FANDOM


Essay
This page contains a fan fiction written by Red.
This page contains the opinions of the original author(s), and is not patrolled for factual accuracy.
Remember that this story is non-canon. It may contain false characters, plots, or locations.
Responses, comments & other feedback should be made on the comments section below.

Part of the Songfic Series

OA is One Direction

Dedicated to Wess <3

Little Things

Your hand fits in mine like it's made just for me

But bear this in mind it was meant to be

Finchfall squirmed.

Beside her, Crowheart clucked disapprovingly, rasping his tongue over one of his friend's pale tabby ears. She continued to wriggle beneath his grooming, grumbling inaudibly and trying to writhe away from Crowheart. He put one steadying paw on her shoulder to keep her in place as he licked a stray tuft of dusty brown fur back into place on her forehead. Finchfall crossed her eyes in an attempt to see what her darker-furred friend was doing, but noticed her attempts were futile and slumped back beneath the rhythmic rasp of his tongue.

Satisfied with his grooming, Crowheart stood up and pressed his flank to Finchfall's. A smile lit up the pretty she-cat's face, only to dissipate when she caught sight of the happy couple sharing tongues across the clearing. She wanted a mate to do the same - Crowheart was just a friend, if they were both being honest to each other. 

And I'm joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks

And it all makes sense to me

At Finchfall's lonely sigh, Crowheart nudged her shoulder with his pale muzzle and flicked one ear towards the fresh-kill pile, which at this point in leaf-fall was positively plentiful. The number of shrews - Crowheart's favorite - was sparser than the other varieties of rodents, but they would have to make do. Padding over to the heap of prey, Crowheart plucked a plump starling and tossed it to Finchfall. There it was again - that flicker of a smile, almost like a ghost of one instead of the real thing. 

"Smile more," Crowheart encouraged, playfully bumping their shoulders together. Finchfall cracked another one, only for it to disappear when she thought Crowheart had turned away. Frowning himself now, the tom pulled a vole in front of him and tucked into the warm meal, reveling in the taste that seeped into his tongue. "Hey, you should eat that! I picked it out just for you."

Finchfall caught the hurt that lingered behind Crowheart's cheerful facade, so it was only to appease her friend that she took a hesitant bite of the bird in front of her, blueish-black feathers getting stuck around her muzzle and eliciting a fleeting laugh from both she and Crowheart.

I know you've never loved

The crinkles by your eyes

"Finchfall! Crowheart! C'mon, hunting patrol," Maplepad called, leaping down from the Highrock to land lightly beside the pair. She smiled fondly at the two younger warriors, then gestured fur them to follow her. Oaktail and Firewing had looked up at their own summons and now trotted after the senior warrior, both looking happy to be included on a patrol as the day began to draw to a close. "Right, we're going to be hunting by the Whispering Oak. There will likely be a bunch of prey around the roots of the tree and along the branches, so make sure you guys spread out in order to bring back the best you can. G'luck."

The russet she-cat bounded ahead, leaving her companions to trail idly behind. Oaktail and Firewing both chattered nearly as loudly as the birds perched high in the boughs of the trees, drawing attention to all five hunters. Neither Finchfall or Crowheart particularly minded, but the glare Maplepad shot back at the two was enough to silence them. 

"I caught one," Finchfall declared triumphantly, grinning broadly. She pushed the gray squirrel towards the small heap the cats had already collected, then quickly began to flatten the disheveled hair by the corners of her eyes, a frown replacing the smile that had lingered momentarily on her pretty features. 

When you smile, you've never loved

Your stomach or your thighs

Crowheart's praise was cut short by the shrill call of a bird somewhere higher up on the tree. Bunching his muscles, he pushed off and scrabbled at the branch above him, claws catching on the thick, knotted wood. Finchfall had always loved the thickness of the tree's boughs; it was easier for them to support even the largest cats instead of sending them plummeting to the plush forest floor like the more spindly trees usually did. She had teasingly commented that they were wide enough to hold even her - to which Crowheart had replied with only a frown and a shake of the head. 

With one claw, Crowheart scooped the starling closer to himself and killed it with a nip to the spine. He tossed it down the tree, the fresh-kill rolling to a stop just in front of Finchfall. He snickered as she playfully yowled up at him, "Watch where you're tossing, furball!"

