Chapter Twenty-Nine

As hard as it had been to continually be nice to Grassfur, Maplepool was rather feeling like it was even more exhausting to not. She'd been mostly resisting those chivvying urges to just give up, and when she finally relented —just for a moment, just to get him to work with her— she'd felt that resistance against it, against the coldness and the unfriendly smiling, so ingrained in her that it now operated autonomously. How odd.

Odd, but a relief, actually. Maybe she was actually a good cat, after all that time spent trying to be one, and it would get easier from here on out.

Of course, before, ice hadn't been her weapon of choice; it had been fire, the scorch of scathing glares, the sting of burning words, the smoldering rebelliousness in being difficult just to be difficult. Maplepool quickly shut down that train of thought. I'm beyond that now. No point in dwelling.

Curse Grassfur. She'd been fine back in WindClan. It was him who was pushing her backwards, down this old slippery slope into the pit of darkness she'd managed to stagger out of moons ago. Now her past was creeping closer: wanting to be angry, wanting to strike back, being afraid of water...

...well, she'd been afraid of water for as long as she'd started trying to be good; she'd just gotten better at keeping a straight face and an empty mind until a certain other cat had knocked her off-balance, leaving her to scramble to recollect the hidden pieces he'd scattered into the open.

And she would like to think, to really truly believe, that she was okay with water now, or at least getting to that point, thanks to Sapere. Just one more thing that she owed the elderly white-and-orange she-cat: that night, the one before the last, when Maplepool became acquaintances with the river and learned that it was a friend. The mottled cat had entered the river twice since then.

It was the anticipation that was the hardest part; it was those long moments before actually entering the water that made her hear heart pound in her stomach and her blood thunder through her ears and her breath catch in her throat. But if the force pushing her to get in overcame her deep desire to stay away, she'd go in the river. After that, the water surrounded her on all sides like a warm nest of sheep's wool, lapping at her pelt like a friend sharing tongues, and she felt like she could stay there forever.

Yesterday, her motivation had been to confront Grassfur, when she'd been unable to put up with him and his moods, his ignoring her, his generally being an absolute pain in the tail for a moment longer. Today, to fish, also because of Grassfur, because of his comment about her not being able to hunt for him coupled with Sapere's knowing gaze.

So... maybe I'll retract my inward cursing of Grassfur, if he technically got me to go in the river. Twice. There was still some minuscule part of her that wished he would like her, maybe because it would prove that she was truly a good cat who could befriend anyone. But how were you supposed to befriend someone who hated you, especially when you were being nice to them?

With mind games, bargaining, and frosty smiles, apparently. Maplepool's slight manipulation of the conversation had been a gamble, based on the things he'd yelled at her (or... the things they'd yelled at each other? She couldn't recall the memory enough to tell whether she'd raised her voice in the heat of the moment). But that only won her fake friendship.

Well, fake friendship would hopefully be enough for her primary goal: getting the honey for Sapere. For a cat who made her feel appreciated and loved like she mattered, brave and smart like she could stand on her own and face the world.

Not to mention the obvious fact that Sapere had possibly literally saved their lives, whisking them away from a journey full of guesswork and giving them something real to go off of. Cloudtuft, Flamepaw, and Stonefall had survived the blizzard! They were coming! She hadn't realized how much better the others had made her journey until they were gone. She missed Cloudtuft's affable companionship and easy humor like a background ache, so soft she hadn't realized it was there until Sapere had pulled her aside for a description of the white tom's personality. Of the three, she remembered him the most— she'd spent most of her time with him. The other two were faint whispers of memories, a spark of energy in a small blue she-cat, a shy and quiet gray-striped tom.

Was Grassfur grateful about that? Was he capable of being grateful for anything? Maplepool tried not to look at him from the corner of her eye as they headed back to Sapere's den with bundles of herbs. The irritable tom had agreed to work with her (well, implicitly, anyway), so surely he must feel indebted to Sapere.

"We're getting closer," she said through the herbs in her mouth. Most of what she was carrying was rolled under her neck—the bitter-grass—so her words were discernable. Grassfur was in the same situation. "We could maybe have a conversation, as friendly acquaintances do," she suggested, "so Sapere can see that we're trying."

He stopped for a moment and stared at her before continuing to walk. "You do a lot of that, don't you?"

"What?"

"Planning and plotting how to be fake."

"Normal cats call it how to be civil," she reminded him. And I'll keep being civil to you even though you told me to stop, yesterday. Because you asked me what I wanted, and that's what I want. To be a good cat.

