a looming obstacle [Minkpaw]

it's not a big deal, so to speak, that he'll be a warrior in such a short amount of time to the tom. the insecurities previously burrowed into his system are long gone lately, not a trace to be told of so far, and minkpaw had forgotten that he'd ever had a problem with them. he's defensive, now, and prideful; not bad things, really, until he gets too defensive and fights with others. it had only gotten worse since that tom had torn mousepaw's ear, and he'd vowed to protect her.

their training had gotten more intense with the thought of the mangrove maze, and minkpaw hadn't seen his best friend in a while during the daylight. at night they were so tired by the time that he crawled into her nest that they barely even talked then. it was mostly simple conversation, asking about each other's days or weeks or just talk about how the stars looked that night, and they often dozed off within a few words spoken. he'd gone through the maze more times to count, and he felt comfortable with it, prepared and settled.

therefore, minkpaw wasn't surprised to hear when his mentor gave him the day off. they'd been grilling him and, satisfied with the outcome they'd been getting thus far, decided to give the tom something of a break. so, his first thought was a day with mousepaw; with a smile on his maw and a spring in his step, he set out for the somewhat lately fretful she-cat.

his jaws part in a yawn as he looks at the trees of the mangrove, bright eyes curious as they wander from the green top to the brackish bottom of the trunks. swirling his tail lazily in the fallen yellow leaves of the season, he walks slowly, eyes narrowed as he continues to size up the maze. it's not that big - it's just a maze, he reminds himself, it's not like your entire life depends on it or something.

except that it does. everything depends on how well he does in this maze. there's a pit of worry in his stomach, the thoughts of 'what if i fail' and 'what if i hurt myself' into his mind. the insecurity is back, those soul-numbing little pricks that threaten to throw him overboard. just as he's about to sink, fail and drown, gasping for air and his vision going blue and blurred, there's the sound of a meow. the voice that's so familiar to him, everything to him, the only thing that he'll ever tell about these thoughts, the voice that talks him into sleep.

those thoughts haven't been around in awhile, but now that they're back they've come in full force and are murder on his mind. minkpaw looks around for a minute, trying to pinpoint the speaker, until he twirls in a circle and comes face-to-face with her. he knows he looks a little worried and distracted but he can't force the thoughts down just yet. he knows that mousepaw won't mind much, either, so he lets the worry cross his face until he's able to smile at his friend.

"hi, mousepaw," he says, more chipper than before, nodding to her question and then steps forward to nudge noses with the lady in front of him. he goes backward again, golden eyes looking over her with interest; there's no doubt in his mind that mousepaw is beautiful, one of the most beautiful cats in the clan, and he knows that he's told her before. it's not a big deal to tell your best friend that you think they're beautiful . . . right?

it's nice to feel the comfort of mousepaw's purr against his neck, the way she snuggles up to him in such a familiar matter. it makes his heart absolutely sing and his mind flutter at the way this is all so comfortable, how much he adores his best friend. she means so much to him - he doesn't have a sister, really, but mousepaw is everything to him like his actual family is. in his mind, she is something of a sister to him, and something a little more he can't quite tell yet. he feels it in the back of his mind, niggling away, but it's barely there and he's not sure if he's imagining things or if this little thing is real.

a purr rises from the depths of minkpaw's throat, a larger smile now on his face and the only thought in his mind is how much he adores his friends. he's so very fond of mousepaw and otterpaw and shrewpaw; they mean so much to him and he's pretty sure he wouldn't make it if he was to lose one of their friendships. even though he didn't know shrewpaw as much as he knew mousepaw, she was still very dear to him, being mousepaw's sibling and an important part of his childhood. the look of worry on her face passes and there's a new, untouchable light in her eyes, and it gives the tom joy to think that he put it there, that sense of happiness and protection they pass on to each other.

there's a light chuckle that breaks the slight uncomfortable air of the situation as she says hello again - it's just like her, the silly aura that she gives when she's around him, when the resigned part of her melts and shapes into something new. it's just for him, just because of him, and if that doesn't fill him with joy to the point of his heart beating erratically he doesn't know what does. he sees her glance carefully at the mangrove, sees the slight worry pass back into her eyes, and he wants to save her from that worry for right now.


"it was great," mews minkpaw, turning away from the mangrove to wrap his tail around mousepaw's. "come on, let's go for a walk!"

"come on, pretty lady," minkpaw smiles down at the slightly younger she-cat, affection in his eyes and a teasing note in his voice as he helps her to her paws. he knows she's just kidding, a little trait of hers she'd picked up from somewhere or other - the urge to complain at odd intervals about things, even though there was nothing much to complain about, exactly. he's about to respond in his normal excitable manor about climbing some trees when her eyes come across him and his breath stutters unnaturally, catches, and he's silent as she walks away, tail swishing behind her.

it brushes against his flank briefly as she lets go, and it happens again, that sinking feeling of drowning in something he just can't point to. he takes a moment to catch his breath, wondering briefly if he has green-cough or something else, maybe even worse. once he figures that's ridiculous, which isn't long, he picks up the pace so he's next to mousepaw and keeping with her paws. The world is a wonder, a thing of beauty and of mystery. minkpaw doesn't like to ask why much; he's much preferable to his instincts and just doing instead of wasting time asking questions. There's nothing wrong with inquiry, however. he knows mousepaw loves to ask about things - she's a very curious type of cat, and minkpaw can admit he adores that about her.

the air is calm and the sky is blue with the pink tinge of a fading day on the horizon. the breeze whispers with promise and excitement, the same way minkpaw is feeling, ecstatic with energy and just absolutely buzzing. today he wonders about the world around him, he asks why and how things work, even if it goes against what he believes in as of late. that's what mousepaw does to him; she makes him believe in new traditions and ideals.

maybe it disappoints him a little bit that she doesn't give a reaction when he teases her. he likes attention, really, especially the attention that his best friend gives him but he would never ever say anything about it. so, he keeps his dumb mouth shut and tries to ignore how she's purring when he steps up next to her, instead twitches his ear like nothing ever happened.

minpaw's heart just sings when their fur brushes against each other, lets out a stutter when he trips over his paws and gets back up, tries to brush it off and make it look like he didn't do something embarrassingly stupid. he's warm under his fur but keeps his eyesight focused on the trail ahead of him, listens to birds chirping in the afternoon sunlight.

not as perfect as you, he nearly comments serenely when she notes the day. he clamps his mouth shut tight and harsh, internally screaming and questioning himself as to what is wrong with him. he's acting dumb and odd just walking here with his best friend. that's it - best friend, nothing to it, best friends for as long as he can remember.

he just can't stop thinking about how his heart stops and kicks back when she speaks. her voice is light and airy and beautiful and simplistic - she's so pretty, and he knows somewhere inside when he teases her about anything, he's not really joking. it's something internal about him, he lets his affections out through his jokes, but he just can't wrap his mind around these dumb facts.

minkpaw really, really, really dumbly and stupidly and fondly likes his best friend, maybe a little more than he usually entails. oh no, it's a lot more than he can let go.