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(sunder thread!! again uh ignoring events going on in the plot because what is continuity)
Cinderflower had fallen into a rather depressive state after her thorough rejection by Sunpetal. The normally bubbly garden keeper was moping around camp, or sitting listlessly among the garden flowers, and for once was not forthcoming about what had happened when her father asked. The fact that even Crow couldn't get it out of her worried her mother, she knew, but she couldn't muster the courage to admit she'd been turned down.
The gray she-cat hadn't really spoken to anyone much, but she'd been going out of her way to avoid Sunpetal when she could. It was hard, not having her friend in her life, but she felt the shame and queasiness come back tenfold whenever she spotted her pretty blue eyes and golden pelt. At the moment, Cinderflower was watching a beetle missing two of its legs drag itself across the dirt.
"That's how I feel too, Mr. Beetle," she mumbled, using her front paw to help it along gently. "Icky and like I'm just pulling myself along in life."
This wasn't something Sunpetal immediately attributed to Cinderflower's absence. Mostly, she spent her time in much the same manner as she did before the Garden Keeper's declaration of love, of which she put far from her mind and forgot about. On blissful, sunny mornings, she went out and tended the gardens, nipping off deadened leaves to ensure the plants and herbs put all their remaining energy reserves towards parts that mattered. By sunhigh she knew the prey would be running- chipmunks and squirrels collecting acorns for winter, robins looking for roosts, rabbits establishing burrows- so she'd put in some hunting practice, then she could wander down to the Sunflower Cottage and raid the orange grove. The nights saw her return with her bounty, then she'd seek out one of her brothers or Fisherpounce or Ratstar. Maybe Poppymask would catch her and voluntell her to babysit her youngest siblings.
It was the rainy days that she found difficult to reconcile. Those were the days Cinderflower often squeezed herself into being, loyally fawning over her and making time go by with her unwillingness to let their conversations dwindle. It was a little annoying when they were young, but she'd grown attached to the bubbly apprentice during her time as her mentor, allowing her to tolerate more of Cinderflower's babbling than she originally thought possible. She found a new appreciation in the parts of life she never noticed before - namely bugs - through Cinderflower, now taking the time to clear a twig from an ant's path and lift a bee from a puddle. Plus, it was just nice to have someone indiscriminately agree with her and lavish her with compliments when she was feeling down.
The scent of rain was on the wind today, a promise for showers as the day drew on, and Sunpetal was stepping out of her den later than usual because of it. There were few cats mingling around camp but she found her eyes drawn to a particularly pathetic and deflated-looking Garden Keeper, trotting over and waving her tail above her in greeting. "Hey, Cinderflower, who's your new friend?"
Cinderflower blinked down at the beetle, not lifting her gaze even as Sunpetal approached. A short time ago she would've beamed in the presence of the fluffy she-cat, gone chattering on about her day and her new friend and all the plans she had for the afternoon. Now, there was a keen sense of embarrassment in her chest, and it made her tongue heavy and slow to move.
"It's just a beetle," she mumbled, claws scratching the dirt by her feet absently. For once, she didn't have anything else to say. She stayed as still as she could, her only movement the rhythmic carving of lines on the ground. Maybe Sunpetal would leave it at that and move on, and she could go back to her moping.
"Mmmkay," drawled Sunpetal, a bit confused by Cinderflower's reluctance. She eyed her curiously then glanced down at the beetle, noting the way it struggled to carry on and assuming that that must be the reason her chum was so glum. "Well, I'm sure he'll be able to crawl back to his beetle wife and beetle kids on his own," she assured the other lamely, "Wanna go with me to the meadows? I bet there'll be a bunch of butterflies out today."
Cinderflower straightened, turning her large amber eyes onto Sunpetal as she tried to understand why Sunpetal was still being so casual about all this. When it struck her that the princess of Summerclan either didn't even remember what had happened between them or didn't care, her lower lip trembled.
"No, thank you," she said shakily, standing and trying to keep the tears from pooling in her eyes. "Thank you for offering but I don't... particularly... want to go anywhere with you right now." Determined to avoid another debacle, she trotted off, heading for the peace and quiet of the forest.
Flabbergasted, Sunpetal could only look on dimly as the other moved off. She would have let her go on her merry way without a care, pretending to be uninterested in this new turn of events, if she were a younger version of herself, but the cat she was now wasn't so eager to mistake rejection for surrender. Cinderflower wasn't giving in. She was giving her up, letting her down, turning around and deserting her, and Sunpetal wasn't going to stand for being rickrolled that.
Her paws carried her right on into the peace and quiet of the forest, which was significantly less peaceful with the bad vibes she was putting out, after Cinderflower's departure until she caught up to her, stepping in her path and swinging around to face her. "Cinderflower! What in StarClan's name is going on with you? I'm trying to be patient, really I am, but if one of your bugs died, I think it would want you to move on, be happy, hang out with me, don't you?"
