shalefall{forever and ever, amen}

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[atrb=background,http://i49.tinypic.com/2drv1o7.jpg] [style=height:220px; width:482px; overflow:auto;] WINTER always seemed to be described as a dead or still season. Bluesmoke, for all the moons he'd roamed and struggled and toiled, had never come to understand that comparison. Even before he was caught up in the whirlwind blaze that changed his life, back when he'd been Bluepaw, he'd still struggled to see winter as dead. Winter was a season of change, although many described spring as the season of change. To Bluesmoke, wandering the moonlit territories of ThunderClan in the dead of night, he couldn't help but see change all around him. Somewhere off in the brush, Rowanclaw was checking the scent markers for the border shared with RiverClan and without the noisy red-brown she-cat, Bluesmoke could appreciate the subtly of the world around him. High above, light slanting through the barren branches of the trees, the moon shone bright in a navy sky, nearly swollen to fullness. There would be another Gathering for him to avoid soon, another round of gossip to get the queens, elders and apprentices excited. Now though, not quite full, the moon simply lit up the midnight world dying everything a dreamy sort of blue-white. The coolness of the light slithered over Bluesmoke's pelt as he left nothing but pawprints in his wake, one ear canted toward Rowanclaw as the she-cat waded her way through the dead brush because she seemed physically incapable of being quiet on a midnight patrol. IT didn't bother Bluesmoke so much as he would have thought, having such a noisy partner. Shalefall would have probably skinned her alive by now but Bluesmoke simply thought of her as a rather rebellious shadow and let her be. They weren't out here to hunt so what did it matter if she occasionally sent a slumbering bird flying in fright? Bluesmoke kept an ear on her but otherwise let himself look to the tree branches and think of the green leaves that would someday unravel from the tips. Right now the trees looked worn and haggard, the branches heavy with piles of snow and seeming to hang limply after the high winds that winter often brought gusting through the forest from the moors. They looked so rough, so defeated, and yet when the warmer days came Bluesmoke knew they would unfurl their leaves and turn to the sun, grow strong once more. 'I wish I was like them,' Bluesmoke thought idly, passing a young oak tree, it's branches heavy with snow. TREES were resilient. They stood the test of time, held firm against high winds and loomed over rising waters. Of course...no one needed to remind Bluesmoke that not much could withstand a trial by fire. The mere thought of it made his skin crawl under his fur. Still, somehow some trees could. They could recover, heal from the scars dug deep into their bark. They might spend a year or two, looking dark and dormant but then one year they would be full with tiny little buds of promised life. Bluesmoke wondered if those trees, if that field, had ever healed. He had never dared to go back and see. A yawn took Bluesmoke by surprise as he and Rowanclaw circled around the Great Sycamore. Rowanclaw snickered and made some passing comment about him being such an elder. Bluesmoke ignored the comment, giving his head a shake to wake himself up. Whenever Sootstar or her deputy came around to assign midnight patrols, Bluesmoke usually made it his business to sign up. Sleep...sleep wasn't a friend to him. It brought restless nightmares of aimless running, oily smoke and the acrid stench of burning and death. It was Bluesmoke's idea that if he wasn't going to sleep at night anyway, he might as well get up and make himself useful. When he wasn't assigned a midnight patrol, he would wake up from his dreams, slip away from the tangle of cats that slept around him, and go off to hunt until the sun came up or he ended up so tired he just slept in a snowbank where the bite of the cold kept the dreams of fire at bay. Shalefall hated it when Bluesmoke went to sleep in the snow and sometimes the bigger tom would catch Bluesmoke before he could escape, insisting on accompanying him or on rare occasions forcing Bluesmoke to stay. When Bluesmoke had midnight patrols, Shalefall couldn't argue. Well, he could complain but it seldom came to much and in the end he would let Bluesmoke go, warning him that he'd better come back and Bluesmoke would make the same promise that he would and he always did. Shalefall liked to pretend but Bluesmoke had known the other tom long enough to know Shalefall slept poorly on the nights Bluesmoke made an escape and most nights couldn't bring himself to do that to his mate. At least tonight it seemed Bluesmoke might actually sleep when he got back to the den, if this yawning was any indication. CIRCLING around, the pair came to the camp entrance and made their way inside. As expected, the clearing was deserted but lit up marvelously by the moon's light on the layer of snow that had fallen earlier that evening. Rowanclaw trudged over to the warriors den first, Bluesmoke coming along more quietly behind her. At the entrance, Bluesmoke stopped and let his green eyes adjust to the darker lighting. Rowanclaw picked her way over to an open nest between Heronflight and Tallwhiskers, not even pausing to apologize when she stepped on Flameheart's tail in passing. Bluesmoke's whiskers twitched as he listened to the calico tom grumble and shift closer to Hawkeye, having a sneaking suspicion it hadn't been an accident. Once Rowanclaw had settled herself, Bluesmoke picked his way over the bodies of his clanmates to his normal corner nest, only to find the nest occupied. A little smile crept onto Bluesmoke's maw as he watched Shalefall, curled up in Bluesmoke's nest, fast asleep. Trying to be as quiet as possible, Bluesmoke settled himself in the nest that was supposed to be Shalefall's, tucking the curve of Shalefall's spine against his own scarred belly, resting his head delicately on Shalefall's shoulder. Almost at once, as his mate's warmth began to seep into his cold fur, Bluesmoke's light green eyes began to droop. Tagged;; Shalefall Singing;; "Forever and Ever, Amen" by Randy Travis Words;; 1095 Notes;; first Blueshale thread for SS! [/style]

