Warrior Cats: The Deaf Warrior

Chapter Fifty Seven

The Clan had all reacted well to the news of Fuzzytuft's and Goosewing's relationship. The only cats who had actually seemed genuinely surprised by it were Scorchheart and Bluetail.

"Guess they're not good at picking up signs of a relationship." Fuzzytuft had told Goosewing, looking amused.

Scorchheart hadn't reacted especially well. Goosewing breathed deeply, remembering what his brother had said to him.

"What if she breaks your heart? What if she does something to harm you? What if she's dangerous?" Scorchheart's eyes were huge with fear.

"I'm sorry, brother," Goosewing answered, feeling sympathy for the ginger tom. "I love her, and she makes me happy. I hope that's ok."

Scorchheart had stared at him for several moments, before patting him on the shoulder. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Dawnwhisker had reacted well. Goosewing had seen her smiling the entire time while he and Fuzzytuft spoke. Fuzzytuft had told him that in her eyes, Dawnwhisker was her best friend, and that she felt terrible that she had been rejected. The more Goosewing thought about it, the more he realised he saw Dawnwhisker as his best friend, too. But something more? He was certain he loved Fuzzytuft. How could he not? She was what he needed. She was what made him eager to wake up from his nest each morning.

Now, Goosewing and Fuzzytuft were hunting together. The grey tabby hadn't spoken a word. Yes, it was normal for the small she cat to be on the quiet side - it was normal for both of them, but he could tell there was something bothering his mate. He could always tell.

"Are you okay?" He asked, dropping the fish that hung from his jaws in the hope that maybe he would speak more clearly without it.

Goosewing was relieved to see that Fuzzytuft understood, as she turned to look at him, her good eye softening as it rested on him. "I wish I wasn't so quiet." She mewed.

Goosewing understood. Being quiet was hard, and he could tell that Fuzzytuft wasn't very confident, either. She struggled to make conversation with other cats, and got embarrassed easily. Goosewing went through the same thing, and he got the feeling that his father was on the shy side too. They were the three cats in the Clan who spoke the least, and deep down, it upset Goosewing that he never felt confident enough to share his thoughts.

"You're getting more confident, though." He reassured her. While Goosewing personally believed that Fuzzytuft's improvements were very gradual, he still saw improvement. Following Lilyspots's death, he had seen the warrior step up a whole lot more.

But did I carry on with as much confidence after Sheepcloud's death? There's no way I handled it as well as Fuzzytuft handled Lilyspots's death.

He could also tell that Fuzzytuft was slowly becoming more well liked within the Clan. She wasn't popular, but she was generally known as a good cat. After all, she had been so brave following her sister's death, and she had trained Troutpelt excellently. She had even saved Nightpaw from the fire. But not Sheepcloud. Of course he didn't blame Fuzzytuft. Sheepcloud had tripped over, and had immediately been trapped in the flames. If Fuzzytuft had gone back for her, all three of them - Sheepcloud, Fuzzytuft and Nightpaw, would have died.

It was Sheepcloud, or it was all of them.

Fuzzytuft shrugged. "Honestly... I wanted to speak to Leopardtail, Blacktail and Featherfur. They're the cats who killed my mother. I just wanted them to know... and realise... how their actions affect other cats. I understand they were defending my camp, but I heard the way they laughed... I just wanted to say something to them," she trembled. "But now it's too late. All three of them died before I could say or try to explain anything. I was too scared to say anything."

Goosewing pressed himself against Fuzzytuft, sinking into her thick, fluffy fur. "You'll get to speak to them one day. And when that day comes, I know you'll be brave enough. You will see them again."

He had never really gotten a chance to know Featherfur or Blacktail, but they had both seemed quite aggressive. But he knew that Leopardtail was different, and her death still made him sad when he thought about it. Maybe if Leopardtail and Fuzzytuft had spoken to eachother, they would have had a chance to reconcile. He knew that Leopardtail would have been willing to be friends with Fuzzytuft, if Fuzzytuft was willing to forgive her.

If someone killed my father, would I forgive them?

The question lingered in Goosewing's mind, and he wasn't even concentrating on Fuzzytuft when she spoke again, so he had to ask her to repeat herself.

"I might never see them again." She mewed.

They walk with StarClan now, but how does that mean Fuzzytuft will never see them again?

Goosewing answered, "There's still one cat you could speak to."

Fuzzytuft paused, a strange glint in her eyes. She suddenly looked very interested. "Do you mean Bluetail?"

Goosewing nodded. He knew that the deputy was very scary and snappy, but surely she wasn't that bad. He knew she wasn't that bad. At the very least, he knew that deep down, Bluetail had always been supportive of Dawnwhisker. She had celebrated when Dawnwhisker was given her warrior name. That had to mean something.

The tabby hesitated, but then mewed, "I'll try. Just give me a few days. I'll ask her to leave the camp with me or something," she shuffled her small paws. "For hunting. She hates me, but she'll leave the camp for hunting. And then... then... I guess I'll speak to her." Fuzzytuft's ears were flat against her head, and her eyes were wide with fear.

Goosewing nodded approvingly, dipping his paw into the water a bit too late as a fish swam past him.

Good luck, Fuzzytuft. I wish I had half of your bravery.