like we used to [rendezvous]

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He had never quite understood the whole point of a secret, at least not completely. Everyone kept secrets – about something they did, thought, or had said. There were sordid secrets, guilty secrets, sorrowful secrets, really just about every kind. Yet every single one of them, on different levels of course, did the exact same thing. They tore the holder – mentally – limb from limb. Kiteswoop had yet to hear of a secret belonging to only a single person. Usually the secret started out small, confined to a singular being. But then that singular being felt some inexplicable urge to share this secret with another – but of course had to swear that other to secrecy as well. In that way, the secret had already expanded, doubled really. Could it even be considered a secret anymore, as the knowledge had spread so considerably?

And inevitably that one extra person sworn to secrecy would find the secret just a little too much to bear. So they would share it with one other person. And then they too would swear this individual to secrecy. Really the pattern went on and on and on. Eventually, it would be difficult to locate an individual who was not party to this particular secret – and who had in turn not been sworn to secrecy. The secret became so widespread, that not only had it lost its “juiciness”, but had become altogether both uninteresting and somewhat of “old news”. By this time, it was really only the original creator of the secret that felt so threatened and so attached to the secret. The knowledge of its spread and loss of subtlety would hit the creator like a ton of bricks – astonishing, horrifying and paralyzing all at the same time. And then what were they left with but the products of their own creation? Wouldn’t it have been better not to have created the secret in the first place? Why not have just outright told, it would have brought the same results.

Kiteswoop wasn’t sure why exactly all of this had occurred to him at this precise moment. He wasn’t one with a particular penchant for keeping secrets. For the most part – he had no secrets to keep. And additionally, living in such a tight-knit community, keeping any secret for long was near impossible. Yet the thought did occur to him. Perhaps because, despite his not having any particular secrets, he wondered at the secrets of others. Specifically, he wondered at Starlingflower’s secrets. He wondered what it was she kept so close at hand, what it was she tucked away in the recesses. What would make that trill of fear flash across her eyes? What would be juicy enough to lure her in, to ensnare her, the way she had done – so many moons ago – to him? His tongue flashed out, wetting his lips. It wasn’t a sexual or seductive motion, but one of necessity. After all, all this thinking – all this toying – it chapped a tom’s baby-smooth lips now and again.

He had wandered far from the bounds of Riverclan territory, yet not so far as to pass wantonly onto the territory of other clans. He had needed a sort of respite – an escape from the chaos and depressive state that surrounded the clan. He had seen, been watching helplessly, as his brother wasted away. Nothing would be left. And Kiteswoop didn’t have a word of comfort, he didn’t know what to say. He was hopeless, useless, and it ate away at him. So he had run, to the edges, fled to find a moment’s peace. Yet peace, like secrets, had habits of being unraveled.

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[Rendezvous]

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Who ever liked taking that miserable walk down memory lane? Not Shira. The cat's paws had led her to that old rabbit set where she had been kitted, along with her brothers, Jasper and Jovi. The place was full of memories, even though they weren't very long lived. Shira remembered her father's tales of the clans, and her mother recalling the time she had been captured by a twoleg. Shira and her brothers would pile on top of each other, eager to hear the adventure stories that their father had to provide for them.

As to any kit, things seemed perfect in those days, but perfection doesn't last forever. It wasn't long after that when the dark grey tom left his family, and soon enough his mate, blinded by love, left her own kits to dive back into the unknown. Shira would never understand what drove her parents to abandon their rights as parents, but she knew that it was better not to let the thoughts infect her mind. Unfortunately, as she looked into that abandoned set she felt herself being pulled away because she could not take the saddness that was buried in the dark depths.

Twitching her nose, it smelled as if another animal had came to call that nest home anyway. Just leave the dead where they lay.. She thought to herself as she turned and ran away from the sadness that threatened to grab hold of her and squeeze the life from her body. The scenes around her twisted and changed and she realized that she had wandered quite a bit away from her usual places near Riverclan territory.

Shifting her blue eyes she took note of the towering four trees that loomed over her. What is this place? The she-cat had never ventured to the sacred grounds of the clan cats, nor did she have any idea what this place was, or what purpose it held for the clans. Flicking the tip of her tail she padded forward, deciding not to worry about the purpose of the clearing.

Shira had prepared to return to her nest, hidden just outside of Riverclan territory, when she caught a flicker of movement just outside her peripheral vision. The she-cat's head looked and spotted the flame-pointed tom and instantly her heart sank to the bottom of her paws.

"Brother..."

The cat was in complete awe, for the tom that stood mere lengths away from her mirrored the appearance of her presumed to be dead brother, Jasper. By some unknown miracle, Shira thought that perhaps one of her brothers hadn't been dead after all. Maybe she had been mistaken and now here her brother was, moons later, standing in front of her. Shira unknowingly took a step forward and approached the tom, her blue eyes widened in shock, not even caring that the tom smelled strongly of Riverclan.

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Kiteswoop had lost himself in thought. This in itself was a rather uncommon occurrence. Kiteswoop tended to be superficial in nature. There was a certain safety in the superficial. It required no effort, no expenditure of emotional energy. It was quite easy to smile and waggle one’s brows, to laugh and avoid those pointed questions. And so he did. But today, wandering to the edges of Riverclan’s luscious blooming territory, he had foolishly allowed himself to sink too far into his own uncomfortable thoughts. He liked avoiding his problems, the more serious aspects of his life. He avoided his memories, concerns that logically needed to be addressed. He frowned, grumbling under his breath. It was foolish to have even gone out on such a walk. Long walks along the territory were simply a recipe for pensive thought. He truly should have known better. He stopped short, a scent coming to his nose. He froze, his ears perking and his eyes narrowing slightly. A scent had come to him, a strange scent. It wasn’t Riverclan, which wasn’t unusual here on the borders of Fourtrees. But it wasn’t clan at all, at least not a clan he could identify. His ears flicked back against his skull warily.

Brother…

The hushed words reached him in the same instant that his eyes landed on the source of the disturbing scent. His ears perked in response, his eyes widening in surprise. The source was a she-cat, uniquely beautiful, and eerily similar in appearance to himself. She had pure creamy fur, highlighted by vibrant flame lynx-point markings and deep blue eyes. He craned his neck. There was no other, none but himself and this muttering stranger. A smile floated onto his lips. He was a loyal clan cat, but he’d never been troubled by the occasional relationship outside of his own clan. If no one ever knew, what could the trouble be? He sat, his tail wrapping around his paws. He gave his chest a few swift licks, chuckling in his deep smooth voice. “Sorry, love, you’re not like me.” His eyes twinkled as he looked her up and down. He canted his head slightly, looking to her curiously. “It’s not always safe for a beautiful thing like yourself to wander so near clan territory.” He grinned an entirely non-threatening wolfish grin, “Some of us can get a little territorial.” The words were not at all a threat, in no way a warning. He was making simple conversation. He wished to inquire. Something about this she-cat piqued his interest. She would be his newest game, his newest distraction. Perhaps his wanderings, his moments of pensive thought, were worth the pain – worth having stumbled upon this alluring mysterious beauty. Something about her discomforted him, in a way he wanted to settle, was determined to solve. It was the way she looked at him, with a stricken look of grief and disbelief.

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[Rendezvous]

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The familiar scent of water and fish wafted from the tom, alerting Shira that was no loner, but in fact a clan cat. Yet she was blind to the fact that this was not her brother, for he resembled him in more ways than one. The shape of his face, the flame markings, the way his fur stood on his coat. "Jasper, don't you remember me? It's me, Shira" She asked, afraid that her 'brother' had forgotten her. What if he's angry that I had buried him, thinking he was dead? "I'm so sorry, Jasper. I thought you were dead! You weren't breathing, but I was we were so young..so I was never sure. I always came back to check but.. The she-cat meowed, stepping closer to the tom, her blue eyes still widened in disbelief.

Shira was tempted to bury her face in the tom's shoulder, perhaps it would remind her of the few good times during her kithood. All of the times that they played, and splashed water at each other in the little puddles that would form after a heavy rain. "Brother, why do you smell like a clan cat?" She finally asked, had her brother gone back to his old roots and joined the ranks of a clan? Shira deeply hated the clans and their ways of living, but if this was her brother, she would still love him nevertheless.

Remembering her sorry excuse for a father, she meowed "I always hated how Otterclaw and Clover left us to fend for ourselves." The cat's ears almost flattened against her skull, but she controlled her anger. "But now that I've found you, maybe it won't be so bad now.." She meowed softly, still staring in awe at the tom whose features nearly mirrored her own.

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Kiteswoop was utterly perplexed. One moment, this beautiful creature was tantalizing his vision. The next moment she had burst into some form of apology, some desperate show of grief and disbelief. He could barely follow her words. She kept referring to him as Jasper – some kittypet name. He looked at her with confusion written plain on his features. She said something about death, supposedly his death. She was apologizing for burying him, for abandoning him. His ears flicked back. As far as he remembered, he’d never been buried alive. And he certainly didn’t have a sister named…what was it…Shira? He’d had a sister, of course, once upon a time. He let his eyes settle on the strange she-cat. At second glance, she nearly resembled Juniperpaw, or what Juniperpaw could have been – had she lived through her short apprenticeship.