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He felt it acutely, knew it in his bones, when Bluesmoke was gone. Shalefall lifted his head. The space beside him was cold, Bluesmoke’s scent growing more and more stale by the moment. Shalefall’s face fell, disappointment lodging in his stomach. He knew Bluesmoke would return, though not until long after midnight. He rested his head on his paws, staring at the space Bluesmoke should have occupied, where his nose should have been pressed into Shalefall’s shoulder. The emptiness pulsed in him, almost like a physical pain. But he couldn’t blame Bluesmoke. He couldn’t be angry at the other tom. To have felt anger would have been selfish, almost evil in a way. Because he understood. He understood that his beloved mate needed these midnight patrols. He needed to escape the camp, to wander out in the trees. He needed to flee his nightmares, the terrors that plagued his mind despite how tightly Shalefall wrapped himself around Bluesmoke. And it broke his heart, every single night, that Shalefall couldn’t protect him. He couldn’t make his mate’s fears go away. He couldn’t protect him from his memories, his scars. He couldn’t give Bluesmoke what he so desperately needed. Most nights, Shalefall went with him. He would follow Bluesmoke when he slept walked, accompany him on his wanderings. But sometimes, Bluesmoke needed to be alone.

Shalefall glanced around. The other nests around him were full of slumbering bodies. Some were wrapped around each other, siblings and mates. They slept soundly, sharing their warmth, their security. Sadness pooled in Shalefall’s stomach. He rose, slipping quietly over to Bluesmoke’s nest. It still smelled faintly of the tom Shalefall so desperately loved. He curled up, burying his face in the stale scent, letting it wrap around him. It lulled him, though he knew he wouldn’t sleep, not truly. He would shift, stir, until he knew Bluesmoke returned. But for this moment, Bluesmoke’s simple scent was enough. He flicked his ears back, sniffing slightly. He knew Bluesmoke wasn’t gone, not permanently. He was out somewhere in Shadowclan’s territory, keeping the clan safe, and staving off his own fears. But for Shalefall, the night hours alone was like death, a failure, utter loneliness. He pushed the thought away, nestling farther into the moss and leaves of Bluesmoke’s nest. He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion from the day wipe out his loneliness. In a few moments, he had fallen into a fitful sleep, curled tightly around himself.