Grassfur snorted. She allowed him a moment of silence, then: "And a normal conversation goes two ways."

"Then say something actually interesting."

"I don't know what interests you," Maplepool said, stretching out her words so they would last until they were in Sapere's line of sight, "that's why we need to have conversations—"

Sapere was lounging in a spot of fading sun. She stood as she saw them approach.

"The herbs, just leave them out here to dry," the orange-and-white elder told them, followed by a word of thanks as they did so. "Food, it is inside." She inclined her head towards the den; Grassfur headed there instantly, probably because he just couldn't wait to get away from Maplepool. Really helping our whole friendship case, there, thanks.

"Maplepool," Sapere said, stopping her with a whisk of her tail before she could follow him. "Kind of you, to help."

"Thank you," she said, surprised, feeling a little better. If Sapere thought she was kind, well... it must have some truth to it. Soft delight bubbled in her chest. I am a kind cat?

Spending time around Grassfur had been giving her serious doubts— he used the word fake so often that it'd started to make her feel like she really was being fake, it was all hopeless, and he could see right through it all. But maybe... if Sapere thinks so, anyway... kindness is just a part of who I am now.

The thought was really nice. See, it's not fake, she thought at Grassfur. Although it had been a plot, to talk to him, but for good reasons only.

Sapere smiled and let her go; Maplepool headed into the now-familiar boulder den.

Grassfur was already digging into a fish. Does he realize that I caught that, Maple wondered, or does he think it's Sapere? She headed to the fish-pile she'd created (not very big; this fishing thing was far harder than Grass had made it out to be) and was startled to see that, across from him, there was a dead mouse.

Was that... for her? Or had Sapere caught a mouse, maybe? She hesitated to speak, but something he'd said yesterday flickered through her mind—and you still can't just ask me straight out!—and that made her go for it, dive into the decision like she was entering a river.

"Is that mine?" Maplepool asked, gesturing to the mouse. She half expected Grassfur to ignore her, but he didn't.

"Easier to be nice to you when you're not here. And it conveniently strayed across my path."

She was pretty sure that wasn't how that worked, but— "Thanks?" She appreciated land prey. Much more preferable than fish, her WindClan self thought fervently. But mice are for ThunderClan cats, her WindClan self also reminded her, frowning at how much Maplepool enjoyed the idea of mouse.

They ate in silence. She could hear Grassfur's tail flicking back and forth across the leaf-litter ground.

"I don't see," he said at last, "why we have to do this whole fake friendship thing."

"Teamwork, friendship, and camaraderie." Maplepool listed what Sapere had said they'd need for to get honey from the bees.

"Yeah, but we could just tell her that we'd be all teamwork-y if she let us get her honey. Know what? I'm going to do just that." At least he wasn't snapping his words the way he usually did. He stood. "I can tolerate you for, what, thirty minutes? Not going to waste a whole day on it for no reason."

Oh, the magic word, "waste." Maplepool hadn't missed how wasting time was suge a huge deal to Grass. From the very first night of the journey, he'd been snapping at Flamepaw to move faster, pushing them onwards until they all were nearly asleep on their paws. Before Sapere, when they'd been trying to find their way back to the others: I'm not waiting for you and you've wasted enough time already. Frankly, she thought, watching his spiky red pelt disappear out the den, Maplepool didn't know why he was in such a rush.

When she'd just finished her mouse, Grassfur sulked back into the den.

"So?" she asked. If there was a way to get honey for Sapere that didn't involve dragging a seething, deeply reluctant furball behind her, she was all for it.

"She laughed at me."

Maplepool had figured as much. Maybe I actually think through my ideas, Grassfur. Feeling suddenly bold, she said as much loud.

"Fine! We'll pretend to be sunshine and rainbows tomorrow. Twenty-four hours only," he said. "Or less. Less. Half-way through tomorrow we're going to ask to deal with the bees again, and if she says no, I'm out." He said the last word with a vicious edge.

"Fine."

"Fine."

Silence.

"Would you please help me with fishing tomorrow?" That could be a start, Maplepool thought. Like he'd asked her to help with the chamomile.

Grassfur looked like he was about to snap somthing mean, then stopped and eyed her. "Didn't you say something about friendship going both ways?"

Where's this going? "Conversations, but yes, friendship goes both ways too."

"Yeah, so I'm not just going to bow down to everything you want," he said. Ironic, considering he'd asked her what she wanted. "Maybe you should give me some consideration."

