful, so innocently fragile, she could have broken the hearts of many a creature. Round and wide, so capable of luring her clan mates in and then sending them away in a fit of anger. This was a look that had done just that, more than once. The weaker toms had watched her with hidden adoration. It wasn’t purposeful- she couldn’t help but show her emotions on her shoulder for the world to see. For more time than she had wanted, Dawnflower was silent, seeming to become shocked and at a loss of breath. Her slender maw opened, closed, looking like she was clawing to find words to explain her thoughts. The pride she had needed to push down fought upwards, making Monarchpaw’s head spin with the possibilities of how this conversation could go. Dawnflower had a right to refuse her apology- she had been nasty enough. It wouldn’t be a surprise, really. Besides that though, perhaps Dawnflower was set in her ways of not wanting an apprentice. Monarchpaw knew that she was handful; she would take a lot of work to be formed into a solid warrior. The patience that would go in to teaching her would be tremendous. Who wanted that responsibility? Oh my, she seemed to be having her own little pity party. This wasn’t like her, feeling self-conscious, and she minutely shook her head, throwing the ideas behind her. Figuratively, of course. Forever did she see Dawnflower apologizing. Even when it was little her fault. She would take a bigger piece of prey then another, and quietly murmur her sorries. She would just barely brush against another apprentice, tense, and do the same. It was sad, in a word. Everything she did, or was, related to her history. "You don't have to apologize, not to me. I should be apologizing to you. I'm no mentor. I can't fight and I'm not especially fast. StarClan knows I'm not smart and the entire clan knows I have poor judgment of character. You need...a strong cat as your mentor. Not me. I can't teach you how to protect the clan when I couldn't even do it the one time I had a chance to." When she did finally speak, her voice sounded flimsy as paper, eyes following the same path as Monarchpaw’s, flitting to and from. Just as it was difficult for a proud cat to say their dues and apologize, it was quite clearly just as hard for an introverted, closed-up cheetah to admit her sorrows. Both members of this conversation saw themselves at blame. Immediately ready to stand up for her mentor, she opened her mouth to speak then promptly closed it, distracted by her last sentence. Couldn’t protect the clan when she had the chance to? What could that possibly mean? Before she could stop her fleeing gaze, they openly observed Dawnflower’s scars, the thread-like structure, and her head involuntarily cocked to the side, in thought. She should have responded in some way, replied in some fashion, but she couldn’t find the words in her jumbled ideas. There was an unnerving panic, like a trapped butterfly desperately wishing to flee, in her mentor’s downcast eyes. Clear as day that she had never repeated such a thing, it was. The step, the willpower it took to say her next words was something to be admired, no matter how weak and hushed the words seemed. After, for so long, watching Dawnfower with sharp curiosity, this would be it. A pattering in her chest attempted to overthrow Monarchpaw’s resolve to listen to the tale. It whispered for her to remember her original decision not to. Pish posh. The story can’t be that bad; there’s no going back, internally answering the voice. It came up with no counter. Quietly settling herself into the dusty ground, eyes level with her mentor’s, she prepared, never letting any part of her display her unease. What if she did decide that this was wrong? Mingled with satisfaction at quenching her curiosity, Monarchpaw folded her paws over one another. Notes- I had to scrape the bottom of the muse barrel. This is still real short :p