He felt a sudden warmth flood into him, a light familiar weight on his shoulder. He blinked open his eyes, breathing in deep. Bluesmoke’s scent was fresh now, wrapping around him. He lifted his head, turning to rub his head lovingly against Bluesmoke. He felt the other tom’s belly against his back. A purr rumbled in his chest. He shifted slightly so he could face Bluesmoke. He began gently grooming Bluesmoke, washing away traces of dirt and debris from the midnight patrol. He heaved a sigh, murmuring quietly in Bluesmoke’s ear. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.” His voice was quiet, broken slightly. He feared the same thing every single time. He feared his mate would vanish, would leave him, would be overcome by his fears and memories. And Shalefall would be able to do nothing, he would be useless, a failure. He couldn’t protect his mate, never had. And what if they had kittens, what if some day some innocent infant came under his care? Would he be able to protect those that meant most to him? He buried his face in Blue’s shoulder, drinking in the scent.

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[atrb=background,http://i49.tinypic.com/2drv1o7.jpg] [style=height:220px; width:482px; overflow:auto;] SOMEONE being dependent on him had never been something Bluesmoke ever thought he would have. As an apprentice, he’d always been off with Tigerpaw making trouble with the other apprentices but they had all been, for the most part, self-reliant. They guarded one another in group training, hassled each other at dusk when there was time for play but otherwise everyone had always been…not alone but they hadn’t hung onto one another. While Bluesmoke was always at least a little aware of where Tigerpaw had been, or where some of his other denmates were, he’d never been attached to them per say. Tigerpaw had perhaps come the closest to having any of that from Bluesmoke but that hadn’t lasted long. Even now after moons of sharing a nest or patrols with Shalefall, it always shocked the blue-grey warrior how his mate reacted to him. No one would have pegged them for it either, that the most reclusive cat in ShadowClan and the most…well…some called him annoying…cats would have come together to be one of the steadiest mated pairs. Bluesmoke certainly would have laughed if anyone had told him that a in a few short moons he would have not only a steady and faithful mate but a dependent one at that. He would never have believed it possible. DESPITE the disbelief however, Shalefall never ceased to disappoint and always reacted to Bluesmoke as if the green-eyed warrior was the sun for him to revolve around. It wasn’t blatantly obvious per say because Shalefall was perfectly capable of being independent of Bluesmoke, but it was in the little things that reminded Bluesmoke that he was needed. For example, he could feel Shalefall rousing a bit as he settled beside the tabby, could feel his mate shifting a bit to fit better against him. It could be as simple as Shalefall dutifully getting up and trailing behind him when Bluesmoke’s dreams made him wander. Never in his life had Bluesmoke known someone to care so much about something that, after a while, he had come to consider a simple part of his existence. The nightmares, the sleep walking, the phantom stings in his ruined paw pads, those were all just parts of Bluesmoke’s reality in the After of the wildfire. No one had ever paid it any heed, choosing instead to turn a blind eye and simply let the broken tom be. They accepted his strangeness as the new Normal and let him go about it. No one roused when he jolted awake or got up to make sure he was actually awake when he rose and wandered away into the night. NEVER in his life would Bluesmoke have expected the solitude of the After to change. He’d thought he would just wander through life