The next few mornings were spent with Icemoon training in the ways of Nightwing fighting—learning everything she could from Deathbringer. To her surprise, it went well. Deathbringer turned out to be a great teacher, patient and precise in his explanations. The sparring sessions were exhilarating, filled with a mix of strategy and skill, and Icemoon found herself growing stronger with each passing day.

But amidst the excitement of learning, something else lingered in the air—something Icemoon couldn't quite ignore. As she spent more time with Deathbringer, she began to notice subtle changes in Starflight's behavior. It was small at first, a faint tension that tightened his posture when he caught sight of her and Deathbringer sparring. Starflight's eyes, once full of warmth, now seemed distant and cold whenever Icemoon glanced in his direction. He barely ate with her and Deathbringer anymore, and she couldn't help but feel the sting of it.

It wasn't like him to avoid her, to pull away as if she had done something wrong. Yet, there he was, spending more time with Sunny and Moonwatcher, laughing, talking, and avoiding Icemoon's gaze. The hurt was palpable, a weight she couldn't shake.

Icemoon tried to focus on her training, but her mind kept drifting to Starflight, the dragon she had once been so close to. She missed their easy conversations and the way his presence had made everything feel a little brighter. Now, the silence between them felt like an aching void, one that Deathbringer's presence couldn't fill.

One evening, after another day of training, Icemoon sat alone on a high branch, her eyes searching the village below. She spotted Starflight, sitting quietly beside Moonwatcher, his wings tucked neatly by his side. His gaze was distant, and Icemoon couldn't help but feel a pang of longing in her chest. She had never thought they would drift apart like this, but now the distance between them felt insurmountable.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a familiar voice broke through the haze of her emotions. "You look troubled," Deathbringer remarked, appearing beside her with the fluid grace of someone used to the shadows. He took a seat beside her, his presence surprisingly comforting despite the tension that had surrounded him since his arrival.

Icemoon didn't look at him, her gaze still fixed on Starflight. "I am," she admitted quietly. "I don't know what's going on with Starflight. It's like he's... pushing me away. I don't know what I did."

Deathbringer watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. "Dragons can be complicated, especially when feelings are involved. He's probably confused. You've been spending more time with me, after all." He smirked, the hint of a challenge in his voice.

Icemoon's wings fluttered slightly, but she didn't turn to face him. "It's not just that. I can see it in his eyes. He's not happy."

Deathbringer's gaze softened for just a moment before he spoke again, his tone gentler than before. "Sometimes, it's not about what you do, but what they feel. Maybe Starflight doesn't know how to handle the situation. Maybe he's feeling something that's hard for him to express."

Icemoon sighed, feeling the weight of his words. She knew there was truth in them, but it didn't make the situation any easier. "I just wish he'd talk to me. I don't want to lose him, not like this."

"You won't lose him if you truly care," Deathbringer replied, his voice surprisingly reassuring. "But you'll need to give him space to figure it out. Sometimes, distance is the only way to clear the air."

Icemoon glanced at him, grateful for the advice, but still uncertain. She wanted to believe him, but the ache in her heart wouldn't fade. As she watched Starflight from her perch, she couldn't help but wonder if she had already lost him.

SCENEBREAK

Later that night, as the village began to quiet down and the stars sparkled above the trees, Icemoon stood near the entrance of the shelter, watching the others settle in for the night. The weight of the day—the training, the lingering emotions—hung heavy on her. She couldn't ignore it any longer. She needed answers, and she wasn't going to sleep until she got them.

Starflight, who had been quietly watching the others, was seated by the edge of the shelter. His wings were tucked neatly against his sides, but there was a tension in the way he held himself, as though his thoughts were miles away. Icemoon took a deep breath, her resolve hardening, and walked over to him.

"Starflight," she said softly, her voice tinged with the frustration and hurt she had been holding inside for days.

He looked up, his amber eyes briefly meeting hers before shifting away. "What is it, Icemoon?" His tone was flat, distant.

Icemoon stood tall, her wings unfurled slightly, and faced him head-on. "I need to know what's going on with you. What happened between us? You've been pulling away, and I don't understand why. We've always been close, but now... it's like you don't even want to be near me."

Starflight shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering to the ground as if he were searching for the right words. "Icemoon... it's not that I don't want to be near you. It's just... complicated."

Icemoon narrowed her eyes, her patience thinning. "Complicated? How? You've barely spoken to me, and when we do talk, it's like I'm talking to a stranger. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you," Starflight muttered, his voice low. "It's just... you've been spending so much time with Deathbringer. You two are always together, and I can't help but feel like I'm... I don't know... not enough for you anymore."

Icemoon's heart clenched at his words. She hadn't realized how much her training with Deathbringer had affected him. "Starflight, it's not like that. You're my boyfriend, my family. Deathbringer has been teaching me, yes, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

He looked away again, his wings drooping slightly. "I don't know how to deal with it. I've always been there for you, but now... it feels like I'm just in the way. Like I'm not important anymore."

Icemoon's eyes softened, and she stepped closer to him, her tail brushing against his gently. "You are important to me, Starflight. Don't ever think you're not. I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was pushing you away."

Starflight finally looked up at her, his amber eyes filled with uncertainty. "I just... I didn't know what to do. You were always the one who understood me, who made me feel like I was enough. And now, I feel like I'm losing that."

Icemoon's wings fluttered softly as she reached out, placing a gentle claw on his shoulder. "You're not losing me, Starflight. I promise. I care about you more than you know. But we need to communicate, both of us. I need you to tell me how you're feeling. We can't fix this if we don't talk about it."

Starflight let out a deep sigh, the tension in his posture slowly easing. "I'll try. I just... I don't want to lose you, Icemoon."

"You won't," she said firmly, giving him a reassuring smile. "We'll work through this. Together."

For the first time in days, Starflight's expression softened, and he gave her a small nod. "Together," he agreed quietly.

Icemoon smiled, feeling a weight lift off her chest. As they stood there, side by side, the night around them seemed a little less heavy. The tension wasn't gone, but at least they had taken the first step toward mending the rift between them. And for now, that was enough.