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i43.tinypic.com/66xi60.jpg] [scrolly:h(630),w(266),sy] ATTENTIVENESS shone brightly in the eyes of young Monarchpaw, her expressive eyes boring into Dawnflower. The older warrior was practically quaking on the spot, fine shivers chasing one another up and down her spine but she tried to make it stop as best she could. In all honesty, she didn't want to tell her tale. She'd lived it once, she didn't want to talk about it anymore. When she'd still been healing, Slittedwing would grumpily tell her that it would help to tell someone. Of course, the aging medicine cat had never volunteered for the position but Dawnflower knew she meant well enough. The problem was, Dawnflower was the sort of cat that had to absorb and process things. She had to think about all the what ifs and different scenarios of how things could have turned out for the better. By the time she had figured out how to cope with things in her own way and began looking for someone to tell all her fears and uncertainties to, the clan had stopped waiting and moved on. Her brother's rebellion became a thing of the past. Sometimes she would hear nursery queens telling their kits to behave or Sting would come and take them away or the elders would be rehashing cats that had gone wrong because they refused to take care of their elders just like that nasty Stingclaw. STILL, the young apprentice sitting in front of Dawnflower had no knowledge that the threat from her kithood was a living breathing cat. To Monarchpaw the threat of Sting was just a bunch of words. Sting was a cat every kit assumed was just some old warrior that had gone rogue and was now roaming the Night Forest for all of eternity. Older warriors and queens that actually remembered the rebellion, they didn't correct the kits because everyone liked assuming that Sting wasn't there anymore, wasn't a threat. Monarchpaw deserved the truth if she was going to put up with Dawnflower as a mentor for however long the apprenticeship lasted. CURLING her long dappled tail around her slender flank and letting it come to rest over her small, neat paws, Dawnflower looked at the ground and began her tale. "Remember in the nursery, when the queens would tell you to behave or Sting would come and take you away?" Dawnflower spoke softly and slowly, almost shyly meeting Monarchpaw's gaze. "You thought he was fake, didn't you? Or dead? Well...he's not." Dawnflower drew in a big breath and slowly let it out before beginning. "Several moons ago, CheetahClan welcomed two new kits into the clan. One of them was me, the other was my brother, Stingkit." Dawnflower could still see her brother as a kit, all dark eyes and determination and grumpy scowls, back when he wasn't quite so dangerous. "Stingkit was always smaller than everyone else and he hated it. It would make him so mad when apprentices and warriors picked on him. I would always try to make him feel better but he would get mad at me too. That was how our apprenticeship was too. I would always try to calm him down when he got mad, before he could hurt anyone but Stingpaw got bigger and stronger and faster and smarter with each moon that went by. He got bitter and angry all the time. He fought with his mentor and fought with other apprentices. When he would get especially mad he would try to fight with me." DARK eyes roved across the ground but really what the older warrior saw was her angry brother, lashing his tail and snarling insults and spiteful words at everyone but especially at her. His claws would dig furrows into the ground as he braced himself to launch at another apprentice before Dawnflower would leap between them and feel his claws sink into her fur instead. "STINGPAW never liked me...I always tried to stop his fights. I would go find warriors to break up the fights or I'd do it myself or get between them. He hated it. To him I was barely a bug crawling in the mud and he liked to remind me of that any chance he had. All the others, they always said I should just stay away from him but he was my brother, the only one I had. I wasn't the first born but I wanted to protect him, wanted to show the clan that somehow he could be good. He might have had a bad temper but he wasn't as bad as everyone thought. Not to me. He was frustrated but I never saw him as...dangerous. Not really." HER tail wrapped closer to her body and even in the heat of the sun, a shiver ran down Dawnflower's spine. It was like the floodgate had been opened. She couldn't stop herself. Image after image flashed in front of her mind and as much as she wanted to stop and runaway from the story, it kept rolling off her tongue. "WHEN we became warriors Stingclaw liked to go off by himself a lot. One day I got worried when I smelled him across the border so I went to see if he'd gotten into trouble." Dawnflower's ears laid back against her head. "He wasn't in trouble. He was surrounded by cats of all