comfortable silence [tag: Iceclaw/Macro]

The thick scent of pine had always been a companion in his life. Something wonderful, something comforting— but at the same time, something lonely and sad, a reminder of what melancholy rested in the past. Iceclaw was determined to make it stay there. He was a logical, realistic cat, good at fending off all the horrors and sorrows life through at him and repelling them, like water off a duck’s back. He and his sister, Alderfrost, had reached, in solidarity, a point of no return. No knew tragedies could come to them or their clan— it was something that had to be policed, monitored, and defended.

The huge, white tom inhaled the aura of green pine, feeling the light prickles against his feet and the stick of sap on his paw pads. When Rosestar had requested his company to join her on a hunt, he had instantly agreed, because she was his old friend. She helped raise his children— ah, a pang of misery at the memory of Petalpaw. No, no, go back in there, he thought, forcing the feeling back into the place from whence it came. He realized, later, he really could not have possibly say no: she was his leader, he a warrior pledged to her Clan and service. Though, truly, he did not mind.

He had always felt somewhat of a burden on the ambitious Rosestar. He imagined she had grander plans than him, his status, than staying in one place. She reminded him, painfully at times, of her brother Brackenpaw, who died too young at the hands of mother nature and his own ambition. He held in a chuckle, thinking of how differently the path of ambition had led Rosestar, than how it misled Brackenpaw. He had, physically and mentally, attempted to stay out of her way, and not hinder the she-cat’s growth. But now she had approached him and asked him back into her life— and he had no choice but to oblige. And, though it made him feel uncomfortable about… well, himself, really, he had to admit he enjoyed spending time with her.

He watched her hunt and tried to put his nose to the path, as well, but his head was just not in it today. He caught, on the breeze, the stale scent of a lendri, who had possibly dug in for winter and was now on the move again. He managed to scare up a shrew and brain it with one quick swipe of his large, powerful paw. But that sole shrew was the total of his catch today, and he felt like he was woefully underperforming.

After growing up alongside her, and being mate to her sister (to whom she resembled closely in persona, though they may not admit it) Iceclaw could sense in the air the presence of words in Rosestar’s mouth. He knew when she was going to speak, but not before. He almost prompted her, before she began speaking: at first, it sounded like a confession, a deep dark secret: but when she finished, it was merely a statement of overdue knowledge.

He inhaled sharply, not because of what she said— that Heatherleaf and Foxkit offered up two of her lives— but the fact that she told him. “Speaking about your ceremony— isn’t that forbidden?” he questioned, not wanting her to get in trouble with StarClan— of all sources of authority— to tell him something that, frankly, he already knew. “Of course they did, Rose. And they should have. Your sister—,” for saying her name both brought pain and also felt inappropriate in present company, “—she loved you, and Foxkit would have, too. It’s only right.” The words tumbling from his mouth, spoken quietly but with decisive meaning, were of an unusual length for Iceclaw, who preferred monosyllabic answers and things he could say with a smile.

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS