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Rosepetal and Blossomfall had much in common.
They had similar names. Flowers that bloomed on the ground. Flowers that fell from the trees.
They had similar origins. A Clanborn father. An outsider for a mother.
They had similar family members. Older half-siblings who lived in a world of their own, and a littermate who hated themself, though one tried to be somewhat more optimistic about it than the other.
They had similar problems. A father who cared more about one daughter than his son or other daughter. A father who didn’t even acknowledge his own son and daughter.
One would think they’d get along perfectly. And yet…
“I hate you.”
To one, the flowers were always brighter on the other side.
Rosepetal didn’t really understand why Blossomfall had said that to her out of the blue. She knew she didn’t at all like her brother, whom she had advised to stay away from her, but she had done the same so long before.
She was always bragging and putting everyone else down, a young Rosepaw had reasoned, so there wouldn’t be any point in hanging out with her. She was just going to focus on being the best warrior she could be.
But Blossompaw could never have been as bad as Blossomfall, ever. Blossompaw was annoying. Blossomfall was spiteful.
So what could have possibly changed? Why did that flower have such a prickly stem?
Blossomfall hated how much better Rosepetal was at handling every problem she had in her life, as if the solutions were just given to her.
Daisy was a loner, but she had been in ThunderClan long enough for her to be accepted as a real part of it, and Rosepetal had no problem adjusting. Yet somehow, it didn’t matter if Graystripe was a respected member of ThunderClan. Everyone was wondering about Millie.
It didn’t make sense, either. As much as the Clan appreciated her, to Blossomfall, Daisy was just some nursery queen. Millie was a real warrior. She had fighting skill. She wasn’t afraid to bite.
Rosepetal had a relationship with her older half-siblings, and a very good one, too. Blossomfall didn’t even know she had half-siblings until she was a warrior.
It wasn’t even in a serious conversation between father and daughter. It was something mentioned absentmindedly. It didn’t at all help that one of them was dead while the other chose to stay where she died. She would never get the opportunity to get to know them.
Blossomfall always thought that Rosepetal’s brother, Toadstep, was pathetic, arguably moreso than Bumblestripe. It was always clear to Blossomfall that he hated himself and his image. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to pick on him back then, because he always thought everything that was said about him was true.
Something similar could be said for Briarlight. Blossomfall knew she was jealous of her and Bumblestripe. She knew she hated her condition. She knew she hated how everyone gave her looks of pity.
And yet, they were friends. They found comfort in each other.
How? And a more important question: how could Rosepetal and Toadstep still be so close while Blossomfall and Briarlight drifted apart?
Rosepetal took Spiderleg’s abandonment in stride, not at all letting it get to her. She was proud, even.
Blossomfall thought it wasn’t fair. It couldn’t be. Rosepetal was abandoned at birth, while Blossomfall was forgotten by Graystripe just when she needed her father most.
Even Rosepetal’s name was better than hers. A rose was something specific. A beautiful flower picked intentionally. It was appreciated for its fighting spirit, surviving no matter the conditions.
A blossom could refer to any generic plant, like a dandelion. A weed that grows to be blown away, its seeds being nothing but a pest to those in its path.
A rose petal was evidence of thriving, and yet, when a blossom fell, it was just a warning that the tree would soon die.
They should be the same, but they’re not. Blossomfall should have been like her.
She wanted to be like her so bad, but no matter what happened, Rosepetal would always be the more beautiful flower in nearly every way possible.
It just wasn’t fair.