We're Like Symphonies, With You I'm Alive

He was not sure exactly why he was drawn to her. Perhaps it was more based upon the fact that he saw them as outcasts, him with his timid, overly dependent personality, and her with her bodily scars that deterred many from getting to know the cat that lay beneath them. Perhaps it was more based upon the fact that she had a gentle, beautiful voice that was such a contrast to the harshness of Foxfang’s. Perhaps it was simply necessity. After all, he could not fathom being alone, he needed a guide, he needed an anchor, and Foxfang was usually who he turned to, but she had been far too busy off on her own. What she was working through he could only fathom. To have a mate, lose a mate, not just to death but…to lack of interest. To have someone tell her she was beautiful then fall from the face of the earth…he knew…he knew all too well about that.

So he stayed with his dear friend, with his once sister-in-law figure, and he let her rant and rave and push him away, because he knew that she would always come back. As would he. They were bound to each other by past bonds, past experiences, and their future would remain intertwined. But…when she was away, and he was just a spinning top looking for someone to steady him, he had stumbled upon Softpaw…Doebristle. They were kind cats, but it was Doebristle he was drawn to. She had steadied him and guided him, given him reassurance and a purpose. And perhaps it was not healthy to be so dependent upon a single cat, like he was with Foxfang. So he tried. He tried for this Bengal with half a face. He tried to look into her eyes and see past his projected theories of her thoughts, to what she was truly like. To the fact she did not look at him with lies on her tongue, but with honesty.

She actually liked him. Enjoyed his company. He was not sure he had ever thought that was possible. And oh he certainly enjoyed hers, even if she made his chest a little tight with worry that she would someday look at his plain gray pelt and decide he wasn’t worthy to breathe the same air as her. That she would turn and leave and fade into the mist of the ocean as rapidly as his old flame once had gone out. The fear twined around his heart so thick and fierce that it could be activated by the simple act of a kit coming between them. He knew he shouldn’t look at Granite in such a way, but he didn’t miss the desire of the child to be near Doebristle. And the love in her gaze when she looked at the kit.

Well, it ruffled him. He wanted to have that gaze. And perhaps it was his anxiety that blinded him to how that gaze fell upon him more and more often, to how it was Doebristle that invited him to share her nest when Granite stayed with Amber. How he and Doebristle chased ducks and dreams together when Granite sat silent and deaf in camp. All he could see was the moments Doebristle was away from him, the moments Foxfang was away, and he couldn’t focus on the times they were together, without the anxiety still eating at him. What if they would rather be somewhere else? What if they would rather be with anyone other than him?

It didn’t matter how much they reassured him that they wanted to be with him, that they cared about him. He had always been a terrified sort. And he always would be. Even when he realized exactly why he was feeling this way regarding Doebristle, even when he felt what once would have filled him with joy, he was terrified. He was terrified until she pushed her nose to his and breathed FOR him. She took his anxiety upon herself in a few words of tender affection, and he realized that she really had been telling the truth. In that moment of clarity he realized she did care for him. Perhaps not to the same depth, perhaps not even in the same way. Only she could know that unless she chose to voice it.

But he finally SAW.

And he finally breathed.

And he finally let go of the old flame that had left a trail of ashes across his senses, and let Doebristle’s whispers and touch blow it away until he could see her shining before him, alit by a fire he had been kindling alongside her. Their relationship, their friendship, bright as fire, brighter than the dull flame he had clung to. He doused it down and vowed to focus on the sparks dancing between himself and Doebristle now. Sparks that lit up her eyes and her smile, as she looked upon him with a different gaze than she gave anyone else. And he realized that he had been a blind fool. To ever be upset with her or Foxfang for leaving. They had others just as he had both of them.

He would learn. He would grow. He would rise. With both of them, with the matches struck and the kindling lit, they would blaze their own paths, sometimes crossing, sometimes alone. But he would keep going. As long as they were there, in some way, he would keep going for them. For Foxfang. For Doebristle. For himself.