Finchfall returned to snuffling amongst the roots, pressing her small white nose to the ground in a pitiful imitation of a dog. She heard the echo of Crowheart's laugh in the branches above her and teasingly stuck out her tongue. When the tom looked away, her expression became serious as Finchfall parted her jaws, tasing the air in an attempt to detect the scent of any prey that hadn't been scared off by the cheerful hunters. As she bent into a crouch, she unconsciously took a deep breath to keep her belly from brushing the ground.

The dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine

But I'll love them endlessly

From his spot in the trees, a frown etched its way back onto Crowheart's lips, though he said nothing to the brown tabby pacing beneath him. He continued prowling the gnarled branches, jaws parted to trace any birds or squirrels hiding to save themselves a spot on the fresh-kill pile. There was the faintest scent of dove, but it was stale; most of the aforementioned birds only came out in the morning so it was unlikely one would be lurking about at twilight.

Leaping gracefully towards the floor of the forest, Crowheart purred at the sight of Finchfall again with her nose pressed to the forest floor. Her serious expression assured Crowheart she was serious in this endeavor, likely having already scented some prey.

"It got away!" she yowled less than a moment later, standing straight up and looking cross. "I had it, and I could have gotten it if it weren't for these big blundering paws of mine." She lifted one leg, spreading her toes as if with disgust. "If I could have moved faster, I would have been able to get it before it got into the tree!" Finchfall brandished the same paw, looking ready to smack the thick, knotted wood.

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if I do, it's you

Crowheart couldn't help but purr. It wasn't that he found Finchfall's fury amusing - though in spite of himself, he actually sort of did - but that her anger was just so...her. That was one of the things he valued about their friendship - they were close enough that they knew each and every quirk of each other's: the way Crowheart couldn't wink without flicking his tail; the dimples that manifested on Finchfall's cheeks every time she smiled; the ruffle of fur along Crowheart's spine that bushed up whenever he got frightened or surprised; the way Finchfall talked in her sleep whenever she was dreaming. It was almost soothing, to Crowheart, to be able to know someone so inside and out, to know that no matter what they'd never let a secret of yours slip from between their teeth, even if they were under excruciating torture.

"Crowheart? What are you thinking about?" Finchfall's mew was quiet, gentle, but enough to shake Crowheart from his thoughts. The patrol was gathering up the prey, tucking it under chins and slinging it onto their backs, picking up the final few pieces in their jaws and making back towards camp.

Oh, it's you they add up to

I'm in love with you

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, the dark tom flashed his companion a smile. "Nothing much," he lied. In another parallel world, perhaps he would have confessed his thoughts to Finchfall right then. Perhaps, afterwards, it would have resulted in the pair becoming mates, and then perhaps - fast forwarding even farther into the future - he and Finchfall would become parents, together. But instead, Crowheart had lied to save himself from the flush that would have spread across Finchfall's cheeks. And so instead, he missed the words that would have spilled from Finchfall's mouth - I was thinking of you too.

The patrol continued their walk in silence, Maplepad occasionally sighing in exasperation as she had to either pull Firewing from a rabbithole, or keep Oaktail from charging headlong into an over-hanging patch of brambles. Neither of the senior warriors seemed eager to listen to Maplepad, so in the end she just let them run where they like (sometimes, she told Crowheart and Finchfall, they acted more like kits than senior warriors) as long as they were back in camp with prey before sundown.

The group slipped into camp, prey-ladden jaws attracting the hungry stares of the entire Clan. They began to dole out dinner to the queens, kits, and elders first, and when all had been done, the apprentices and other warriors fell ravenously upon the meal.

And all these little things

You can't go to bed without a cup of tea

"Hey Finchfall," Maplepad called, breaking away from her conversation with Whitestar and Bramblestorm to face the pair of younger warriors, seated by the fresh-kill pile. "You and Crowheart grab something to eat before you go to bed, all right? You've worked hard today and you deserve something to eat. All right? Good." She smiled and settled back down again between the leader and the deputy, resuming the conversation with a far more serious expression than the one she'd given Crowheart and Finchfall.

The younger she-cat merely shrugged, blinking her blue eyes. She nodded a good night to Crowheart and then began to pad into the warriors' den, where a few of the older warriors had already retired for the night. There was a slight scuffle, then Finchfall emerged, a frown painted on her small, angular face. 