with midnight walks (conscious and unconscious) and just fade away into being an elder when his time came. Nothing was ever supposed to change, not in the After. It just…wasn’t...and then Sootstar had shoved Shalefall at him for an afternoon patrol, fed up and grumpy, not taking no for an answer. That patrol had been a disaster. For whatever reason, Shalefall had simply rubbed Bluesmoke the wrong way in every way possible. Needless to say, it had taken them a long time to get past the animosity, a rare emotion for Bluesmoke to feel at all. Still, it had burned in his belly and for once Bluesmoke had clung to the burning because at least it was something. It had been different from the sorrowful hollowness that had encompassed Bluesmoke’s entire being since he’d washed up after the fire. He hadn’t really realized just how hollow he had been until there had been prying eyes dogging his every movement and demanding to know why why why. SHIFTING slightly to accomadate Shalefall’s squirming, the blue-grey tom kept his green eyes stubbornly closed. Shalefall…had gradually been turning into a nocturnal being ever since he’d started hounding Bluesmoke and learning his nighttime patterns. It never failed that Shalefall would be awake in an instant if Bluesmoke so much as rolled over in his sleep but it was also something Bluesmoke had come to learn that Shalefall was very much a cuddler. Since the fire, Bluesmoke hadn’t been subject to touch. Everyone had kept at a distance, eyeing him warily as if he was nothing but a pile of ash that would blow away in the slightest breeze or crumble from the slightest touch. Not with Shalefall. Once they’d gotten over the animosity…well, it turned out Shalefall was quite tactile. The first time Shalefall had actually curled up with Bluesmoke, the longer furred tom had been amazed at the softness of Bluesmoke’s fur which had always been extremely soft since it had grown back. Now it was one of Shalefall’s favorite ways to sleep, face tucked against Bluesmoke’s soft fur, the two of them curved together, tails and limbs tangled, noses often touching. Bluesmoke loved it of course, found a lot of comfort in the easy touch. So, Bluesmoke let his mate shift around until they were facing, moving his head without opening his eyes so that his head was pillowed on the moss and leaves that made up his nest instead of on Shalefall’s shoulder. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.’ KEEPING his eyes stubbornly closed, the older tom twined his tail with Shalefall’s and hummed, the sound low and rough the way most sounds were when they rose up from the smoke-scarred warrior. Tipping his head blindly, Bluesmoke felt around until he found Shalefall’s chin and bumped his nose unseeingly against his mate’s chin and jaw before settling his head so that it was tucked under Shalefall’s chin. THE question was such a common one with Shalefall, even when the other tom didn’t phrase it as one. There was always a question, hanging unsaid. Why would he come back? Would he come back at all? Bluesmoke hated those questions, almost as much as he hated the fire. He would always feel it should be the other way around. After all, what was the point of a scarred up tom that sometimes didn’t remember where he was? Shalefall put up with a lot from Bluesmoke, including a disrupted sleep schedule and still he gave love as good as he got. The younger tom’s insecurities were so strange to a tom that had been so hollow for so long and sometimes Bluesmoke simply didn’t know how to respond. All he could do right now was tuck himself against Shalefall and lay his tail over Shalefall’s flank, mind already drifting in that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness. Tagged;; Shalefall Singing;; "Dream Walkin'" by Toby Keith Words;; 1107 Notes;; crappy post is crappy >.< [/style]

