Everlasting Love (Stormwind)

Peach followed, slightly behind Blossomsnow. “Good morning,” The she-cat Mewed, pasting her jaws in a yawn a heartbeat later.

Once Blossomsnow finished grooming her own pelt, she waited for Peach to also finish grooming herself before rising to her paws and leaving the den.

Peach set to work grooming down her own bengal fur in the places it was ruffled. Her eyes often wandered to Blossomsnow, The she-cat thinking happy thoughts as she licked away at herself. That was the best sleep I’ve ever gotten, thought the female as she lapped at her shoulder.

Blossomsnow sat up, trying to blink away the sleepiness as she started to groom her tortoiseshell pelt.

“Thanks! And I’m glad you’re doing better.” Oakfoot added the last thoughtful bit after thinking for a heartbeat, turning back to meet at the entrance to camp.

Peach groggily slid out in a stretch, her belly dragging across Blossomsnow’s nest as she tried to wake up for their early patrol.

Willowheart nodded, rising to her paws. “Good luck,” she told him before heading back to her den, flicking her tail.

Emberleaf left the den shortly after Willowheart left Oakfoot, while Streamfire came in from the camp entrance, having been on guard and just now replaced.

Blossomsnow blinked open her eyes sleepily, yawning tiredly. “‘Morning,” she mumbled to Peach.

Oakfoot shot his usual, handsome sideways grin at Willowheart. “I’m just ruffling your feathers, Willowheart,” The tom snorted in amusement. He lifted his head when he saw his father walking around on his own, and realized he had some hunting of his own to do. He’d been put in a hunting patrol the previous night with Blossomsnow, Peach, Streamfire, and Emberleaf. The Tom gave his shoulder fur a few licks before looking into the medicine cat’s eyes.

“I’ve gotta go here soon. Hunting patrol.” The tom explained, though he didn’t stand up to leave just yet.

Peach groggily blinked her eyes open, sighing softly and not lifting her head off of Blossomsnow’s shoulders.

Willowheart felt herself blush, to her horror. “I am not!” She protested, her mewl indignant.

Oakfoot nodded, smirking and giving Willowheart a teasing flick of her ear with his tail. “You almost sound unhappy that I’m not going to get to mentor you in the ways of a warrior.” The Tom’s purr was teasing in tone and too low in volume for Duststorm to clearly discern from the warrior’s den.

The blind warrior began to put himself through his paces, carefully measuring how many steps it took him to get from place to place within the Camp.

Willowheart glanced sidelong at the tom. “Very well,” she sighed.

Oakfoot blinked in reply. “Well, surely there’s something-...” The tom bit his own tongue and nodded. “Perhaps we could just watch together then?”

Willowheart sighed in exasperation, lifting her gaze to the sky like ‘why me.’ “Oakfoot, I just said that I don’t want to learn how to hunt, which implies that I don’t want to hunt at all.”

Oakfoot nodded. “I just want to do something with you as a team for that special gathering coming up.” The tom flicked his tail behind him. “Would you do the hunting event with me? I really don’t care about winning, I’d just like the excuse to spend the time with you.” The male mewed earnestly. “Maybe you could even drive a little prey into my claws!”

Duststorm smiled softly, settling down as he listened to the pair of younger cats. He had planned on speaking to Willowheart but that could wait.

“If it’s to ask me if I want to learn how to hunt or fight, the answer is no,” Willowheart said warningly, narrowing her eyes at the tom.

“Right,” Oakfoot replied, dipping his head in slight embarrassment. “I wanted to ask you something, though!” The tom wouldn’t be deterred by this minor complication.

Willowheart shook her head. “No. I’m a medicine cat, Oakfoot,” she reminded.

Duststorm looked curiously towards the fresh-kill pile at the sound of his son’s laughter, and eventually identified by scent that his son was with Willowheart. The sight warmed his heart a little, the father remembering how close the pair had been in their early moons.

Oakfoot smiled softly over at Willowheart. After a few heartbeats, The tom mewed, seemingly randomly, “Do you know much about hunting?”

Willowheart pushes herself into a sitting position, grooming her ruffled pelt with an annoyed sound.

Oakfoot laughed, letting the She-cat up after a few seconds. The young Tom’s muscles ripples under his pelt as he stepped back away from Willowheart to free her.

Willowheart squawked indignantly, squirming around underneath him.

“Prey-stealer!” The tom accused her with a laugh, standing up and pounding on the medicine cat playfully.

Willowheart swatted at his paw. “Hey!” She protested.

“Hey!” Oakfoot’s protest was entirely in jest, the tom having already eaten his fill. But talking to Willowheart had brought some of his kit-like energy back, and the tom teasingly batted at his old friend’s face and cuffed her ears as she chewed up the last of their shared prey.

Willowheart sneakily stole the thrush away from the tom, eating the last bite.

Oakfoot smiled back, no words needed to describe his happiness in that moment.