"What?"

"Treat me better."

"What?"

"The way I want to be treated." He enunciated each word.

Oh, that rang a bell. Maplepool sighed softly, then mustered up her best assertive voice. Not a voice she liked using, but she'd gotten herself into this mess (for Sapere—she had to eat her own words).

"Help me with the fishing tomorrow."

"Better," he said.

...

He helped her with the fishing.

"Thank StarClan," he said when she caught her first one (after he'd caught three), "at that rate I thought I'd have to teach you how to fish."

"Sapere taught me." A memory of a starry night and a river's invitation. Even with the older cat's great guidance, Maplepool wasn't particularly good at it, but she could hold her own.

Grassfur grunted acknowledgement. He seemed calmer today than usual. Maybe it was because he'd decided to actually try and tolerate her, but Maplepool thought that he'd seemed calmer ever since that night that Sapere visited the dreams of their group members. Maybe because that means we're really close to reuniting with them, now? Getting back on track with the journey?

Still, he didn't seem very inclined to carry a conversation, even if he'd sometimes speak unprompted. "Thanks for helping," she said. Doing most of it, actually.

He shrugged. "It's my food, too."

Together, they caught more than enough and carried their catches to the den for safekeeping. Sapere had told Maplepool that she fed her plants with excess fish (which sounded pretty terrifying, and Maplepool really didn't want to know what she meant), so it'd be fine.

"Does Sapere want herbs collected today?" Maplepool asked as they left the den. That morning, Sapere had pulled them each aside separately and given them individual tasks. Maplepool's was hunting again.

"Said to wait until at least the afternoon, so the dew is completely off the leaves. You're not doing herbs again, that's going to be after the bees if she lets us."

Maplepool blinked at the morning sun. "What do you want to do until then?"

"With you? Nothing." He said it bluntly, without the sharpness she'd grown accustomed to.

She waited patiently for him to realize that he had nothing else productive to do, and she suspected he reached that conclusion based on his frustrated frown, but he didn't say anything.

"We could go for a walk. Time it conveniently so that we return when Sapere does." The orange-and-white cat had told them that she'd be "off doing old ragged cat things" until sunhigh. Maplepool suggested something along the lines of planning and plotting was running through Grassfur's head again, but he acquiesced.

The walk was certainly not amiable, but it wasn't terribly tense, either. Mostly, despite a few attempts from her end, they didn't say anything to each other. Mostly, Maplepool followed Grassfur because he acted like he knew where he was going while she didn't really have a plan of her own. She was pretty sure they were going around in circles, just wasting time until they could head back.

Grassfur didn't have a barrier of angry stay-away thorns between them like he usually did, she suspected. Is it just... an on-off button? Why doesn't he have it turned off all the time—why put in all the effort to be constantly hateful?

If she was being honest, though, it unnerved her a little. When he was obviously, outwardly angry, at least she knew he hated her. Now, however, she didn't know how he felt. Annoyed, obviously. But was she imagining that things were getting better between them? Was he just putting in a lot of effort for Sapere, or had he maybe... stopped hating her a little bit?

She thought back to their their confrontation in the river. Had that changed things at all?

At sunhigh, they circled back to Sapere's den, where she was waiting—as if she'd been expecting them.

Grassfur strode forward.

"I think we've proven our ability to cooperate," he informed her. "So. Bees."

That was really really not how Maplepool would've gone about talking to Sapere.

Sapere looked from Grassfur to Maplepool and back.

"No," she said, "your relationship, it has not changed."

I'm sure it's at least changed a little! "Grassfur's been... a lot nicer," mostly, Maplepool offered, stepping into the conversation. She glanced at him.

"Maplepool. Is"—Grassfur grit his teeth and took a while before finishing that sentence—"more tolerable."

Sapere's ears twitched. "Tolerance, it is not enough. Your connection, it is as hollow as this rock." She tapped a nearby rock with her paw.

"...Rocks aren't hollow," Grassfur said.

Sapere nudged the rock with her paw and the top half fell off, revealing a somehow hollowed-out inside. Grass stared; Maplepool didn't even stop to question the hollow rock. Catching prey—for themselves, mostly—and gathering herbs had hardly enough to pay Sapere back for everything she'd done for them. For everything she's done for me, especially, beyond just the dream-messaging.

"Please," she said. Sapere looked between the two of them again, more slowly this time.

"You really want to help that much?" the old she-cat asked after a moment.

