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Briarlight washes her paws clean, chasing off the taste of marigold from between her pads. “Is it true?”
This is the kind of question that Jayfeather hates – that is to say, any question. The gray tom stops what he is doing for a moment, paws twisted around dried vines, and lifts his head towards the roof of the medicine den as if to ponder.
“No,” he growls. He does not ask for clarification, but there is no malice or anger in his rebuke.
There is no better time to ask. Leafpool is traveling to RiverClan, and the den for once isn’t filled with sneezing kits or bleeding warriors. She tugs her front half towards him and props her head up. “That you could walk through the dreams of our clanmates?”
Jayfeather freezes. The end of his tail bushes up. He draws a sharp breath, and then turns his head, fixing a pale blue eye on her. “Where did you get such a bee-brained idea?”
“From you,” she says, drawing a circle on the ground with a claw, “and Lionblaze. You talk about it sometimes, when no one else is around.”
His mouth drops open, and he lets out a choked breath before whipping his head back to the wall. He mutters words she can’t hear, but can only assume are terrible curses direct at his lonesome self. He searches for words, but he’s not satisfied with any he finds.
She’ll tease him about it later, when it won’t force him to shove his head in the ground.
“Well, I can’t.” The anymore is silent as he pushes the finished herb bundle back into storage. “Which is fine by me. Sleep is for resting, not capering around in other cat’s heads.”
Briarlight shores up her nest and kneads it into a more comfortable shape. “I think it sounds lovely,” she says. “Being able to stay connected with your clanmates even when you’re asleep.”
Jayfeather paces around the den, sniffing at corners for some scrap of forgotten work. “It was a burden,” he continues. “If you were listening to us, you’d know that too, wouldn’t you?”
Briarlight can’t deny it. “Do you still feel burdened? With your responsibilities? With us?”
Again her friend thinks. He looks towards Silverpelt, though neither of them can see it from the recesses of the den, and shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”
“Good,” she says, twisting up the moss beside her to support her shoulder. “You haven’t been in my dreams, have you?”
Jayfeather faces her, ears flat. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
“It’s too bad,” she continues on, flexing her claws. “It might have been nice to share a dream or two together.”
He makes a sound, half-chirp, half-grunt, that only makes his ears burn hotter. It’s easy to annoy him, but it’s hard to make him blush.
“Maybe if we try really hard, we can still make it happen,” she suggests.
Jayfeather scoffs. “That’s the most mouse-brained thing I’ve heard in moons.”
“Mmhm.” She knows. Everything she saw during her childhood felt like something out of a nursery tale, but she knows. “Still... I would love to get to experience dreams the way you do.”
Jayfeather shifts. He would scuff his paws if he were another cat, but instead he just listens to the wind outside.
Then he lays down next to her, and she can feel his pelt ruffling all the way down hers until the feeling abruptly stopped. “Close your eyes,” he says, and she does.
“Sometimes it’s like this den.” His hushed words tickle the fluff in her ear, and she does her best not to itch it. “You’re aware of the hardness of the stone, keeping you safe. You can feel the moss under your paws and smell the lingering scent of your littermates. It’s not wandering in a sea of stars. It’s just… a moment.”
He licks the roof of his mouth and tucks his chin against his paws.
“You feel someone next to you, and they’re so warm that everything feels like the color of primroses. Every bristle of their pelt is drawing you together. They’re just… there, and that’s everything.”
There’s a purr between them, but neither can tell where it starts or stops. Briarlight feels Jayfeather freeze, and he shuts his mouth. She doesn’t open her eyes, but she can feel his attention unwavering. He tilts his head, trying to tell if she’s fallen asleep.
“That’s a wonderful dream,” she whispers.
“I suppose.” Jayfeather sighs, and slumps his weight down into the nest. “Yes, it’s a good dream.”
Briarlight can’t remember if she thanks him for sharing, or if she just dreams it.
So, she’ll just have to do it again the next night.