WHEN THE SONGBIRD SINGS ( meeting 001 )

hatever it was, cinderwhisker was proud to say that he was the last one to arrive at the meeting. and he sure made a show out of it to sulk past everyone and then take his place in front of the clan. blocking the sight of the smaller warriors, the younger ones. and not to say that he was old- but he wasn't young either. the tabby warrior stretched his legs, he had just taken another nap- the sunshine had beat him down, and who could resist what the body told himself to do? the warrior saw the uneasiness behind his leader's words- he saw the gulp that happened before he heard it, and gave a small chuckle. quite tense, isn't she.  cinderwhisker was not curious, nor did he care much about who would become deputy. for all he knew, it was going to be one of those other warriors who were all up-tight and all work and no play. it was probably going to be another one of those cats, whose entire existence was about playing it safe and making sure that the stars looked favorably upon them.

the truth was, each and every one of them was a prisoner to one form or another. the warrior liked to believe that he found his way out to the surface, and maybe others did as well. but no one really knew. maybe they were all did. maybe he was wasting his efforts and his time- but he knew that none of them would ever be on the same page. someone would always have the upper hand (despite what most others believed, it was never him). he looked at shrikestar's shadow. but did he think that it was her shadow? the warrior knew better. her truth was not his truth, so it had to be his lie. did that make sense? or was that as cynical as he thought it was to be.

he was not one of those cats who worked hard to gain the favor of the leader. quite opposite- he wasn't sure what she thought of him, but he knew enough that he was never going to be deputy in her lifespan, or in his. not that it mattered to him, cinderwhisker could care less. however, despite the rumors and the common misconceptions, cinderwhisker was a firm believer that one was to work. but not only work for the clan, but work for the general happiness for others. he was the fixer, the one who loved the ghosts. and the ghosts loved him as well. of course, there was no such thing as ghosts, and the large tabby warrior jumped to and fro, stitching up hearts back together before he left once again. taking a piece of every one of them as he left and found the next one he wanted to fix.

he didn't know any better. he was a couple moons older than he was leaf bare, but he didn't want to know any better because the way that he breathed and the way that he lived made himself feel so free. he did not want the responsibility and the rigidness that came with becoming clan deputy. he already had a responsibility- to all of those ghosts that meandered within his own clan. he fixed some of them- he needed to fix all of them.