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Ryestalk had always been a stoic cat.
In part, she took pride in it. Her Clan revered her cool tone and steady face.
But like all things, there were downsides.
No cat knew how hard it was to raise her kits alone, kits she hadn’t been prepared for. They assumed she was fine after Shrewclaw’s sudden death. After all, not much had phased her before.
“Ryestalk’s a sturdy molly,” she heard them say to each other. “She’ll get right to it.”
Hell, is what it really was.
But all that changed because of Meadowslip. The two weren’t close before, mere acquaintances, two cats who had shared a patrol and a meal a few times, but never friends.
Being stuck in the nursery changed that.
Ryestalk saw a side to Meadowslip that she had overlooked. The two were more alike than either had ever imagined.
Ryestalk thought the friendship would fizzle out when their kits grew out of the nursery, and she dreaded that day like nothing she had ever dreaded before.
But she was the stoic cat, the fearless cat, the cat who could just bounce right back.
“Ryestalk? Would you be a dear and help me groom these messy furballs?” Meadowslip chirped, barely looking up from Sorrelkits’s fur.
The day had come, Meadowslip’s kits were getting their apprentice names, all three of them. Secretly, selfishly, Ryestalk wished that Hopkit’s injury would keep him behind for just a while longer. But it hadn’t, and the black furred tomkit was waiting eagerly by his mother.
“Of course,” Ryestalk responded, forcing a smile to her words. “Come here, Pigeonkit.”
Pigeonkit was the easiest kit to groom, he sat still and didn’t make any fuss when his mats were tugged free. The excitement made him squirmier than usual, but nowhere near as squirmy as Sorrelkit, who kept escaping from her mother.
As the three siblings theorized about their mentors, and Ryestalk’s kits jealously listened, the tabby molly could hardly keep her eyes off Meadowslip.
Meadowslip didn’t think she was good looking. She said she had a boring plain pelt of boring grey, and boring eyes boring yellow.
Boring? Ryestalk scoffed, recalling it. She had fur the same color as the moon, and any cat would agree it was one of the most stunning things in the night sky. Her eyes were the same color as the goldenrod that showered the moor in a dazzling yellow glow in greenleaf.
Boring was a plain lie. Meadowslip was gorgeous. It was impossible for Ryestalk to not wish to stare forever.
“Ryestalk? You’ve got him all cleaned,” Meadowslip laughed softly. “You can let him free now.”
Ryestalk looked at the kit, patiently waiting to be released. His fur was soft and shiny, but quite damp. “Oh, uh, yes. Go on Pigeonkit. You’re all done.”
This is it. She took a deep breath, said goodbye to her sons, and followed Meadowslip and her kits outside.
“Let all cats old enough to catch prey, join here beneath highrock for a Clan meeting!”
She had prepared for it to end. Or at the very least, for Meadowslip to only speak to her sparingly again. Like the old days.
So Ryestalk was incredibly shocked to find Meadowslip had followed her into the nursery when the apprentice ceremony had ended.
Ryestalk hadn’t given the ceremony much of her attention, but she remembered enough to know what had brought her friend back upset.
“He's too young to understand what it means for him!” She spat, tail lashing. “I have loads of respect for Heatherstar, but this? This is absurd!”
Ryestalk’s nosy kits listened carefully, trying to look occupied. Ryestalk knew better, Mudkit and Thornkit never passed an opportunity to eavesdrop.
“I know, it’s cruel,” Ryestalk responded. She stepped forward, pressing her head against Meadowslip’s. Momentarily, her breath caught in her throat. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on the wonderful, fluttering feeling in her chest.
“Deadpaw. What a choice,” muttered Meadowslip. She leaned into Ryestalk’s comfort, shaking. “I can only hope he chooses to love that name as much as Heatherstar wants him to.”
Ryestalk licked at her friend's head, purring softly in hopes Meadowslip would ease. The quiet went on, with only the sounds of Ryestalk’s sons scuffing around with each other.
When Meadowslip broke free, she went straight to Ryestalk’s nest. Ryestalk felt her heart jolt. In my nest? StarClan, what is she thinking?
“Well, are you joining?” Meadowslip asked, amused. “Or are you going to stand there like a stone?”
Ryestalk nodded numbly, curling into her nest, carefully avoiding touching Meadowslip's pelt.
“I thought you'd be on your way by now,” Ryestalk began, swallowing hard.
Meadowslip licked Ryestalk’s face gingerly. “And leave my best friend all alone for two moons? Not a chance!”
Best friend. It was a term that felt so right, but so lacking. A best friend was something she needed, but StarClan, she just wanted Meadowslip as more than a friend.
Yet, Ryestalk remained calm. “I assumed you figured that I could hold my own.”
Meadowslip shook her head. “You don't have to be so strong around me. I know you need my help.”
Ryestalk was praised for her rock solid demeanor. She was always the smart one, the steady one, the collected one.
But Meadowslip made her want to melt and be the softest, most vulnerable cat the Clans had ever seen.
“Mama!” Thornkit shouted. “Mama, he bited me! He bited my paw!”