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He was curled, tight, pressed against Bluesmoke. His face was deep in the other tom’s fur, his eyes screwed shut. He was surrounded by his mate, but his smell, his breath, his quiet strength, the line of his muscle. He felt like a kit again, held in Bluesmoke’s gentle grasp. There had been days when he had curled beside Slatenose, found comfort in his mother’s belly, in her soft fur. But this was not his mother, of course. The body that now held him, cushioned him, was someone far more important, someone Shalefall had come to believe he couldn’t quite live without. He inched closer, his jaw clenching. Maybe if he didn’t move, didn’t even dare to breath, he could preserve this moment. He could preserve the time when Bluesmoke was there, when Shalefall was sure he wouldn’t open his eyes and find the nest empty and the space beside him cold. Because no matter how many times Bluesmoke promised to return, Shalefall couldn’t shake the niggling doubt that returning was a promise his mate couldn’t really make. He wanted to, of that Shalefall was sure. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t know that he would return from each excursion, that some night his exhaustion and grief wouldn’t be so heavy as to crush him.

It was childish, he knew. But he wanted to cling to Bluesmoke. He wanted never to move from this place, never to feel his mate pull away from him. And a part of him believed that if he didn’t move, if he didn’t let go, nothing would change. He could preserve this new life they had built, this new sense of stability he was slowly gaining. But life was a churning whirling horrible thing. It twisted and screamed, like stories of tornados Shalefall had heard in passing. If anything, it was a system specifically designed for ripping things, precious fragile things, to shreds. And Blue was a precious fragile thing. Everything about him, the way he spoke, moved, the quiet wisdom hiding behind his darting eyes, was riddled with care and precaution, with pain and memories and grief that Shalefall couldn’t cure. It made him heart sick, each and every day. Shalefall was weak, powerless, a snorting laughter in the face of Bluesmoke’s pain. A true tom, a true lover, would have fought tooth and nail – lost every one of nine lives – to bring peace to Bluesmoke. But either Shalefall was too weak, or too cowardly. Or perhaps a mixture of both. Because Bluesmoke still wandered. At midnight, like an uncontrollable compulsion, he wandered away.