Kiteswoop shook his head, pushing images of his sister away. His ears perked at the mention of someone named Otterclaw. The name sounded familiar, it was definitely clan. But he couldn’t place it. His features softened. This loner, whoever she was, obviously wasn’t quite entirely there, not healthy in the head. He shook his head gently. “Calm down, love. You’ve got me confused with someone else.” He smiled at her, flicking his tail first to indicate himself and then the territory spread out behind him. “The name’s Kiteswoop, not Jasper. And I’ve never heard of Otterclaw or Clover.” He almost wished he was this Jasper, just to give the pretty little she-cat some sense of peace. But he couldn’t do that, couldn’t toy with her. He wasn’t cruel. “Though I’m sure wherever he is, Jasper forgives you.” He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. Though if Shira was correct, apparently Jasper was long dead, his soul gone to…wherever it was loner souls went to.

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Kiteswoop? The name that the tom introduced himself as sounded much like a clan cat name. Shira tilted her head slightly before seating herself, wrapping her tail neatly around her paws. Jasper had seemingly died when he had been only a few moons old, perhaps he had woke up and been discovered by one of the clan cats? That has to be it. The she-cat thought as she stared at the tom.

Clan cats had raised her brother and taught him their ways, and then renamed him as Kiteswoop, and perhaps the little tom had forgotten about his life as a loner, thinking that he was a part of the clans. "Kiteswoop.." She meowed softly, rolling the name around in her head a couple of times. "Kiteswoop then. I guess clan cats must have taken you in as a kit, and you adapted to their ways of life. So you can't possibly remember me, it was so long ago." She meowed, her mind completely tossing logic out the window.

Kiteswoop kept saying that he wasn't Jasper, but didn't he realized that he was Shira's brother? "Oh brother, I wish you could remember, but that's okay. We could start over, and everything will be like it used to be." The young she-cat looked almost hopeful at the thought of being with her brother again. If her brother joined her, then she wouldn't be so alone anymore.Alone... The loner hadn't realized that she had indeed felt lonely over the seasons she had been doomed to walk the forests alone.

She no longer had a mother, father or a family. She was alone, hence the term loner that defined her kind. Sure, she had Riverclan blood running through her veins very much like the river that marked the territory, yet bloodlines didn't mean anything. She didn't have any proof, just word of mouth. She didn't want to join the clans, their life was too different for her, alas deep down she was afraid. She was afraid that if she somehow managed to mingle in with the clans, she would be thrown away like she had been as a kit all those moons ago.

Her blue eyes clouded with a deep sorrow, and if she could cry, she most certainly would have. "You wouldn't want to join me out here..would you? You're probably too close to the clans now to turn away from that life, right?" She asked, raising her gaze to meet the tom's own eyes that mirrored her own.

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There was a certain desperation in her, one that made his heart cry out. He desperately wanted to be Jasper, if only to offer her some small comfort. Yet just as he thought she might accept it, might see her shoulders sag with an unspeakable grief, something seemed to change in her. She rolled his name on her tongue, her eyes somewhat distant. It was as if she was lost inside herself, unable to face the world attempting to make contact with her. Yet she had walled herself off, had created an entirely separate universe that existed solely in her thoughts. And when her vision cleared, when a sense of connection seemed to brighten her gaze once more, he could sense a decision had been made. And a moment later, when she spoke, he realized just what the decision was. He had had the fleeting desire to be Jasper, to ease her pain. Yet she had made that fleeting desire into a reality. He realized, as she babbled in front of him, that it wouldn’t matter what he said. He could yell, scream, but that would probably only convince her further, make her more passionate in her belief – in her need to believe that he was someone she had lost long ago.

He managed a soft smile, attempting to keep the pity from flitting across his lips. He would never admit to it, would never fuel her desperate delusions. But neither would he put her through pain. His ears flicked back as he nodded slowly. “The clans are my home, and have been for as long as I’ve known.” And though he wanted to see her smile, to see peace on her pretty features, he couldn’t walk away from his life in Riverclan to be the brother she wanted. He gently shook his head. There was so much hope in her. “I can’t start over with you, not out here.” He paused, flicking his tail. He bit his lip. On the one hand, it was quite possible Robinstar would actually slit his throat and bury him when no one was looking. But, if as many of the elder’s whispered amongst themselves, the clans were on the brink of war – perhaps they could use every body available. He flicked his tail, indicating Riverclan’s territory spread out behind him. “Maybe we could start new here, a slow new life.” He smiled, it was baby steps. Everyone needed to take those slow little steps, slow little measures of hope, until they arrived where they needed to be.

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Shira watched as the tom gestured towards the direction of Riverclan, and her expression took on one of disgust. "As much as it pains me, I will not join the clans." The she-cat strongly disliked the clan's way of life. The way they moved around each other in equilibrium, they fought, they regained their alliances and trust within each other, it was just a never ending cycle. She had enough of betrayal for one lifetime, she didn't need the burden of being in a clan to carry on her shoulders.

