The velvety pink peaches were no longer sweet.

Now the calico she-cat passed by the trees with no regard. Any other day, she may have scrambled up the boughs, let her eyes behold a round, soft peach. Perhaps she would extend her claws to pick a few for her brother and their friends. She would snap off the twigs and they would roll down in her paws, maybe one would get loose, roll down the branch, drop with a light thud at the ground far below her feet. She would fetch it once she climbed down.

But those sweet memories were behind her. It now hurt to see the small grove, twisted trunks, branches beckoning her to inspect their bounty as she had done so many times.

Her fur prickled. What a cruel thing for something to do, to make something she'd loved so dearly become a black stain in her mind. The peaches were in the past. Everything felt like it was in the past – if her concept of time even remained. When Leafpaw died it felt like she was thrown onto a new timeline entirely.  Good things were gone.

What use were all these peaches if she had no one dear to share them with?