Shalefall wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough to make Bluesmoke stay, to keep the nightmares and guilt at bay. In all the moons since their relationship had begun, Shalefall had been unable to make a difference. He withdrew his face from Blue’s chest, his eyes downcast and mournful. He would cling to this shamble of a relationship, to a love he didn’t deserve, for as long as it could. But he knew it would rip from his paws. And he wouldn’t be able to catch it again. After all, what could he possibly give Bluesmoke? He couldn’t give the other tom a family. He knew enough about life to know two toms couldn’t have kittens. He couldn’t give his mate peace or protection. What then was he worth? And why, night after night, did Bluesmoke trudge back to him? Shalefall settled his chin on Blue’s paws, his ears flicking back against his head. He spoke suddenly, his voice hushed. “I won’t make you promise anymore.” They were little words, childish perhaps, weak indeed. But they were spoken and could not be taken back.

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[atrb=background,http://i49.tinypic.com/2drv1o7.jpg] [style=height:220px; width:482px; overflow:auto;] THERE was a quiet little place between sleeping and waking where Bluesmoke loved to linger. It was like twilight, not quite night but not quite day. Here, in this hazy little place the blue-grey warrior could find rest because he wasn't deeply enough asleep to dream but he wasn't awake enough for his mind to be running in circles like it so tended to do. That quiet place was easiest to find when he was curled up with Shalefall, warm and content knowing he was safe. Stillness was how Bluesmoke so often slept, curled tight on himself to guard his scarred belly and tuck his mutilated paw pads where no one could see them which was probably why the motions of him getting up late at night so often roused Shalefall. Of course...Bluesmoke understood that his moving around was disruptive. He woke up Shalefall almost every time he got that itch in his limbs or the sting in his feet. There had been a day, before they'd known one another, when Bluesmoke had drifted in and out of the warriors den without anyone really taking notice but now it was so much harder to make his escape simply because Shalefall slept rather lightly. TO let his mate sleep more, Bluesmoke would try his hardest not to need to move. He would count the breaths of his clanmates in an attempt to put himself back to sleep but that was very seldom productive. Even on the rare nights when he did't have nightmares, Bluesmoke would just wake up well before dawn and know he wasn't going to fall back asleep. He would be up for the day on only a few hours of sleep. It was simply how he seemed to be these days, though Bluesmoke couldn't remember being like that as an apprentice. He felt awful, always rousing Shalefall in the early hours even when there were no nightmares to chase away. Sometimes it was just sleepwalking that made Bluesmoke drift away and thus rouse Shalefall, a useless trick of the imagination where Bluesmoke would think he was following Tigerpaw or some other impossible nonsense. SHIFTING a bit, Bluesmoke pressed his nose against Shalefall's neck in apology for waking him and wondered why Shalefall put up with it all. He put up with Bluesmoke's nightmares, awful sleeping habits, rough voice, raspy purr, the constant sandpaper-rasp of his breathing. Frankly it all should have been alarming but for some reason Shalefall seemed to put up with it. He woke without complaint, tucked himself against Bluesmoke with an ear to his flank just to listen to the rasp-rasp-rasp of Bluesmoke's breathing and he had this special little smile that crept onto his maw whenever Bluesmoke managed to purr. That little smile, oh that nearly broke Bluesmoke's heart the first time he saw it. He hadn't realized he'd been purring for the first time in moons. It had happened one sunny afternoon in greenleaf when Shalefall had tracked him down and some way or another hassled Bluesmoke into wrestling with him. They'd gone tumbling down a leafy hill and ended up sprawled in a tangled mess. Before he'd realized it, Bluesmoke had been laughing, that in itself an achingly old sound, a ghost of what Bluesmoke used to be, roughened by ash and heat from what it had once been. That afternoon Shalefall had ended up dozing, pressed up along Bluesmoke's side in a patch of sun and, lingering in that twilight place between sleep and wakefulness, Bluesmoke had started to purr. 'I won’t make you promise anymore.' SHALEFALL'S words trickled into the sunny memory and roused Bluesmoke from it. Forest-green eyes snapped open and the blue grey tom sat up a little, drawing his head back from Shalefall's neck to look at his mate. A thrill of hurt shivered down Bluesmoke's spine and his ears laid back. What had he done now? Green eyes lit with distress, Bluesmoke leaned forward and pressed his nose against Shalefall's muzzle, probing his chin and neck gently. Shalefall, over the moons, had grown to know that Bluesmoke often spoke the most with body language since his throat was prone to hurting and he couldn't speak very loudly or clearly. Shalefall could understand that the gentle touches and laid back ears showed obvious distress, apology in every ghosting touch as Bluesmoke tried to say he was sorry for whatever he had done, sorry for waking up Shalefall every night and making him worry and making him feel like he wasn't enough to make Bluesmoke stay. Those promises though, Shalefall might not know it, but they helped. They helped him come wandering back, gave him reason to come back. How easy would it be for him to just walk away from ThunderClan and not come back? Frighteningly easy. It also didn't hurt to know that someone wanted him to come back, was waiting for him to come back, expected him to come back, to know that wandering away simply wasn't an option. SHALEFALL was a cat that preferred words. He understood Bluesmoke's body language but that had taken moons to understand and there had been a lot if misunderstandings in between. The learning curve had been awful, quite frankly, and they'd nearly clawed one another to death in the process. If he could find something to say to make Shalefall feel better...maybe...maybe Bluesmoke wouldn't feel like such an awful mate. He didn't talk a lot. He wasn't social. He had nightmares all the time. He wasn't ThunderClan's top fighter or best hunter. What Shalefall saw in him, quite honestly the tom didn't know but he thanked StarClan for it. Now though...now it felt like Shalefall was...Bluesmoke pressed his nose against Shalefall's neck. He didn't want to drift again and it felt like that was what Shalefall was going to let him do, just let him drift away. "I'M sorry..." Bluesmoke spoke softly, not just because it was night and everyone was trying to rest but because his voice was naturally so. The rough edge to it, the catch in his words, characteristic for Bluesmoke. He spoke into Shalefall's neck, nose gently probing the soft fur and skin there, feeling Shalefall's heartbeat thumping against his nose. "What did I do?" Tagged;; Shalefall Singing;; NA Words;; 1083 Notes;; blah [/style]

