Post by Kitty on Jan 21, 2011 14:41:53 GMT -6
It had taken Gingertail quite some time to convince her brother to take both of their apprentices out for a training session without her. After a long conversation full of begging, scrutinizing glances, worries admitted, and promises of training Otterpaw tomorrow, she had finally reigned successful and escaped to the gorge to watch the border.
But she definitely wasn't there to look for Dustfur, if that's what you're thinking. Nope. Definitely not. StarClan forbid she watch for a tom from another Clan to purely coincidentally 'cross paths' with her once again. Where would you get that idea? Sure, she jsut happened to be sitting here, staring hopefully over the RiverClan/WindClan border and scenting the air every two heartbeats, but that didn't mean she was waiting for someone, especially not Dustfur.
That's what Gingertail told herself, anyway. She repeated these things over and over again in her mind, trying to convince herself that she just wanted to watch the rabbits run, or maybe see one of her WindClan friends, see how their mate hunts were coming since she last talked to them at the Gathering...aw, mousedung, now she was thinking about Thrushtail and the Gathering and Dustfur and what Thrushtail said at the Gathering. We aren't mates, she reminded herself firmly. He's only a friend. You don't like him like that, she tried to convince herself. But the less rational part of her mind argued, You need to find a mate, and come on, when are you going to stop lying to yourself? You really do like Dustfur, and that's why you're here.
She tried to block out that part of her mind. Really, she did. But the longer she stared over the border the more hopeful she got that a familiar, clean, rabbity scent would meet her scent glands, a gray and white pelt appear across the moors...and then the longer she sat after that, the more depressed and sullen she became when her wishes and thoughts were not granted. Gradually her hopefulness faded, until it had almost completely diminished and she just sat there because she was too shocked at herself to move. Since when did she care?
You always come this way... she thought as loudly as she could. Perhaps she got in her mind that if she thought hard enough, it would travel across the moors and reach a certain gray pelted cat, possibly draw him to the gorge....
But that gray cat was definitely not Dustfur. Nooope...