Post by BlooRey DVD on Jun 17, 2017 7:49:55 GMT -5
Feathercloud
The silver she-cat moved about largely on autopilot. Her heart, still fragile from losing her father, beat a ceaseless tattoo in her ears that was almost deafening. The pawfuls of moments where she felt safe, felt okay were few and far between, and were usually spent in the presence of her mate, Sprucefur. He was her sanity amongst all this sickness and death, and the overwhelming sensation to touch him often washed over her, the she-cat seeking out some sort of proof that he was really still there. The pale furred tom had been the one to convince her she should visit her father as he lay dying.
"Don't let him die alone, Feathercloud..."
As she'd ducked through the entrance of the makeshift medicine cat den, she'd been nearly overwhelmed by the stench of sickness. But the sights were far worse. Her brilliant blue eyes landed upon her father's gray form, and rather than see the tom she'd grown accustomed to spotting from a distance, she saw a shell of who he'd once been. His fur clung unnaturally to his frame, too many of his ribs visible beneath his skin. Ragged breathing punctuated the air every time his belly shifted, and his eyes struggled to focus on her to begin.
She distinctly remembered feeling numb. For moons now, she'd been determined to hold fast to the idea she had no parents. Yet somehow, despite her cold glances Stormclaw demonstrated relief to see her there now. Speaking had been painful for him, his throat ragged from the endless coughing; she, on the other paw, simply couldn't find her voice. That didn't deter Stormclaw, however, as he seemed in a rush to tell her all that was on his mind. She listened politely, eventually moving closer to steady him as another fit of coughs seized him.
She could only watch helplessly as his condition worsened before her, dark eyes landing on her and his muzzle contorting in effort. "S-Spruce...fur..." He croaked, and her mate's name on his lips had her ears pricking. "He... You're s-so happy with him.. H-He's a g-good tom." Another series of coughs. "I'm s-so happy for you F-Feathercloud... Watching you g-grow into the she-cat you are... Been m-my h-honor." She stared at her paws, uncertain how to process her father's blessing on her choice in mate. "P-Please.. Don't..." He stopped, dark eyes squeezing shut as pain ripped through him."Go... To her... Wh-When she n-needs it most.. F-For me..?"
Feathercloud couldn't explain what possessed her to whisper "I will." at her father's words. But it seemed to placate him. His body relaxed, his breathing devolving into one final, shallow exhale as his life slipped away like sand through her claws.
Snapping back to the present, the silvery she-cat dropped her squirrel on the fresh-kill pile, leaden paws directing her toward the warrior's den. She felt exhausted suddenly, seeking the comfort of the nest she shared with Sprucefur, even if he himself wasn't there. She didn't manage more than a few pawsteps before a gray figure darted into camp and called her name.
Stopping short, the warrioress felt the world fall away beneath her paws as Bluejay appeared. She could read the regret in the medicine cat's eyes, and for a moment Feathercloud wanted to turn and walk away. "Your mother..." Began the gray-furred healer. "I... Don't think she has much time." Blue eyes turned away from Bluejay, desperately searching for a familiar pale pelt; she wasn't sure she could do this alone, not her mother. She wanted Sprucefur to come with her, something to ground her and make her feel alive.
But he was nowhere to be seen. Wordlessly nodding to Bluejay, she followed the medicine cat's lead. Functioning largely on autopilot, Feathercloud was both surprised and heartbroken at how quickly the journey passed. Swamped by a sense of deja vu, the silvery she-cat ducked through the entrance, quickly locating Dawnheart's silver tabby pelt. Even in relative health, the she-cat who'd birthed Feathercloud was distant, as though existing in another world, another time. It came as so surprise to Feathercloud that she was forced to clear her throat and mew a raspy "Dawnheart..?" for the sick she-cat to look her way.
There was a strange emptiness to her mother's eyes, like her soul had died long ago though her body still walked the earth. Even as Feathercloud took a seat at the edge of the older she-cat's nest, Dawnheart regarded her with a blankness she'd grown accustomed to since kithood. Her mother's breathing was haggard, like her father's had been as he'd started slipping away. The dark, roiling pit in her stomach told her Dawnheart didn't have much time left. Before she could think of what to say, a strange but present purring sound escaped the dying silver tabby as Dawnheart struggled into a more upright position.