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He’d once heard one of the more senile elders speaking to an apprentice. It had been a she-cat, so old and fragile that her bones had peeked through her skin. She had shook every time she moved and tended to forget where she was – and how much time had passed. In general, as an apprentice, Shalepaw had avoided coming into contact with her. He remembered now, her name had been Toadbelly. The Medicine Cat had visited Toadbelly at least once every few days. She’d quietly give the old she-cat poppy to make her sleep or calm her down. And eventually Toadbelly would fall into a doze. But when she woke she would be frantic again. At times she would wobble out of the elder’s den searching desperately for an apprentice who had long since become a warrior. At other times she was looking for parents who were long buried. Shalepaw always avoided watching him. It only made him sad, made his pawsteps heavy. More than that, it made him fearful, terribly horridly fearful of what age would do to his own mind. Yet eventually some warrior, perhaps a bygone apprentice, would appear and usher Toadbelly gently back into the elder’s den. They would sooth her until she fell into sleep again.

But once, one quiet afternoon, Shalepaw had been unable to escape cleaning out the elder’s den. He’d slunk around the back, sticking to corner’s, doing his best to avoid earning Toadbelly’s attention. But Starclan had a sense of humor and no sooner had his shadow fallen on the entrance to the den – Toadbelly was peering at him. A sort of recognition seemed to float over her and she’d smiled, this old sagging smile. He remembered her rasping purr, her relief and desperation. “Boulderpatch, you came back for me.” Shalepaw had stared at her in confusion. Slowly he’d begun shaking his head, frozen in place and unsure of how to reply. He remembered gulping, answering in a shaking voice – “No, Toadbelly, it’s Shalepaw. I’m here to get you more moss.” But Toadbelly either hadn’t heard him or blatantly ignored him. She started to rise to her paws. She was shaking so hard she looked like she might crumble. She took a single step forward before sinking to the ground in exhaustion. He remembered how she’d looked up at him, totally content, suddenly calm. “I’m ready to go, Boulderpatch. Bring me home.” She’d strained towards him, and something in Shalepaw had propelled him forwards. He’d felt Toadbelly’s dry nose press into his chest, a sigh escape her lips. He’d moved closer and she’d shifted to press against him. He could feel her ribs. She’d sighed again. “I’m glad to have loved and lost you than to never have loved you at all.” And she’d stilled. Utterly.

He’d stood frozen, waiting for her to move. But she hadn’t. He’d thought she’d fallen asleep, exhausted by her sudden delusions. But when he’d stepped away, her head had dropped limply. A horror had washed over him. He’d began yowling then, screeching for someone – anyone to come. And eventually they had. Toadbelly had been pronounced dead. And Shalepaw remembered stuttering over and over again, nonsensically, “She called me Boulderpatch. I’m not Boulderpatch. She just stopped moving.” Eventually he’d been led away from the old she-cat’s body. And a warrior, whose name he had long since lost, had whispered soothingly to him – “She thought you were her mate, come to take her to Starclan. So she went. And perhaps, for a moment, you were.” The scene, the moment, had never left him. And Toadbelly’s last words, her insistence and calm, had been burned in his mind.

Those words rose to his mind now, as Blusesmoke curled into him. Shalefall was suddenly overcome with that desperation, that clinging desire. He shifted, quite suddenly wrapping tightly around Bluesmoke. He returned Bluesmoke’s quiet physical affection with his own sudden passion and fire. He rubbed his face in Bluesmoke’s chest, under his chin, drinking in all that Bluesmoke was and would always be. He tensed, his eyes watering. He could hear Bluesmoke’s murmured words – from far away. And he didn’t retract his former words. He wouldn’t make Bluesmoke promise. He wouldn’t wait and leave Bluesmoke alone to wander the forest. He wouldn’t have to promise, because Shalefall would always go with him. Every night for eternity, if that was what it took. He couldn’t stay behind any longer, he couldn’t let his mate drift away.

He spoke quietly, speaking words he had never actually spoken before. He’d always left it unspoken. But it needed to be said. “I love you.” He didn’t look up, couldn’t withdraw himself even an inch from Bluesmoke – from the strength of the tom he loved more than anything else in his life. He said it again, gaining confidence as he spoke. “I love you and I’ll never make you promise because I’ll never let you wander alone again.” He withdrew his face, looking up to Bluesmoke with an uncharacteristic firm resolve. He was stone, determined, a tom neither he nor Bluesmoke had ever seen. “I will love you and follow you until I lose you. And when I lose you, I’ll wait for you to come find me so I can follow you again.” And then he understood Toadbelly. He understood her love, her dedication, her quiet longing and sorrow. She’d just been waiting, waiting for Boulderpatch to come and find her. She’d been waiting so she could follow him again.