kinds, some I've never seen since. They weren't attacking, they were listening. They were...going to attack the camp and destroy CheetahClan." Another shudder ran down Dawnflower's spine. "I got scared so I went to warn the clan but Stingclaw heard me. He chased me because none of the others were fast enough and held me down until they caught up." Dawnflower's claws dug into the ground. "He told them...to kill me." TROUBLED amber orbs hid behind closed lids as Dawnflower's mind brought the memories back without permission. She could feel her own brother's claws digging into her pelt only to be replaced by the claws of foreign cats. "EVENTUALLY they thought I'd die for sure and left. By the time I woke up, the camp was in shambles. The leader was dead. My brother was gone. Slittedwing always said I shouldn't have survived. I always...agreed. I had messed up and gotten caught. Warriors died because I failed. I couldn't protect my brother or my clan and now even StarClan wouldn't give me the honor of dying quietly. For a long time...I couldn't even talk to anyone. By the time I felt...ready to try again...the clan moved on. They stopped listening for me...I drifted into the background...and I've stayed there ever since." FOR a long moment, Dawnflower kept her eyes closed and then let out a soft sigh. Dragging her gaze back up from the sun-baked ground, she met Monarchpaw's gaze with a thin, watery smile. "I'M sorry, I can't be the strong mentor you need, or the strong or the fast one or the one that can give you all the answers. I've only ever been good at one thing, and that's disappearing...and I think it should stay that way." Slowly, she stood up. Not looking at Monarchpaw, she started to circle around her to continue along her way to camp. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Word Count;; 1250 Background Song;; "Broken" by Lifehouse Notes;; </3

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[` hatter !]

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[atrb=background,http://i376.photobucket.com/albums/oo205/wowee333/MONARCHMIDDLE2.png] As young as Monarchpaw was, she could fluently understand sorrow. She could see it, pick it up in the eyes of others, so quick it was hard to hide pain from her. As Dawnflower, seeming so violently indecisive, was, she didn’t attempt to hide this hurt. It was like a neon sign, painted in bright coloring across her soft, mutilated motions. Any cat could see it. The whole clan tried not to see it, but it was so brutally obvious even they couldn’t deny it. Only once had she seen sympathy, or rather, acceptance of Dawnflower. Slittedwing, in all her harshness and hatred, had looked upon the sad she-cat, with a gentle glimpse so ridiculously out of character. Never had she seen such compassion from the old medicine cat, and Monarchpaw had to blink twice to be sure it wasn’t a sick dream. Padding up to her, Slittedwing whispered hushed words into her drooping ears, a suddenly encouraging smile. Just as quickly as it begun, the grouchy cheetess turned and slunk to her den, handing Monarchpaw a cold, ‘you-saw-nothing’ snarl. At the time, the very, very new apprentice had been merely amazed by Slittedwing, finally allowing herself a nicety. She hadn’t considered why. Were they old friends, perhaps? No, that wasn’t the case. The empathy in Slittedwing’s said so much more. When Dawnflower’s quiet words began, she froze out the rest of the world. A bird cried out, followed by a chorus of chirps, but it was like she was underwater. Only her mentor’s soft words were sharp as knives. Her mentioning of Sting roused turnings in Monarchpaw and she let her mind remember where they came from. Ah, that’s right. One of the very limited times she had visited Goosefeather, her real kin, the elder had given her a long-winded speech of how she was to be taken by Sting in the night. That if she didn’t smarten up, he would rip out her entrails and her still beating heart. She had always been a pleasant old beast. Kits were shivering from the story. She had laughed it off, to not show fear. It was only an elder’s bedtime tale to intimidate their young from causing trouble and mischief, after all. She had reassured the others, rolling her eyes in the face of their terror. Goosefeather was crazy- not worth listening to. Her mother had died one week later. And so when Dawnflower asked her the rhetorical question, she nodded her head