Somehow, a light had returned to Dawnheart's gaze, the she-cat even going as far as to nuzzle Feathercloud's shoulder. Tense and unsure what to make of it, Feathercloud returned the gesture briefly, pressing her nose to her mother's shoulder. Slowly, Dawnheart sunk back into her next, physical strength ebbing away. Her eyes, though still brightened by that strange shine, stared off into the den rather than see anything in particular. "I..." Came her mother's ragged voice, something Feathercloud had not heard in moons. Pricking her ears, the silver warrioress struggled to listen as Dawnheart seemed to snuggle into Feathercloud's fur.
"I'm... So p-proud of you..." She rasped, and for a moment Feathercloud was overcome with dizzying confusion. "I love you... My sweet, precious little Fe... Fernkit..." Feathercloud's breath escaped in a rush of air, the warrioress feeling as though she'd been crushed by something much larger than she. Fernkit. The name tore through her like thorn-sharp claws, driven deep enough into her that they pierced her heart. It's like I don't exist. She thought grimly. Like I never existed to her. The sliver of rationality left in her whispered that Dawnheart was delirious from sickness.
The rest of her boiled with grief and rage. No. It has always been like this. Always. Ice blue eyes hardened like their color's namesake, and the silver warrioress stared at the wall behind the ill she-cat. "I love you, too." Her voice was empty, the she-cat undecided whether that was a lie or not. But Dawnheart seemed completely unaware of the tone, placated by the words alone. Feathercloud remained at her mother's side, eyes never leaving the tangle of the den wall as the dying she-cat idly groomed Feathercloud's long silver fur and murmured nonsense sentences punctuated with the occasional "Fernkit".
She'd lost track of time when Dawnheart drew her final breath, a shallow sound much like Stormclaw's had been. As her mother's body went limp against her side, the silver warrioress rose stiffly to her paws, blue eyes devoid of anything but wounded emptiness. Without a word, she exited the den, and before long she was running. Her vision blurred through stinging tears, silver paws flying over the ground. She couldn't slow down, not even when she staggered blindly over a tree root. She had to get out. She had to get away.
As the boughs of the Great Maple rose into view, Feathercloud pushed harder, desperation accenting every stride. Launching herself against the tree bark, she clawed her way up the tree, ignoring the searing pain tearing up her legs like wildfire, originating from her claws. She hauled her weight up the bark messily, as though all her grace and the countless moons of expert tree climbing had disintegrated. Her hind legs slipped a pawful of times, and though she gasped breathlessly, she didn't stop. She climbed higher and higher until her limbs could go no further.
And there, high up in the caress of the Great Maple, away from questioning eyes and pitying stares, she let herself cry.
"Don't let him die alone, Feathercloud..."
As she'd ducked through the entrance of the makeshift medicine cat den, she'd been nearly overwhelmed by the stench of sickness. But the sights were far worse. Her brilliant blue eyes landed upon her father's gray form, and rather than see the tom she'd grown accustomed to spotting from a distance, she saw a shell of who he'd once been. His fur clung unnaturally to his frame, too many of his ribs visible beneath his skin. Ragged breathing punctuated the air every time his belly shifted, and his eyes struggled to focus on her to begin.
She distinctly remembered feeling numb. For moons now, she'd been determined to hold fast to the idea she had no parents. Yet somehow, despite her cold glances Stormclaw demonstrated relief to see her there now. Speaking had been painful for him, his throat ragged from the endless coughing; she, on the other paw, simply couldn't find her voice. That didn't deter Stormclaw, however, as he seemed in a rush to tell her all that was on his mind. She listened politely, eventually moving closer to steady him as another fit of coughs seized him.
She could only watch helplessly as his condition worsened before her, dark eyes landing on her and his muzzle contorting in effort. "S-Spruce...fur..." He croaked, and her mate's name on his lips had her ears pricking. "He... You're s-so happy with him.. H-He's a g-good tom." Another series of coughs. "I'm s-so happy for you F-Feathercloud... Watching you g-grow into the she-cat you are... Been m-my h-honor." She stared at her paws, uncertain how to process her father's blessing on her choice in mate. "P-Please.. Don't..." He stopped, dark eyes squeezing shut as pain ripped through him."Go... To her... Wh-When she n-needs it most.. F-For me..?"
Feathercloud couldn't explain what possessed her to whisper "I will." at her father's words. But it seemed to placate him. His body relaxed, his breathing devolving into one final, shallow exhale as his life slipped away like sand through her claws.