"You never could go to sleep without eating," Crowheart teased as Finchfall took a seat beside him, reaching towards the fresh-kill pile and clawing a bird towards herself. She began to nibble at the small piece of fresh-kill, picking it apart before beginning to eat it more hungrily. "See? You were hungry. Don't even try and deny it." He snorted as she looked up, feathers clinging to her pale muzzle.

And maybe that's the reason that you talk in your sleep

And all those conversations are the secrets that I keep

The den was only partially full when the pair padded in. Most of the exhausted senior warriors had curled up near the center, ears, tails, and paws twitching as they began to doze off. Already half-asleep, Mosswhisker sneezed as one of her friends' tails tickled her nose. Crowheart turned to Finchfall, a quiet laugh already forming in his throat, but the light brown she-cat had already settled down in one of the corners and was circling her nest, searching for the proper spot in which to lay down. Crowheart flopped down beside her, not quite ready to close his eyes yet. Finchfall must have been as exhaused as he was awake, however, for it was within moments that her breathing had slowed and her flank was rising and falling slowly, exhaling small puffs of air. Her ears twitched, bringing an almost anticipation-filled smile to Crowheart's face.

It was only a few minutes later that Finchfall began to mew restlessly. She did this every night - so long as she had the meal before bed, without which would take her ages to succumb to sleep - after she had dozed off for a little bit. She never really made sense, but it was the regular routine of it all that broadened the grin on Crowheart's angular face.

Though it makes no sense to me

I know you've never loved

"RiverClan has lost their stock of squirrels," Finchfall declared drowsily, standing up and turning around in her nest. She was still asleep, her pale lids masking light blue eyes, but this sleepwalking of sorts came with the words she uttered when her mind was at rest. "What will they be losing next, their heads?" She let out a rusty purr, stretched out a paw, and curled back up. Still smiling faintly, Finchfall rolled over onto her right flank and gazed at Crowheart with milky eyes. "Crowhweart?"

"I'm here," he replied softly, inching closer. "What is it?"

The she-cat wriggled amongst the moss, trying to find a comfortable position before she replied. Crowheart had never been sure what went on in her mind when she slept; whether or not she was actually conscious of the words she was saying had crossed Crowheart's mind many a time. It was always a bit baffling, seeing as how they could carry out conversations, ones that would linger in his mind and ones he'd ponder before he, too, drifted off into sleep, but ones that Finchfall never seemed to remember when she awoke in the morning. Sometimes, Crowheart wished she could hear herself - and other times he was glad she hadn't. 

"Mm," Finchfall mewed, "nothing."

The sound of your voice on tape

You never want to know how much you weigh

Crowheart's lips twitched, vaguely amused at his friend's antics. She would always deny these moonhigh conversations come morning, insist they were nothing more than frivolities spawned from Crowheart's overactive imagination (though they both knew that Crowheart was, indeed, correct but Finchfall was just unwilling to admit this). Her stubborn rejections of the truth might have been slightly more amusing than the truth itself if she didn't get so worked up about it; one instance had nearly reduced her tears and had caused appalled, furious glances to be shot Crowheart's way. He had since learned to drop the subject whenever Finchfall seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

The next morning, Crowheart woke his friend with a headbutt and the pair trotted to the fresh-kill pile. It took only a few moments for the tom to devour his prey (Finchfall didn't seem to have much of an appetite, despite Crowheart's insistence that sleeptalking must wear you down somewhat), and then they were off. The breeze cooled the pair's pelts, sending tendrils of chilly air through their fur and sending energy coursing through their veins.

"I'm going to try and catch that squirrel," Finchfall called softly, gesturing towards the sprawling oak tree. Sure enough, Crowheart could spot Finchfall's target, a russet-furred squirrel no larger than a duck, nibbling its breakfast on one of the rigid boughs. 

You still have to squeeze into your jeans

But you're perfect to me

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if it's true it's you,

It's you they add up to

I'm in love with you

And all these little things

You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you

And you'll never treat yourself right, darling, but I want you to.

If I let you know I'm here for you

Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you, oh.

And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth

'Cause it's you, oh, it's you,

It's you they add up to

And I'm in love with you

And all these little things

I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth

But if it's true it's you,

It's you they add up to

I'm in love with you

And all your little things

Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.