Call you up and demand you have no fun without me [c]

What did Pineblossom know? Not a thing, Silverhawk thought ruefully. He wanted to march right up to her and tell her as much. What did she know about love or courtship or anything of the sort? “Talk to them about it,” she suggested, as if it was that simple. Silverhawk kept scoffing under his breath the entire walk home. Talk to them about it. How was he meant to talk about it when the grand idea of introducing them to each other had gone so horribly? Silverhawk could not really imagine confessing his recently named-- love for Hawkmist, but there would certainly be no point in it now. Hawkmist would not believe him. He would probably just think Silverhawk was toying with him and leave yet more scars in retaliation. Though he would probably stop putting up with Silverhawk before he became brave enough to attempt any sort of confession. This would surely be the final blow in a series of slights that would drive Hawkmist away from him, only partially by design. And then there was Bubblebeam to worry about, too, who he could not predict the reaction of and so only imagined the worst. She, too, would tire of his double-crossing and find better ways to entertain herself. Like Hawkmist. They would fit perfectly together.

Silverhawk’s stomach coiled and coiled and coiled. No amount of concentrated thought or swallowing back would quell the way his stomach turned. The night had been a disaster and he was sick of it. He just wanted to be back at camp, back in his nest, but even that would not bring relief. He would just be too close to Hawkmist there, and made sick with his warring dependency and frustration. He was too close to Hawkmist now. Silverhawk wanted to escape the burning eyes that kept sliding toward him, the glint of white in the corner of his eyes which he kept so stubbornly forward. Still-- still, however badly he wished to be away, his steps slowed when Hawkmist’s did. Silverhawk could not separate himself from the other tom without feeling a physical ache in his chest. So he watched the rest of the Gathering party walk on around them, tail waving slowly back and forth. But it wasn’t good enough just to let the rest of the patrol pass; no, they had to go elsewhere. Hawkmist’s tail against his shoulder sent a current of flame through Silverhawk’s veins. Obedient as ever, he followed.

Silverhawk still would not look at him directly. His eyes drifted up toward the hazy, dawn-lit sky as Hawkmist whirled around and barked. He wore an expression like boredom, expertly masking the torrent that welled inside him. I don’t owe you an explanation, he wanted to snap. He also wanted to say, Don’t be like that, I think I love you, but none of those words came out. He just stared silently skyward until even the rising sun became a boring sight to him. At that point, Silverhawk sighed and finally, finally bent his head to regard Hawkmist. His eyes flicked back and forth, assessing every bunched muscle, before meeting the yellow stare burning through him.

”Explain what?” Silverhawk sniffed. He wanted to shred his own ears for the behavior. ”She’s a good friend of mine. Are you going to beat me for daring to have friends now?” His tail swept back and forth with agitation. He wanted to turn and bolt, or spring at Hawkmist before the other warrior got the chance. He remained still instead. ”Get the burrs out of your fur, Pigeon. I don’t need to tell you about every second of my nights.”