Whisper Nightbeam's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Days passed after the catmint patch, and Raven kept coming back. But each time she found Whisper, he ran out of words. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to feel welcome. He did not know how. He had never welcomed anyone. His mother was gone before she could teach him, and no one else had tried. So he sat and said nothing, and the silence pushed Raven off. Twice now she had risen and left while he still searched for something to say. Today she found him at a weathered dock, near the water where he liked to hide. Her purple eyes found him fast. She dropped down beside the sturdy posts, quick and light. "You go quiet," she said. "Every time. Quiet, quiet. Like I did something. Did I?" Whisper's throat locked. His mouth opened. Nothing came. He watched her tail flick, watched her weight shift toward leaving. In a breath she would be gone again. He could not let it happen. So he moved instead of spoke. He had caught fish that morning and stored them in a wicker basket by the planks. He dragged it forward with his teeth. The fish inside caught the light, silver and bright. He pushed the whole basket across the boards until it touched her paws. "For you," he said. Two words. All he had. But he set them down like the herb bundle she had once given him. Raven stared at the basket. Then at him. Her ears went up. "You didn't run," she said. "You always run. In here." She tapped her own head with a paw. "You go somewhere. Away." "I don't know how to keep someone," Whisper said. The words came out cracked and honest. "I never had to. I want you to stay. I just freeze." Raven went still. For once she did not cut herself off. She took a fish from the basket, ate it slow, and lay down on the warm planks beside him. Close. Closer than before. "Then don't talk," she said. "Feed me. Sit. That's welcome. That's enough." Whisper let out a long breath. His shoulders dropped. He had thought welcome meant clever words, the kind he never had. It meant this. A fish. A place to lie down. Staying. They sat on the dock a long while, the basket between them. Raven did not leave. When the light turned gold on the water, she pressed her head once against his shoulder. "Tomorrow," she said. "I'll come. But soon I go north. The ridge. Something up there. I have to." Her voice flattened, shut like a door. "Don't ask." Whisper did not ask. He watched her go and knew, for the first time, that she would return to him. He had learned how to make her stay. Now he wondered what waited on the ridge, and whether it would take her from him for good.