Post by Deleted on Nov 18, 2020 17:08:06 GMT -5
TREECLAN LEADER |
48 MOONS |
THE PROBLEM IS YOU THINK YOU HAVE TIME
“He’s not doing too well, Pumastar.” Rocktail had said with a nervous ear flick. “He’s…falling apart.”
Pumafang left the camp with what felt like a second clan. Lilybreeze and Ivyclaw were close behind him, while Gorsetail led Appleshade and Skyfall along the best footpaths. Mossheart walked at the back, assisting the elders with the trek if one step proved too harrowing. Pumafang thought that inside himself there would be some irritation at Brackenstride’s outburst, but a stolid emptiness reined him up and ushered him forward. The Great Maple was not far away, but he was hardly in a rush. The elders would need to conserve their strength to mildly assist with the burial.
Besides, they didn’t need to lose Lionstar again.
Pumafang felt the dead leader shift along his shoulders like a fallen leaf. The golden tom, although not as heavy as that day, still had some weight to his thin, rotting body. It was the only thing keeping him from floating to StarClan in full form. Pumafang almost scoffed. Instead, he fumbled forward accidentally, catching himself and repositioning Lionstar. He would refuse to let the fatigue from his journey stop him from confronting Brackenstride’s disrespect, and assisting Mossheart with a seemingly impossible task. Yet the small brown tom did not falter from it.
“We can help carry him…” Mossheart trotted forward with a murmur, only to be cut off.
“This is my burden to carry.” The colossal, dark leader let loose a strained snarl. “Save your paws for the burial.”
Pumafang had to stop himself from calling Lionstar an it. He felt the old tom’s weight shift a little as he sought the flattest path, and Mossheart’s presence soon settled to where he belonged: at the bottom of the streambed. The chocolate-black warrior felt the sun dip below the trees, canopies casting cold, callous silhouettes over the deciduous cats. It was grey and the temperature was dropping by the time Brackenstride’s golden pelt came into view, as well as the grave the clan had dug while Pumafang was gone.
The supposedly brief walk felt longer than to the Moon Tree and back.
“Your insubordination is as polemic and fetid as ever.” Pumafang approached Brackenstride, growling nonchalantly as he set Lionstar’s body down on the ground respectfully. It hardly bothered him though, Brackenstride’s unruliness: the tom had to learn the hard way, because he wouldn’t listen to anything else. What a shame. TreeClan’s new leader thought. He really could have been exemplary, but instead he chooses the path of a fool over that of a king.
Pumafang glared at Brackenstride, murder in his gaze for a moment in time, but forever on his mind. Addressing him so poorly in front of the clan after he had given TreeClan nothing but a lifetime of dedication and respect? A faint smile creased Pumafang's maw, something only a trained eye would see, though it vanished beneath a shady veil of menace. Brackenstride knew how to push his buttons, and that was dangerous to none other than Lionstar’s son himself.
He would write this one off as grief.
Pumafang averted his gaze and beckoned the gathering cats close. The massive, black tom lifted his left paw from the ground slightly, its ashen pad cracked, bleeding, and blotted with soil. He could hardly wait to pack it with earth and send Lionstar off, the old tom’s final wishes a breath away from being checked off his to-do list.
“What defines power?” Pumafang rasped deeply to the gathered cats, sitting back on his haunches with a sunken, amber gaze. “There is no wrong answer. Your truth may not be mine, but it is still truth.”
The shadows were deepening, but Pumafang wasn’t afraid of the dark. His amber gaze grew brighter the more the shadows blanketed the valley, though his stare was far from warm. It was a gelid glow, a shuddering venetian ring that traced the bounds of a black hole. He was curious the responses he would receive. And if no one responded?
He would give them his answer.
Pumafang left the camp with what felt like a second clan. Lilybreeze and Ivyclaw were close behind him, while Gorsetail led Appleshade and Skyfall along the best footpaths. Mossheart walked at the back, assisting the elders with the trek if one step proved too harrowing. Pumafang thought that inside himself there would be some irritation at Brackenstride’s outburst, but a stolid emptiness reined him up and ushered him forward. The Great Maple was not far away, but he was hardly in a rush. The elders would need to conserve their strength to mildly assist with the burial.
Besides, they didn’t need to lose Lionstar again.
Pumafang felt the dead leader shift along his shoulders like a fallen leaf. The golden tom, although not as heavy as that day, still had some weight to his thin, rotting body. It was the only thing keeping him from floating to StarClan in full form. Pumafang almost scoffed. Instead, he fumbled forward accidentally, catching himself and repositioning Lionstar. He would refuse to let the fatigue from his journey stop him from confronting Brackenstride’s disrespect, and assisting Mossheart with a seemingly impossible task. Yet the small brown tom did not falter from it.
“We can help carry him…” Mossheart trotted forward with a murmur, only to be cut off.
“This is my burden to carry.” The colossal, dark leader let loose a strained snarl. “Save your paws for the burial.”
Pumafang had to stop himself from calling Lionstar an it. He felt the old tom’s weight shift a little as he sought the flattest path, and Mossheart’s presence soon settled to where he belonged: at the bottom of the streambed. The chocolate-black warrior felt the sun dip below the trees, canopies casting cold, callous silhouettes over the deciduous cats. It was grey and the temperature was dropping by the time Brackenstride’s golden pelt came into view, as well as the grave the clan had dug while Pumafang was gone.
The supposedly brief walk felt longer than to the Moon Tree and back.
“Your insubordination is as polemic and fetid as ever.” Pumafang approached Brackenstride, growling nonchalantly as he set Lionstar’s body down on the ground respectfully. It hardly bothered him though, Brackenstride’s unruliness: the tom had to learn the hard way, because he wouldn’t listen to anything else. What a shame. TreeClan’s new leader thought. He really could have been exemplary, but instead he chooses the path of a fool over that of a king.
Pumafang glared at Brackenstride, murder in his gaze for a moment in time, but forever on his mind. Addressing him so poorly in front of the clan after he had given TreeClan nothing but a lifetime of dedication and respect? A faint smile creased Pumafang's maw, something only a trained eye would see, though it vanished beneath a shady veil of menace. Brackenstride knew how to push his buttons, and that was dangerous to none other than Lionstar’s son himself.
He would write this one off as grief.
Pumafang averted his gaze and beckoned the gathering cats close. The massive, black tom lifted his left paw from the ground slightly, its ashen pad cracked, bleeding, and blotted with soil. He could hardly wait to pack it with earth and send Lionstar off, the old tom’s final wishes a breath away from being checked off his to-do list.
“What defines power?” Pumafang rasped deeply to the gathered cats, sitting back on his haunches with a sunken, amber gaze. “There is no wrong answer. Your truth may not be mine, but it is still truth.”
The shadows were deepening, but Pumafang wasn’t afraid of the dark. His amber gaze grew brighter the more the shadows blanketed the valley, though his stare was far from warm. It was a gelid glow, a shuddering venetian ring that traced the bounds of a black hole. He was curious the responses he would receive. And if no one responded?
He would give them his answer.
[attr="class","pftag"]TAGGED Fawn @poptart BlooRey DVD Phoenix | [attr="class","pfwc"]WORDS 714 |