The Burning- Book One: Blossom [DRAFT]

The Fishing

It had only been a moon since Robinear had become a full member.

A moon of paranoia and anxiety about Leopardpaw and Willowpaw.

Three moons until she'd belong to one of them.

Despite Gingerfur's reassurances, Robinear couldn't help but distrust the cheery golden tom. Sure, he seemed nice...but seeming and being were two different things.

Especially in FloraClan.

"Robinear?" Her mother's mew cut through the silver tabby's thoughts, and she snapped her head around swiftly.

"Yes?" she answered cautiously.

Kestrelwing met her gaze, then looked at her trainee. "Would you be willing to come with me to teach Leopardpaw a bit of fishing? He's only gone once."

Robinear blinked, considering. The undisputed best fisher was Larkfoot, so it seemed a bit bizarre for her to be asked.

Then she realized.

Her mother wanted to speak with her.

Kestrelwing had been released from suspicion three days ago, and seemed to have been deliberately avoiding Robinear since.

Not that she really blamed her.

After all, Robinear had testified against her.

"Of course," she mewed, dipping her head slightly to indicate Kesterlwing's seniority.

A look of relief flitted across Kestrelwing's face, and a weight seemed to be lifted off her shoulders. "Thanks," she mewed simply.

Leopardpaw shot Robinear a grateful glance as well, and the silver tabby realized that Leopardpaw didn't feel comfortable around his mentor.

Not exactly strange, considering she'd been his mentor for only three days and been accused of neglective abuse.

"Upstream or downstream?" inquired Robinear, breaking the brief silence between them.

Kestrelwing tilted her head, considering. "Upstream," she decided.

Robinear nodded briefly and stood up, shaking the dirt out of her fur. "Well, let's go then, shall we?"

Kestrelwing bobbed her head and exited the camp clearing quickly, Leopardpaw on her tail. Robinear followed a little behind Leopardpaw, and slowed as they neared the stream.

She dipped her paw in. It was still quite cold-- a symptom of early new-leaf-- but it didn't nearly freeze her paws off like it had on her assessment.

Leopardpaw didn't have to be asked to get on the correct side of the stream this time. He splashed noisily across it, pulling out and shivering violently, splattering water everywhere.

Robinear rolled her eyes and leapt across neatly, her tail barely skimming the water. For some reason, Leopardpaw had crossed the stream at its widest point. Why, she had no clue.

He looked like he regretted it now.

The fishing started slow.

Numbed by the cold water, Robinear's reflexes were dulled. How she'd managed to catch anything on her assessment was beyond her.

Robinear was acutely aware of Kestrelwing, just a couple fox-lengths downstream from her. It felt so very strange to have her mother, the cat that had birthed her then shown no care toward her, hunting beside her and muttering a helpful tip whenever she missed a fish.

It didn't seem to make sense.

Her earlier theory replayed itself in her mind even as she concentrated on catching the trout ambling downstream. Perhaps Kestrelwing had just distanced herself to prevent it from hurting so much if she lost a kit.