Coyotestorm was completely distracted. Beanfallow nearly outted their secret then and there at the Gathering. Coyotestorm still wasn’t convinced he was even out of high water yet. Rowanmask never commented on anything specific, but that was also what worried him. Beanfallow didn’t actually say anything wrong, but his forwardness was suspect. Their appearances were cruelly similar, and Rowanmask already knew of Haywhisker. How much more would it take for her to piece something together?

RavenClan descended High Cliff without delay, and Coyotestorm hoped that was the end of it. They walked halfway towards camp, and he grew more hopeful that he was simply overthinking everything. But then Rowanmask signaled to him and vanished, and his heart sunk. He looked several times between the departing clan and where Rowanmask went. He followed after the she-cat a moment later, feeling uncharacteristically glum. She had to be suspicious, but what would she ask? How much could he avoid? Could he lie? He could... but that would ruin everything between them, surely. Though he supposed if she suspected correctly, that might ruin everything anyway. Coyotestorm could admit to himself that he was a little afraid of what she would think if she knew.

He tracked her scent deeper into the pine trees and found her waiting among them. Coyotestorm said nothing, watching her, awaiting for the barrage of questions that he expected to come.

He’d been off? It was obvious to him, but he worried about it being obvious to others for this exact reason. He didn’t want to be questioned. There was no way out of it though, from what he saw. He chose not to address it.

Coyotestorm was mostly truthful about the situation that resulted in Darkfury’s death, but he altered what was necessary. Why he was there, how he knew her, how he knew the apprentices, those details were all changed. He saw no reason to deviate from it. “Yes, that tom was one of the apprentices from the... coyote attack.” He knew that was far from what else she had to ask—he could see her processing her thoughts—but he wasn’t about to over-answer or prompt a question she didn’t think of yet. He stared at her cooly, waiting.

She was digging into the heart of the matter. He wasn’t surprised. He also wasn’t surprised that she noticed something was off, though it made him wonder if others noticed too. At this point, Coyotestorm assumed that she would know if he lied about it. But would she keep a secret? The clan had already been warned about secret relationships, so he clearly wasn’t the only one. Besides Beanfallow, he wasn’t in contact with anyone outside of RavenClan. Part of him didn’t really care if Rowanmask knew, but part of him was annoyed that he was close to being found out.

Might as well get it over with. It would hurt less that way.

Coyotestorm sighed and looked away. “Fine. You want to know? Me coming across those apprentices was completely intentional. I knew they would be there. The meeting with them and Darkfury was planned so I could get to know them. I didn’t know that those coyotes would be, though. It... that day wasn’t supposed to turn out the way it did,” he said wretchedly. Try as he might, he struggled to flat out say what they were to him, so he danced around the topic vaguely.

She was nosy, and then she was angry when he was honest? Coyotestorm bristled. “Yes, I broke the code,” he said harshly. “You think it was intentional? It wasn’t.” Fathering kits wasn’t, at least. “I never lied about it, no one found out. And I never kept in contact with them.” She could accuse him of lying, even though he told the truth? “If I ever was suspected, I would have admitted it. Just like I did now. What did you want me to do, go out babbling about it? I found out and left them be. I made the best of the situation.”

It was hard to contain his anger—while some of it was because of Rowanmask, part of it was pent up stress and grief that stayed under the surface for far too long. “I stayed with RavenClan. I kept to myself, until Darkfury approached me so I could meet them once.” He didn’t back away or back down when she took a threatening step forward. Instead, he stood taller, trying to loom over her. “Why are you making it about yourself?” he asked scathingly. “You were separate from everything!” He couldn’t begin to understand what her motives were.

Coyotestorm covered his face with a paw in frustration before he put it down and glared at Rowanmask. “They’re related to me, but I never really considered them family until now.” Why was she still making it about herself? “This happened before I... knew you. What would you have done if I told you earlier? I’m sure your reaction would be no better than this.” His tone was a mixture of bitterness and sarcasm. He was sure he felt something physically snap when the self-pity entered her voice. He took several steps forward, golden eyes blazing like twin suns as he leaned into her personal space. “Don’t you dare presume to even think you know my mindset. Nothing, to me, means I don’t acknowledge you. I’m sure I’ve acknowledged you more than most,” he snarled. “For what it’s worth, you’ve lived the longest. Everyone else died before I got to know what they meant to me.” He was trembling visibly, the turbulent emotions of what he held deep down rising up. “And now I know. But if this is how you act when I’m actually honest with you, then maybe I should reconsider what I think I know.” While he was carefree, by now Rowanmask was far more than a mere distraction. “At least I know what you think of me, that every cat is my plaything? Hah.”

Coyotestorm immediately recoiled at Rowanmask’s words, as if he’d been slapped right across the face. His expression was pained, tortured, as he looked at her, and he scrambled back. The fury that had been burning red hot was doused with a cold dread. She spoke almost as if he was some kind of monster, a monster that had no feelings towards everyone who died around him. It was growing easier, more logical even, for him to not grow attached to anyone. But he liked having a lot of connections, in his own way, and small, occasionally fleeting attachments were common. It was how he expressed himself, so he never saw it as a bad thing to experiment, even if he went about it carelessly. He liked annoying others, but as he saw it no real harm was done.

Rowanmask seemed to spin it in a poor light, even though at that point it was a personality difference between them. Not a true flaw. It did lead him into dangerous territory though, where true harm did come into play. It wasn’t always easy for him to think about consequences when he was in the moment. When a monumental mistake like kits came about, who was he supposed to trust with that information? Not even his own brother knew. Not his half-sister. No one. So how could he begin to tell Rowanmask, who he knew valued the rules above everything? Did she not think he would be afraid of her judgment, or even worse, her retaliation, if she chose to punish him?

It was the hardest thing for him to admit, that he was plagued by the death around him. That he couldn’t heal moons and moons and moons later. And for Rowanmask to toss it back in his face like it was nothing, like it was a problem he caused, that made him feel almost horrified. It made him choose not to tell her about Nightflower. To him, Beanfallow and Haywhisker were miracles for even existing.

Coyotestorm looked away. “I guess that’s what it is.”