"IT'S NOT ABOUT THE STUPID BUGS!!!" Cinderflower exclaimed, whirling on Sunpetal with more gravity in her voice than had ever been present before. "Sunpetal, I told you that I loved you! It's not like you have to love me back." The garden keeper took a step back, trying to control her breathing. "Obviously you don't. And obviously my confession didn't mean that much to you, since you've already forgotten. But I can't keep acting like everything's normal between us."
Cinderflower took another step back, staring down at Sunpetal's feet. "I need time away from you," she said hoarsely, her throat burning. "To get over you, if I can even manage to do that the right way. It's okay if you don't love me back, but for Starclan's sake let me grieve it in peace."
For once in her life, the flamboyant Garden Keeper was stunned into silence, her eyes wide and inspecting this new level of heat in Cinderflower's voice. If she wasn't convinced of the seriousness by that, then the other's insistence on the bugs as being stupid was enough to give her pause. "O-oh," was all she nanaged to mutter. Any one of the thoughts in her head would just reopen the clearly raw wound on Cinderflower's heart, so even though her ineptitude would present as insensitivity, it was the kindest thing she could do as she processed this information.
The coming days were transformative for Sunpetal. She was quieter, considered, contemplating the new development in her and her friend's dynamic. She almost felt...guilty, if that were something she was capable of feeling as it meant she had done something deserving of guilt. Her actions, thus far, had never had noticeable consequences before but this, this was entirely new territory for her to navigate. And Sunpetal liked things that were familiar, things she knew how to address.
Part of her, the smaller part, insisted she'd done nothing wrong. All she'd done was say she wasn't ready, wasn't interested. But the larger, more dominant part of her - the part that sounded a bit too much like Ratstar - knew she had in trying to erase the memory from mind and expecting the other to do the same.
Sunpetal gave her friend the time she asked for. If she was eating near the sunning stones in camp, she moved if Cinderflower looked at it. If she was foraging for new materials in the meadows that Cinderflower liked to chase butterflies in, she kept to the edges, out of her way. It was the most she could think of to be thoughtful short of leaving her home clan entirely.
It was an unseasonably crisp morning that found the Garden Keeper tending to her prized garden outside of her father's beech den. After it'd been trampled by some apprentices, it was finally shaping back up, little flowerheads starting to swell as they prepared to open for the first and last time this year, as leaf-bare would soon render her tireless efforts pointless. Soon they would be dead and gray, probably the same way Cinderflower's heart looked.
Cinderflower perked up, bit by bit, as the time passed. Her heart was still broken, and she was still wary of putting herself out there in terms of talking to Sunpetal, but she was more alert around her friends and family. There was a part of her that was grateful to her friend for listening and keeping her distance, and part of her missed their camaraderie.
So, after time had softened the blow, she approached Sunpetal, in the midst of tending to her flowers. "What are you growing?" She asked quietly, offering a small smile when the other garden keeper looked her way.
"Dandelions, of course-" So what if they were overtaking the garden? "Blackberries and patchouli. Doefreckle said he used to have mandarins here too, so maybe," she was grumbling when she glanced over, registering Cinderflower's presence for the first time. "Oh. Hi, Cinderflower." She couldn't be sure why but there was some strange tangle of emotions fluttering in her belly, something she would later identify as anxiety, but for now she knew one thing: This new feeling was unpleasant and unwelcome.
"Nothing much," Cinderflower said, almost shyly, scuffing her feet on the dirt. This was just as awkward for her, and that little pain in her chest reminded her not to let herself feel too strongly about Sunpetal. But she was ready to be friends- they could do that, surely? Even if it was difficult to get back into the rhythm of it. "I was just walking around and wanted to check in on you. I like your garden- I never have any luck with patchouli. Maybe you could show me some tricks?"
"No luck?" Sunpetal echoed, and there was a shine of humor polished in her tone. "Someone should have paid more attention during her training. You'll sully my fantastic reputation if everyone thinks my first apprentice can't grow patchouli," she teased, but relented to add, "Of course I can show you sometime. I was planning to go collect some water if... if you wanna come?"
Cinderflower flushed faintly, grinning. "I follow all the instructions you gave me. I'm just convinced it doesn't like me. I'm sure your reputation will remain spotless," she said, smiling at the offer. "And sure! Do you need some extra moss to carry it back? We can get double the water if we both go."
