Skulking Around

[Cinder]

Nightshade prowled through the Fire Meadows, black tail-tip twitching. he was angry with himself, furious even. I swore not to return. I swore!
But here he was, back in his birthplace, as unhappy and cold-hearted as the day he had left. But stronger, though. Much stronger.
The red flowers glistened like blood drops, and he brushed them aside with a snort. He reached a large rock in the center, sun-baked warm. The sun had just slipped below the horizon, and the rock would be a welcome source of heat.
He sat there for a time, one with the night.

[Cinder]

Nightshade's thoughts wandered. He found himself thinking of Whisperbreeze, the EmberClan warrior he had known so long ago. Word said that she had died of greencough. "Why should I care?" he muttered angrily. "Things were different then." Back then, he had actually been tempted by Clan life. He had been such a fool.
All the same, he wondered what had happened to the little grey kit. He had begged Whisperbreeze to let him raise her outside of the Clan, but she had not listened.
"She probably died too." he muttered, trying to convvince himself that he didn't care.