just barely, restraining her eyes from widening to moons at the idea that he was still alive. Her brother? He was her brother. The cheetah would not meet her eyes, as hard as Monarchpaw tried. The tale was rushing out of Dawnflower, and she seemed to be incapable of holding it back. The pain was almost tangible, the atmosphere dreary and cold. As she went on to tell the inquisitive apprentice of the rouges attacking her, Monarchpaw shivered, gaze slipping to the prairie floor. Here was why her mentor was broken. Her own brother had turned so violently on her, with such viciousness, and had pulled her into this state of self-hatred. How could her own kin shatter her s widespread? How was that possible? She was such an innocent creature, so she said, and he had taken advantage of that. With a shudder, Monarchpaw imagined Harepaw, staring at her and shaking his head dumbfoundedly as she rushed from camp. Never, never, could she even begin to fathom hurting him. She saw his limp, his mangled limb, and her eyes grew moist. Still, wasn’t she like Sting in ways? Weak at birth, easily angered, and ambitious to a core. What if she got that bad? What if suddenly she wanted more than to be a great warrior? Would she be able to stop herself? Questions swam through her mind, threatening to topple her artfully crafted calm demeanor. She swayed slightly, dizzy with the idea. A loving memory of her and Harepaw laughing at a fault in Monarchpaw’s plan, the moment sparkling with love and kinship. A picture of her beside him, muzzle resting on his shoulder, his eyes so mournful as he stood over Jadestorm’s lifeless body. The sadness he had burdened had nearly broken her heart, as much as she had tried to alleviate it. Causing grief and torture, as he had felt before, to her brother was something that would harm herself as much as it did him. With resolve as hard as steel, she had promised to herself to never break him down, to protect him. If she could become like Sting, then everything she was meant nothing. Half of her mind growled at her, with a tone so solid she banished her unsure thoughts. No, you’re more than that. "I'm sorry, I can't be the strong mentor you need, or the strong or the fast one or the one that can give you all the answers. I've only ever been good at one thing, and that's disappearing...and I think it should stay that way." It seemed as though Dawnflower believed whole-heartedly that her apprentice would be ashamed of her. Would think her weak and disgraceful. Instead, her sympathy was burning at her chest, caving it in and her paws itching to rush to her. To comfort away the pain. Everything she said, everything she felt towards the she-cat, disappeared in that moment. The embarrassment, the frustration, and the anger. She saw rawness in its greatest form. If she felt anything of shame and bitterness, it was fully towards Sting. She felt oddly motherly, protective and wishing to rip at Dawnflower’s source of pain- her brother. She would become strong and then she would take him on. He could feel the pain he bestowed. At least, this is what her mind said, as unrealistic as it was. The small, breakable smile on Dawnflower’s face made Monarchpaw hurt, and finally her mentor met her unwavering eyes. Slowly, slowly, Dawnflower got to her paws, and began to leave her apprentice for the third time that day. As if waking up from a dream, her hearing became crystal clear, the wind ruffling her fur. She was leaving again, still in the direction of camp. Her story hadn’t deterred Monarchpaw. It had only given her a profound understanding, a reason to become strong and capable. If Sting was alive, then she would be ready. With a fleeting heart, she jumped to her feet, but didn’t run after her mentor, merely opening her maw and calling out to her. “Don’t walk away from me.” Her tone wasn’t… particularly demanding. It wasn’t an order; it was a steady request. She made her eyes calm and convincing. Her tail hung like an oil-lamp over her head, not really waiting until she turned around. Mentor and apprentice. “I don’t need all the answers, Dawnflower,” she murmured. “There was nothing you could do to save the dead. What would you expect me to do in the same situation? I would be just like you. Any cat would.” She padded towards her now, attentive expression looking sturdy. “It wasn’t your fault.” She paused, running a paw over her ears. "And I still want you as my mentor."

