Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night 'till it be morrow.

A she-cat, flanked with her two friends, gazed out dreamily across the camp into the dark forest. Her green eyes were bright, yet clouded by a sickly sweet haze; a sign of day—or, er, night?—dreaming, or perhaps... something deeper. Something more mysterious and intense, something filled with the passion of a thousand flames and yet as calming as the ripples of a vast ocean.

"It's the something!" burst out the smaller of the she-cat's buddies. "It's true love!"

Now all we need is to give little Minipaw a lute and put her in a vehicle going through a cave with hungry wolves on her tail. Oh, perfect. But then, I suppose that that would make this a Frozen fanfiction instead of a Warriors one.

Anywho, back to miss smaller buddy, also more commonly known as Minipaw, as you may have discovered.

The other buddy, who shall be referred to as Firepaw, looked at Minipaw with a slightly quizzical expression —a mix of who are you talking to and why am I even friends with you. Firepaw, unfortunately, did not possess the power to hear the narrator.

"Back to Grasspaw!" Minipaw chirped. "It's her story! It's her lucky day —night!"

Of course, Minipaw. Your wish is my command.

The dreamy she-cat, Grasspaw, had fallen in love quite a while ago. But, as it was, love was often as not reciprocated. Grasspaw was one of the luckier ones. As her beloved's parting words repeated themselves over and over again in her ears like tiny black ants marching in pointless circles.

Good night... parting... sweet sorrow... good night...

"He loves me, I'm sure of it!" the green-gazed apprentice squealed, suddenly breaking the lapse of nightdreaming and-or lovesickness she'd fallen in to. "Whaddaya think, Firepaw? Minipaw?"

"Er..." was Firepaw's response.

The smaller cat was more optimistic. "I think he loves you, too! Such originality! Where else could he have come up with that lovely poetry?" She gave her friend a grin, breaking the laws of physical capabilities of felines.

Shakespeare, Minipaw.

Hate to break it to you, but it's Shakespeare.

"I know, right, guys?" Grasspaw was twithcing excitedly, brown pelt rippling in the dark blue shadows of nighttime. "He totally loves me back. We're gonna have three kits. I'm going to name one Lightningkit, after him, one Meadowkit, after me, and sinceI'll be such a sweet and caring mate, I'll let him name the third one!"

"It's such a lucky day for you!" Minipaw whistled admiringly, again breaking the laws of physical capabilities of felines. "Such a fantastic predicament!" The tiny silver she-cat encouragingly patted Grasspaw's shoulder.

Grasspaw broke the laws of physical capabilities of felines: she smiled.

What I wouldn't give to have a buddy like Minipaw.

The next day, Grasspaw was confronted by Firepaw, the latter of which'd had a sudden moment of realization in her sleep.

"Grasspaw," she began, only to be cut off.

"Firepaw! I've had an epiphany!"

"Wow, so have I." Was that sarcasm in her voice? Yup. That was sarcasm.

"I know! Last night was really lucky, and today must be lucky too! We're such lucky cats!" Grasspaw bounced up and down, a habit she had no doubt acquired from Minipaw.

"Could you please stop saying the word lucky?" Firepaw mewed, ginger ears flattened. It's hard to blame her —everytme Grasspaw articulated the syllable "ee", it sounded very squeaky and obnoxious.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," apologized the other she-cat, which only made matters worse. But never mind that.

"As I was about to say," Firepaw insisted, "surely he doesn't love you."

Completely forgetting about her own epiphany, Grasspaw focused on her friend's. Her eyes widened. "No!" she gasped. "It can't be! I'm sure that he loves me!"

"I'm sorry," said Firepaw, trying to break the news to her friend gently. "You see, love doesn't quite work this way. There's a lot more awkwardness, physical and mental tension, plus some details I'd rather not get in to. Basically, it's a long road before you'd realize that he loves you."

Suddenly, as if mention of him summoned the apprentice, "he" showed up.

His pelt was gray, almost black, his eyes squinty and small and possibly as dark as his fur. A jagged line of lighter fur crossed his shoulder, making him look more handsome —at least, to Grasspaw, I guess. I'm personally not a fan.

"Thunderpaw!" Grasspaw squeaked, caught off guard. Her eyes quickly glazed over, face blank and moony at the same time.

"What art thoust speaking of, my dear ladies?" He, Thunderpaw, ran his bushy tail along Grasspaw's chin. She shivered, but managed to giggle at the same time.

Firepaw sighed.

"Thunderpaw," repeated the lovestruck apprentice, moving a little closer to the tom.

"My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound," Thunderpaw purred. He gazed into Grasspaw's eyes.

The next events were rather abrupt. Life often does work that way, slow at times and a bumpy ride at others.

What happened was as follows —yes, Minipaw, I'm sorry! Don't interrupt! I know I am not a good narrator!—: Minipaw awakens. Upon seeing her cheerleader and friend, Grasspaw gets the gall to ask Thunderpaw to be her mate. He agrees.

Cue a happy scene of Grasspaw and Thunderpaw romping off happily into the forest, the former twice as alive with glee and thw later quoting more Romeo and Juliet. Minipaw bounds after them, begging to be the bridesmaid, while Firepaw just sighs and wonders if she can be in a different story with sane characters.

And that, my friends, is what a true lucky day is like. It doesn't have that many sentiments, and it goes by quick as a snap except to the one who is actually experiencing it —at that point, the blood roars in their ears, the world seems to stop.

But things happen, and things end, and new things go on.

Life is odd.