Post by Phoenix on Nov 3, 2016 22:54:27 GMT -5
if you get lost you can always be found
How many times had his world shifted on its axis in the past few seasons? Bravebird had lost count. It had been mere days since the last time his foundations had proven once again that they were not the bedrock he had once thought they were, but it was with some surprise that he realized that the change had not been as momentous as he might have imagined. For the first time in his entire life, he was alone in RainClan. Left behind in the loyalist camp amid suspicious looks and whispers, he had watched as the newly named Stormstar had led a patrol to and returned from the wooded cove. Searching for a very particular she-cat, blue eyes had scanned the group of cats as they had filed back into camp, bloody and beaten down, only to turn away with a sinking heart when it became obvious that she was not among their number. She was gone.
It had taken a few days for it to sink in, and he knew that there should not have been that jolt of surprise, of hurt, that he had felt when he realized that she was not there. She had led a mutiny, a revolt, against the leader of RainClan. He had abandoned her for Russethawk, and she must have come to the same unpleasant realization as he had when the sun had set that day and he had not returned to the cove. They were family, but in the end, they ended up on the opposing sides of this civil war. How could he have ever entertained the idea that this might have ended well for either of them? The warrior let out a heavy sigh as he flicked at a stone with his paw, unable to think beyond the heavy guilt that coiled in his gut. If he was honest with himself, it was not what he felt toward his mother that kept him up at night, but rather what he didn’t feel.
Though her absence was a constant ache in his heart, he had come to realize that it was not that much different than how he had felt living with the Purists in the cove. He and Swanfeather might have been in the same location, but that did not mean that they had been close. She was busy leading the very cats whom he had done his best to avoid. The stress and his unspoken distaste for everything their group had stood for had driven a wedge between them, and they had never had the chance to heal the wound before the fateful end. Bravebird might have been truly alone in RainClan for the first time in his life, but where it had mattered, he had had only himself for company for quite a while. And that knowledge did not sit easily with him. The warrior had never thought he could live without Swanfeather by his side, providing her quiet comfort and offering her wonderful support, and now that he was forced to do so, he thought that he ought to feel more devastated.
But he didn’t. He just felt tired, and he couldn’t help but hate himself for it.
Tail lashing, the tom lashed out at the stone again, kicking it into the water beside the camp with a wholly unnecessary force. If only Swanfeather hadn’t spoken up. If only he hadn’t left with Russethawk. If only. If only. If only. There were so many “if only”s that came to mind, and they all rattled around constantly in his skull, driving him crazy. If only he could go back and change the past and make it so none of this mess had ever happened, so that he and Swanfeather and Russethawk could be as happy as they had been before everything had torn them apart.
And it had. There was no denying it. His brother in all but blood may have saved him his nest in the warrior’s den, but that did not mean that they were as close as they had once been. Where words had once rolled off the tongue with ease, their conversations had become stilted and awkward as they tested out each other’s boundaries with the hesitation of strangers not wanting to offend but not quite knowing where to draw the line. There was a hurt between them, too, that had not had the chance to fully heal, and Bravebird wondered if it ever would or if it would leave an ugly scar. With the wounds raw and open, it certainly felt like the latter would occur, but if he had learned anything from watching his mother toil around in her den with all those herbs, it was that for injuries like these, time was ultimately the best medicine.
If he was patient and gave everything time to work themselves out, then perhaps he and Russethawk would get on better terms. Perhaps RainClan would slowly become one again. Perhaps life would, at long last, return to the way it was supposed to be.
It had taken a few days for it to sink in, and he knew that there should not have been that jolt of surprise, of hurt, that he had felt when he realized that she was not there. She had led a mutiny, a revolt, against the leader of RainClan. He had abandoned her for Russethawk, and she must have come to the same unpleasant realization as he had when the sun had set that day and he had not returned to the cove. They were family, but in the end, they ended up on the opposing sides of this civil war. How could he have ever entertained the idea that this might have ended well for either of them? The warrior let out a heavy sigh as he flicked at a stone with his paw, unable to think beyond the heavy guilt that coiled in his gut. If he was honest with himself, it was not what he felt toward his mother that kept him up at night, but rather what he didn’t feel.
Though her absence was a constant ache in his heart, he had come to realize that it was not that much different than how he had felt living with the Purists in the cove. He and Swanfeather might have been in the same location, but that did not mean that they had been close. She was busy leading the very cats whom he had done his best to avoid. The stress and his unspoken distaste for everything their group had stood for had driven a wedge between them, and they had never had the chance to heal the wound before the fateful end. Bravebird might have been truly alone in RainClan for the first time in his life, but where it had mattered, he had had only himself for company for quite a while. And that knowledge did not sit easily with him. The warrior had never thought he could live without Swanfeather by his side, providing her quiet comfort and offering her wonderful support, and now that he was forced to do so, he thought that he ought to feel more devastated.
But he didn’t. He just felt tired, and he couldn’t help but hate himself for it.
Tail lashing, the tom lashed out at the stone again, kicking it into the water beside the camp with a wholly unnecessary force. If only Swanfeather hadn’t spoken up. If only he hadn’t left with Russethawk. If only. If only. If only. There were so many “if only”s that came to mind, and they all rattled around constantly in his skull, driving him crazy. If only he could go back and change the past and make it so none of this mess had ever happened, so that he and Swanfeather and Russethawk could be as happy as they had been before everything had torn them apart.
And it had. There was no denying it. His brother in all but blood may have saved him his nest in the warrior’s den, but that did not mean that they were as close as they had once been. Where words had once rolled off the tongue with ease, their conversations had become stilted and awkward as they tested out each other’s boundaries with the hesitation of strangers not wanting to offend but not quite knowing where to draw the line. There was a hurt between them, too, that had not had the chance to fully heal, and Bravebird wondered if it ever would or if it would leave an ugly scar. With the wounds raw and open, it certainly felt like the latter would occur, but if he had learned anything from watching his mother toil around in her den with all those herbs, it was that for injuries like these, time was ultimately the best medicine.
If he was patient and gave everything time to work themselves out, then perhaps he and Russethawk would get on better terms. Perhaps RainClan would slowly become one again. Perhaps life would, at long last, return to the way it was supposed to be.
just know you're not alone i'm gonna make this place your home
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