The heat and the fluttering in Ryestalk’s body stopped. StarClan, as much as she loved her kits, they had a tendency to ruin a romantic moment.
Meadowslip was quick on it. “Bit, darling. Mudkit bit your paw?”
Mudkit was quick to defend his honor. He sauntered up to Ryestalk, scowling. “Well, only because he scratched me first!”
Ryestalk sighed, and beckoned for her kits to come to her. “You two know what happens if you bite and scratch your denmates when you are apprentices, right?”
“I didn't scratch-”
“You get in big trouble!” Meadowslip interrupted Thornkit’s rebuttal. “You have to run laps around camp!”
Mudkit rolled his eyes. Thornkit huffed angrily.
“No scratching. No biting,” Ryestalk added. “Or both of you are getting an early bedtime tonight.”
They grumbled, but accepted the conditions, and went off to pout by themselves in opposite ends of the den.
Ryestalk locked her eyes back on Meadowslip, hoping she'd lay back down and the two would share tongues. But the grey molly headed towards the nursery entrance. “I'm going to check on Hop-Deadpaw. I'll be back.”
Disappointment settled like a heavy stone in Ryestalk’s belly. “Okay. Goodbye.”
As Meadowslip's tail disappeared, Ryestalk’s longing grew stronger.
She had yearned for her friend for moons now, and each day it got more intense. She couldn't help but imagine that Meadowslip was flirting with her as well, it was hard to believe otherwise.
Oh, it's a crazy thought. I'd never get that lucky.
Ryestalk imagined it would have to be her to say it. The want was eating her alive each time the two of them were alone together.
The longing had continued to grow. And even now, when Meadowslip's kits were nearing their warrior assessments, and Ryestalk’s were far into their apprentice training, Ryestalk hadn’t told Meadowslip.
But she wanted to, the stars knew how much she wanted to.
The two had done mate-y things. They snuggled close to each other when they slept. They sang together. They left camp at night together.
There was a tell in WindClan, and although no one talked about it, everyone knew it. If two cats left the camp after the evening meal, it usually meant they were “pre-mates” or new mates. All the young cats thought they were sneaky, and no one noticed them giggling to each other as they quietly snuck from the group to frolic in the fields after mealtime, but everyone knew. No one mentioned it, but everyone knew.
It came as no surprise to Ryestalk when cats gave knowing smiles to one another when Ryestalk and Meadowslip asked to go on every patrol together. Ryestalk pretended not to notice, but it hurt to see that Meadowslip looked ignorant as well.
But still, here the two were, on a frosty night, all alone under the sky. Their breath sent mist into the dark air, cold nipping at their noses and ears. Another night, just like the others before it, where Ryestalk felt as if she couldn't speak, and Meadowslip seemed none the wiser.
Ryestalk wasn't much of a chatter. Yet with Meadowslip, she wanted to talk forever. She would tell Meadowslip everything. She was certain that she had run out of her life to retell by now, and yet, the grey molly never seemed bored of her friend's voice.
“I could listen to you speak for the rest of my life,” Meadowslip said, blinking slowly, eyes like the moon.
Hearing that, Ryestalk wanted nothing more than to bring her friend to the ground and love on her.
But she only looked at her paws, stuttering out her thanks.
Meadowslip had peeled away and walked on, and now she stood next to a dried heather shrub. Its thin branches held little piles of snow that Meadowslip was absently bouncing off.
StarClan, Ryestalk couldn’t stand the tension. If only her mouth was as graceful as her heart, then it would be easier.
“Ryestalk.” Meadowslip said, low and sweet. “I've gone over this more times than I can count in my head, but I don't even think I need practice now.”
Ryestalk sat next to Meadowslip, feeling the warmth flow from the grey molly's pelt, carried gently by the soft wind in the otherwise still night.
“Ryestalk, I think I love you.”
Ryestalk’s ears were ringing. No, she couldn’t have heard it correctly.
“What?”
Meadowslip's smile widened. “I love you, and I know from the way you look at me that you do too.”
Hell, Ryestalk’s ears were right.
She could have passed out from the sheer shock of it all, but instead, she could only beam back. “Meadowslip. You have no idea how much I want you.”
Ryestalk had imagined she'd be a nervous mess, for the worst thing to happen, and all other terrible events that would keep her from loving Meadowslip.
Yet, this moment had come, and it had gone. And she felt no anxiety, no uncomfortable knot. Despite wanting for moons and moons to hear Meadowslip's exact words, they carried no grand spell of emotion.
There was one thing, though. How perfect it felt to hear, as perfect as a field of goldenrod, or the silvery moon.
It fit perfectly on Meadowslip's tongue. It was perfect in her voice.
Ryestalk leaned into the perfect cat, feeling a burst of warmth and buzzing. Meadowslip leaned back, heavy and comforting.
“You've never looked more stunning,” Ryestalk whispered at last.
Meadowslip's purring grew louder. “I can believe it now, coming from you.”
The cold light of the moon made Meadowslip's pelt sparkle like stars. Ryestalk gazed upwards, finding an immense sense of pride. A piece of sky had been moving amongst the ground, and had chosen Ryestalk.
Nothing more perfect than that.