Snapping back to the present, the silvery she-cat dropped her squirrel on the fresh-kill pile, leaden paws directing her toward the warrior's den. She felt exhausted suddenly, seeking the comfort of the nest she shared with Sprucefur, even if he himself wasn't there. She didn't manage more than a few pawsteps before a gray figure darted into camp and called her name.
Stopping short, the warrioress felt the world fall away beneath her paws as Bluejay appeared. She could read the regret in the medicine cat's eyes, and for a moment Feathercloud wanted to turn and walk away. "Your mother..." Began the gray-furred healer. "I... Don't think she has much time." Blue eyes turned away from Bluejay, desperately searching for a familiar pale pelt; she wasn't sure she could do this alone, not her mother. She wanted Sprucefur to come with her, something to ground her and make her feel alive.
But he was nowhere to be seen. Wordlessly nodding to Bluejay, she followed the medicine cat's lead. Functioning largely on autopilot, Feathercloud was both surprised and heartbroken at how quickly the journey passed. Swamped by a sense of deja vu, the silvery she-cat ducked through the entrance, quickly locating Dawnheart's silver tabby pelt. Even in relative health, the she-cat who'd birthed Feathercloud was distant, as though existing in another world, another time. It came as so surprise to Feathercloud that she was forced to clear her throat and mew a raspy "Dawnheart..?" for the sick she-cat to look her way.
There was a strange emptiness to her mother's eyes, like her soul had died long ago though her body still walked the earth. Even as Feathercloud took a seat at the edge of the older she-cat's nest, Dawnheart regarded her with a blankness she'd grown accustomed to since kithood. Her mother's breathing was haggard, like her father's had been as he'd started slipping away. The dark, roiling pit in her stomach told her Dawnheart didn't have much time left. Before she could think of what to say, a strange but present purring sound escaped the dying silver tabby as Dawnheart struggled into a more upright position.
Somehow, a light had returned to Dawnheart's gaze, the she-cat even going as far as to nuzzle Feathercloud's shoulder. Tense and unsure what to make of it, Feathercloud returned the gesture briefly, pressing her nose to her mother's shoulder. Slowly, Dawnheart sunk back into her next, physical strength ebbing away. Her eyes, though still brightened by that strange shine, stared off into the den rather than see anything in particular. "I..." Came her mother's ragged voice, something Feathercloud had not heard in moons. Pricking her ears, the silver warrioress struggled to listen as Dawnheart seemed to snuggle into Feathercloud's fur.
"I'm... So p-proud of you..." She rasped, and for a moment Feathercloud was overcome with dizzying confusion. "I love you... My sweet, precious little Fe... Fernkit..." Feathercloud's breath escaped in a rush of air, the warrioress feeling as though she'd been crushed by something much larger than she. Fernkit. The name tore through her like thorn-sharp claws, driven deep enough into her that they pierced her heart. It's like I don't exist. She thought grimly. Like I never existed to her. The sliver of rationality left in her whispered that Dawnheart was delirious from sickness.
The rest of her boiled with grief and rage. No. It has always been like this. Always. Ice blue eyes hardened like their color's namesake, and the silver warrioress stared at the wall behind the ill she-cat. "I love you, too." Her voice was empty, the she-cat undecided whether that was a lie or not. But Dawnheart seemed completely unaware of the tone, placated by the words alone. Feathercloud remained at her mother's side, eyes never leaving the tangle of the den wall as the dying she-cat idly groomed Feathercloud's long silver fur and murmured nonsense sentences punctuated with the occasional "Fernkit".
She'd lost track of time when Dawnheart drew her final breath, a shallow sound much like Stormclaw's had been. As her mother's body went limp against her side, the silver warrioress rose stiffly to her paws, blue eyes devoid of anything but wounded emptiness. Without a word, she exited the den, and before long she was running. Her vision blurred through stinging tears, silver paws flying over the ground. She couldn't slow down, not even when she staggered blindly over a tree root. She had to get out. She had to get away.
As the boughs of the Great Maple rose into view, Feathercloud pushed harder, desperation accenting every stride. Launching herself against the tree bark, she clawed her way up the tree, ignoring the searing pain tearing up her legs like wildfire, originating from her claws. She hauled her weight up the bark messily, as though all her grace and the countless moons of expert tree climbing had disintegrated. Her hind legs slipped a pawful of times, and though she gasped breathlessly, she didn't stop. She climbed higher and higher until her limbs could go no further.
And there, high up in the caress of the Great Maple, away from questioning eyes and pitying stares, she let herself cry.
~1300 words - No Tags - </3
If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.
Note: 48 moons old