She didn't like the ways they named themselves, the codes they created for one another. How did she know so much about the clans? Why, her father had told them nearly everything about Riverclan when she had been a kit. Why did her father even bother to tell his children of Riverclan, had he thought that perhaps once he had abandoned his kits, they would somehow make their way to Riverclan? Had her mother thought the same? Is that why they were so sure when they had decided to leave their kits behind to frolic in the woods of hakuna matata?

Somehow, this little realization made Shira had her parents even more. Her tawny ears flattened against her head, wishing that she could just bade the clans away just by thinking of it. "I will never go to Riverclan. You do not recall our childhood, so you wouldn't understand. I won't remind you of our past, for you seem to be content with your current knowledge." The she-cat meowed, still wanting to protect her 'brother' even as a full grown cat.

Shira didn't want to let go of the memory of her brothers, and seeing Kiteswoop here in front of her, she really believed that she had discovered a lost piece of history. "But you're...my brother. I have never forgotten you, honest! You and Jovi were my motivation, my reason to live. When you..well when I thought you died..I just wanted to fade away.." She meowed softly as she lowered herself on her belly, resting her head on her paws.

Her eyes were filled with sorrow, and that brilliant blue hue seemed to carry the melancholy oh so much more. "Go back to your clan. Continue to be happy and prosper." Why should she try to drag Kiteswoop from a life he was content with in order to satisfy her own needs? It wasn't fair at all. Then something hit her, something that she had denied. Russetstone was right. I am not happy with this life.. Shira hated to admit that a clan cat was right, but the russet tom was oh so right. She wasn't happy, and now she knew it. Being out here, destined to be alone for the rest of her moons, sickened her like a plague.

She hunted, she swam, she slept, but she yearned for the company of another cat. Was that why she hung around the Riverclan border so much? She watched the clan cats in their border patrols from a safe distance, and whenever she spotted Russetstone, she would tease him about his silly clan life, but the words you are not happy that he had told her one day rang in her ears.

He was right. She thought as she shifted her gaze to focus on Kiteswoop's paws.

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In truth, Kiteswoop had never had the greatest relationship with his own parents. It wasn’t that he hated them, that they’d abandoned or abused him. He understood their distance, their need to devote every ounce of love and attention to his sister. They’d held onto hope, that with enough affection, she’d pull through. They’d dreamed that just one more second, one more minute with her, would wipe out the congenital weakness in her bones, the wheeze in her lungs, the frailness of her very skin. And perhaps, somewhere along the line, Kiteswoop had begun to believe it too. He didn’t resent them, didn’t blame them. He’d survived, thrived in fact. But by the time Juniperpaw had died, her little shaking body had stilled, it had been too late. Kiteswoop hadn’t formed that vital bond, that connection deeper than the blood in his veins. In a way, he had almost been on a different plane, a different world. In some alternate universe, perhaps things would have been different. But he didn’t see Bearclaw and Fallownose as parents any more, as a mother and father that had nurtured him. And Juniperpaw, well she was sister in name only. Basilpaw, Basilpaw was his only true family – the only blood relative he had truly formed a bond with.

A strange mixture of relief and guilt swirled in his chest. He could have been there, could have sat watch at Juniper’s side as she tossed and turned with fever. He could have been there when she awoke in the mornings, as she sat in the Medicine Cat den watching the other kittens and apprentices wrestle and squeal with vitality. Instead he had wandered away, out from underfoot. He had wrestled, squealed, always with Starlingpaw. Had she died alone, breaking hopeful parents? Yet in a way, by distancing himself – by creating a new family in Starlingflower – he had spared himself the grief. He had spared himself missing her, any feeling of fault. Was the trade-off so horrible? He had abandoned her, perhaps, but he had spared himself the torment. He had cried, mourned her. Of course he still understood that spiritually and biologically, she was his little sister. He’d stared at her body, sat vigil, nudged her when Bearclaw and Fallownose weren’t looking. But it hadn’t been the same, it had never been the same. Yet here, standing before him, was perhaps a second change. Shira was broken – not in the way Juniper had been. Juniper had been doomed from the beginning.

But there was hope in Shira. Her illness was something different, perhaps something worth surviving. Kiteswoop watched her. Could he rid himself of the guilt, right the abandonment? He didn’t know, but perhaps it was worth the effort. “Hush.” He took a step towards her, hesitating for only a moment before wrapping himself around her – in what he hoped was a comforting brotherly manner. He rested his chin on her head. “You don’t need to be Clan to be my sister,” He swallowed at the lie, though convinced himself it was necessary. She needed this, she needed someone. And later, when she was stable, strong enough to hear the truth, he’d tell her. He’d let her come to it on her own, the realization of who he was, and more importantly – who he wasn’t.

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