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[atrb=background,http://i49.tinypic.com/2drv1o7.jpg] [style=height:220px; width:482px; overflow:auto;] BLUESMOKE slept in stillness and often lived his life in stillness. Shalefall...did not. That being the case, Bluesmoke had gotten used to random bursts of motion from Shalefall because his mate was one that often took to fits of passion, cooled for a while and then flared up again. Most would probably think of it like Shalefall was a flame, burning through some source for his flame and then burning lower when he ran out until the wind carried him to new kindling. Bluesmoke, naturally, didn't care for that train of thought. Instead he thought of Shalefall more like the wind, picking up in gusts on a whim and then falling into a quiet lull or total stillness all in turns. So, when Shalefall suddenly wriggled like a snake until he and Bluesmoke were as tangled up as possible, Bluesmoke just went limp and let him do it. He shifted when Shalefall nudged him around and rolled until his mate finally settled down again. By the time he did, it was nearly impossible to tell one tom from the other, their similar pelts meshing together so well. For a moment, Bluesmoke thought Shalefall might let the matter drop and just go back to sleep, leaving Bluesmoke to ponder what he could have done to upset him so but that wasn't Shalefall's way. 'I love you.' AN electric shock ran through Bluesmoke when his brain processed those words. Curled up with Shalefall there wasn't much room for him to startle but he managed it a little, blinking at Shalefall as if he'd just said that the sun and moon were out at the same time. Before Bluesmoke's brain could even try to make words, Shalefall was already plunging on ahead. 'I love you and I’ll never make you promise because I’ll never let you wander alone again. I will love you and follow you until I lose you. And when I lose you, I’ll wait for you to come find me so I can follow you again." ON a good day, Bluesmoke spoke maybe twenty words. More if Froststar tried to saddle him with an apprentice or something like that. Either way, he was a vocally quiet cat. Raspy speech wasn't pleasant on anyone's ears, especially Bluesmoke's but he would talk for Shalefall because when he didn't Shalefall would get mad and misunderstandings would happen. Their first meeting had been a fabulous example of such disasters, ending in a brief scuffle in the forest all over misunderstood cheap shots at pride and the like. Right now, for example, was a prime example of when Bluesmoke should say something. Socially adept cats would say something. His mate, it was just an understood thing at this point, had just said out loud for the first time that he loved Bluesmoke. Those were words the fire-scored tom had never expected anyone other than his mother to say to him. At least, not say them and mean them. The problem with that is...Bluesmoke's not quite socially adept and to be totally honest he's flabbergasted. Don't get him wrong, he'd expected it and he knew he felt it...wow...wasn't that a revelation? Either way, he hadn't really thought about the implications, the significance of hearing the words for the first time. STILL, even with his advanced level of social inability Bluesmoke knew he needed to say something. A simple "you too" or "I know" just seemed too...impersonal? Like he didn't value what Shalefall was offering? Needless to say, for whatever reason, those phrases just didn't seem to cut it. Where would Bluesmoke ever have expected to find someone like Shalefall? Back when he was an apprentice he'd been just starting to get that "I might love you" throb in his heart for Tigerpaw, right before the flames swallowed his friend whole and spat Bluesmoke back out at the world as some sort of morbid example for all other comers. Before Shalefall, Bluesmoke had been more or less hollow. He'd gone about his day, patrolling and hunting per orders and then just wandering around on his own unless Froststar kicked up some odd chore for him to do. Her personal favorite used to be making him help gather catmint, even though she knew it made him sneeze like crazy. She said it made him the finest detector for it or some nonsense like that. One day though...one day she paired him up with Shalefall and ordered a patrol. From there Bluesmoke's life had spiraled out of control and right into place all at once. All the broken pieces had rearranged themselves to fit in a way that didn't hurt quite so badly anymore and everything had been fuzzy and clear at the same time. SINCE words didn't seem to be working, Bluesmoke decided to try the next best thing that he knew how to do. He shifted around a bit before tucking Shalefall's head under his chin, feeling Shalefall's nose nuzzling into the soft downy fur that had dominated Bluesmoke's pelt since the fire. His fur had grown back unusually soft and a shade darker than before. Sometimes a random apprentice at a Gathering would even ask him why he smelled like smoke, the hint of it lingering deep in his fur. Bluesmoke could feel Shalefall tensing, getting unhappy with his lack of response so he rasped his tongue over a spot between Shalefall's ears to soothe the small twitches and tensing of his mate. He knows Shalefall wants the words, wants the reassurance but... THE sound starts out small and raspy, it's soft and hitching, uneven and coarse but it's there. Bluesmoke is almost surprised his body remembers how to purr, considering he hasn't done it in so long. Still, there it is. The cats around them probably can't even hear it, or if they can it's quite soft. Closing his eyes Bluesmoke presses his nose to one of Shalefall's ears. "I won't keep you waiting long. I can promise that." Tagged;; Shalefall Singing;; "Better Dig Two" by the Band Perry Words;; 1031 Notes;; so...damn rusty.... [/style]