"Two's better than one!" She agreed, lightly thumping Cinderflower's shoulder with her tail. Things were starting to ease back to normalcy between her and Cinderflower, a prospect she desperately wanted to lean into. If they could just move past all that had transpired between them, then maybe they could just carry on and forg--
I'm disappointed in ya. Ratstar's voice jarred her slightly, her pelt ruffling, but she forced a facade before the other could notice. Still, it was hard to shake the feeling of her father's eye boring into her, gleaming with transparent sorrow. Ya completely justified t' not want a relationship, darlin, but I can't believe ya'd consider love as shoulderin' someone else's happiness! StarClan, what would ya Momma say?!
Fine, she wouldn't forget it and move on like she wanted to, though she couldn't begin to fathom a way to broach the topic that wouldn't bring more undue heartache to her friend. She mulled over it as they walked, instead directing the flow of conversation to lighter things like Orchiddrop's recent pregnancy reveal. "Are you excited to have some younger siblings? I wasn't when Momma got pregnant again, but I guess the new maggots are alright," she shrugged.
"Oh, I am!" Cinderflower breathed, excitement lighting up her features. "I love kits. I wanted to help take care of my cousin Foxkit when he was born, but they left so quickly... I've been with mom to every one of her check-ups with Vulturemalice, and I'm going to be there for the birth- I could be a medicine cat if it was only births."
The garden keeper glanced up at the sky, watching the clouds billowing overhead. "Why weren't you excited? You don't like kits- or is it just that you don't want to be replaced?" The last question was teasing, a gentle nudge at Sunpetal's individualistic-leaning nature.
Cinderflower's enthusiasm took her by surprise somewhat, a flash of it spreading over her features. She had such a religious adoration for life and all its little facets, and Sunpetal smiled, as if realizing this about her friend for the first time. It didn't last long though, vanishing as quickly as it'd grown. "Maybe I am." Her tone was wistful, quiet in its delicate honesty, so soft a breeze too strong would snatch it away. "I was always Papi's little girl, you know? He loves Azalaebloom too, but she's distant. I guess I was scared things wouldn't be the same this time."
The forest thickened, Sunpetal drawing intrinsically closer to Cinderflower as they weaved through the trees. "I think you'd make a good medicine cat, even if it wasn't just births. You're everything a medicine cat needs to be."
"Of course things will be different, but you could never be replaced, Sunpetal," Cinderflower said brightly, nudging her shoulder despite the thudding in her chest at their closeness. "Not in your father's eyes or anyone else's. You're one of a kind, you know."
At the compliment, Cinderflower shook her head, though she smiled faintly. "No, I don't think so. I only like birth, not sickness and death. 'Sides, I'm not smart like you or Vulturemalice or Greythorn. I'll be a Garden Keeper my whole life, and I'm okay with it- maybe I'll adopt some kits one day, and try out being a Queen."
You're one of a kind, you know. At this, a rare shade of pink warmed Sunpetal's face, who was suddenly grateful for the way the forest canopy thickened and shrouded them from the sun. Of course, that was the exact sentiment she'd been touting since she could remember, always reminding everyone else of her worth, but it had never been repeated back to her by someone other than her family - and for some reason, a foreign, unwelcome shame accompanied it.
"I think you're smarter than you think," she murmured, glossing over her internal struggle and turning her vivid sapphire gaze on the other. "You caught onto things pretty fast and you're...good at explaining things to the kits in ways they understand." Sunpetal was grasping for things to say, all her attention having been on herself and now she was finding there wasn't much she actually knew about Cinderflower other than her devotion. She emitted an audibly relieved sigh when she spotted a moss-liked tree ahead of them, quickening her pace towards it.
"Thanks," Cinderflower responded, flushing herself at the compliment. No one had ever commended her for any sort of intelligence before, and it felt good. Plus it was coming from the cat she had idolized for so long, which left a doubly sweet taste on her tongue in the aftermath. As Sunpetal's attention shifted to the moss, so did the grey garden keeper's.
Energetically, she bounded forward, ripping off a large chunk of moss. "To the river!" She chirruped, muffled slightly by the wad of flora in her jaws.
Relaxing, she bounded after the exuberant Garden Keeper as they carried on with their self-appointed task. The conversation remained light for the rest of the evening- with Sunpetal trying to find an opportunity to broach the topic and chickening out of it- until they returned back to camp to tend to the garden, patting the moss down and squeezing the water out of it. "You're right about that," she laughed lightly at a joke the other told.
Deepening orange light streaked across a bobbing dandelion head, Sunpetal lifting her head to watch the smoldering sunset. There was a hush descending all throughout the forest now, that moment at dusk as diurnal creatures turned in and nocturnal ones crept out of their crevices, and then the night was alive with an orchestral cricket symphony. In that brief interim where everything was still and silent, Sunpetal seemed to find her courage, though she didn't look away from the appearing stars. "Hey, Cinderflower? I'm sorry for what I said... you know, a while ago."