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[Bast]

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[atrb=background,http://i44.tinypic.com/14kjhxf.jpg] [scrolly:h(486),w(215),sy] FOR about the third time that day, Dawnflower was brought to an abrupt halt by Monarchpaw barreling in front of her. Coming up short to avoid running into the younger cheetah, Dawnflower was surprised when the other cat had a stubborn but strangely gentle expression in her eye. Dawnflower had seen a lot of expressions from Monarchpaw. Anger, annoyance, happiness, playfulness, boredom and so many more. More sharp glares had come from this boisterous apprentice than any other Dawnflower had ever seen, most of them directed at her. She'd seen gentleness and sadness and impatience, determination, hurt and embarrassment. Never had the older warrior witness such an odd mix of stubborn will and understanding. To be totally honest, the delicate she-cat wasn't quite sure what to think of it. 'IT wasn’t your fault. And I still want you as my mentor." OF all the things she had been expecting, this wasn't it. Dawnflower had been braced for acceptance, for disgust, for scorn. Not this, whatever this really was. Everyone accepted that Dawnflower was quiet. They accepted that she was odd. Accepted that she was pretty but too breakable to be interested in. They accepted all these things about her and promptly forgot about her. She faded from their memory the instant they walked away from her. She ducked her head and jumped at every shadow. A startled bird scared her out of her wits. In a spar, she was bested in seconds because pure terror would set in and she would freeze up. She was, in essence, one big screw up of a cheetah and a warrior. Cheetahs were supposed to be sleek and fast and cunning. Dawnflower was tiny and average on the best of days. Warriors were supposed to be determined and strong and able to endure. Dawnflower was weak of will and body and caved when pressured. WHY a young vital apprentice like Monarchpaw would want to stay with her was a mystery to the warrior. Monarchpaw had everything she needed to be something great. Someday Dawnflower could easily see Monarchpaw finally becoming a leader if she so chose. Dawnflower couldn't train future leaders. She would only show Monarchpaw weakness. Monarchpaw was so like Sting and yet so different. Sting had been ambitious and strong and determined to the point of breaking anyone in his path. Monarchpaw was not so different, a blossoming flower with a heart of steel that would not be bent and broken. What could Dawnflowerp possibly have to teach someone like that? Sure she was good at hiding and stealth but that wasn't anything terribly important. Any warrior could teach that. And yet, Monarchpaw wouldn't let her walk away. HOW many times had Monarchpaw complained about Dawnflower being too soft and too weak? The words were habitual by now, totally expected with each meeting. To a cat like Dawnflower, Monarchpaw was like a hurricane that blew in unexpectedly. Each time they met to train, it was like Dawnflower had to hang on for dear life to keep up. It never failed to end in frustration and spiteful remarks from the younger cheetah while Dawnflower would lay her ears against her head, dismiss her apprentice and flee to the open plains where no one could hurt her but her nightmares. Honestly, Dawnflower thought Monarchpaw would be jumping at the chance to get a different mentor. Still, she kept saying she wanted to stay with Dawnflower and see her training through to the end. SLOWLY, paws dancing across the dusty ground, Dawnflower approached her strong-hearted apprentice. For a moment she simply looked down at Monarchpaw, meeting her gaze for a long moment. Strange how different the two were. Dawnflower's amber eyes dark, nearly brown while Monarchpaw's were so light, like the sun. Monarchpaw was sleek with strong muscles hiding under the dappled pelt. She was barely shorter than Dawnflower, growing as fast as a weed. Without a doubt by the end of her apprenticeship she would stand taller than Dawnflower. By contrast, the young warrior was as light as a feather, thin and slender with bones so fine they could have been a bird's. A good wind or well placed tackle was believed to be enough to break her in half. There was no cord of steel to Dawnflower, unlike Monarchpaw who showed strength and pride clear and true. Dawnflower was soft and beautiful but broken. Monarchpaw was tough and young and strong. How could the two of them make this work? STARCLAN only knew. RESTING her chin against Monarchpaw's shoulder, Dawnflower gave her the feline version of a hug before stepping away. There was a small smile on her maw, beautiful as a butterfly spreading its wings for the first time. "Let's go back to camp. I hear you have some elders to tend to and it's been a long day." THEY'D find a way. Tagged;; Monarchpaw Words;; 827 Singing;; "Smile" by Uncle Kracker Notes;; i think this is about the end of it [/scrolly]