"Yes," Maplepool said. Grassfur made a sound in the back of his throat that Sapere probably took to mean the same. She stood, flicking her tail.

"Something substantial, that's what you need," Sapere informed them. "Friends, teammates, comrades, they share beyond halfhearted truces and rivers and circles in which they wander." Maplepool blinked. How did she—

"So this, I will offer to you: spend the afternoon in my den. This old ragged cat, she will go for a long walk. These young cats, they will not leave, and she will know if they do." She cast Grassfur a quelling look, as if she'd anticipated and answered what he'd been planning on saying. "If I return and find you both still sane, but changed, you may gather honey tomorrow."

But that's what we've basically been doing! What do you mean, 'changed'? Maplepool was about to these things out loud, but she made eye contact with Sapere and realized that Sapere knew.

Sapere just... knows things.

The elder's face reminded her a bit of the night that Maplepool had first stepped in the river, with Sapere gently guiding her. Sapere was definitely guiding them somewhere with this new proposition. Maplepool just didn't know where, yet.

"Okay," she said.

Sapere smiled, then looked at Grassfur. "Does the smart one speak for you today, not-Grassfur?"

Grassfur huffed a sigh. "Why," he said, more an expression of resignment than a question of protest. "You know what, sure, why not?"

Thus, Maplepool and Grassfur found themselves stuck in Sapere's den, playing the who's-going-to-talk-first game.

She went for it. "So. I guess we're supposed to share things."

"Yeah, well, I don't really want to know anything about you."

"All right," she said, trying to work with him. "I can go first. What's your... favorite food?"

He glared at her. "Don't have one."

"Color?"

This time, he ignored her entirely, which reminded her a lot of two days ago. "Do you want to help Sapere or not?" she asked, letting herself be frustrated.

"I'm here, aren't I?" he snapped in response, showing that sharp edge in his voice again for the first time that day. Maplepool recoiled.

"You tell me not to coddle you," she said, "and then start biting when I don't." If you don't want me to be nice, don't start doing that again when I stop being nice!

"Normal cats call it fighting back when someone hits you."

"I think you hit first."

"I'm not going answer questions when you don't care about the answer. And I'm not to pretend to care about your answers when I don't care enough to even have any questions."

"You agreed to pretend to be friends, so I don't see why this is where you're drawing the line."

"Wouldn't want you to get the impression that we're actually becoming friends." His smile was not kind.

Maplepool didn't respond for a while after that, but he seemed perfectly content to stay silent, himself, so she knew she had to speak first.

"I kind of get what you've been saying," she said.

He eyed her. "Really."

"About not faking things." She thought back to her musing during their walk through the forest. "It's... it's nice knowing what someone really thinks of you, instead of looking at a mask. But you already know that it's— tough for me to be polite towards you, so does it matter anyway?"

"It matters if you're wearing that mask for Cloudtuft," Grassfur said. "And everyone else."

"I'm not." Not the way you think I am. The mask doesn't hide me, at least I think it doesn't, just who I once was.

"Good. You realize I don't like the mask either. You don't have to be nice to me."

"I do"—you don't understand—"but it's not because of anything to do with you personally. I'm just being the kind of cat I want to be. Whether you like it or not."

He breathed softly through his nose, took a moment to reply. "I can live with that. Mostly. While we're stuck here. But I'm not going to cater to what you want, either. I don't want to play your nice games. If you want to share—ask me something you actually want the answer to."

She did have a question. It'd been in the back of her mind since yesterday.

"Why do you care so much about saving time?" Maplepool asked. Time-wasting seemed like such a bigger problem to him that it really was.

He watched her for a long, long time. She tried not to look away. Those gold eyes scared her, for some reason especially when there was no hate behind them.

A long time.

A really long time.

Then all of the tension slipped out of his body, all at once like a soft sigh, and it was like she was really seeing his face for the first time, perhaps. Just Grassfur, just another cat, someone who could be a real friend or teammate in another life. She hadn't realized how tense he was all the time until he lost it all and leaned against the wall of the den, looking like he was done fighting a long battle.

"There's someone I'm looking for," he said. And for a moment it looked like he intended to stop there, but once the words were out, some sort of dam had broken, and suddenly there were more.

When he was done telling her about Sweetleaf, when she'd seen how his eyes grew faraway when he remembered the one who was all the stars in his sky, heard the way his voice trembled when he spoke about about the one to whom his life belonged, and realized he was sharing this—just the bare bones of it, she knew, but enough—with her, Maplepool saw him for the first time again.